Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
A fter a night of love-making – sometimes drowsy and sweet, sometimes fierce with passion, it was only the dying fire and the creeping cold that brought them from their bed the next morning.
After they’d dressed and devoured the last apple and slice of oatbread, along with the remainder of Aileen’s stew, Maxwell dared a peek out the door. As he’d both feared and hoped, the snow had kept on through the night. The morning dawned with a bright, sunny sky and birdsong had returned, but the snow was deep.
He stepped outside. If the sun kept on shining there was every hope the snow would thaw sufficiently for them to set off again.
Venturing inside again, he was greeted with Aileen’s anxious face. “Well?”
“Much as I’d love tae hole up here fer the rest of me days, I fear we need tae make our way through the snow. It will be slow-going into the hills, but if we dinnae head off today there’s nae certainty it willnae snow again.’
She sighed. “And there’s only so many rabbits in a warren.”
“Aye, lass.”
She huffed reaching for her cloak. “So, if we’re tae set off, we’d best go now in case the weather turns.”
As luck would have it, a cart must have travelled the road after the last fall snowfall. Treading in the wheel tracks, they were able to make faster progress than he’d anticipated. As they walked on, his spirits rose. Mayhap, after all, they would make it to Torridon before Sutherland’s men. He mentioned nothing of his thoughts to Aileen. His certainty that they would meet stiff resistance and have a fight on their hands when they arrived at Torridon was growing with every step.
Once the cart tracks had turned off, heading along a track that led to a distant farmhouse, their steps slowed. They plodded on, their spiraling breaths in the cold air making little puffs of mist as they went. On the road they encountered a drover and his dog walking behind a small herd of cattle travelling the route they’d just traversed. The man doffed his cap as they passed.
“Are ye heading tae Lochluichart?” Maxwell asked.
“I’m on the way tae the market in Dingwall.”
“The snow’s deeper further on. If ye’re stuck, there’s an empty cottage.” He counted eight cows and two calves. “There’s room inside fer ye and yer beasts. Ye’d find refuge there by nightfall if the weather goes against ye.”
The drover thanked him and they continued on their way.
“The lad will recall us if he is asked,” Aileen snapped.
“Aye. He might recall a fiery haired harridan in a worn-out blue gown. But we helped him, so I am hopeful he willnae. And we’ll be long gone if any of Sutherland’s men pass by. If the snow slows us down, it will dae the same for them. Besides, I dinnae ken if the Laird of the Mackenzies, whose clan lands we’re on now, would welcome the intrusion of Laird Sutherland’s soldiers.”
“Ah yes.” Aileen gave the matter some thought. “But could ye nae prevail on Mackenzie fer help? Ye’re the braither of a laird and Highland hospitality decrees he should come tae our aid.”
Maxwell shook his head. “I’d nay take me chances with either Mackenzie or Sutherland. I ken the Mackenzies are enemies tae the MacLeods. That’s too close to comfort when me dear sister is the wife of a MacLeod.”
Aileen nodded. “Aye. I see the problem. Better we avoid them all and make our way like ghosts in the night.”
“The best idea.” He gave her a quick squeeze as they went.
A little further on they approached the shores of a small loch, and there, close to the water’s edge, they found the snow had melted, making for an easy footfall. They continued on, traversing the shoreline. At the loch’s head, they entered a small village.
They drew a host of curious looks as they walked through the scattering of cottages, passing the blacksmith and a tiny stone-built church. The aroma of baking bread floating in the air drew them to a small cottage where the front door was open-wide and a sign bearing a rough-drawn outline of a loaf indicated this was the village baker.
They entered to find a tiny young woman with a mop of curly brown hair surrounded by four young ones. She greeted them with a smile. “Can I be of service?”
The children clustered around the two strangers. The woman scolded, “Ye’ve nay manners. Mind yer business and leave the lady and gentleman be.”
Maxwell smirked at hearing them referred to as lady and gentleman. Aileen, with her tangle of bright hair cascading over her shoulders and the now grubby blue gown and himself with the look of a ruffian, could hardly pass for gentlefolk.
He spoke politely to the baker. “D’ye have a loaf of bread, Mistress?”
The woman brushed a harried lock of hair under her cap and seized the hand of a child who was reaching for a berry tart where they cooled on a rack on the table.”
“Aye.” She bobbed a curtsey. “I’ve bread baking if ye can wait a while. In the meanwhile, I’ve tarts,” she waved a hand in the direction of the coveted tarts, “and fresh-baked venison pies.”
He raised a brow. “Venison?”
