The Jezebel (25 page)

Clyde stared down at the map, nodding to himself. “I recall the name Fingal, and I think you could be there inside two days. You will need to purchase supplies, but my guess is inside a week.”

Roderick frowned. Which was it? Two days or a week? “How long is it since you left?”

“How in God’s name would I know?” Clyde said with a wry chuckle. “I cannot count, I do not know my age, and I am not sure when I left.”

“Fair point.” Roderick smiled at Maisie.

She returned the smile as she studied Clyde. “Why did you leave the Highlands?”

“For work, to find my fortune. Eight bairns my mother had, and I was the last.”

“A good enough reason,” she replied. “But why have you never gone back?”

Clyde still stared down at the map. “Fear.”

Roderick was surprised.

“Fear of what?” Maisie asked.

“It not being how I remembered it. Sometimes the memory is better.” He looked at her then. “You’re braver than I, for you are making a return. Tell me, why is it that
you
left the Highlands?”

“Our father left us, and our mother followed him. Searching for him was a journey that broke us apart and broke our hearts.”

Roderick listened to her tale of sadness and grief. He knew what her mother’s quest had brought about, and he understood the sorrow he often saw in Maisie’s eyes.

“I think our father turned his back on his clan and the magical ones, because he couldn’t live with our mother’s strange ways.” She knotted her fingers together and glanced at them both quickly. “And who could blame him?”

That was a leading question. Roderick didn’t want to say the wrong thing, so he said nothing. Neither did Clyde.

“He headed south to find his fortune. The last word he sent was that he was taking to the sea,” she added. “Much like you, seeking a better life and a good wage.”

Clyde lifted his head. “What was his name? I knew a man from Fingal once, a long while back.”

“Roy, his name was Roy.”

Clyde stayed for a silent moment, thoughtful, as he considered his reply. “Aye, I knew a man called Roy from Fingal, and now that I think on what you’ve said, I believe it was him, your father.”

“You knew him?” Maisie’s eyes lit with curiosity.

“I’m afraid that your father did not find his fortune at sea, for the sea took him. Perhaps within a year or two he was swept overboard in a heavy storm. I’m sorry to tell you this.”

Maisie stared at him with a troubled expression, then shook her head. “I’m glad you told me, for you have solved a question that for many years haunted those of us he left behind.”

Clyde nodded. “It is better to know the truth than to wonder endlessly.”

“Thank you. I’m so glad you knew of him and remembered what had happened.” She turned away and went to sit on the edge of the bed.

Clyde looked at Roderick for guidance.

Roderick nodded at him and the old man left. Roderick joined her sitting on the edge of the bed, took her in his arms and held her.

She wept silently, and clung to him with her forehead pressed against his neck. It only made Roderick ache to know who would hold her this way when she was troubled and he was not there. Then she chuckled.

Looking at her in surprise, he saw that her cheeks and lashes were damp with tears, but she was smiling. “It is for my mother I cried. I remember him, and for all those years we wanted to know what became of him, because we still loved him even though he left us. Yet now it is my mother I feel sorry for, thinking he was having a wild old time at sea. Perhaps it was better that way.”

Maisie lifted her head and laughed, and Roderick smiled, too. He didn’t quite understand the sentiments, but he was relieved that the burdens seem to have been lifted.

“You have helped me solve many riddles that have plagued my life, Roderick Cameron.” Her eyes twinkled and she wiped away the tears that clung to her lashes.

He wanted to do more than help her solve riddles. “I will go with you. I’ll take you to Fingal.”

Maisie stared at him. “But your ship, your men?”

“Brady is capable enough. He can take charge while I am gone.”

She wrapped her hand around Roderick’s much larger, callused one. He stared down at it, noticing how different they were. She was a lady, and a witch, a woman he did not fully understand. He was a simple seafaring man with callused hands and rough ways.

“I treasure every moment we have together, but you must not feel obliged to care for me.”

