Chapter 9 #2
“I’ve only English. Fergus will have tae learn it, fast,” Selene responded, her voice almost lost in the sound of the rushing water and the rain.
The other women joined her, standing knee deep in the rising water flapping their hands and shouting to turn the cows away from the dangerous rushing water.
Despite the language barrier, it seemed that Fergus must have detected something of her urgency, for with only a little more urging and tugs on his rough coat, he stepped back.
Still holding his long, sharp horn, Selene quietly coaxed him to join the others.
Even though he rolled his eyes and tossed his head, he went with her and rejoined his herd. The two cows and their little ones followed obediently behind them.
Meanwhile the other women had joined hands to create a barrier to prevent any other cattle from attempting to enter the raging waters.
In only a short space of time, the men had walked all the cattle and sheep, including the errant Fergus, across the fast-disappearing little land bridge and safely up the hill out of danger.
By now, thoroughly wet and mud-splattered, Selene stayed with the women while the men secured the last of the animals behind a makeshift enclosure.
“Ye did well, lass.” One of the older women ventured. The others nodded shyly. “Nae like an English lass at all.”
Selene laughed at the unaccustomed compliment.
Kenneth walked up shaking his head. Rain dripped from his hair; his face was smudged with mud.
“Ye’re a marvel, Lady Selene.” He grasped her hand while the others looked on with interest. “I dae believe we owe it tae ye fer saving half the herd. If they’d followed Fergus, we’d likely have lost them in the torrent.”
She felt her cheeks flush hot. Finding herself the center of attention did not sit well with her.
“I… only did what was needed,” she mumbled.
His eyes lingered, looking her up and down.
“Ye’re looking good fer it all,” he said, his voice low.
She blinked. “Good?”
“Aye. Covered in filth.” He shrugged, as if this was a perfectly normal compliment. “It sits well on ye. Ye look almost like… like a Highland lass. As if ye belong here.”
She tossed her head giving a short laugh, suddenly aware of her sodden hair plastered to her head.
What he’s saying is ridiculous, and yet something in her chest gave an odd, traitorous twist. She blamed the cold. And the mud. Did exhaustion make compliments almost dangerously believable?
He laughed. “Ye’ve a lively look tae ye, almost as if ye’ve been enjoying yerself.”
“Mayhap, I have.” She cast him a mischievous grin.
One of the crofters appeared at his side.
“The lads would like tae have a word, Laird Kenneth, if ye can spare us a minute.”
“Excuse me.” He nodded to Selene and the assembled women and moved off to speak with several villagers.
She barely had time to breathe before a tiny, stooped woman with a weathered face and braided gray hair pushed forward.
The old woman fixed Selene with a bright-eyed gaze and took her hands.
“Lass, ye’re frozen and ye need some warmth and drying.
” Without accepting any argument, she hustled Selene along a muddy path toward her cottage – a warm, low-ceilinged place filled with the scent of peat smoke and drying herbs.
“They call me Old Nell,” she said, “and I ken ye are the Lady Selene.”
Selene nodded, smiling as Nell escorted her across the room to an oak table that was every bit as weather-beaten as the old woman herself.
There was a bowl of hot water on the table and several woven cloths. Nell fussed over her, refusing to allow her to lift a finger. She gently scrubbed off the worst of the mud, even smoothing Selene’s damp hair, as affectionately as if she was a visiting grandchild instead of an English stranger.
To Selene’s surprise she was not embarrassed by the informality of Nell’s attention, but found it…
comforting. This was something she’d not felt for many years.
After their mother’s death, she had taken on the role of caring for her younger sister.
And Elsie, for all her deep affection for Selene, had always been the child to Selene’s adult.
Besides, old Nell’s unabashed warmth was not something Selene was used to in England, where the people surrounding her were more distant and aloof.
Kenneth appeared at the door just as Nell was placing a length of woven woolen fabric around Selene’s shoulders.
“Come in, me Laird. I am seeing tae it that yer lady doesnae freeze tae death.”
“I am grateful fer yer kindness, Nell.” He glanced over at Selene. “We should leave,” he said. “There are more heavy clouds building. Another storm on the horizon.”
But old Nell was having none of it. She waved him off with a scolding in Gaelic that Selene could not decipher, yet her tone made it clear.
She thoroughly enjoyed Kenneth mildly obeying and taking his seat at the table next to her. Moments later Nell offered up two bowls containing boiled eggs and slices of something that looked like a like a coarse, dark-brown sausage.
Kenneth took out a small utility knife from a leather sheath at his belt and cut the sausage into bite-sized chunks.
Selene hesitated, her spoon hovering. Recalling some of the unappetizing meals she been forced to consume on her journey from Edinburgh, she regarded it with suspicion. “What is this?”
“Why, that is another Scots delicacy.”
“Hm. Daes it have a name? It is not haggis, I hope.”
Kenneth chuckled. “Dinnae fash, lass. ’Tis nae haggis. We call it marag dubh. Black pudding.”
Was that a wink that passed between Kenneth and Nell?
Not wanting to offend the old woman, who had been nothing but kind, Selene mustered her courage and took a mouthful, chewing warily. “Why. It’s quite…pleasant.” She was surprised. “It tastes… well… rich.”
She glanced at Kenneth, expecting him to enlighten her. Instead, he appeared to be fighting off a grin.
“Oh, ye’ve tricked me intae eating something… awful.”
“Nae at all,” he said seriously. “On the contrary it is very good fer ye.” His lips twitched in a maddening grin. “Eat up.”
She narrowed her eyes and took another bite, and then another until she finished every morsel, determined not to succumb to his teasing.
Later, preparing to take their leave, they thanked Nell for her kindness and Kenneth proffered a coin from the leather purse at his belt. The old woman shook her head, refusing his offering.
“There’s nae need fer yer coin. Yer lady was right gaisgeil.” Nell touched Selene’s hand gently. “She helped save our beasts with ne’er a thought fer her own comfort. She well-earned the nourishment.”
As they stepped back into the thickening wind, Selene nudged him with her elbow.
“What does that word g… mean?”
“It means ‘brave’, lass. And ye were doubly brave when ye consumed Nell’s marag dubh.”
“You’re going to tell me what that was made of, aren’t you?”
“Eventually.” He grinned. “But mayhap not today.”
Once they’d pulled on their discarded boots, he helped her into the saddle and mounted behind her, looking far too pleased for Selene’s liking.
And, hell and damnation… she found herself smiling.