Highland Soldiers: The Enemy (8 page)

On such a day, Callum returned with his men from a survey of the area, scouting for caves that peppered the moors, providing hidden shelter for Covenanter ringleaders.

As they led their horses into the byre, Alex said, “If I have to endure one more drowsy afternoon on the moors, I’ll go daft.”

Charlie said, “Shall I stir up a wee war—just to keep us from getting rusty?”

Callum smiled and said, “We’re supposed to be rooting out trouble, not causing it.” As he spoke, he caught sight of Mari, and his words trailed off.

Duncan followed Callum’s gaze and said, “Aye.”

Alex and Charlie quickly went on to talk about their next trip to Glasgow and how they would take Hughie to a nanny house. After Hughie endured some good-natured teasing, the lads were away, jabbing and chasing each other in the direction of the kitchen to see if they could cajole some food out of the cook.

That was, all except Callum, who lingered behind to brush his horse. Thoroughly—in hope it might afford him a glimpse of Mari. But with his task now complete, Callum stood in the shadow of the doorway and leaned with arms folded, while he wished for Mari to emerge with her near-sighted mother to work on her stitching.

By my sword! What a pitiful wretch I am!

Determined to shake off this mood, Callum walked to the doorway in time to see the minister and his son arrive on horseback. He stepped back into the shadow until they had entered the house. Knowing Charlie, he and the others would charm the news out of the kitchen help. It was a warm summer day. Windows were open. Callum sat down by the side of the house between bits of shrubbery and waited.

Spying was, it turned out, a dull endeavor, with rare bouts of peril thrown in to make it worthwhile. He was deeply involved with cleaning the grit from his fingernails with his dirk while he waited. Callum had, weeks before, determined the lay of the rooms in the house. He had concealed himself here while the guests had arrived and got settled. Now, horses in the stable and guests safely inside, he could go unobserved to the sitting room windows. Between meals, the dining room tended to go unvisited, so there was nothing to gain from lingering here any longer. He had decided to move on to the sitting room window when he heard a man’s voice from inside. Of the two who’d arrived, this had to be the younger. It was a clear, youthful voice and, regrettably for speaker, Callum thought, rather high. No doubt, this was the minister’s son.

“Marion,” said the young man in hushed tones.

Callum silently cursed him as he crouched beneath the window and listened.

“I have reason to believe that you are with child.”

The lout
. Callum listened intently as he thought how to spare Mari this painful conversation.

“Well, your reason fails you,” she answered.

Good lass
. Callum smiled.

“Does it?” The man would not be deterred.

His voice took on an edge that was sinister in its softness. Callum stood to the side of the open window and, risking detection, peered in through the crack between the hinges.

With a searing look, Thomas said, “’Tis a sin to lie, Marion.”

“‘Twas a sin to lie with
you
.” She lifted her chin and regarded him with bitter accusation, even as her trembling hand clutched the back of a chair for support. “And I regret it.”

“Do you, Marion?” He stepped closer, until the fabric of their clothing touched. Thomas’s eyes lit with fervor. In a quiet voice laced with menace, he said, “Just tell me that there is no bairn.” Mari’s eyes darted about, catching sight of a shadowy figure in the window beside her. Her eyes widened as she recognized Callum.

Thomas edged closer. “I will not let you ruin me, Marion.” With a sudden move that made Mari gasp, he pulled her against him and buried his face in her neck. His mouth slid up her neck to her ear.

“Not like you ruined her, you heap of swine slop.” Callum leapt through the window.

Thomas swung about to face him, holding Mari between them.

“Let her go,” Callum said with a dark, restrained tone.

“What, and release her to the hands of a Highland barbarian?”

Callum leveled a calm but formidable look. “You stand before me forcing a woman to act as your shield, and you call me the barbarian?” Callum’s mouth spread into a smile that was chilling.

As Thomas breathed in his anger, Mari sank her teeth into his hand. With a curse, he released her. Callum scooped her into his arms. “I’ll be right there, lassie,” he said, plopping her to the ground outside the window.

