by Temple Hogan
When she reached the rise near the byre, she heard the sound of horsemen and quickly hid herself. A group of men rode into the croft yard. One of them dismounted and banged imperiously on the closed door.
“No one’s about,” he called to the others.
“Break it down,” the leader called.
She rose to go and confront them, but at that moment, the door opened and Callum MacAlister appeared. She pressed a hand against her lips to hold back her gasp of fear. Even from here she could see that he had blackened his face with soot from the fireplace as if he’d spent many a winter night finding comfort there. He’d donned some of the clothes from the chest; even a pair of clogs such as a crofter would wear to the barn. His hair fell across his forehead and into his eyes adding to his air of unkemptness. His shoulders were hunched as if from long hours of labor.
“Who are you to come battering at my door?” he demanded belligerently.
The leader of the band nudged his horse forward, so he crowded Callum against the building. His thin, cruel lips held a grim smile. “Watch your tongue, crofter. We’ve come in search of a woman and child. Who lives here besides you?”
“Just my woman and myself,” Callum muttered, keeping his head lowered as if intimidated.
“No one else? What’s that?”
She heard Rose cry in the background.
“That’s my daughter. She wails like that all the time. A man can’t sleep for it,” he said with some disgust. “A son wouldn’t whine and carry on so.” His voice was aggrieved with many injustices, and this was but one that he should have a daughter and not a son. He staggered and fell back against the cottage wall.
“Are you sick, man?” the leader demanded.
“Aye, ever since last market day, I’ve had the ague.” He scratched at his belly. “And there’s a rash such as I’ve never had before. My wife says I’ve brought the pox home to them.” He looked around the croft yard. “Aggie, where are you, you worthless wench? Aggie, come feed your brat.” His voice faded away and he leaned against the wall, trembling.
The riders had pulled back from him, their faces reflecting their own fear that they might be infected with whatever ailed this poor highlander.
“What we seek is not here,” the leader said. “So we’ll leave you, good crofter and wish you better health.”
“Wish me a son, if you’ve a mind,” Callum called after them. “A man needs a son to help him with his work.”
His words were lost in the sound of hooves galloping away. Only when she was sure they were gone did Lilli leave her hiding place and go down to the cottage.
“Ach, you can quit your acting now. They’ve gone,” she said, coming upon Callum where he slumped against the wall, his hands wrapped about his middle, his head bowed so she could not see his face.
“I was not acting, lass,” he muttered, his voice low. He raised his head to look at her and his face glistened with sweat. He staggered as if he might fall, and indeed when she rushed forward to place a shoulder beneath his arm, he sagged against her with obvious relief.
“Do you think they’ve gone?”
“They couldn’t ride away fast enough thinking you might have more than the ague.”
She’d hoped for a chuckle, but his feverish body shivered as the first of the chills hit him. When they reached the bed, he sagged onto the mattress, his strength depleted. Quickly, she opened the lid of a chest, added a pillow and placed Rose inside.
“Soon, I’ll feed you, I promise,” she told the fretful baby.
Rose quieted, staring at Lilli with huge round eyes that hadn’t decided yet what colored they’d be. Then Rose stuck her little thumb in her mouth and dozed.
“You’re a wee angel, all right,” Lilli murmured.
She had no time to cuddle the sleeping babe, for Callum had begun to thrash around, calling out names with heart-wrenching anguish. Lilli fetched a pan of water and a clean cloth. Kneeling beside the bed, she pulled aside the dressing and inspected the torn and swollen flesh. Diligently, she cleaned the wound then searched among the medicinal herbs she’d found earlier. She crushed comfrey leaves and St. John’s Wort for their oil and applied it to the wound before rebinding his shoulder.
Callum shivered with chills. “Lass,” he shouted hoarsely and gripped her arm, so she thought he meant to break it.
“Have you buried the lad?” He stared at her fiercely.
“Not yet. I’ve not had the time.” She tried to pull away, but he kept his hot urgent clasp on her.
