Laird of the Mist (18 page)
Am Iinterrupting ye?‖Cat asked Carrick as sheseated herself near his desk. ―Isaw Geordie leaving yer study and thought it may be a good time to talk, seeing as we couldna last night.‖
Carrick stretched his arms out in front of him and smiled. ―Nay,
mo leannan
. Ye arena interrupting. I received word that Duncan Anderson willna be released from prison, so Mary, Dougal, and wee Marie will be with us for a time, it seems. Geordie is off to begin the maltingat the distillery. I‘ll be going up there later myself. ‗Twas an excellent
ceidhli
, aye?‖
Carrick …‖ She changed the subject. ―I am a wee bit worried. Olivia‘s stunt may have consequences.‖ ―Ah.‖ Carrick sighed knowingly. ―Ye‘re thinking of Fiona.‖
―I am. She has more ammunition against us now. If she caresto use it.‖
―Aye, she does.‖ Carrick sat back and considered the situation. ―But if she truly has nowhere to go,
Cat laughed wryly and let her accent slip a bit. ―Are you kidding?‖ she argued. ―Because it‘s her nature to destroy and betray, that‘s why! For no other reason than she just can‘t help herself! God, I wish I knew for certain what she is up to.‖
―Well , now…‖ Carrick gave her a sly grin. ―That‘s where ye have underestimated me, Cat.‖ Cat leaned toward him in surprise. ―What? What have you done? Tell me.‖
―Cat,‖ he began, a hint of reproval in his voice. ―Ye ken how we have the lookouts throughout the
glen? To alert everyone to the coming of soldiers, aye?‖
―Aye…‖ Cat nodded, getting her accent back under control. ―I do.‖
―Well, do ye actually think I‘d allow Fiona to live on the land without setting a lookout on her as
well?‖ Carrick smiled proudly and stood up to lean on his desk conspiratorially.
―I shouldha thought…‖
―Aye, ye shouldha,‖ Carrick said as he came to pull Cat out of her chair and embrace her. ―Now go to
Olivia and Molly, and begin the wedding plans. The sooner we have done with it, the better, aye?‖ Cat kissed his cheek and turned to go. ―Aye. I see yer point. One more thing though. I wanted to give
Taigh MacHendrie
to Olivia and Ian as a wedding gift. How do we get Fiona out? ‖
―A noble gesture, to be sure. But for the now, we dinna.‖ He kissed the top of her head. ―We will find
a way soon, I promise. In the meanwhile, Fiona will do no harm here, I assure ye.‖
―All right then,‖ she answered. ―I love ye, ye brilliant man.‖
―I love ye, too, clever wife.‖ He laughed as she left the room. He wouldn‘t worry Cat with the news
that Fiona had left for the present English stronghold of Inverness that morning.
―May I introduce myself?‖ the tall, dark-haired man addressed Fiona as he lifted her hand to his lips. ―I am Captain Caldwell Camden, Second in Command at Fort Augustus.‖
Fiona gave the younger man her mo st flirtatious smile and held her head a bit higher. ―Second in Command, you say?‖ she answered him, retrieving her hand to quickly snap her fan open and cool herself.
―Indeed.‖ Camden offered an arm to lead her to a quieter spot on the terrace and away from the musicians in the ballroom. ―I‘ve only been posted here for a few monthsor so. Fascinating place, Inverness.‖
―A dung heap, more like‖ she retorted, the disdain clear inher manner. ―I often wish I had stayed in France among civilized people. But then, what can you do when family duty calls? I am Lorraine Binoche, by the by.
Comtesse
Binoche,‖ she lied. She had taken the title and name without marrying the Vicomte, knowing that no one in Scotland was likely to question it these days.
Besides, the Vicomte always called her his Vicomtess, which she loosely translated as Comtesse. Better than the proper and less impressive address of Lady. And she had been known by her middle name, Lorraine. to hide her true MacHendrie identity, and thus disguise her Highland origins.
Camden smiled wickedly and appraised her full length. ―Oh, I know who you are,‖ he said. ―You are staying with Lord and Lady Braden, are you not?‖
―I am.‖ Fiona folded her fan shut. ―We met years ago at the French Court when Lord Braden was Ambassador.‖
―I see.‖ Camden nodded and turned to look at the garden.―And you are from…?‖
―Edinburgh, originally,‖ Fiona quicklyput in. ―Nastybusiness, this Jacobite rising. I suppose you are helping to arrest the Highland rebels?‖
―Now, Comtesse.‖ His eyes gleamed mischievously. ―You well know I can not divulge my orders. I am here to help keep the peace, shall we say?‖
Fiona looked closer at the handsome officer. Younger than her, but not too young for a diversion. He was a fine and fit man with well-defined English features, and striking eyes that assessed everything around him. He could be interesting, she thought.Didn‘t she hear someone mention that he was an English Lord?
