by Julianne Lee
“Doesn’t matter. It wasn’t him. It was you. Had to be. Who are you?” Not wanting to move any closer he stood hipshot, his hands in his coat pockets and his head tilted as if he didn’t really care who the guy was and had all year to hear a reply.
“I might ask the same of you.” A dark scowl was on the thin face, and his unearthly pale eyes pierced Nick with his rage.
“You have.”
“I’ve not.”
“You...” Nick realized something. He said, “You will. After you’re dead.”
The faerie threw back his head and laughed. “Indeed?”
“Yes.” And with the realization came another. He hurried to test it, and said, “I’m Nick Mouliné. I’m from the future.” There. He’d changed history, for the faerie ghost had not known his name.
“I dinnae give a damn what your name is.”
Or else the faerie had simply forgotten it over the next three centuries. Nick shut his eyes and sighed. “You asked.”
The creature blinked, and said, “So I did. Why have ye returned, and what are your intentions with Ealasaid?”
“I’ve come to save her.”
“She needs no saving. She has me to keep her from harm.”
“Yeah. Great job you’re doing, pal. She’s divorced and lonely, and terrified she’s staring down the barrel of spinsterhood. Probably because of you. You’re the guy Gòrdan saw her with, I bet.”
The faerie’s eyes went wide. “He saw us?”
Nick’s eyelids lowered, as they did when he was angry. “You know he did, you perv. And I’ll bet you were never even really with her. What Gòrdan saw was an illusion. You only wish it were true.”
The faerie rose from his crouch and his voice went high. Defensive. “The man was in love with another. He was already banging the one he’s since married in the pope’s Church. What he saw was what he wished to see, and I did naught but oblige.”
“So, being all big-hearted and everything, you helped things along so Gòrdan would leave Beth in a big hurry, with a juicy story to tell around so he could get out of the marriage without any guff from the clan. Never mind that she was humiliated by it, and her life ruined, all you wanted was Gòrdan gone.”
The faerie sat back on his heels in the tree again. “Aye. And I want you gone as well.” All of a sudden the faerie sounded relieved Nick understood his position, and his voice went soft with relief. “So would ye please move along and leave us to ourselves? Ye ken I cannae abide your presence. She’s not for you, nor for any mortal.”
Nick opened his mouth to reply, then closed it. Were his feelings for Beth so obvious that the faerie was jealous? He said, “Then why did you send me back here?”
The creature’s face fell. “I did no such thing.”
“The future you will do it. Your ghost.”
“I’m immortal!”
“No, you’re not! Will you just give that a rest? I’ve seen your ghost, and it’s not a pretty thing. You are going to die someday. Trust me on this one.”
The creature stood in the crotch of his tree and raised his fist. “I’m Fionn Coigreach of the Tuatha De Danann! I will live forever!” Then he crouched again, squatted on his heels, as if that was all he needed to say to convince Nick of his immortality.
Nick shook his head and held up his palms. “Okay, Fionn. Whatever you say. You’re immortal. Best of luck with it. So, tell me, what do you know of the future?” Nick figured it couldn’t be much if he couldn’t foresee his own death.
“I see many deaths. This glen will be awash with blood, and soon.”
“And you know Beth will be one of those killed.”
The pale blue eyes narrowed, apprehensive. “Nae. Not Ealasaid.”
“Yo, Fionn,” Nick waved a hand as if to catch the faerie’s attention, then pointed to himself. “From the future. She’s on the list; I’ve seen it.”
There was a moment when Nick thought Fionn would only deny again, but then the faerie saw and his eyes went wide. Shock paled his countenance to unimaginable white. His mouth dropped open and he covered it with his hand as tears welled then streamed down his face. He slumped to the side of his tree crotch and leaned against the bark, sobbing with a heart broken in two. His head wagged from side to side. “No. Not Beth. No, not herself!”