“Don’t forget him, lass. I’m sorry I can’t help you.” He fell to shivering.
His hold on her was broken, so she hurried to gather more blankets for him, even using her shawl and his own cape. She built up the peat fire until the room was sweltering in the hopes of breaking his fever. She bathed his brow and threw back the covers to lave cool water on his long muscular arms and torso, impressed in spite of herself by his beauty and perfection.
She’d never gazed upon a man before. Callum was a prime strapping male. Suddenly embarrassed at her boldness, she was grateful he had no awareness of how fully she looked upon him or how pleasing she found the sight of him. Nobleman or no, she couldn’t imagine a finer looking specimen. Just to glance at him caused her heart to beat heavier and her body to tingle in places it never had before. She pushed those thoughts from her mind and concentrated on the tasks at hand. In life and death, there was no room for such emotions, only fear and caution.
Between nursing her patient and feeding Rose and milking the bawling cow and tending its calf, she lost the day. Late in the afternoon, when the rain began to fall softly over the fields and it seemed her patient slept easier, she took up an old shawl and Thom Hardy’s spade and dug a grave on the slope above the byre. From here, the boy could see the rising sun and God could not forget him.
Late in the night, Callum’s fever broke, and he lapsed into an exhausted slumber. Gratefully, Lilli sprawled across the foot of the bed and slept as if dead.
Sunlight on her face woke her. She opened her eyes and stared straight into Callum’s dark unwavering gaze. Startled, she sat up.
“Rose?” she said.
“Sleeping like the wee bairn she is,” he answered softly, indicating the tiny bundle tucked against his side.
“She’ll be waking soon and wanting her food.”
“Not yet, lass. She’s been fed and her cloths changed, so she’s dry and content. Sleep on if you’ve a need.”
Lilli gazed at him in consternation. “You’ve fed the babe and changed her ditty?”
“Aye. ‘Twas not so hard.” Smugness crept into his tone. “Tending a bairn is not the task I thought it to be.”
“Humph!” She pushed herself off the bed and ran an impatient hand over her tousled curls. “Mayhap not if you’ve no meal to make or cleaning to do or the hundreds of other chores that require a woman’s time.”
“I’ll not make light of what you do. Didn’t you nurse me back from the hellish fevers?”
He smiled, and it was a thing of beauty to Lilli who drew a breath and couldn’t expel it. She turned away, going to the fireplace to poke at the embers. Better to poke at her own heart, she thought somberly, the way it was running away from her.
“Are you hungry?” she asked gruffly, reaching for the griddle. “I’ll make some bannocks and then I’m going to the bathing pond. Can you watch Rose whilst I’m gone?”
“Aye, go now if you like. I’ve no appetite for food yet.”
“I will then.” She glanced around the room.
Callum’s eyes were closed as if he slept. There was naught to hold her here at the moment. She gathered a clean gown and undergarments and turned toward the door.
“What are you running from, lass?” Callum asked huskily?
She whirled to look at him, but he lay with his eyes closed as before. When she made no answer, he opened his eyes and turned a piercing gaze on her.
“Those men who came were not of the MacAlister
clan. They had no interest in me, but in a young woman and babe.”
“I-I have no reason to run from anyone,” she stammered, unable to meet that piercing gaze another moment. “If those men weren’t searching for you, then I’ve no mind who they want.” So saying, she fled through the door and hurried along the path to the burn that tumbled down the mountainside with nary an impediment.
Standing on the edge of the pond, she thought of more peaceful times when she and Edward had been children running through the Highland meadows and swimming in ice-cold burns such as this. There had been laughter and love. Then her father had been killed and their clan broken. Edward had become a rebel, angry and defiant, determined to regain their lands, determined to win the hand of the woman he loved.
His dream had been hers. Side by side she’d ridden with her beloved brother. Tears rolled down her cheeks and dripped from her chin as she thought of those days. Of dreams dreamed and lost. Dreams that their clan would be restored and their lands returned.