―Of course,you are correct,‖ Fiona agreed. ―You are Lord Camden, isn‘t that so? I thought I heard someone—‖
―Oh, that.‖ He cut her off with a wave of his hand. ―True, true. But no matter titles, eh? Come, Comtesse. Tell me how such a beautiful and sophisticated woman came to be in Inverness, especially in such troubled times. Surely there must be an interesting story to it?‖ He seated himself on the bench nearby and patted it for Fiona to join him. She seated herself at the other end, but he swiftly closed the distance between them.
―What is the family duty which brings you to Inverness, Comtesse?‖ Camden leaned toward her, heat obvious in his eyes as he met her gaze.―Nothing too serious, I hope.‖
He put a strong hand on her wrist. The gesture of familiarity sent sparks up her arm and into her head, nearly making her gasp as she tried to restrain the sudden surge of sensuality it ignited.
―No,‖ she managed through a hitch in her breath. ―A minor thing, really.‖ She composed herself quickly and waved a hand in the air to dispense with the matter. ―An elderly father, you see.‖
―Your father is in Inverness?‖ Camden removed his hand and put it on his thigh His firm and wellshaped thigh. ―I would have thought an elderlygentleman would not remain in the Highlands during the rising. None too safe for the frail…‖
―He‘s in Edinburgh,‖ Fiona interrupted quickly. She did not want to give the solider clues to her true identity. Fun was fun, but in the current climate, the truth could imprison, or even kill.
―My father is a well-respected physician there, and requested I come and see to his household. He is unwell, but not an idiot.Nor is he political,‖ she quickly added.
Camden gave her a sly smile with a tinge of something like suspicion. ―Why did you not sail straight to Edinburgh, then? Why Inverness?‖
Fiona stood, suddenly not wishing to answer more questions. Lifting her chin, she snapped open her fan and glared at the captain. ―The onlyship on which I could book passage sailed to Inverness. Besides,‖ she softened her tone,‖ Lord Braden was insistent on myvisit. Seeing that myfather was not at death‘s own door, I decided a bit of amusement would not be amiss before I assume the drudgeries of tending the aged. Is that enough information for you, Captain?‖
She turned away to leave. Perhaps a liaison with the young captain would not best serve her after all. He was too keen on knowing her secrets, learning her business. She took two steps toward the open doors and tossed over her shoulder, ―Good night then, Captain. Another time, perhaps?‖
―Come now, Comtesse.‖ Camden was at her side instantly,and put out a hand to stop her retreat. ―I meant no offense. Do forgive me.‖
He laid a gentle hand on her arm and said apologetically, ―I‘m afraid my duties have caused me to forget my manners among polite society. I should not have pried into your affairs so. ―
Fiona pulled her arm away and allowed a slow smile of condescension to lighten her expression. Perhaps the gamewasn‘t over yet, she thought. She had the upper hand now.
―My dear Captain, you are forgiven
this time
I can well imagine how dealing with the Highland ruffians can cause one to lose their – shall we say–
savoir faire
?‖ She put out her hand to signal an end to the encounter. ―Until we meet again, Captain. It‘ has been most charming.‖
Camden took and quickly kissed her hand, before she pulled it away and turned to go.
―Comtesse,‖ he said. ―When will that be? May I call upon you?‖ He was a bit too eager and Fiona read him perfectly.
―Of course,you may,‖ she said with a quick glance over her shoulder. ―But keep in mind that I leave soon and have much to do.
Au revoir
, Captain…,‖ she trilled as she glided through the doors.
―I will see you again, Comtesse. Very soon,‖ he called after her.
―Perhaps,‖ she called back nonchalantly. If you are man enough, she thought and went to find her coachman.
Hamish had been working all morning in the little room off the kitchen he had designated as his surgery. He had stocked the shelves with various herbs and supplies, and with Morag‘s expertise and guidance, had collected and prepared herbs and other remedies.
