Chapter 15
Madelyn
lifted the guest room’s curtain and looked out.
The view of the countryside was nothing short of breathtaking and she indulged in a brief bit of envy that Jane Fergusson MacLeod called that view hers.
How would it be to look at this view every day, to have it there just waiting for you to walk out and enjoy it each morning when you woke up?
She sighed. Well, that view was hers for at least another day or so, given that she would have to wait for old passports and birth certificate to arrive from her sister.
The phone calls had been made the night before. At least one of them had. When she’d started to call her parents to beg for cash, Patrick had taken the phone away from her.
Necessities and comforts, he’d said.
She’d tried to insist.
He’d distracted her with some lovely coffee-table books on castles.
She sighed. She would have to call her parents eventually. Maybe after she’d determined the proper idiomatic Latin translation of “out of the frying pan and into the fire.”
She let the curtain drop, briefly fondled the new sweater she was wearing thanks to Patrick MacLeod’s exquisite taste, then headed for the door.
Jane could use help; she was sure of it.
Madelyn might be mooching off them for another day or two, but she wouldn’t do it without at least trying to offer some kind of service in return.
She walked down the stairs, following the sound of two children at play. All right, so Sarah was playing and Alexander was trying to keep her from extending her scope of amusement to his beloved Legos, but who was arguing? Familial bliss was preserved.
Madelyn envied them all.
Jane looked up from her referee position between her two children.
“You’re up early.”
“I think I’m finally adjusted to the time change.” She yawned anyway, just on principle.
“How was yesterday?”
Madelyn smiled. “Wonderful, until Patrick got us thrown out. He doesn’t suffer fools—or British tour guides—gladly, does he?”
Jane shook her head. “He thinks anyone born south of Hadrian’s wall—no, I can’t even say that. He thinks anyone born south of Inverness shouldn’t be giving lectures on the Highlands. He probably has a point.”
“He makes it forcefully.”
“He can’t help himself. So, did you get to see anything else?”
Madelyn nodded. “Gardens, forests, a few ruins.” Patrick’s face for the whole of the day. Really, could a vacation get any better than that?
Jane began to pick up toys. “What’s your plan for the day? The men have gone to pick up Pat’s car at Inverness, so you don’t have to hurry.”
“That was a fast fix.”
“Pat’s mechanic likes to keep him happy. He always goes to the head of the line.”
Madelyn shuddered. “Please don’t tell me he’s got his cars in the shop that often. I think I still have some traveling to do with the man.”
“Generally it’s tune-ups only,” Jane said with a smile. “He rarely has any other kinds of issues. He and Ian left early, but you’ll still have a couple of hours to kill.”
She smiled. The perfect chance to pitch in and repay a small bit of their kindness, in spite of any protest Jane might put up. The woman was up to her elbows in diapers, laundry, and toddler toys. Surely she could use a break, a bit of free time to do her nails, read a book, take a bath.
“All right,” Madelyn said, rubbing her hands together, “I’m on duty for as long as you need me. What kinds of games do the kids like?”
“Not a chance. This is your vacation; you need to be taking it. You know, you could go over to Pat’s place, if you don’t mind the walk.”
“But,” she protested, “surely you could use help—”
“I’m fine. Ian’s taking a break between sessions, so I have all the help I need.”
“Sessions?”
“He teaches swordplay,” Jane said, without blinking. “To stuntmen types, or rich guys with time on their hands and egos to match. Oh, and the occasional actor into realism.”
“Interesting,” Madelyn said, trying to sound casual.
In reality, she could hardly believe her ears.
Ian teaching swordplay? There were actually people who paid him to do that sword business to them?
She wondered if he broke them in slowly, or humiliated them right off so they knew what they were getting into.
“He must be pretty good to do that,” she said.
“He is,” Jane said with a grin. “He’ll tell you how good if you ask. The men he trains would probably say the same thing.”
“Where’d he learn it again?”
“Family business,” Jane said. “You should see Jamie. Ian and Pat are good, but Jamie’s the master. At least we all tell him he’s the master. He goes out of his way to prove that when anyone tells him anything else.”
“That must be entertaining.”
“Frightening’s more the word I’d use, but that’s just my opinion. Now, go take your walk. You won’t regret it.”
“But—”
“Go,” Jane said, pointing to the door. “Sarah, don’t eat that ...”