The raw grief pouring from the creature touched Nick in a place he wished he didn’t have, and tears stung his eyes though he fought them back. He found he couldn’t countenance Beth’s death any more easily than this faerie. “All right, guy. I’m here to stop it.”
“But ye cannae. There is no changing history. What will be, must be.”
Nick’s chest tightened, and he said, “Then Beth is doomed, for I saw her name on the list of those killed by the Redcoats.”
Fionn threw back his head, uttered a long, despairing wail, and disappeared. The sound echoed in the forest after he was gone.
Nick stared at the now empty tree crotch, and wondered how much of that had been a put-on. Or if any of it had.
Chapter 7
Beth looked out the door for Nick, for it was midday and time to eat, but he was nowhere to be seen. Father and Dùghall were already inside at the table, and the food would be all gone if Nick didn’t return from his work soon. She called out for him, but there was no reply from the woods where he’d gone to collect deadfall.
Dùghall said through a cheekful of salt beef, “Let him be, sister. He’ll come when he’s hungry. More than likely he’s curled up inside his plaid, having a nap.”
Beth threw a cross look into the room at Dùghall. Such a wit he was. “Ye know he’s not. That Nick is a harder worker than you’ve ever pretended to be.”
Father muttered into his plate, “Also, he cannae abide the cold and would never curl up to sleep in it.”
Dùghall laughed, and even Father couldn’t stifle his chuckle this time. Beth said only, “Och!” and closed the door. Quickly, ignoring the men, she went to the table, took a piece of oat bread and split it open with her fingers, then stuffed it full of the beef and some cheese. After pouring some ale into their small water skin, she threw on her cloak and hurried out the door with the food and drink. Behind her, Father called out that she should not worry so much about the stranger, and that she should pay more mind to her family. She ignored him, and fairly ran into the woods to take Nick his meal.
It was simple enough to track the garron to the area where Nick was collecting the wood. Two large fallen pieces lay near the house. One had come from nearby, but the drag marks for the other led to a spot near the river. She found Nick crouched by a third piece, tying the horse to it, and called out to him.
He stood and greeted her with a wide smile. “What brings you all the way out here?”
“I have your dinner.” She handed over the bread and meat. “You were late returning to eat, and I couldn’t have Father and Dùghall taking it all.”
“They wouldn’t.”
“Oh, aye, they would. Surely you know that by now. One must eat quickly in our house if one is to eat at all.”
“Well, then, thank you for looking out for me.” He looked around, and nodded toward a large, gnarled tree root that rose from the ground in a moss-covered hump. “Here, sit with me.”
Together they sat, and he took a bite of his food. Then he said, “Have you eaten?”
She shook her head, and he proceeded to tear his sandwich in half. “Oh, no, Nick. I brought that for you.”
“If the other guys are going to scarf everything, it’ll be gone by the time you get back. Here. Have this.” He gave her half.
She took it, but only because he was right and she was hungry. They both fell silent as they chewed the oat bread, mature cheese, and salty meat. Winter meals were rarely tasty, and this was average. It would be little more than something to keep their insides from touching for the day. They alternated bites with drinks from the skin, neither speaking. Beth struggled for something to say, but the more she wished to talk, the less came to mind
. Now that she had a chance to speak freely to him, without fear of interruption or eavesdroppers, nothing came clear enough to speak aloud. Nick leaned his elbows on his knees and looked out over the frozen burn where threads of running water trickled among frost-encrusted rocks and dead reeds.
The trouble was, the one thing on her mind was something she didn’t dare say, and it was all she could do to not betray herself by leaning too close. The scent of him made her want to bury her face in his plaid and take deep, dizzying breaths. He was strong and healthy, and kept himself cleaner than most. She breathed as close as she dared, and realized the fresh sweat on him smelled like passion. It touched the core of her and tickled it so she wanted to laugh. Giggle like a girl. Transfixed, she watched the beating of his heart at his neck, and wondered if she imagined it to be quicker than normal.