“I don’t feel obliged. I want to escort you safely until you are with your people again. I promised I would take you to your destination.”

“And I said my destination was Dundee, not Fingal.”

“I stand by my word. I said I’d see you safely. I cannot let you travel alone, not now, not since we have grown close.”

She smiled, but a different emotion shone in her eyes.

It made him want to hold her in his arms for a long time, too long, too tightly. So he shrugged. “Besides, I must speak with Gregor,” he said, latching onto that fact. “It is not fair for him to be off marrying a woman without at least one of us there to witness it.”

It was a good enough excuse, Roderick assured himself.

Then he looked at her again, and wondered why he needed an excuse to stay by her side.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

The ship dropped anchor in the bay of Kinlochbervie, the most northerly point on the west coast of Scotland that was accessible by sea, having a sandy beach to row a small boat upon. The coastline all around had been rugged and rocky, and their landing place looked like a haven to Maisie.

She stared at the small cluster of cottages, and beyond, at the land that rose up in front of them, majestic and breathtaking.
Home. The Highlands.
She felt the immensity of the moment unfurling inside her. It left her tremulous with excitement and anticipation, and yet nervous, too. It helped that Roderick was at her side.

Clyde volunteered to row them ashore, and when Roderick climbed out of the boat into the shallow waters, he asked him if he’d like to accompany them and set foot on his homeland. The old man shook his head, adamant that it would be unwise at this point in his life to take such a risk.

Maisie wasn’t disappointed, but she understood. If Clyde were to return, it would be to discover that his older brothers and sisters had passed on, and the new bairns would not know him. She felt sure his people would welcome him anyway, but he loved the sea, and he loved what he held in his heart—that part of the Highlands that would always be his, no matter where in the world he was.

He looked at her for a long moment before he said goodbye. “I’m glad to have known you.”

“Even though I am a Jezebel?”

“You are far better than every other Jezebel I have encountered.” He chortled. The sound was a rare treat.

“I’m honored to have known you, too, Clyde.”

He bowed over her hand before she climbed out of the boat to wade the last few feet with Roderick.

When they sat down on the beach to put their stockings and boots back on, it occurred to her that Roderick had not said goodbye, which led her to believe they had already exchanged words, and the shipmen would know when to expect him back.

Shortly after landing, Maisie found herself engaged in conversation with the folk who came out of the cottages to see who it was that had come ashore. Hearing their Highland burr, and exchanging words in Scottish Gaelic, Maisie knew how close to home she really was now. Roderick watched, smiling over at her, as she explained to three of the local women the purpose of their journey.

“I asked,” she told him, “and they said we can be in Fingal by tomorrow morning.”

Roderick purchased supplies aplenty, cheese and fresh baked bannocks, a skin full of water and one of mead, and a brace of recently caught fish. With detailed directions and descriptions of natural markers on the landscape to look out for, they set off.

As they began to make their way along the narrow path between the peaks and crags, heading inland toward Fingal, Maisie could scarcely believe it. She was not only overcome by the beauty of the place, she recalled it—as if her memories were bringing it alive for her again.

As they went, she pointed out places she recognized from when they would walk about with their mother and their cousins, foraging and harvesting as they went. Roderick was eager to know all about it. He was every bit as fascinated with the landscape as she was, if not more so.

“It is so different to the Lowlands,” he commented. “Much more so than I would have expected. We had a good welcome at Kinlochbervie, though.”

“Did you not expect the locals to welcome us?”

“I wasn’t sure what to expect. I’ve heard some wild stories about this part of Scotland, and given that Clyde was the Highlander I knew best until I met you, you can see why I hesitate to claim understanding.”

