The Kissing Stone

by Scott, Amanda

  “By the Rood,” Will muttered, “they’ve got two Katys!”

  “I came to help you pull weeds,” Katy said when she was close enough to her twin not to shout.

  “You are too late for weeding,” Clydia replied with a thoughtful frown as she came to a halt. “I just went to fetch this pail of fresh water from the stream.”

  “You don’t always go clear into the woods.”

  “I was hot from the sun, my plants are thirsty, the woods are shady, and so I do take water from the stream there more often than not.”

  “Why do you look at me as if you’d liefer speak elsewise than of water?”

  “Because I am curious about something, but I’m not sure that I want you to explain it to me.”

  Shaking her head, Katy said, “You must know that, having said that much, you must now tell me what has happened to make you feel so.”

  “I suppose I must,” Clydia said thoughtfully. “You know the feeling one gets sometimes, as if you feel another person’s gaze on you or an odd sense of danger?”

  “Aye, sure, and though our brothers used to say we were daft when we would tell them so, we were often right.” Katy frowned. “Do you mean to say that someone may be hiding in our woods … now?”

  “He was not exactly hiding.”

  “Clydia, what are you saying? Is someone there? Someone we don’t know?” Looking up toward the ramparts, she saw no one looking their way. “We should—”

  “We do not know him,” Clydia interjected with emphasis. “But he thinks he knows me. In fact, Kate, he seemed certain that he did.”

  Katy’s mouth dropped open, Will’s image instantly leaped into her mind, and heat rushed into her cheeks at the thought that he had been watching for her. Closing her mouth, thoughts racing, and cheeks still burning, she looked ruefully at her twin. “He must have frightened the liver and lights out of you!”

  “Nae, for though I did have that odd sense briefly, it passed before I could feel fearful. I think that may have been because I noted that birds and animals were behaving normally and not as if a predator had entered the woods. By the way that he spoke to me, I knew you had met him. When was that, Kate, and where?” she demanded. “Why did you not tell me about him?”

  “There was nothing to …” Faltering when Clydia shook her head, Katy said hastily, “By my troth, I met him only the one time.”

  “Was it Monday, when you were away so long and said you had gone onto that slope and stayed longer than you had intended?”

  “Aye, it was, and …” Nibbling her lip, she tried to think how best to explain what had happened.

  “So he was sneaking about then, too, was he?” Clydia said. “Good sakes, Kate, Da will want to know that such a sneaksby makes himself free of our woods.”

  “Nae, Clydia, we cannot tell him that. Will is a good man, not an enemy and certainly not a sneaksby.”

  “How can you judge any man properly after just one brief meeting, especially when I’ve just found him sneaking about in our woods?”

  “Our meeting was not so brief,” Katy admitted. “In troth, he may well have saved my life, Clydie, though I do not mean to admit as much to him, ever.”

  Looking heavenward, Clydia grimaced and then said, “That does explain why he felt he had a right to scold me for being, as he thought, quite alone in the woods, but we have drawn notice from one of the lads on the ramparts. Also, it must be suppertime, so we must go in, but I want the whole tale after supper.”

  “Not until we are in bed and Bridgett has gone,” Katy said firmly. “If she hears a whisper of this, Da will shortly hear it from Bruce Lochan. Moreover, I see Gilli coming now yonder from the north. We can all go in together.”

  Later that evening, abed in the chamber the twins shared, each with her own narrow cupboard bed and a solitary, currently unshuttered window between them, Katy had settled in and decided that Bridgett did not mean to return when Clydia said, “Now, Kate, tell me all that you know about that man.”

  “His name is Will,” Katy said, turning onto her side so she could watch Clydia’s reactions. “I know little more about him than that he aided me when I did need help.” The sun had dropped behind hills west of them, but dusky light through the window revealed that her twin lay supine, quiet and staring upward.

  Katy’s right plait tickled her chin, so she flipped it back over her shoulder, but when Clydia’s visible eyebrow quirked, she said quickly, “I expect I went a bit farther than I may have let Da believe.”

