Chapter 5
Blood and slime spattered her dress, her face, her hair. It covered her arms from elbow to fingertips.
Isabella MacGahan couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so happy.
When she’d first stumbled upon the young ewe trapped in the drop-off between the rocky outcroppings, she hadn’t known the animal was so near giving birth. That realization had come only after she’d freed the sheep and it had followed her home.
Obviously her grandfather’s shepherds hadn’t cared enough for one missing ewe to bother after this poor creature. They’d abandoned her to make her own way, much as Isa’s grandfather had absolved himself of any responsibility for her.
Their loss, her gain. Though whether her thought was to the sheep’s situation or her own, Isa refused to explore.
“No matter. You’ve a home here now, dearling, and you’ll have a name, too, as soon as I think on it a bit. You and yer wee bairn both.” Isa smiled down at the tired ewe, busily cleaning her wobbly-legged babe.
Come to think of it, she could do with some cleaning up herself.
With a satisfied smile, she left the animal shed and headed around the building to her own tiny home. A good soak in a hot tub would be lovely for her tired muscles, too. She could feel the strain of the last few hours’ hard work in her shoulders even now.
The ewe was lucky to be alive. She might be small but her babe certainly wasn’t.
Everything about the birth had appeared normal at the start of her labor.
The nose and two black hooves had emerged first, but then one leg had gone crooked and Isa had been forced to pull the lamb’s shoulders free.
With what Isa had convinced herself was a grateful look from the exhausted ewe, the mother had managed the rest of the delivery on her own.
Still, Isa felt a marvelous exultation at the role she’d played in the event. She’d helped bring a new life into the world this day.
How could she not be happy? Spring was in the air with the smell of warming earth rising around her. As she followed the muddy dirt path around to the entrance of her little cabin, the sun burst from behind the clouds that had blanketed the sky for the past several days.
Isa turned her face up, halting her steps for a moment to bathe in the heated glow. A tiny shard of guilt flickered through her mind but she determinedly batted it away as she might a pesky midge.
If it was supposed to rain, the clouds would return soon. Besides, it had already rained for days. Her
barrels were full. There was no lack of water. Whatever the cause of the sun’s hasty appearance, she welcomed it.
With a sigh, she made her way to her front door, stopping to scoop up the wooden bucket she’d need for carrying water in to heat for the bath she planned.
She eyed the little bench in front of her home longingly, considering a small rest might be in order in spite of the dried mess on her body and clothing.
Until she heard the slow, steady step of an approaching horse.
“Bollocks,” she muttered under her breath as she dived through her front door, slamming it shut behind her.
Quickly she searched her memory. Could she have lost track of the days this badly? No, she wasn’t wrong. It had barely been a fortnight since her grandfather’s lad had been here last, delivering such goods as her grandfather decided to send.
She nudged a small wooden stool closer to the door and climbed up on it, lifting back the cloth that covered the tiny square hole cut high into her door. Through this opening she watched as the big horse carrying a small boy slowly made its way up her path.
“Mistress Isa?” the child called out, clearly searching for her. “Are you about?”
Isa leaned her forehead against the heavy door, an irritated sigh on her lips. Though she had no complaints about the lad himself, she thoroughly resented the interruption to her life he represented.
Why couldn’t the old laird leave her in peace?
He’d never once hidden the fact that he had no use for her.
He’d been overjoyed when she’d broached the subject of moving from the castle to live out here in this little cottage on her own.
It had taken him no time at all to have his men build an animal shed and provide her with her own chickens and goats.
Granted, he sent someone to check on her each month, but it was obvious to her he did so only to collect the goods she had to sell. Or perhaps out of a sense of guilt.
“Mistress Isa?” the lad yelled, his voice rising on what sounded like desperation as the first fat raindrops started to fall.
The weather had turned again. Isa climbed off her stool and kicked it to one side before opening the door a tiny crack, struggling to calm her irritation. Whatever the child’s purpose in being here, he’d certainly done nothing to justify her ire.