She laughed. She noticed that he’d suggested he knew her better than he knew Clyde, who’d been with him for so much longer. It made her hope that was a good sign. She was nervous about what would transpire between them once they arrived in Fingal. Would he turn around after he’d spoken with his friend Gregor, and head back to Kinlochbervie immediately? She hoped not. She was also nervous about what lay ahead for her. The state of her nerves left her adrift in a sea of emotions, and if not for the sensible, solid man at her side, she feared she would have got lost several times over.

As daylight dimmed, Roderick found them a place to rest for the night. In a sheltered spot between two trees the thick grass underfoot made a good bed. The trees leaned together like old friends and were still laden with leaves, providing a thick canopy overhead. He collected soft scrub and ferns to make it warmer and more comfortable.

Then he set about collecting dry branches and kindling for a fire.

Maisie stood by, watching. “You can do this? You can make a shelter, on land?”

“I wasn’t always at sea, and my da believed that making a warm bed for the night if you’re out hunting was the most basic of skills a man should learn.”

He gestured. “Sit yourself down. I’ll prepare the fish for roasting once I’ve got a fire going.”

Maisie did so, and watched in silent pleasure as he kindled the fire, then arranged the fishes on a thin branch he scraped down with a dirk, building a trestle to rest the spit upon. After the sky dimmed it was the light of the fire she watched him by. It felt as if they were the only two in the whole world, and she felt content to enjoy that for the evening.

After they had eaten, and he joined her under the trees, they watched the glowing embers of the fire as they rested.

“Will you have to return to the ship once you talk to your friend Gregor?”

Roderick did not answer, just turned his head to look at her, staring into her eyes.

“When do they expect you back, Brady and the men? I mean, how long will they wait for you to return?”

“Are you wanting shot of me?”

“No. You know that is not true. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

In the firelight, she saw his expression sharpen. He looked at her longingly.

Maisie’s heart swelled in her chest.

“If they get even a hint of the navy being on their trail, I told them they must leave without me.”

He was as wary as she was, choosing his words with care, taking his time. It was as if they were stepping cautiously around one another, each afraid to say the wrong thing for the other person.

“But what would you do, if you went back to the bay and they had gone?”

“Live a different life.” He gestured around them. “As you can see, I can make shelter. It’s a good start, is it not?”

Maisie sighed. “Roderick, do not taunt me so!”

“Taunt you?”

“You jest...and I adore that. I have never been so happy. But sometimes I need to know if your jest has any basis in truth.”

“I know.” He nodded. “I truly wouldn’t mind being on land awhile, but I do not want you to feel as if you are stuck with me.”

“Oh, Roderick. I would never feel that way.” Her heart ached.

Without hesitation he shifted, moving toward her.

Instinctively, she lay back as he closed in, wanting to feel his heat, his weight, his possession of her.

He crouched over her, like a hunter, but also like a shield. “Never ever?”

She wrapped her hand around the strong column of his neck. “Never ever, ever.”

“We will see how you feel once you are reunited with your kin. You can let me go if you want to, or not, if that is your preference.”

Maisie kissed him, silencing him, then rolled him onto his back and straddled his hips, holding him down—holding him to the Highlands.

* * *

The midmorning mist filled the glen beyond, and Maisie stared across it, remembering this very sight from her childhood. She breathed in the familiar scents of heather and mixed foliage, and the heady scent of damp, mossy grass and mulch underfoot. They used to run through the mist and up the hill on the other side, chasing one another, the morning dew underfoot only making it more fun.

“We are close to Fingal now.”

“That we are.”

When she looked at Roderick, she saw that his brow was drawn low as he studied the horizon. Was he still thinking that she wouldn’t need him when she found home? “What worries you?”

He turned to look down at her, and broke into a smile. “Nothing at all. I was trying to see clearly. Look there, on the distant crag.”

Maisie followed the direction he pointed. Atop the distant ridge a figure sat on a large rock as if watching out, looking in their direction.

Even while he pointed, the figure rose to her feet. It was a woman, shrouded in a heavy shawl. Before she had even thought about it, Maisie knew who it was.