  “A bit?”

  “I stayed south of the castle and on our own side of the ridge,” Katy said, attempting to sound virtuous but mentally adding, mostly.

  Clydia said, “Then why am I recalling, when you admit that much, how often of late you have wondered if one might see Raitt Castle from the top of that ridge? Exactly where were you when you met him?”

  “On the craggy south peak,” Katy said. “And one cannot see Raitt from there.”

  Sitting upright, Clydia swung her legs out, gathered her quilt about her, and looked narrowly at Katy. “On the peak? At the top?”

  “Not atop the top. The granite slope below it became unexpectedly slippery.”

  “So you slipped.”

  “Aye, but I did catch myself. Only I could not gain purchase with my feet, because the slope was gey steep there and like ice or wet slate. I must have cried out. I did hear Argus bark, so Will came and helped me reach the top. Naught more came of my adventure, save a fine view of a loch with a forested islet in it.”

  Clydia was quiet long enough to make Katy wonder if she was waiting for her to say more. Instead, Clydia said, “So, you had Argus and Eos with you.”

  “Aye, sure, but they could not get to me safely.”

  “They let that Will-person get to you, though.”

  “Aye, he said they looked as if they were pleased to see him.”

  “And he likely saved your life,” Clydia reminded her. “How far might you have slipped had he not come along?”

  “Too far, and onto de Raite’s land. Da would not have liked that.”

  “He would have cared much more about you, though,” Clydia said. With a sigh, she added, “No wonder the man felt he had a right to take me to task today.”

  “He should not have done that.”

  “Aye, but he thought he was talking to you, of course, so one cannot blame him. Did he not tell you from whence he comes?”

  “Nae, but when we reached the peak, I was disappointed not to see Raitt Castle, so I did ask him if he knew it, and he said that he had heard of it.”

  “Everyone hereabouts has heard of it,” Clydia said. “What else did he say?”

  “When I said I’d be indebted to him forever, he predicted that I would want his head on a charger within a sennight. I can tell you, though, that his taking you to task, for any cause whatever, nearly does make me want his head.”

  “An empty threat,” Clydia retorted. “If he said naught of where he had been, did he say aught of where he was going?”

  “Aye, sure, he said he was going home. Oh, and I did ask him then where that was. He said it was nearer the Moray Firth so he likely lives in Nairn or one of the fishermen’s clachans along the firth.

  “So, he came from the south and was heading north. I wonder why he came so near Finlagh today.”

  “I don’t know,” Katy said. “I am sorry, though, that he scolded you.”

  “Likely, so is he,” Clydia said with a wry look. “I smacked his face for him.”

  Katy’s eyes widened, “He must think I’m daft to have behaved so to him.”

  “Nae, for I expect he watched long enough to see us meet,” Clydia said. “He will likely know that there are two of us and no longer think that it was your fault.”

  Katy was quiet, wondering what Will was thinking.

 
“Will, are ye deaf?” Hew snapped, startling Will out of the reverie that had repeated itself on his way home and throughout suppertime. De Raite had adjourned alone to the tower’s inner chamber afterward, but Will’s brothers and cousin had been entertaining themselves at the table while he tended his gear near the fireplace. The fire, untended, had reduced itself to embers.

  Turning toward his eldest brother, he said, “Sorry, Hew. What is it?”

  “I asked ye if ye saw aught o’ interest from the ridge today,” Hew retorted. “Ye came back later than usual, after all.”

  Chuckling and tugging an ear, redheaded Colley, next to Hew, said, “Hoots, mon, mayhap he had tae vanquish an enemy o’ some sort. Were that it, Willy-lad?”

  “Leave him be, Colley,” Jarvis said, shifting an errant brown curl from his forehead. “He’s taken duty none of us wants, whilst Liam and ye did nowt save ride intae Nairn wi’ Hew and Da today. Whilst there, ye seem only tae ha’ studied the women ye saw in Nairn’s market square. Be ye seeking a wife, then, one o’ ye?”

