Chapter 4
It took her longer than she was willing to admit to become aware that she was being followed, but she eventually noticed.
Hannah glanced subtly over her shoulder, positive she heard steps behind her, though she couldn’t quite pinpoint where they were coming from and whether they were man or mammal.
When she saw a shadow move just a bit too much, she brought her mount up short and turned him around, facing the threat head-on as bravely as she could. Her voice tried to shake, but she simply refused to let it. Her pony trotted forward and then backward a pace before steadying.
“If ye’re here to rob me, I’ve nothing of value.”
Mercifully, the most precious thing she’d had on her was safely delivered, and the newest, most precious cargo wrapped safely in her satchel would be complete nonsense to any brigand who’d happened upon her in the woods.
“I have nay such plans, lassie. Calm yerself.”
Hannah was proud of herself for managing to bite back the gasp that tried to escape when the voice came from an entirely different direction than she’d had her face aimed. She whipped her head toward it and felt her pony stiffen between her legs in response to her own tension.
“The Laird sent me.” The man came into view on foot, arms held out to the sides. “I am only seeing ye home safely, lass. I harbor nay ill will.”
He wasn’t as massive as the Laird, but he still cut an imposing figure, his plaid pinned over his shoulder and his boots heavy as he walked in a way that suggested he’d been trying to be quiet before.
“Ye’ve a mind to walk me half a day’s ride?” Hannah scoffed. “Why nae just speak up?”
“The Laird thought ye may be…” He paused, searching for the right word. “Opposed.”
“The Laird is right,” Hannah replied tersely and turned her bay mount back in the direction she’d been going. “Pass along me thanks for the concern. I am nae in need of yer guard, and ye may find it threatens yer own safety to visit me village.”
She glanced over her shoulder, saw him open his mouth to question such a statement, and rather than wait, chose to squeeze her thighs and inspire her pony to be on his way.
The brunette man who had been trailing her would certainly be unable to keep up with her new pace, and she chose to make her return home with haste.
“Surely he only wanted to make sure I was who I claimed,” she murmured to the wind as she left the mysterious man standing behind her with his arms held out to the sides still. “Perhaps distrustful.”
That gave her no inspiration to slow down. She was unconvinced by the notion that the Laird was genuinely only concerned with seeing her returned home safely.
The sun was dropping below the horizon when Hannah found her way home, relieved to see familiar eaves. She passed her mount to the apprentices in the stable, checked on the whiskey mash brewing, and then took herself inside.
She carefully laid out the angelica root, some thoughtfully placed aside to be shared with Matthew precisely as she’d always planned, and some ready to be brewed for her sister in the morning. Then she peeked into Violet’s room, waiting in the doorway until she saw her sister’s chest rise and fall.
After banking the hearth and stripping out of her clothes, she collapsed into bed, already trying to puzzle out how to politely visit the Laird next and explain having left her escort standing alone on the road.
When Violet woke the next morning, Hannah was already steeping the tea, eager to see a benefit from the herb, even though she knew realistically that herbs rarely worked instantly.
This didn’t stop her from desperately wanting to be sure it was worth it to have promised a day’s travel every week for the next month.
Violet emerged from the darkness of her bedroom into the main room lit by sunlight streaming through open shutters and a stoked hearth. She had dark circles around her eyes, as if she hadn’t been sleeping at all in the night.
She paused for a moment and shrugged her shawl up over her shoulders a bit more, before dropping herself into her favorite seat at the table wordlessly.
Her face was even more pale than it had been the day before, her hair mussed and lanky, the chestnut that had been so lustrous just a few years ago gone dull.
Hannah drew a long breath and forced herself to smile at her sister. “Good morning.”
“Mmm,” Violet muttered without meeting her eyes fully. From the look on her face, she had only come out to show proof of life. She didn’t seem interested in even pretending to go about her day.
Hannah felt a twinge of pain in her chest at seeing her sister struggling so much. She stood and made her way to the hearth, tipping the teapot to fill a cup before bringing it back to the table. She sat beside her sister and rested her hand on her shoulder.
“Here.” She held out the cup.
Violet retched immediately, recoiling. “I daenae want tea. I’ve had enough of trying to have tea. It doesnae help.”
She didn’t even have the energy to hold the cup and pretend to sip from it. That much was evident from the expression on her face and the lack of even an attempt to hide her frayed temper.
Hannah tried very, very hard to be patient and tasted the tincture, surprised to realize the medicinal but somewhat sweet herb had grown bitter during boiling, and the honey she’d added to the tea had done nothing to help.
She wasn’t overly familiar with angelica, and supposed she had been overly bold simply steeping it the same as tea leaves.
“Alright.”
Without trying to fight her sister, she stood, grabbed a bowl, and filled it with the water remaining in the teapot. Then she placed a dram glass within and grabbed the nearest whiskey bottle, adding a generous amount to the glass.
She returned to the table and set the bowl down as she sat, letting the whiskey warm. If Violet wouldn’t try a tea, perhaps she’d tolerate a simple cordial instead.