“Quite yer noise, Jamie,” she called, her eye fixed to the small opening. “You’ll frighten my animals and I’ll have no eggs or milk from them for days. What brings you out here?”
The boy rolled to his belly on the big horse’s back, sliding off to hit the ground feetfirst at a loping run, stopping only when he reached her door.
“His lairdship bids me bring you to the castle.” The child spoke almost in a whisper. As always, he tried so hard to please.
She would say no to any other who carried her grandfather’s bidding. Likely the laird understood this and sent the lad to ensure her compliance.
Before someone had decided Jamie was old enough to make the trek from the castle on his own, he’d accompanied his grandmother, Auld Annie.
This in itself was something Isa had planned to bring to his grandmother’s attention the next time she spoke to her.
The lad still seemed awfully small to be sent out alone on such a long trip.
“Please come, Isa.” His voice quivered and he turned wide eyes to her before jerking his head away, keeping his face turned from her in a manner that broke her heart. “Master Roland says I’ll have a beating if I dinna bring you in front of the laird today.”
“Master Roland says that, does he?”
Isa felt her temper spike anew. Roland Lardiner, her grandfather’s right hand and a distant cousin to her own father, overstepped his bounds with a threat such as that.
It wouldn’t surprise her one little bit to learn that weasel of man was behind the decision to start sending this wee child off on his own.
She didn’t trust Roland and, worse, didn’t doubt for one moment he’d do exactly as he threatened if she didn’t return with Jamie.
“Very well,” she sighed, opening the door to allow the boy inside as thunder rumbled threateningly through the valley. “Sit yerself down by the fire while I prepare meself. Are you hungry?”
As if she needed to ask. The child was always starved. If she were ever blessed with such a son, he’d never go hungry. She’d see to that.
She pushed away the silly thought. A child of her own was naught but a dream, destined never to come to pass.
She poured a glass of milk fresh from this morning and set it in front of him, along with a large hunk of bread and piece of cheese. He smiled up at her, forgetting for a moment to shield his face from her.
The ugly burn scar marring the entire right side of Jamie’s rosy face all but closed off the vision in his eye.
How could anyone treat a child so ill, especially a child who had suffered as much as this one had in his short life?
As if she needed to ask that question. They were men of the MacGahan, after all. Men so unlike her own father had been it was hard to accept her birthright to the clan.
She turned from the boy, yanking the ties from her hair and pulling it from its neat braid. A crazed woman would never take such care with her appearance. Free of their binding, her curls sprang wild, covering her face and spreading about her shoulders like a bright cape.
The mess dried on her hands and arms itched and pulled at her skin, but it would be best to leave it rather than clean it off. It suited her purpose all too well.
Still not quite enough, though.
She marched over to the fireplace, lifting a double handful of cooled ashes from the metal bucket she kept there. After sprinkling them into her hair, she wiped her hands over her face and turned to Jamie.
“Well? How do I look?”
“As you always do when you go to them,” he responded around a mouthful. “Mayhap even worse than most times.”
“Good. Slow yerself down there, lad,” she cautioned as the boy stuffed another large bite into his already stuffed mouth. “We’ve no a need for you to rush through yer food. I’m no of a mind to leave until yer completely finished.”
“Is there time for me to visit the goats?”
His little face was so bright with expectation, how could she possibly deny him the boon he sought? “Aye. But only for a little while. And dinna forget to close the gate as you did the last time.” It had taken an hour to herd the animals back into their pen after his last visit.
“I’ll remember. Thanks be to you, Mistress Isa, for the food and for coming back with me.” Jamie nodded his pleasure, a smile curving the side of his mouth that could still move.
As if she’d send him back alone. No, she’d respond to her grandfather’s summons. It was rare indeed for him to request her presence at the castle, and she was, after all, as curious as the next person.
Besides, it was well past time she had a chat with Cousin Roland. A chat she intended him to remember for a good long while.