“The laird gives permission when there’s too many deer on the estate.” She said hastily. “Dinnae think me in league with poachers.”
Maxwell grinned, nodding to the woman. “I’d never think such a thing.” He turned to Aileen whose face had lit up at the mention of pies. “D’ye fancy a pie, lass?”
“Mmm. I fancy a pie and I fancy berry tarts and I fancy that bread that smells so good.” She took his arm and cast a beaming smile at the woman.
They left the baker’s house carrying a small tin coffret containing four berry tarts, venison pies, and a fresh-baked loaf of crusty bread. Aileen could hardly wait until they’d left the village before she insisted on opening the coffret and taking out a berry tart.
“I can see ye’re enjoying the wee tart, Aileen, but ye’ve half covered yer face in juice.”
She laughed and wiped her chin with the back of her hand and licked the juice off her fingers. “Berry tarts are the tastiest and juiciest things in the world.”
“Really?”
“Well, mayhap I ken a lad whose lips might be a challenge?” she teased.
“And who’d be the winner.” He leaned in and kissed her lips. “Mm. I like yer taste. I’m partial tae a berry tart myself.”
She huffed. “Ye’re too cheeky fer yer own good, MacNeil.”
“So, who’d be the winner, myself or a berry tart?”
She laughed and refused to say another word on the matter.
As they continued, the road grew steeper and by the time the daylight was fading they found themselves on a pine-covered ridge. Discovering a fallen log they sat and consumed their venison pies, saving a berry tart each and the loaf of bread for the next day.
“We’ll likely come upon a bothy along this road. In this rough, Highland country, there’s always a need fer shelter, whether ye be a traveler, a shepherd or…” He looked Aileen up and down with a wicked grin, “… a respectable lowland merchant and his good wife wandering far from their merchandise.”
“Oh, Mister Turnbull.” She laughed.
He was right. By the time dark had fallen and the cold was beginning to pierce their bones, they spied a small shack up ahead. It was a much leaner shelter than the cottage they’d stayed in the night before. Another abandoned crofter’s cottage, this was little more than four walls and what had once been a roof. It would provide them with shelter from the wind, but the rain or snow could still fall through the roof.
“’Tis nae as fine a residence as we had these past nights, but it offers shelter, a place fer a fire and a speck of dry floor.”
Aileen shrugged. “Nay bother, Maxwell, we can keep each other warm, and with a belly full of pie and tart, I’ll nae complain.”
He put his arm around her and drew her close. “Aye. We’ll dae well here. Tomorrow will likely see us tae Torridon.”
Footsore and weary, after building a small fire on the hearth, they did their best to make themselves comfortable on the rough earthen floor. Within a short space of time, Maxwell registered Aileen’s deep, steady breathing as she lay snuggled in his arms. But sleep wouldn’t come for him.
He lay still, not wishing to wake her, but his head was swarming with problems and their resolutions. He was familiar enough with the village of Torridon and how to get from there to the Loch. He figured that if Andrew Sutherland was no friend to the Mackenzie, his men would be wary of going ashore. Especially in a notable village such as Torridon. They’d be even less likely to attack Maxwell and Aileen on land.
But, once they’d left the land, they would be vulnerable and at the mercy of a party of seasoned soldiers.
How to outwit them? This question occupied most of his thoughts for the rest of the night. That is, apart from his thoughts about Aileen, breathing the sleep of an angel in his arms. If they made it back to the islands, he wanted her with him. She planned on going back to her home island of Canna, where she had grown up. But that would be the first place Sutherland would look for her. No, it made sense for her to return with him to Barra, where they could both be under the protection of his brother.
Eventually, shortly before the dawn came with its slashes of grey light, he fell asleep.
They awoke, shivering, and although Maxwell considered how much warmer he’d be making love to Aileen, he resisted his body’s urging. They had no time to waste. There was still some distance between them and Loch Torridon. If the plan he had mapped out in his mind had even half a chance of working, time needed to be with them.
Aileen grumbled. The floor was too lumpy. It was cold. She didn’t have enough kisses to lull her to sleep. It was still dark and too early to face the day.
“Would ye wish me tae sing tae ye tae help chase ye from yer bed?”
She laughed and rolled over. He was sitting, so she took the opportunity of planting a kiss on his bare leg. She rang wicked fingers along his inner thigh, coming to rest on the hardening shaft between his legs.
“Hmm, inviting,” she breathed.
He groaned as she curled her fingers around his manhood, coaxing it to a proud erection. “Nay lass. We need to be up and away. Mayhap our lives depend on it.”
