The old lady sighed, dramatically. “You have a curious mind for so wee a lassie,” she said. She spoke with a different burr to the one the little girl was used to. “I canna answer all your questions, but the laird of the castle will be here shortly and you can ask him. Do ye unnerstaun?”
The little girl nodded, solemnly.
The old lady nodded, too. “Good. And now, wee lassie, we need to get you ready for bed. It has been a long day, and you have travelled far.” She walked to a trunk in the corner, taking out a long white nightdress. The little girl followed, peering in the trunk. There were a lot of beautiful gowns in there. She picked up one, tracing her hand over the delicate embroidery. She pressed it against her body, smoothing it down. It would fit her. Were all these gowns hers, now?
She stood as still as a ragdoll as the old lady undressed her and put the nightgown on. She was used to being dressed. Then the woman brushed her long golden hair before braiding it and putting her into the bed.
“Ah, there is the wee lassie!”
The little girl jumped. A man had walked into the room and was staring down at her, grinning. The little girl studied him. He was big; so big, she had to crane her neck to see him. He had wild red hair and a long red beard. He was clothed in a tartan she didn’t recognize; it certainly wasn’t the plaid of the clan McDonald, which she belonged to. The big man’s eyes twinkled.
“Are you settled, lassie?” he asked, scratching his beard.
“Aye,” replied the little girl, staring at him further. “But, where am I? And where are my parents?”
The big man continued scratching his beard, his eyes narrowed. “They are all good questions, lassie. And you have been very patient. So, I will answer them. You are in a tower near the castle of the clan Innes. It is a very tall tower, and well-guarded. You will be very safe, here. Your parents have gone away for a while, and they want me to look after you. My name is Jock Finley, by the way. I am the laird of the castle.”
The little girl frowned. “My parents have gone away? But how long will they be? When will they come and get me?”
The man named Jock laughed. “They had to go away suddenly, lassie. They want you to put them out of your mind and enjoy your new home. For this is your new home, lassie.”
The little girl tilted her chin, her lips trembling. “Don’t call me lassie! I am the Maid Lileas, of the clan McDonald, and I don’t believe you! My parents would not have left me here. I want to go home!” She felt tears pricking behind her eyes.
“Now, Lileas,” said Jock, soothingly. “You are very tired, and I can answer more of your questions in the morning. Have you met Geillis?” He turned to the old woman, who was standing at the foot of the bed. “She is to be your new nursemaid.”
The old woman curtseyed, smiling through gap teeth. “I am pleased to meet you, Miss Lileas.”
Lileas stared at her but didn’t smile back. Who were these people? Even though the woman called Geillis seemed kind, and her touch had been gentle, it wasn’t the same as her own nursemaid. She wanted Mairi.
“It has been a long journey for you,” continued the man named Jock, in the same soothing tone. “A very long journey for a little girl, in the dark. I have made sure that the bed has been warmed for you on this cold night, and an extra quilt put on. The pillow is the finest goose down. Why don’t you rest your head, Lileas?”
The little girl blinked. She was suddenly, overwhelmingly, tired.
“Prayers first,” said the woman named Geillis, smiling. “You must always remember your prayers before you lay your head on the pillow.”
“Good night, Lileas,” said the big man, smiling broadly. “We are going to be the best of friends, I am sure of it. Say your prayers and then have a good night’s rest, wee lassie.”
He strode out of the room, not looking back.
Lileas did as she was told, putting her hands together in prayer and squeezing her eyes tightly shut. She prayed that she wouldn’t have to be here, in this strange place, for very long. She prayed for the safety of her parents and her nursemaid. And then she settled down into the bed, laying her head on the soft pillow.
The woman named Geillis settled into a chair in the corner, taking out her sewing. “I shall stay with you until you fall asleep, lassie. Never fear.”
Lileas stared at her, unblinking. She watched the old woman’s fingers, knotted and gnarly, as she wove the needle and thread through the material. The action was strangely lulling, and she felt her eyelids getting heavier. But before sleep took her under, she felt for the necklace around her neck, taking if off. She held the locket in her hands, for just a moment.