She felt her heart beat faster, echoed as it was in her twin. “Jessie.”

“If I had to wager on it, I would say you were right.”

Reaching out for his hand, she clung to him, then lifted her free hand and waved.

When her wave was returned, Maisie nodded. “She sensed me coming. She knew.”

They watched as the woman turned away for just a moment and shouted back to the glen beyond, waving her arms, alerting others.

In the distance, a bell sounded.

Then the woman grabbed her skirts in both hands, lifting them in order to run in their direction, disappearing quickly into the mist in the valley below.

“She’ll come up out of the mists, like a bird flying up from the clouds,” Maisie told Roderick, and nodded at the place.

Moments later, Jessie emerged. Grabbing Maisie into her arms, she danced about. “You’re here, you’re really home.”

Maisie laughed breathlessly, remembering that they did that, spun and danced, hand in hand. “Of course I am. I’ve come in time for your handfasting to this Gregor Ramsay I’ve heard all about.”

Jessie’s mouth fell open and she drew to a halt. “You knew?”

Maisie laughed, for it was just as it had been before, as if they had never been apart. “I did, and I will tell you all about it, once we are settled.” She gripped her twin’s hand. “Is Lennox here?”

“Oh, aye.” Jessie laughed. “And he has his own coven. A fine bunch they are, too.”

As if to answer her question, a tall man hurtled toward them, running fast, his long hair flying free, his shirt loose from his belt.

“Let me look at you,” he said, grasping Maisie by the shoulders. “It’s really you.” He shook his head, and his eyes shone with tears of relief.

He’d grown into a handsome man, and she felt proud.

“I hunted for you, for you both. Where did you go?”

“I was taken to England. I’ve been in London until very recently.”

“That accounts for the strange manner of speaking you have,” Jessie commented. “Like a fine lady you are.”

She shook her head. “I am Maisie Taskill from Fingal, and I’m home at last.”

When she said that she found herself locked in an embrace with both her siblings. She pressed her head against them, sobbing with relief. But when they drew apart and her brother encouraged them to head back toward the village, Maisie paused and put out her hand for Roderick, drawing him into their fold.

* * *

The morning before the festival of Samhain in 1715, Gregor Ramsay and Jessica Taskill handfasted to one another.

Gregor refused to put the autumn season to rest without having her as his wife, for he said there was no holding her, and the new season might tempt her to stray.

Jessie laughed at his notions, but Gregor insisted, anyway.

Maisie couldn’t have been happier for her twin.

The bond between Gregor and Roderick was a delight, too. It meant that Roderick settled much more quickly than he might otherwise have done. The men worked together, building neighboring crofts. On a nearby hill, Lennox had done the same.

Lennox and his woman, Chloris, planned to make their vows to one another after yuletide. Chloris said she needed the old Christian year to be left behind so that she might break with her past as the year turned over. Lennox agreed to her request, because it meant that they would be handfasted before their babe arrived.

The handfastening was done by Glenna, a woman from Lennox’s coven, together with the oldest living Taskill, their mother’s aunt Seonag.

Seonag was a wise woman, and peered at Jessie and Gregor for a long while before nodding and stating that they were meant to be together.

While her twin was exchanging promises with Gregor, Maisie put her hand in Roderick’s.

He nodded. He knew.

She wanted him to stay.

They would wed before the festival of Beltane.

So it was the Taskill siblings became part of their magical landscape again, as they were always meant to be, in tune with the seasons, the elements and the tides.

Lennox, who had a strong coven around him, could never be entirely at rest. In his most somber moments he reminded them that witch hunters, thwarted lovers and souls who believed they had been wronged, might yet still be on their trail. He also told them that they would deal with whatever might come, because they were strong and they were with their kin and their clan.

For in the hidden glens the Taskills were all around, welcoming in those three and the lovers they had brought with them—the lovers who had helped them find one another, and had hastened their path home.

* * * * *