Thomas landed a blow to Callum’s ribs just as Callum swung round and jabbed Thomas in the jaw, then the belly, knocking the wind out of him. Callum stood for a moment and studied the father of Mari’s bairn, on his knees doubled over at his feet. He resisted the temptation to shove his boot in the lout’s teeth. He could so easily finish him off in an instant, but Mari’s family was in the next room. They were ignorant of any of this; and, for Mari’s sake, it would be best to leave him, for now. Hoisting himself over the sill, Callum landed beside her.

“Fancy a ride?” he asked, grabbing her hand. Without waiting for an answer, he started to head for the byre. When she failed to follow he said, “Come, lass. We’re in a bit of a hurry.”

“Oh, aye,” she said, her dazed mind catching up to the swiftly unfolding events. She ran with him. Callum saddled his horse within a minute.

“Marion?” Thomas called out with disturbing sangfroid as he approached the byre, having taken more than a few moments to recover from the force of Callum’s fist before looking for them. He arrived in time to jump out of the way of Callum’s horse as it stormed out of the byre and out onto the moor, leaving Thomas with little to do but glare as they rode off together.

Mari circled her arms about Callum’s waist and clung dearly as they rode over the moors. Feeling her turn, Callum glanced back as well. “He did not follow. I dinnae think he has the ba—em, inclination.”

“He wouldnae stray so far from his daddy,” she said bitterly.

They rode into a forest of green birches that grew from a violet blanket of bluebells. When they stopped, Callum circled Mari’s waist with his arm and lowered her gently to the ground. Then he dismounted.

He left Storm to graze, tethered to a low hanging branch, while he took Mari’s hand and led her into the forest. The air smelled of coming rain, while the birches rustled as if to whisper the same.

“You’re cold,” said Callum as he saw Mari shiver.

“I’m not sure if I’m cold or just shaken.”

Callum unwrapped enough of his plaid to wrap around her. She dissolved into tears as she leaned her head on his chest. He held her, enveloped in his plaid and his arms. When her weeping subsided, she lifted her eyes. That one look did away with any resolve he had left. Her full lips parted only a bit. “Mari,” came his voice, rough and aching.

Rain dropped from the shivering leaves. Mari looked up at Callum and wiped drops of rain from his face with soft hands.

“God’s teeth, woman.” He practically growled.

Mari shrank back, unsure of what had displeased him so.

Tenderly, he took her hands and held them in his as he took a step back to put space between them. His dark gaze bore through her. “If you touch me again, by my dirk, I shall kiss you.”

Callum turned away and leaned his bent arm on the tree trunk. He breathed slowly and tamped down his emotions, as he had done so many times in battle. But these were far different emotions, and the battle was against a more formidable foe: his own heart. Bracing himself, he tried to focus his thoughts. The first thing he had to do was get out of these cursed woods, with their rich hues and soft shadows that soothed and seduced. “Fie on this rain. Will it ever stop?” He spat out the words.

Mari spoke in serene tones that worsened his struggle. “Dinnae curse the rain. It will stop in its time.”

How could she be calm when he ached for her? It was unbearable. Callum glared at the tree trunks darkened by rain as the soft tapping of droplets on leaves failed to soothe him.

“Callum?” She touched her hand to his shoulder. He tensed.

“Is your dirk oath not good, then?”

Callum turned to face her with a puzzled expression. It took him a moment to recall his own words.
If you touch me again, by my dirk, I shall kiss you
.

She flew into his arms, and his mouth covered hers. She fit against him too well as he tightened his grip. The mist may as well have thickened about them, for it seemed as though nothing existed but them. He touched her hair, now drenched by the rain, and stroked the wet strands from her brow. Longing lit his eyes, and she returned his gaze with unbound emotion.

Callum yearned to take her right there. As he slid his hands to her waist, he gently pushed her away. “Lass, I must take you back now.”

In the morning, Callum stood at the door as Sally, the servant girl, opened it. Her recognized her as the one who had a sweet spot for Hughie. She told him that Mari lay in bed, burning with fever.

“Shall I fetch a doctor?” asked Callum, inwardly kicking himself for having taken her out in the rain. And yet what choice had he been given?

“It’s just a wee chill. Grizzal MacRorie is tending to her now.”

She answered Callum’s questioning look. “She’s the healer and midwife.”

“Can I see her?”

“No.” Sally glanced toward the footsteps approaching the stairs. She whispered, “If I can, I’ll come fetch you later.”