Those dreams were long gone and never would return. Edward was dead, hanged by Archibald at the hanging fields and she must flee for her life and that of his daughter’s. Sir Archibald Campbell was the head of a powerful clan, a close ally to the king. His vengeance could reach her even here. She had no friends. She must keep her wits about her.
Chapter Four
Lilli plunged into the icy pool to wash away the memories. She was a practical woman now with no wish to dream for she had no trust in them. They led one to folly as surely as the sun rose in the Eastern skies. Another dream had died, as well—a dream she no longer allowed to grow. A dream of a man who would one day love her and bring her to his home. Though of noble stock, she had no dowry, nothing to offer except herself. A man of Callum MacAlister’s ilk would never consider a woman with no means even if she were nobility. He would want land for in the end, land and prestige were the prizes men fought for. Had not Archibald Campbell’s greed for Lady Jane’s dowry lands impelled him toward a cruelty more dreadful than any could contemplate?
Still her stubborn heart thought of a man who might come to her one day, a man like her father or Edward. A Highlander who would fight for those he loved and the things he believed in. A man with rough hands and a ready laugh. A man tender enough to smooth a little girl’s hair and bold enough to make a woman blush.
Callum MacAlister sprang to mind. He was a warrior. The scars on his body testified to that. Yet he’d not hesitated to tend the bairn while she slept. He was a puzzling man for a nobleman. She washed her hair and relaxed back, letting the flowing water spread the strands around her. She imagined herself a mermaid with a golden halo. She would not think of Callum. As soon as he was well enough, she’d see him gone.
He must never know the truth of who she was or why her enemies sought her. What had he asked her? Where was her man? He must not know she had no man to tend the croft else he could put her off the land. Then where would she go?
Those thoughts did little to improve her disposition as she made her way back to the cottage. Callum and Rose still slept, so she put a stew of mutton and barley to simmer over the fire and turned to the next task. She took some pride in the fact she wasn’t as awkward as she’d been just yesterday as she milked the cow. Then she turned the bawling calf in to feed from its mother. She signed. At least the chores were not as onerous as they’d been in the beginning. She might come to like being a simple Highland crofter. Feeling energized, she tidied the cottage and rubbed down the wooden plenishings. And when at last she finished, she sat by the fire with her feet near the flame for warmth and her hands fashioning bannocks to fry on the griddle.
* * * *
The sight of the girl by the fire was the first thing that met Callum’s gaze when he woke. The fire cast an orange glow about her, and he lay quietly, unwilling to break the peaceful scene. She’d put aside the wimple countrywomen wore for modesty, and her golden hair tumbled down her back. As she worked, it fell forward across her shoulders in tendrils, so she pushed at it impatiently. Finally, she reached for a length of cord and tied it out of the way.
Callum sighed with regret for he’d lain imagining burying his hands and face in that swirling mass. But now his attention was caught by her clearly etched profile, as fine and delicate as one of the precious porcelains his mother had treasured. Save the porcelains had been cold and untouched by the world around them. The girl’s profile was lined with the warm light from the fire, and her cheeks were flushed with warmth. He thought of placing his tongue against that flawless round cheek and tasting the essence of her. Aware of where his thoughts were taking him, he moved restlessly on the bed, turning away from the temptation she presented.
“You’re awake, then,” she said softly, startling him, for he thought he’d made no sound. “Do you feel well enough to rise and walk a bit?” She rose and came to the bed.
“Not yet!” he answered harshly for he’d not have her know what devils beset him at the moment.
“‘Twould be better for your recovery if you did. You can’t regain your strength lying abed.”
She threw back the covers to help him rise and paused, her face blushing, her eyes snapping with outrage. He was helpless to hide his state of arousal.
Seeing the alarm in her eyes, he rose upon one elbow. “Don’t fear, lass. I will not harm you or require more than you’ve already done.”
“I’m not afraid,” she answered fiercely, whirling to take up a knobby staff leaning in one corner. “If you come near me, I’ll bash your head and put you in the road to mend by yourself.”