It seemed a bit disingenuous to use whiskey to calm an upset stomach, but Hannah hoped it would warm her sister’s belly enough to help her keep the herb down.
“Where did ye go yesterday?” Violet broke the silence as she watched Hannah begin shaving the angelica with careful hands and a sharp knife. “What is that?”
“Nowhere special,” Hannah responded. “It’s angelica root. For yer stomach.”
“Ye’re a liar, Hannah Leon, and ye ken it. Ye would tell me if it was nowhere special.”
Damn her for always being right.
Of course, she couldn’t lie well to Violet.
I have to tell her. It would be wrong to withhold something like this from her. She’s me sister, after all.
“I went to see our Laird,” Hannah blurted, steeling herself and squaring her shoulders.
She looked up almost pleadingly, daring her sister to have something to say about it. Almost hoping she would because it would be nice to see something more than defeat in eyes that used to be so full of life.
Aye, Sister, look at me. Think about it. Think about what I’ve done to keep ye alive. Think on how much ye mean to me, and let it fire up yer spark of life once more. Please, Sister. Please.
“Laird MacBain?” Violet gasped, and Hannah briefly regretted her honesty as she watched her pale just a little more. “Ye met him? Was he hideous? Did he—”
“He didnae hurt me, nor was he especially uncouth,” Hannah interrupted and drew the mortar and pestle before her, adding the shaved herb.
There was a moment of silence as she focused on raising and lowering the pestle, twisting it to crush the herb as thoroughly as she could and break it fully apart.
When she was finished, she added it to the warmed whiskey to steep.
She had deliberately misinterpreted hideous, as she wasn’t about to admit the man was the most handsome she’d ever met.
“I would say he was kind.” She spoke it with full confidence that she didn’t feel.
Secretly, she hadn’t forgotten the way he’d reminded her of a fox cornering a rabbit, the way he’d loomed as he whispered his threat to hunt her down if she failed to arrive the next week as promised.
She didn’t believe it would benefit Violet to hear that.
Even worse, one of the first things she’d done was tell him exactly where to find her, so it wouldn’t even be difficult for the man to make good on his threat.
“He’s our Laird,” she reminded her sister sternly, “and he’s bound by honor and duty to help us.”
Again, she said these things with an absolute certainty that she didn’t feel in the least. And again, she didn’t think her sister needed to know that.
“If he were a good laird,” Violet muttered just loud enough to be heard, “we wouldnae be watching friends and family die.”
Hannah didn’t miss that Violet had referred to others, excluding herself and her fragile state.
“Och!” she snapped, more surprised than her sister by her instant defence of the man, when she’d never had a particular thought one way or the other to spare him before. “He cannae control an illness, Violet. He’s a laird, nae the good God above.”
She reflexively signed the cross and shook her head, swirling the steeping mixture before her just so she could busy her hands and avoid having to think too hard about what she was saying.
“He could send healers,” Violet retorted after a long pause.
“Some sort of help.” She huffed a breath as she sank lower in her chair and met her older sister’s eyes for a moment, before adding begrudgingly, “At least we daenae have the bandits on top of it. I hear they are plaguing the North.” The momentary defiance that had sparked had fizzled back to resigned exhaustion.
Hannah heaved a sigh and nodded her head, her mind involuntarily returning to her attempted escort from the day before. She had perhaps been too hasty in her refusal of armed assistance. What if she had actually run afoul of such a threat alone?
Perishing the thought, she drew a breath.
“He seemed surprised when I asked for this herb.” She gestured to the angelica remaining on the table. “Perhaps he truly doesnae ken.”
“How is that possible?” Violet asked, looking like she might have pounded her fist on the table if she had such energy. “He’s our Laird. He should ken all important goings-on.”
“Perhaps people arenae telling him everything that’s going on, Violet,” Hannah suggested as she began straining the pale gold liquid, leaving the steeped herb in the previous container.
She tried a taste and found it much less bitter, but still not overly pleasant.
A small spoonful of honey mixed into the cordial made it far more palatable, and she placed it in front of her little sister.
“Ye’ll be having that, or we’ll be having words. ”
Violet sighed and lifted the small glass as if she were doing her a great kindness.
After the first suspicious sip, she tipped the rest of the liquid back and let out a long breath.
They both waited as if she might start glowing.
What they received was an absence of immediate gagging, and Hannah was happy with that.
Violet looked equally relieved and placed the glass delicately on the table.
“That seems to have agreed with ye,” Hannah noted with a smile.
“Aye,” Violet said. “Why would people nae tell him what’s happening in his own lands?”
“Perhaps they’re too frightened.” Hannah began peeling the herb anew.
If the mixture quelled the nausea, she would most certainly see to it that a bottle was prepared. She couldn’t help a little shiver at her own words, spoken so casually, remembering the way the Laird had loomed so casually over her and made her feel smaller than she had in her life.
“Perhaps someone should get brave.”
“Perhaps someone has.” Hannah wiggled the herb in her hand before continuing to work her knife over it, adding it to the mortar on the table before her a bit at a time.
“I hope ye ken what ye’re doing.”
Hannah smiled at her sister without looking up from her work and fought back another shiver.
Me too.