Madelyn hated to leave when Jane seemed to be distracted.
Grilling her while she was keeping her baby from ingesting small toys was obviously the way to go.
Family business, huh? Well, that was an interesting way to put it.
Madelyn filed that away with all the other tidbits she’d been acquiring.
This was some family, she had to concede, with some big backlog of secrets.
It was incredibly tempting to try to find them all out.
Maybe a walk to Patrick’s house wasn’t such a bad idea. She could snoop under the guise of cleaning. Who knew what she would uncover?
“Maybe I will go, if you’re sure you don’t need help.”
“I’m sure, but hold on a minute,” Jane said. “You’ll want a map. Why don’t you grab breakfast and I’ll get you one.”
“Is it really that hard to find from here?”
“It’s not that it’s hard to find,” Jane said. “It’s just that, well, there are a few pitfalls. . . .”
“All that Highland magic?” Madelyn asked easily.
Jane looked at her in surprise. “What?”
“Roddy MacLeod told me to be careful, that the forests here were full of Highland magic.”
Jane laughed uneasily. “Well, he has quite an imagination.”
“Does he now.”
“Oh, yes. Breakfast is still hot.”
Madelyn took the hint. She also took the opportunity to get some breakfast. She put her dishes away, then went back into the living room. Jane handed her a map.
“Just avoid all the places marked in red.”
“And if I don’t?”
Jane paused. She seemed to be weighing the telling of truth against something Madelyn wasn’t sure about, then she shrugged. “I just wouldn’t,” she finished.
The tone of her voice was sobering. Madelyn decided to reserve judgment on what the red dots might mean. If Jane thought she should avoid them, then avoid them she would.
Until she knew more, of course, then she would tramp over them with enthusiasm and no doubt dislodge something very interesting.
“I’ll be careful,” Madelyn promised, taking the map and folding it up. “How long do you think I have?”
“At least a couple of hours,” Jane said.
“Pat’s going to lose his license if he doesn’t slow down, so he’ll probably be careful today.
He and Ian left early, but not that early.
Oh, wait a minute.” She went in to the kitchen and came back with a cell phone.
“Take this. My number’s programmed in. Call me if you get stuck and I’ll come get you. ”
“Thanks,” Madelyn said, taking the phone. “I’ll try not to get lost.”
“I wouldn’t.”
There was that tone of voice again. Madelyn suppressed a shiver. “Okay. I’ll be back.” She patted the kids good-bye, thanked Jane for the loan of her coat, then left the house before she had a chance to think any more about the map she held in her hands or what it might mean.
She stood on the front stoop, took a deep breath and closed her eyes to savor the chill and the lack of exhaust fumes.
Life was pretty good, in spite of the fact that she had basically nothing but the clothes on her back—plus the new wardrobe in her room upstairs, of course—and a borrowed phone in her pocket.
Did she really need more than that to survive?
Actually, she did, but she wasn’t going to think about that right now.
She pulled out the map and made an effort to concentrate on what was in front of her.
Lots of red dots, but the path that snaked through them was very clear.
It was also very clear before her in real life, as if it had been walked over many times.
Or purposely cleared so a person didn’t get lost.
She kept to the path and enjoyed the scenery.
And it was breathtaking scenery. What deciduous trees there were had their fall colors still clinging to them, but the bulk of the forest came from evergreens.
It reminded her a great deal of her own home, but this was far more primitive, as if time had simply overlooked this bit of land. Time and developers, she supposed.
It was forty-five minutes before she reached Patrick’s.
The journey hadn’t been without its hair-raising moments.
Entering the forest that separated Patrick’s meadow from Ian’s had made her unaccountably nervous.
She’d walked the faint path with religious attention to where she was going, just on the off chance that those red dots meant something foul.
But now that she was back out in the light—what there was of it and that wasn’t much because apparently the blue skies were gone for the year—she was able to breathe and relax. She walked down the little hill to Patrick’s house.
She looked around her carefully. No Keystone cops, no Bentley with evil designs upon her person, no strange creatures springing up from the red dots to make her life miserable. She was set.
She wandered around his courtyard. She picked up the occasional stone she could actually lift and set it back in its proper place.
After hefting one particularly heavy piece of rock, she stood back and surveyed the damage.
It would take weeks with muscles much more capable than hers to do this work.