  Liam said, “Mind your own affairs, Jarvis, and keep yer nose out o’ ours.”

  Although grateful to Jarvis for the diversion, Will ignored them and kept his attention on Hew. “I saw the usual watchers but naught to vex us, and Castle Finlagh seems peaceful. People come and go, women and men, but merely to attend to chores and such. The cottars in the woods west of them seem to keep to themselves, but I would take notice if aught were to change there.”

  “Just keep yer mind on what ye’re doing,” Hew told him. “It may be vital tae ken what them Mackintoshes be up to sooner than ye think. Da has a plan.”

  “What is it?”

  “When he wants ye tae ken, he’ll tell ye, hisself. Meantime, I’m tellin’ ye tae see tae your duties, practice your archery and your swordsmanship, and report aught that seems new or unusual when ye walk the ridge.”

  Deciding that Hew was just trying to make himself important, a tactic he used too often for Will’s taste, and knowing that Alyssa was likely in bed by that time, he soon bade the others good night and took himself up the ladder at the other end of the hall, to the minstrel gallery and the attic behind it where his pallet lay.

  Access to the wall walk being achieved from that attic chamber by another ladder, he decided to enjoy some fresh air before retiring. Climbing to the access door, he stepped out onto the walk, waved at the nearest guard, and noted that light still glowed from the south-facing window of Alyssa’s tower room, as well as from the inner chamber window two floors below hers.

  The hall had been smokier than he realized, and the air was fresh and crisp, so he breathed deeply. Strolling to the northern side of the walk, he leaned on the parapet and stared toward the lights of Nairn and the vast darkness of the firth beyond while he let lingering images of the two Katys walking away from him replay and wondered what it felt like to have a sibling exactly like oneself.

  The situation fascinated him. One thing he knew for sure was that he wanted to see them both again, to find out if he could tell the real Katy from her twin. He bet himself thousands of farthings that he could, if only because her twin seemed so different in personality from Katy. Likely, she had nice legs, too, though.

  Due to Lady Catriona’s having decided to take advantage of clear skies to begin her spring cleaning and preliminary measures for shearing their sheep, the twins spent Saturday morning gathering bed curtains, coverlets, and blankets to shake for airing on lines in the courtyard, while the housekeeper and maidservants turned out storage bins and took inventory of everything in the larder, kitchen, and bakehouse.

  Others cleared rushes from the great hall and replaced them with fresh ones that had dried in the kitchen rafters over the winter, while still others swept the cobbles of the courtyard and began cleaning and tidying the several outbuildings.

  At midafternoon, Catriona excused the twins and Gilli, suggesting that they had helped enough for one day and should take themselves off to walk or swim.

  They opted for a walk to the pool that Fin had created by damming a stream above the knoll, but the twins had no sooner stepped into the cold water, holding up their skirts, than Gilli said, “I need some time tae m’self, so ye’ll ha’ tae excuse me for the nonce. If ye still be hereabouts when I return, I’ll find ye.”

  “Now, where do you think he is going?” Katy muttered, watching him vanish downhill into the forest west of them. “He is unlikely to visit Granny Rosel or any of our other people in those woods.”

  “I have asked him where he goes,” Clydia said. “He will say only that he rambles about in the woods, watching the creatures and such.”

  With what her father would call an unladylike snort, Katy said, “I like to ramble, too. Have you not noted, though, that when Gilli returns, he nearly always does so from the path to the north, as if he had come from the path into Nairn?”

  “Art sure of that?” Clydia asked with a thoughtful frown.

  “We saw him come from there yesterday, and I have noticed it before. He has wandered off during his visits these two years past at least. Before then, when he visited on his own, even stayed for a month, he did not walk out alone as often.”

  “I do recall Bridgett saying that Lochan had wondered if Gil had friends at Cawdor or some such place,” Clydia said thoughtfully. “Cawdor is northwest of us, so mayhap he does. The Thane of Cawdor has a son near his age, after all.”