She had been an invaluable source of 18
th
century medicines, some of which, he was not entirely surprised to find, had their accepted uses in 21
st
century medicine. There were some he had been aware of, such as foxglove as the source of modern-day digitalis—a common medicine which regulated heartbeat. Of course, willow bark, he had always known, was the source of aspirin. But he was surprised at the efficacy of feverfew and comfrey when used properly.
This morning he was checking the inventory of the laudanum which Carrick had brought from Inverness. With tales of increasing violence by English soldiers throughout the Highlands, he wanted to be certain he could deal with any contingency should it come to Beinn Fhithich. He prayed it would not be necessary, but he knew his history and was not wiling to take the matter on faith.
He turned toward her and smiled. He was fond of Molly. She was a kind and gentle woman, if a bit suspicious of him. Try as he had though, he did not recall her from the past. Odd, since memories of his former life had been returning at a gradual and steady pace.
―Of course, my dear,‖ he said as he pulled a chair over for her. ―Do sit down. What is the matter? Y e look troubled this morning.‖
―I‘m afraid I‘ve a wee cut from pruning the roses, Hamish.‖ She held out her thumb so he could examine it. ―‘Tis a tiny thing and I shouldna be troubling ye with it. All the same, ye did warn me about infection, aye? I canna afford to be ill, what with the wedding and…‖
She looked embarrassed as Hamish took her hand and turned it over to gently pull away the small bit of cloth she had wrapped around it.
―No a wee thing, Molly,‖ he said gently as he dabbed droplets of the still oozing blood. ―Ye‘ve cut it fair deep. Ye were right to come, lass. Hold yer hand up to help stop the bleeding while I get my things, aye?‖
Molly quickly did ashe requested, her face going a bit pale. ―It willna need to be stitched, will it, Hamish?‖
Recognizing her fright, he put a hand on her shoulder. ―Nay, Molly. I‘ll just cleanse it and wrap it. That should do it. Ye look pale, lass. Would ye care for a wee dram to help steady ye?‖
―Oh, no, not first thing in the morning! But thank ye just the same. Ow!‖ She flinched at the sting of alcohol Hamish applied to the wound. ―That stings like a hornet!‖
―I‘m sorry at that,‖ Hamish apologized as he finished cleaning the cut and began to apply a small dressing. ―But it needs be done. As ye say, ye need no be ill these days. How is the wedding coming?‖
Molly sat a little straighter in the chair and creased her forehead. ―Well, Olivia is doing most of the planning. It is her wedding, after all. But she does have some verra strange thoughts on it all. Verra odd, indeed.‖ She looked slyly at Hamish, as if he knew some truth he was keeping from her. ―I suppose she got those ideas living in Edinburgh, eh, Hamish?‖
―What kind of ideas might those be, Molly?‖ Hamish tried his best to keep a straight face. He already knew what she was referring to. Olivia had brought modern wedding planning with her and intended to implement it as much as possible.
―Well, for one thing,‖ Mollybegan, ―she wants Mary Anderson to make a wedding cake that has tiers sitting on upturned glasses. And flowers at the top of it. I never—―
―Oh, that.‖ Hamish interrupted. ―Aye, Edinburgh for certain,‖ he lied to cover Olivia‘s modern flair for the dramatic.
―Ah, so I thought.‖ Molly eyed him carefully, searching his face for clues of deception. ―And then there is that strange tune that Ian whistles all the day. Ye ken the one, it goes like…‖ she attempted to hum
I Want to Hold Your Hand
. ―Says it is their song, her s and Ian‘s‘. She wants Cat to play it on the fiddle for the ceremony. Why, Father MacMurich will turn pink when he hears such a Godawful noise.‖
―Now, Molly,‖ H amish admonished, his eyes carefully fixed on the bandaging he was adjusting. ―A harmless tune, surely? If the bairns have a song they enjoy together, why not let them have their day, aye? What‘s a simple tune, whether you and I find it pleasing or no?‖
Molly sat back a little, thinking it over. ―Right ye are then, Hamish,‖ she agreed at last. ―I suppose it does no harm.But the cake…‖
―I‘ll talk with Olivia about the cake, Molly. Dinna worry. I‘m sure the lass doesna wish to make it an ordeal for poor, wee Mary.‖ Hamish patted her shoulder and led her to the door of the surgery. ―Better now?‖ he asked.
