Amanda Scott (8 page)

The children plopped down at once, and despite the sunlight, she saw Pinkie pull the little shawl closer around her. Chuff took a bun from the little duffel he carried and broke it into pieces, giving the first to his sister and the next to Mary.

She accepted if with thanks. “You are truly amazing, Chuff. I did not even think about food, I’m afraid.”

“Well, I’ve no got anything else o’ that sort,” he said, “but I did just take the bun from the kitchen, because I knew Pinkie would get hungersome.”

“You take good care of her, I think.”

“I canna always take care o’ her. That’s why I decided tae leave.”

“We need to talk about that,” Mary said. “I think perhaps there are folks who would say that I have done wrong to let you come with me, but I did not feel that it was wrong at the time, and I generally follow my instincts. Perhaps you would not mind telling me just a little more about yourselves, though, so that I can decide what will be best for me to do with you.”

“Canna we just stay with ye, mistress?”

“Aye,” Pinkie said solemnly, “that would be good.”

“I do not have the right to make that decision,” Mary said. “I live with some of my kinsmen, you see, so my house is not my own. I am sure my Aunt Anne would want to help you, but she is not presently at home, so we cannot ask her. You can stay with me through the winter, I expect, since she and my cousin Sir Neil Maclean intend to remain in Perthshire, but I cannot promise more than that until I have laid the matter before them.”

“You can tell them we work hard,” Chuff said.

“I will, but there is also the likelihood that the laird will object, and there may be others who hold authority over you. Tell me more about Flaming Janet. Does she perhaps have red hair?”

“Aye, but there is nay more tae tell,” Chuff said, dismissing his foster mother with a gesture. “She is just Flaming Janet. She does not count for much with us.”

“But she cared for you most of your lives after your mother died.”

“Because our daddy gave her money tae look after us and a wee good-luck charm he said he would take back when he came home. But after a time Flaming Janet grew a fierce temper on her, because she said there is no way tae mak’ siller out o’ air, charm or no charm. And so, when the laird did come home again—”

“Just a moment,” Mary said as an unpleasant thought struck her. “Do you mean to tell me that the laird is your father?”

“Nay, then, he’s not,” Chuff said, grimacing expressively. “I’d no want him for my daddy, either.”

“Nor me,” his small echo said. “He isna kind, the laird.”

“I see. Well, go on. What happened last year when the laird came home?”

Grimacing again, Chuff said, “She went tae him the day she heard he was at the castle, and she tellt him he should look after us. At first he wouldna do it—said we was nobbut handfast brats—but she kept at ’im till he said he would tak’ me.”

“Not Pinkie?”

“Nay, not till a fortnight since when Flaming Janet just left I the wee lass at the gate wi’ nobbut that dress and her wee shawl tae keep her warm. The laird couldna find her after that—”

“Flaming Janet, you mean?”

“Aye, she just up and left, and there was no females at Shian, only our Pinkie, and the men tease her and dinna treat her well. The cook give her a clout on the lug once that near laid the lass oot. But then the laird said he was for marrying, so we waited till he brought ye home, only then …” He spread his hands, adding, “When ye said ye was for running, I decided we should both of us come away, too.”

Mary’s throat ached, and she felt a prickling of tears in her eyes. Though she knew the notion was nonsensical, she felt as if by fleeing she had unwittingly betrayed the children. At all events, she did not want to hear more.

Chuff said, “Pinkie’s getting cold.”

“So am I,” Mary agreed. “Shall we go on?”

“How far is it tae your house?”

“We are not going there at once,” she said. “Darkness would catch us before we could get there, and in any event, I think we will do better to seek some advice first. I have a good friend who will be glad to help us.”

Chuff pulled Pinkie to her feet. “Is your friend nearby?”

“Not far,” she said, getting up and moving ahead so they could follow her. “His name is Bardie Gillonie, and he lives in a wee glen just beyond that pass yonder. We have only to make our way there without getting lost.”

She had little real worry about losing her way, because the hillside they followed would lead to the path through the pass, but she realized there were some obstacles in their way; and the sunlight had disappeared.