Callum nodded and left as she closed the door.

*

Marion spent several feverish days in bed. Grizzal MacRorie came daily to tend to her with her teas and poultices. Once, in a fevered delirium, Marion threw off her quilt and sat up. Frantically she pulled at her shift, damp with sweat, desperate to cool herself. Grizzal found a clean shift to put on her. A seasoned midwife, Grizzal had suspected as much when she saw Mari get sick outside the byre at the Ferguson farm, but the telltale darkening nipples and thickened waist confirmed in her mind that Mari McEwan was pregnant.

Callum watched Grizzal leave, and then he rapped at the door, flanked by two of his men. Young Sally, the servant girl, answered.

“Sir?”

He smiled, not intending to charm her, but he had such a smile. She cast furtive eyes back. Her mistress was not far behind.

She looked at him bashfully from beneath ginger curls, and then looked past him to Hughie. A blush spread into her freckled cheeks.

“Would you please tell your mistress that Ensign MacDonell would like to see her?”

“Aye, sir!”

Callum glanced about, not having been in the house since the day they had arrived.

Marion’s mother soon swept into the entrance. “Ensign MacDonell,” said Margaret with measured grace.

“Good day, ma’am. We have orders to search the house.”

“But why now? You have been here for weeks.”

“There have been reports of Covenanters hiding out in homes in this area. We’ve been ordered to search all the houses.”

“Indeed?” Margaret could not hide her disbelief. “But you’ve been here with us, watching us come and go. How could we possibly be hiding anyone here?”

“I’m following orders.”

She reluctantly stepped aside while he and his men searched. His men kept Mrs. McEwan occupied downstairs while Callum went upstairs, straight to Mari’s room. He found her asleep. Closing the door gently behind him, he sat down on the edge of her bed. Charlie had charmed Sally, the housemaid, into keeping him informed of Mari’s condition. Her fever had soared for two days. No one knew of the bairn that she carried, and that worried him. He put his hand to her forehead. A deep sigh escaped. There was some lingering warmth from the fever, but she had clearly improved from what he had been told. “Mari, my love.”

Her eyes opened and found his. She gave a weak smile. His jaw clenched and his eyes shone as he choked back a surge of emotion. “Mari, this was my fault. I should not have kept you out in the rain. I was selfish.” He lifted her hand to his lips. “You’ve worried me, lass. When I heard you were ill, I could not keep away.”

She squeezed his hand weakly and whispered, “Are you through, Callum MacDonell?”

He smiled and said, “No, lass. I’m not.” He touched the slim fingers he held in his hand as he pressed his lips to them. “I tried not to love you.”

“And how did you fare?” she asked with shining eyes.

He lifted his eyes to hers. “Miserably.”

A faint smile traced her lips. “Well then are we not a pitiful pair?”

“Aye, love, that we are.” His eyes shone with all that he had held in his heart.

Mari’s eyes gently closed. A soft smile curved her lips as she drifted to sleep.

*

The next day he was gone. He and his men had been called back to Stirling. Marion was bedridden for several more days. Outside, the community was astir over a recent Covenanter victory over royalist soldiers at Drumclog. Some of the young men were off to Bothwell near Glasgow to join up with the mounting force of Covenanters. There was much debate over what should be done next, but no plans had been made.

Days passed. Marion grew stronger. She started to busy herself about the house and the farm, but her thoughts were with Callum. No word came from him. One morning, she and Sally, the dairymaid, worked in the kitchen squeezing the milk out of butter. They formed the butter into small blocks and wrap them in butterbur leaves. Mari set down the pitcher of buttermilk, and checked to make sure no one else was about.

“Sally?”

“Yes, Miss.”

“I could not help but notice you spent some time with one of those soldiers—Hughie, was it not?”

“Aye, Miss. In truth, we went walkin’ a wee bit.” Sally smiled at the memory, but her mood shifted to fear as she added, “But we did not do anything improper—I promise.”

“Och—no! I didnae mean that. I just wondered if you had heard from him.”

Sally lowered her eyes, and a small sigh slipped out. “Well no, Miss. But I did not expect to, with him fighting.”

“So he went off to fight?” Marion hid her alarm.