Molly held up her injured hand and examined the bandage. Casting Hamish a suspicious glance, she said, ―Oh, aye. Better, indeed. Thank ye, Hamish.Oh, Morag‖ she addressed the witch as she opened the door. ―I didna see ye there.‖
―‘Tis fine, Molly,‖ she answered, looking at the bandage on Molly‘s hand. ―Are ye injured, lass?‖
―Nay, a weescratch at best. Hamish did a fine job of cleaning it,‖ she said, slipping out the door. ―I‘ll see ye later then, Morag?‖
―Aye, Molly. Later.‖ Then to Hamish, ―Have ye a moment then, Hamish?‖
Hamish nodded and gestured to the chair Molly had just vacated.―Always time for ye, Morag. Do sit. What can I do for ye this fine morn?‖ he said, closing the door. He was always cautious when speaking with Morag. She knew he was from the future,and he didn‘t wish to chance them being overheard.
―Well now, Hamish. Idinna ken it is me ye can help,‖ the wizened woman said as she adjusted herself in the seat. ―Olivia, more like.‖
Hamish let out an exasperatedsigh. ―Olivia? What has the lass done now? Are ye meaning to discuss her wedding ideas with me,too?‖
Morag gave a croaking chuckle and waved a hand. ―Nay, Hamish. Though I have heard some talk. Hardly dangerous, a wee song and a cake, aye? Well then, it is a concern that may interest ye that I‘ve come about.‖
―Go on.‖
Morag pushed back a wisp of hair fromher face and looked him in the eye. ―Ye ken the wee music box the lass has? The one that plays the song young Ian loves so well?‖
―Aye, Morag. I ken it well.‖ Hamish sat. Something in her tone said that this couldn‘t be good.
―Well, Olivia, bless her, left it on my table yesterday. Forgot it, she said. Hamish, ye ken it well that ye canna afford to be careless. Ye wouldna wish people to ken ye are from the future– ye and Olivia and Caitriona. That I sent Carrick through time to find ye? We could all be arrested for such a thing. Even the mere rumor of it. Ye must speak to her, Hamish.‖
Hamish rose and began to pace the room. ―Aye,‖ he said at last. ―I see yer point, Morag. It wouldna do. Wouldna do at all. I will speak to her, indeed. If she canna be careful, I shall take the thing and put it away. We canna take the chance…‖ Hamish stopped as the door opened. Molly stood in the doorway, white-faced and seething.
―I kent it!‖ she said, her chest heaving in fury. ―I kent there was summat amiss with ye, the two of ye. And now I find ye all have been lying to me from the start! Who are ye, Hamish MacAllan? For ye are no the Hamish MacAllan that I kent all those years ago. The Hamish I dreamt about in my youth. The man who was my first love! He wouldha remembered me! He wouldna have treated me with such polite indifference. Who are ye, man?‖
Morag gripped the edge of her chair, her face pale with the realization that Molly had heard the conversation. ―Molly…I…‖ she began.
―Nay, Morag. You are in this up to yer scrawny old neck, ye are. I wish an answer from Hamish, no you.‖ Molly turned back on Hamish to confront him again. ―Well, Hamish?‖ she hissed, arms crossed over her chest, defiance in her eyes.
Hamish ran a hand through his hair and shot a helpless glance atMorag. ―Isupposethere‘s nothing for it,‖ he said, watching as the witch shrugged in defeat.
―Well then, Molly,‖ he began furtively, ―ye‘re right. I dinna remember ye. I‘m sorry at that. But the truth is…‖ he paused a moment to collect his thoughts. Every word he was about to say must be weighed and measured before he spoke them.
―It had better be the truth this time,‖ Molly spat. ―Do ye all think I‘m that dumb or daft, that I didna notice yer private, secret meetings? And from the look of it, Ian seems to be involved as well. Though I havena yet figured that one. So go on, Hamish. Tell me the story. What have ye all been hiding from daft, wee Molly?‖
―Ye arenadaft, lass. Inever thought ye were.‖ Hamish gathered himself to begin again. ―It was for yer own protection, I promise ye. Ye see, we are from the future, the three of us—Caitriona, Olivia, and me. We are from the year 2010.‖
Molly became ashen at the word 2010,and slowly seated herself in the other chair. ―Go on,‖ she encouraged. ―This must be a fascinatingtale. Do go on.‖
Having decided she looked strong enough to hear it, Hamish agreed. ―All right then. Let me begin again,‖ he said, checking the hallway outside and closing the door tightly. ―It beganwith Jenny‘s death…‖