For some time the dark clouds she had seen earlier had been growing more ominous. Now a light rain began to fall, hardly enough to dampen more than their spirits, but it was enough to make the granite over which they traveled rather slippery. Mary feared it would grow worse before it grew better, and she began to wish they had taken the river path after all. However, as they came to a scattering of boulders, a shrill whistle sounded from below, putting that wish to instant flight.

“Quick,” she said, “take cover. I don’t know if they can see us from down there, but most likely it’s Black Duncan and his men, so we mustn’t let them.”

The children scampered ahead of her, diving behind the big rocks, and she hurried after them only to hear Pinkie shriek, “I’m falling! Catch me, Chuff!”

The boy cried out in terror, and horrified, Mary rushed to his side, only to skid to a halt when she realized they had come to a precipice overlooking a steep tumble of boulders and deep, rugged crevices. “Where’s Pinkie?”

“She slipped and fell on her backside, then she just up and disappeared,” the boy said frantically. “I’ll gae doon and look for her.”

“No, wait,” Mary said, grabbing him. “Pinkie, can you hear me?”

Distantly, and with an odd echoing sound, the little girl’s voice came back on a sob. “I’m in here. Oh, get me out, Chuff, get me out! It’s dark and horrid, and it hurts something awful, Chuff. Get me out!”

Struggling to free himself from Mary’s firm grip, the boy tried to lunge toward his sister’s cries, but Mary managed to hold him. “Wait,” she said, “we must find the safest way to get to her. It will do her no good if one of us gets killed trying to help her.”

“She’s afraid. She needs me!”

“Yes,” Mary said calmly, “she needs you to be sensible.” Getting down on her hands and knees, she leaned over and saw that there was a narrow cavity or crevice in the cliff side some six to ten feet below them where a thin jagged-edged slab of granite had split away from the primary mass, opening like a pocket in a coat. Below it lay twenty feet of open space, then a steep rocky slope. Nausea swept through her at the thought of how close the child had come to death, but she forced herself to sound confident when she said, “Pinkie, we are here. Think, darling, and look around you. Can you not climb out of there?”

“Nay, I’m stuck, and I canna move me foot. It hurts. Oh, get me out!”

“We’ll get you out as quickly as we can, darling, but you must be patient. I think we must get some help.”

“Dinna leave me alone,” Pinkie shrieked.

“No, of course we won’t leave you alone.” Mary looked thoughtfully at Chuff. “I cannot climb down there, Chuff, because if I fall, both of you will be alone here, and I’m no hand at climbing in any event. Moreover, I cannot tell from here how deep that crevice is or even if I could fit into it.”

“I can fit, and I can climb doon there and see,” he said urgently.

For a moment she was tempted to let him try, but it was raining harder now, and she knew they could not take the chance. Speaking firmly, she said, “Chuff, even if you could get down to her, she is hurt. Would you be able to pull her out of there by yourself?” When he hesitated, she said, “You know you cannot be sure of that, and I will not be able to help you from here. Perhaps if we had a rope—”

“Aye, sure, but we’ve no got one. It’s hanging from yon turret at Shian.”

His tone was bitter, but Pinkie called out again just then, and Mary said to him gently, “You must be strong for Pinkie, Chuff. If I leave you here with her and go for help, I must know that you won’t do anything foolish. Can you promise me?”

He eyed her with grave displeasure. “How long will ye be away?”

“No longer than I must. If Bardie is at home, I will return in less than an hour. It will seem like a very long time, though, so I must know that you will obey me. It won’t help anyone if I fret myself to flinders, worrying about whether you will be sensible. Nor will it help Pinkie in the least if you try to climb down there to her and you fall. Think how it would terrify her.”

“I think it would terrify me, too,” Chuff said with a sudden glint of humor.

She ruffled his damp hair. “I’ll be as quick as I can. I can get down from here to that granite slope over there to the right, so you’ll be able to watch me for a time. I should easily reach the path through the pass from there, and it’s no more than a ten-minute walk from the top of the pass to Bardie’s cottage. Keep talking to Pinkie, Chuff. Reassure her that we’ll soon have her out of there.”

He nodded, and Mary hurried away, taking greater care than before because the ground beneath her was growing treacherously slippery. The rain had eased, but she felt colder and feared there would be snow before she returned.