When he spoke, it almost startled her. “Have you had any more trouble from that Gòrdan guy?”
She shook her head. “He’s stayed away, and I thank you for frightening him off.”
“You think he’s frightened?”
“Oh, aye. Most definitely. He attacked you because you have a stronger heart than he. He can see it in you that you are not afraid, and that in itself makes him so.”
“He’s a coward.”
“Aye.”
He looked over and nodded at her. “Did he do that?”
“Do what?” She laid a hand over her cheek, apprehensive.
“That scar. Did he hit you?”
A flush crept up from her neck and her face warmed. Her smallpox scar. Her finger touched it, and it felt like a cave in her face. “No. I mean, that wasn’t what caused it.”
“Then he did hit you.” A dark smoldering colored his voice and he sat up.
“Aye. There are few husbands who would not.”
Nick grunted. “Sonofabitch.”
“Why?” What she really wanted to ask was why he was more upset about the hitting than the scar.
“Men don’t hit women where I come from. At least, they’re not supposed to. Guys go to jail for that.”
“Truly?”
“Sure. It’s pretty chickenshit to hit a girl.” For a moment Nick looked as if he wished to say something, then changed his mind, but then said it anyway. “Why did you want a man like that for a husband? How do you figure your kids would have turned out, with him for a father?”
A wave of sorrow came over Beth, and she looked down at her hands.
Nick held up a palm and said, “I’m sorry. That was nosy of me. I just... wonder why you’re still hurting over him.”
“I’m not.”
“Could have fooled me.”
Now she sighed and looked away at the burn and its icy banks. Winter-brown mountains rose on the other side, as barren as she felt. “The children need not have been like him.”
“Often they are. You can’t control that sort of thing.”
“Still, ’tis better to take the chance than to never have a family at all.” As she said it, the idea of making a family with Nick crossed her mind, and the warmth it brought went straight to her belly. They would be strong, braw and bonnie children, and he would protect them far better than Gòrdan ever could have. She was certain of it. She then said, “And for what are you so interested in who my children might have been?” Had they been.
He grunted and looked away. After a moment he said, “I wish for you to be happy. Live a long life. You deserve a family, and as many children as you want.” There was a pause, then he continued, “And a loving husband. Gòrdan wasn’t it.” She turned to look into his face, but he said, “There’s got to be someone out there for you who will treat you well.”
Her heart sank, and she looked at her hands again. So silly of her to hope he might have feelings for her. More than likely he had someone waiting for him at home. Someone he was promised to. Someone as bonnie as himself, which she certainly was not. She stood, and held out a hand for the skin. “I’ll be going back to the house now, before my reputation becomes even more sullied than it is.”
He also stood, but didn’t give back the ale. “Thank you for bringing my lunch. I guess the time got away from me. I would have been pretty hungry by dinner time. I mean, supper.”
“You’re quite welcome.” She kept her hand out for the skin.
“And thank you for the company.”
“Aye.”
He took her hand in his and lifted it to his lips to kiss the back of it. Her heart skipped as she watched him, unable to move, or even think what he could mean by this. She simply enjoyed the feeling of his mouth on her skin and the warmth of his hand around hers. When he straightened and looked into her face for a reaction, she allowed a little smile. The corners of her mouth turned up to let him know she was pleased but not overpowered. He looked straight into her eyes.
Then he leaned toward her, and she stood her ground, neither shying nor advancing. His lips touched hers, soft and salty from eating. Then he straightened and murmured, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Her voice was tight, and she was forced to clear it before speaking further. “Well, I must hurry home, for I wasnae jesting about my reputation.”
He returned to her the ale skin and stepped back. “Right. Don’t want anyone to think bad things. I’ll see you back at the house.”
“Aye.” She stepped away also, but wasn’t ready yet to turn away.
He nodded. “Aye.”