“There’s no need for that, I assure you. I’m a man of honor.”
“You’re a nobleman. There is no honor.” She glared at him through narrowed eyes, her staff at the ready.
Callum sighed. “You don’t know me. I can’t blame you for mistrusting me. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a woman in my bed and the sight of you by the fire aroused my blood. But I’d not dishonor you.”
She made no answer, so he sighed again and wrapped the sheet around himself so he might rise to face her.
“Don’t you come any closer!” She drew back the staff ready to strike.
Callum staggered to his feet and stood swaying. “I’m not any danger to you as I am,” he said with some impatience. “As you can plainly see, I’ve barely even the strength to walk.”
“Humph!” she muttered and set the staff aside. “‘Tis from lying abed.”
“Aye, you’re right.” He looked around. “Where have you put my clothes?”
She nodded toward the bundle at the foot of the bed. He saw she had washed the worst of them. Gratefully, he donned the breeches and shirt. “Where is this bathing pool you spoke of earlier? I can’t stand the stench of myself.”
“‘Twas the fever,” she answered. She’d gone back to her task at the fire. “It sweats the poisons out. If you’ll be but patient, I’ll bathe you for you can’t walk to the pond.”
“I can and I will, lass. I’ve a need to immerse my whole body in water.” He grinned, and she raised an eyebrow. “Besides, haven’t you gotten your fill of looking at my body?”
Lilli gasped. “Oh, it’s wicked you are. I never looked at your body more than was necessary to tend your wounds.”
“Didn’t you now?” He glanced at the sheet wrapped about him. “Still, you tended me, and I’m not wearing my breeches.”
“Aye, I did what I must to make you well again and sorry it is I am now. I didn’t look at your body overly long for I found little of interest to see.” So saying, she turned her back on him, her stiff shoulder proclaiming all too well that he’d deeply offended her.
“If you’ve a mind to go to the burn to bathe, then go. I’ll not stop you, nor will I come to rescue you if you can’t get back. You just follow the burn uphill until you come to an outcropping of rocks. You’ll find the pool.”
“I’ve offended you, when I but meant to tease you a bit. You’ll have to excuse my rough soldier’s humo
r. I meant you no disrespect. Sometimes the devil takes over my tongue. You’ve tended me well and true, and it’s grateful I am.”
“No harm done,” she said grudgingly and kept her gaze on the fire.
Her refusal to look at him now made him wonder if her thoughts had not been as pure as she would have him believe. He had an urge to reach out a hand touch her shoulder. Why, he knew not, except his own need to touch another human and know he was alive.
“I’ll bathe and then I’d like some of that savory smelling stew you’ve made and some of the bannocks.”
“Does a nobleman eat bannocks then?”
He laughed. “A nobleman will eat anything when he’s hungry enough.” With that, he left the cottage and walked along the banks of the river, his thoughts on the beautiful girl back at the croft. Lilli was her name, like a song in a man’s heart.
Once he was gone, peace reigned in the quiet room. Still the energy and fire of the man lingered. Rose stirred, and Lilli had no time to ponder Callum or to worry over his arousal. He’d said he’d not dishonor her but had not her brother said the same to Jane and look what misery had come from all of that.
Rose was fed and sleeping peacefully by the time Callum returned. Lilli gave him a cursory glance.
“Ah, you’ve made it there and back. You look the better for your exercise.” Lilli filled a wooden bowl with savory hot stew. She noted a look of greedy anticipation on his face as he took it.
“I very nearly didn’t make my way back. Next time I must listen to my nurse.” He hunkered down on a stool beside the fire. “I found the lad’s grave. Thank you for tending him.”
“You couldn’t do it and someone must.” Her tone softened in spite of herself as she thought of the pale young man she’d buried. Some mother surely mourned for him. Sighing, she took a bowl of stew for herself. A companionable air settled over them, not entirely unpleasant.
“I disguised the boy’s grave so no one will notice or question you about it when I’m gone.”