When she reached the granite slope, she looked back and waved to Chuff, hoping he would keep his word to her and do nothing foolish while she was away. Realizing, even as the thought crossed her mind, that he had never actually promised to stay put, she knew the likelihood was great that she would return to find him perched at the edge of the crevice, or even down inside it with Pinkie. There was nothing she could do about that now, however, other than send up a prayer and hope that God would keep watch over both children.

Once she was on grass again, she increased her pace, recognizing more landmarks as she went until, rounding a clump of aspen and birch, she came upon the hill path. Relieved to have reached it at last, and glad that the rain had stopped for a time, she stepped onto the path, her attention fixed on the way she meant to go. Thus it was that she nearly lost her footing when a stern voice behind her said, “You seem to be in an almighty hurry, Mistress Maclaine.”

Whirling, she found herself face to face with Black Duncan Campbell.

T
RYING TO CONCEAL HER
dismay, Mary said, “Wh-what are you doing here?”

He was leading his horse, giving her to suspect that he had seen her earlier and dismounted to wait for her, but he said only, “I should be the one asking that question, not you. I’m here because I told MacCrichton I’d keep my eyes open on my way home for a foolish wench who’d most likely got lost in the woods. Now, come, I’ll take you back to him.”

Stepping hastily back, she said, “No! You have no authority over me, Duncan Campbell, and I have no wish to go anywhere with you or to return to Shian Towers. Ewan was keeping me there against my will.”

Duncan’s eyebrows rose sardonically. “If you are claiming that he abducted you, how is it that you failed to mention that fact earlier?”

Blushing furiously at this reminder of the scene he had witnessed in the great hall, she nevertheless managed to say with a semblance of her normal calm, “He did not abduct me.”

“I thought not. A dangerous thing to do, abducting a wench.”

“I agreed to go with him, but he deceived me.”

“He said he means to marry you. I heard him say it myself. I must say,” he added in a harsher voice, “it didn’t take you long to recover from Ian’s death.”

A surge of fury nearly overwhelmed her, but her long years of practice at controlling her temper served her well. Forcing the words, she said, “You do not know what you are talking about. Now, let me pass. I’m in a frightful hurry.”

“I could see that. You scrambled onto this path without so much as looking to see who might be coming. That argues either a clear conscience or sheer folly, and even on our short acquaintance I can guess which is more likely. If you agreed to marry MacCrichton, then he has every right to order your coming and going, so I think you would do well to return to him at once. From what I know of the man, he is nearly as dangerous an enemy as I am. Can you afford two of us, mistress?”

“I am going,” she said, turning abruptly on her heel.

He easily blocked her way. “Tell me first exactly why you left. I find it hard to imagine a deception so grave as to make you cry off after agreeing to marry him.”

“It may begin to snow soon,” she said, growing desperate, “and my personal life is of no concern to you. For that matter, nothing about me should concern you.”

“You will nonetheless have to indulge me before I will let you run off.”

“Were you really searching for us? I did not think you any friend to Ewan.”

He frowned. “Is that what you call him? I was merely keeping an eye out, as told him I would. I thought I saw movement near the crest of the hill, so I rode up here to see what it was. My men are just behind me, however.”

“All of them?”

Amusement glinted in his eyes. “You make them sound like an army. I had but three with me at Shian Towers, although I don’t suppose you noticed. As I recall it, you did not even bother to offer me a civil welcome.” There could be no doubting his amusement now.

Stiffly she said, “You need not taunt me with what you saw, Duncan Campbell. I know you are no gentleman, so I won’t point out that a gentleman would say nothing about interrupting such a horrid scene. But you had more than three men with you, for I saw them myself. Heard them, anyway,” she added conscientiously. “I’ll wager there were at least ten more waiting where the woods run down to the loch.”

“You’re observant, lass.”

“I’m also in a hurry,” she said, trying again to step past him.

“Not so fast,” he said, grasping her arm. “You still have not told me what I want to know. Moreover, there are other questions I would ask of you.”

“You will just have to endure your curiosity, sir, because I cannot stand here talking to you.” When he still did not let go, she stamped her foot. “Let me pass!”