Finally she had to leave or be embarrassed, so she turned and walked as steadily as she could toward home. Her heart was beating so fast and hard, she could barely see to place her feet one before the other. Once out of sight, she licked her lips to taste him on them, and smiled.
All that evening she moved about in a daze, not hearing any of the talk among the men and not nearly caring what any of it might be. Once the supper had been eaten and cleared away, she settled on the stool by the table with her spinning and watched Nick’s face as he spoke to the others about the laird. He still pressed for an apology to the crown for the tardiness in signing the oath. The planes of his cheeks were sharp in the firelight, and his eyes bright with concern. Indeed, he seemed more concerned about their clan than she was.
She had faith all would be well. She knew the MacIain would do what was right and necessary, for the lives of his people had always been in his hands. He’d led them well and wisely for as long as she could remember, and there was no reason to believe now would be any different. So Beth ignored the talk and watched Nick’s face.
Oh, how beautiful he was! In his own way, even more so than Gòrdan. His strength was plain, now that he’d learned to handle tools. His intelligence shone in his bright eyes, and he spoke with a sensibility few men possessed. Idly, she began to picture in her mind what their children might look like. Just like him, she decided. Many sons, all like him.
As they talked, Beth noticed her father glancing over at her. Then his gaze went to Nick, and she hurried to focus her attention on her spinning. Though the chore was as automatic to her as breathing, and she no more had to watch the spindle than she needed to observe the rise and fall of her own chest, she gave the thing her full attention now. Twirl the spindle, feed the wool, twirl, feed, twirl, then stop and wind the lengthening thread about the shaft.
Father wasn’t fooled. From the corner of her eye she saw him glance back at her, then at Nick again. Nick attended to a corner of one fingernail, glancing only at Father, and that only every so often. After a few moments, Father relaxed and returned to the discussion that had gone on uninterrupted. Dùghall didn’t seem to have been disturbed by Father’s odd behavior, nor even noticed it. Beth drew a deep, soft breath and hoped that would be the end of it.
The space was too close in this house. There were too many eyes attending to whatever might pass between herself and Nick. She wished it were summer, when the days would be long and most of that time spent outdoors.
But then Father said to Nick, “I expect you’re eager to return to your home.”
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Beth couldn’t help a sharp glance to see what would show on Nick’s face. He seemed flustered. Unsure of what to say. She had no inkling of what that could mean. He said, “I believe my family must be wondering what has happened to me.”
Father leaned heavily on the arm of his chair. “You do intend to leave us before very long, aye?”
Another pause for thought, then Nick said, “I hope to not wear out my welcome. As soon as I’ve put together enough to travel to America, I’ll be on my way.”
“Then you intend to leave for America.”
“It’s my home. Where else would I go?” There was no certainty in his voice, and Beth found that terribly interesting. Did he not know where his home was?
Father pursed his lips thoughtfully, then said, “Aye. There’s no getting around it, is there? You’re a colonist, and you belong there.”
Beth finally spoke up. “Father! You’re making Nick feel unwelcome.”
“I’m only determining his intentions, daughter. And it appears he will be leaving not only our house, but Scotland altogether.” He left it at that, but Beth received his meaning. If her interest in Nick—which was now plain to her father—were to grow, she would find herself either disappointed by Nick or taken away to the terrifying wilds of the New World. And he knew neither prospect would please her.
She bent to her spinning, hoping against hope for a third outcome.
It was the next day before Beth was able to speak to Nick again alone. She waited until he was away from the house, then made as if she’d just discovered he’d left behind his water skin for the midday meal. “Och! He’ll be sorry if I dinnae get this to him!”
“He’s a sorry one in any case.”
“Dùghall!”
“So, let him drink from a burn just once. It willnae kill him.”
She only replied with a disgusted noise in the back of her throat, and she threw on her cloak to hurry out the door. In a short distance she caught up with Nick on the track to Carnoch.
“A Neacail!”
He turned, and when he saw her he greeted her with his ever so bright smile.