Then she opened it. Inside, there was a small portrait of a man and a woman. The man was tall and dark, with a full black beard. He was dressed in the plaid of the clan McDonald, and he rested his hand on the shoulder of the woman. The woman was pale, and her long brown hair was braided elaborately high on her head. She was wearing a gown of sea green, a gown that the little girl remembered well.
Her parents. Her mother and father. Even seeing them in this tiny portrait, the little girl’s heart lifted. She loved them so very much. Her father was the laird of the castle, and he was very busy, but he would always take her with him on his rounds to his villagers when he was at home. One of her fondest memories was riding with him, perched at the front of his horse, over the glens and hills of their land. They would sometimes skirt around lochs, and her father would tell her stories of strange creatures that lived within them.
Her mother was the most beautiful lady that Lileas had ever seen, and she was famous all over their part of Scotland for her wonderful gowns. She was also known for her kindness. Whenever anyone spoke to Lileas about her mother, they always blessed her. She would hand out alms to all the sick and ailing, and Lileas remembered well sitting beside her in the castle chapel, praying to the statue of Our Lady. Her mother would sit with her afterwards, and explain that Lileas was a fine lady, and that she must be gentle and kind to the people of the castle. It was an obligation.
Suddenly, the little girl gripped the locket tighter. There was something just beyond her memory. Something that made her skin shiver and goose bumps prickle all over her flesh. What was it? She had been in her bed, and then her mother was at her side, in the darkness. She had picked Lileas up, whispering to her that she must be quiet. As quiet as the grave. They had turned to walk out the door, but then there were figures approaching them.
Lileas shivered, again. As hard as she tried, she simply couldn’t remember beyond that moment. When next she had opened her eyes, she had been on a horse, almost to this tower. And then, the old woman named Geillis had come out of it and taken her, leading her up that narrow staircase to this room.
Lileas stared at the locket, feeling a single tear trickle down her face. Why had her parents let her come here? Why was she so far away from her home? The man named Jock had told her that they would be gone for a very long time, and that this was to be her new home. This musty old room at the top of a tower. Lileas didn’t want to stay here. She wanted to be back in her room, with Mairi sitting beside her.
Her grip on the locket loosened. Sleep was dragging her away, pulling her under, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t keep her eyes open a second longer…
All was quiet in the room. Geillis quietly put away her sewing and stood up. The wee lassie had been fighting sleep for a while, but now she was in a deep slumber. Geillis walked to the bed, staring down at her. Such a pretty little thing, with her golden hair splayed over the pillow. The Maid Lileas. Geillis had never heard of her before, of course. The lands of the McDonald's were a long way away, and she had never travelled much.
Geillis looked down at the locket in the girl’s hand. Very quietly, she leaned over her and extracted it from her grip. The girl tossed a little in her sleep but did not wake. Geillis stood still, looking at the portrait in the locket. It was of a fine looking couple. The lassie’s parents, obviously. Even with such a tiny p
ortrait, Geillis could see that the girl looked very much like her mother.
She closed it with a decisive snap and sighed. It seemed cruel, but the laird’s orders had been firm. Any keepsakes that would remind young Lileas of her old life were to be taken and kept from her. And this locket was definitely one of those.
Sighing again, Geillis put the locket into her apron pocket. She would give it to the laird in the morning.
She stared back once more at the sleeping girl. Geillis’ heart filled with compassion for her. She would make sure to give her the love that had been snatched so suddenly from her. The poor wee lassie was all alone, far from the only home that she had ever known.
And Geillis knew that despite the laird’s promise that her parents would return for her one day, no such a day would ever come. The Maid Lileas was now a part of the clan Innes, forevermore.
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Other Titles by
Fiona MacEwen:
Your Best Value
The Heart & Soul of a Highlander 8 Book Box Set
The Laird’s Secret
The Highlander’s Pledge
Her Highland Protector
Stealing the Highlander’s Heart
Rescued by the Highlander
Highland Sanctuary
Highland Plunder
The Highland Rogue
The Highlander’s Broken Heart
The Highlander’s Missing Daughter
Copyright © 2018 by Fiona MacEwen.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher.
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
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