  “Aye, sure, Wilkin,” Katy said. “Gilli has never mentioned him or Cawdor, though, or said much about his wanderings. There, look, Clydie! He’s cutting round through those trees below the knoll. I want to see where he goes. This water is still too cold to take off our kirtles, let alone swim in our smocks unless we want to freeze,” she added, stepping back onto dry grass. “Moreover, if we slip through our woods yonder to the east, I wager we’ll catch up with him on that Nairn path.”

  “Aye,” Clydia agreed, stepping out, as well, “but we are not supposed to go beyond sight of the ramparts that way, and we might easily do so if we follow him.”

  “Blethers! Gilli and I are supposed to be getting better acquainted, Clydia, so I try to come out when he does so people can see us. But today he left without inviting either of us to go along, so he wants to be alone. I want to know why.”

  “But—”

  “Just come with me,” Katy said urgently. “No one is watching us from atop the wall.” Gripping Clydia’s arm, she drew her downhill toward the woods. “If we hie ourselves, we may hear his footsteps. Look,” she added minutes later, pointing, “You can see his red hair. This area has been peaceful for months, so—”

  “We will both end in the briars if Da catches us,” Clydia muttered. “What if we meet with a villainous Comyn or some other rogue?”

  “Sakes, Clydie, though we oft see or hear of travelers from Nairn or one of the clachans near the firth coast walking along the ridge top or even below it on their way to the Monadhliath Mountains or the high path eastward into Glen Spey, have you heard aught of our men catching lone Comyns or any other rogues this close to Finlagh?” Katy demanded. “I have not. But, in troth, I think the only members of our family who would recognize a Comyn are Mam, Da, and Àdham.”

  “But we do know they oft set watchers above, and our brothers …”

  “Pish tush,” Katy replied. “Neither of our brothers is here. As for watchers, Da’s men watch them, too. Look yonder, though,” she added. “Gilli has turned off the path by that tall beech tree.”

  “Mayhap he is going to Cawdor then. He may know a shorter route, one that does not require meeting the Inverness road first, as we do.”

  “Hush now, and move faster,” Katy urged. “We must not lose sight of him.”

  They did lose him, but the path he followed, despite being as faint and narrow as a deer trail, was clear enough for Katy to see. Leading, with Clydia close behind, she eased through the thi
ck flanking shrubbery, taking care to move quietly.

  The breeze dropped, and woodland creatures quieted, so she easily heard Gilli’s voice when he exclaimed, “Thank the Fates, ye were able tae get away!”

  Stopping where she was, Katy raised a hand to warn Clydia and heard her twin whisper, “Aye, he has met someone, but we must go back now, Kate.”

  Turning to face her but listening for more from Gilli or his companion, Katy muttered, “I must see who is with him. He just proposed marriage to me, after all.”

  “’Tis most likely another man,” Clydia whispered back. “In any event—”

  “Hark,” Katy snapped, when she heard another male voice that she identified as easily as Gilli’s. “That’s Will talking. What can he and Gilli have to discuss?”

  “Whatever it is,” Clydia muttered back, “your Will sounds angry.”

  “He is not mine,” Katy retorted, taking care to keep her voice low. “I mean to see what they are doing, though.”

  “We must not go any farther,” Clydia warned.

  “You stay here. I’ll just see what they are doing and come right back.”

  Moving forward before Clydia could argue, Katy could hear Will doing most of the talking. However, the two men kept their voices down, so while she detected tension between them, she could not make out their words.

  The discussion stopped abruptly, and hearing someone fast approaching from their direction, she tried to get off the path before she saw that it was Gilli Roy.

  He was in a hurry, and though he could not help seeing her, he looked furious and pushed roughly past her without a word.

  More curious than ever, Katy kept going, telling herself she needed to be certain that the other person was Will.

  Abruptly hearing his voice again, still scolding, she increased her pace until she saw him looming over a beautiful if tearful blonde girl of somewhat more than her own height. The two stood beside a massively tall gray stone, and Will was scolding her in much the same manner that he had scolded Gilli.