She took him in her mouth, her tongue licking and flicking his tip. Then she supped on him and suckled. Maxwell groaned again, more loudly this time, and lay back, his head resting on his cloak.
“I surrender,” he growled, the words coming from deep in his throat.
Oh, me Lord, is this woman a witch who’d enchanted me from the first moment I set eyes on her ?
She used her hands and mouth to slide the length of him, squeezing and sucking. She paused for only a heartbeat and he called out, “Dear God in heaven woman. Dinnae stop now unless ye wish me tae die of wanting ye.”
She laughed, taking her fingers and lips to a heightened pace that made him groan and buck his hips.
He was finding it difficult to breathe. “Ye’re enjoying yer power over me, ye vixen,” he managed to grind out, a second before he lost all contact with anything other than the sheer ecstasy she was dealing him.
She took him deeper into her mouth and he was lost.
Despite the all too pleasant diversion from Maxwell’s plans, they were on their way again well before dawn. They climbed again and found themselves on a ridge where the road was hardly more than a track. Maxwell found this to his liking. They had diverted from the main thoroughfare leading them into the town and were heading west on a route that would surely bring them, sooner or later, to either the sea or the loch, bypassing the village of Torridon altogether.
The found a large boulder to sit on to break their fast and watched the sun rise in a pink sky. Gradually, swathes of green pine forests and further hills were revealed.
In the distance, beyond the forest, they glimpsed a large expanse of sparkling dark-blue water.
Maxwell squinted into the light. “I cannae tell if it’s Loch Torridon or whether it’s the sea.”
Aileen shrugged. “It doesnae matter. ‘Tis a sea loch, so whatever we’re viewing, it will take us back to sea and, eventually, across to the Isles.”
She reached for the last of her berry tarts with a smile on her face. As she bit down on the crumbly pastry shell, a squirt of juice ran down her chin. Maxwell leaned in and took his time licking it off.
“I thank ye fer taking me to heaven this morning lass. I’ll dae the same for ye as soon as I have the chance.”
Finishing off the last of her berry tart Aileen grinned. “Aye, lad. I’ll hold ye tae that promise.”
The going was harsh along the ridge, speckled as it was with boulders and rocks that made the path twist and turn.
“Methinks this is only a path for deer and wolves,” Aileen said, her feet stumbling over the rocks.
“Ye’re nae enough of a landlubber tae get yer footing. I ken the shepherds who tend their sheep and goats up this way are as nimble as any of their animals.”
She pshawed. “But at sea they’d be falling overboard in the first strong wind, or losing the contents of their bellies over the side.”
Maxwell calculated it was early afternoon by the time they’d walked the length of the ridge and begun their descent. It was good to get out of the wind that had swept up from the glen and slowed their progress even more.
He eyed the thickets of trees close to the track. He calculated they’d reach the shores of Loch Torridon soon after nightfall. If needed, the trees would be a good hiding place and, at a pinch, provide them a place to lay their heads for the night.
Going down was even more difficult than their climb. Where the rise had been gradual on the way up, their descent was steep. There were times when it was almost impossible to obtain a toehold and they had to clutch at the branches of bushes to keep them from sliding and crashing over rocks.
It seemed that many hours passed and the daylight was long gone before the river they’d been following reached flatter land. They followed it along the bank, traipsing through mudflats to the point where it met the sea-loch. When the flow narrowed, they waded across to the other side. There they found a path winding its way along the edge of the loch with only a glimmer of moonlight to guide them.
A smattering of lights Maxwell took to be those of the township, were far to the east. He gave a laugh of satisfaction.
“We’ve done it lass. If any of Sutherland’s men were awaiting us there, they’ll be waiting in vain.”
“Aye.” Ever practical, Aileen did not fully share his jubilation. “That may account for one lot, but, as ye’ve said yerself, they’ll also be waiting fer us along the route back tae the isles.”
He sighed. “Of course, ye’re right. But allow me this small victory.”
She took his hand and squeezed it. “Ye’ve brought us this far and I daresay ye’ll find a way through fer us.”
They walked on in the darkness hoping to find shelter. In the end, when their tired legs insisted they rest for the night, the best they could manage was a small cave just above the water line, where they could barely stretch their legs. After scrambling over rocks to find some dry grass and twigs and one or two small branches, they made a fire to warm their hands and dry off their cold feet. Soon, despite the discomfort of their resting place, they curled into each other’s arms and slept.
The sound of nearby voices woke Maxwell with a start.