Chapter 10
By the time they reached the camp, dusk was beginning to fall, and the whole community was outside, sitting around the fire eating supper, talking, laughing, and sharing stories.
There was a massive cauldron of stew in the middle of the gathering, and a few big loaves of fresh-baked bread sat on wooden trays beside it, from which everyone helped themselves.
Some of the children acted as de facto waiters, passing bread around between the men and women sitting on the ground.
Everyone looked content as they sat eating, and Amanda wished she could sit down among them and chat with them about the little inconsequential happenings of the day, tell the children stories and generally blend in with them.
Yet, it would never be, she realised. Her smooth English accent and delicate manners prevented it; she was not one of them and never would be.
Once again, Hamish helped her dismount and she felt the friction between their bodies as she slid down against him. A delicious tingling spread through Amanda as she met his eyes for a few seconds, then she turned away and walked towards the fire to warm herself.
As Amanda drew nearer to the fire, many heads turned to watch her, and quite a few of the women raised their eyes and pointed at her, looking her up and down critically.
They spoke in Gaelic to each other, but Amanda had realised a short while ago that they were not necessarily being rude; it was just that many of them could not speak any English at all.
Her experience with the young lady at the market had taught her that not all Scots were unpleasant.
She fetched a plate of stew and bread, then a mug of ale for herself, and sat down near the fire to eat, deciding that she would not try to engage anyone in conversation.
She would eat, then try to find a place to sleep.
In all the confusion and panic of dealing with the old lecher, she had forgotten all about that problem.
Although sleeping in Hamish’s tent had been a deeply satisfying experience, she had no wish to risk the wrath of any more of the women in the camp by repeating it, but no one had yet offered her an alternative.
As she was sitting eating her meal, Gregor came to sit beside her. “That new dress suits ye, healer,” he remarked, as he smiled at her and raised his eyebrows in approval.
“Thank you,” Amanda answered, pleased.
Jimmy, the young man she had cured, joined in the conversation without being asked. “Ye look very pretty, Miss Amanda,” he said appreciatively, then whispered in her ear, “I am glad ye got rid o’ that rag Fiona gave ye.”
Amanda giggled, and a number of the gathering glanced at her suspiciously. Jimmy poured another cup of ale for her and they sat chatting companionably for a while. He told her about his three brothers, who were all farmers, but came to fight for Hamish when needed.
“Is that where all these men and women are from?” Amanda asked, looking around.
“Aye,” he replied. “Local families who a’ have a grudge against the false Laird.”
He pointed to various people who had family members murdered, or had been driven off their land and their harvests stolen.
“He is hated by everybody who has ever met him.”
I know someone else like that, Amanda thought bitterly.
However, there was one pleasing notion. As long as she was there in the camp, she was not earning anything, and could not send any money back to her father.
It gave her a dark kind of joy to know that he was suffering because he could not pay his debts.
Having stabled his horse, Hamish collected his food and came to sit beside them. He listened to the light conversation for a while, and acknowledged to himself that yes, he was jealous of all the attention which Amanda was receiving from both Jimmy and Gregor.
Hamish was used to being the centre of attention. He was aware of his looks; he would have been very stupid if he had not been, but it was his status as the rightful heir and therefore something of a hero that he felt proud of. Now Gregor and one of his foot soldiers had usurped his position.
Hamish told himself not to be so stupid. After all, Amanda was not his wife, his betrothed, even the woman who had his heart. Or was she?
He had tried not to watch her, but his gaze followed her as she had moved gracefully in front of him, and he found the swaying of her hips catching his attention, making rampant thoughts run in his head. He was infinitely glad he was wearing his cloak, so no one would notice his reaction to her.
Looking across at her now as she laughed at something Gregor was saying, he wondered. He had never before sought out a soul mate; granted, he had lain with plenty of women, but none of them had taken his heart. Had Amanda done so?
He pushed the thought away and clapped his hands loudly to draw attention to what he was going to say next.
“Tomorrow we will go into Inchkeith,” he said firmly. “Amanda will come with us so that she can see who we fight for. I want every man here to come with us.”
Gregor raised his eyebrows. “Is that a good idea, Hamish?” he asked. “Should we no’ leave it till Amanda has learned tae ride? She is no’ comfortable on a horse at a’ yet.”
“The best way to learn is by doing,” Hamish replied.
Gregor knew that tone. All argument was pointless.
Amanda finished her meal and looked around her, uncertain as to what to do next, but a moment later Hamish’s big hand landed on her shoulder, and she looked up into his leaf-green eyes.
“Let me show you where you’ll be staying,” he told her.
Amanda stood up, and he took her hand, then led her to a small tent just a few paces away from his own.
“I think you should find everything you need in here,” he told her.
Amanda entered the tent and smiled, overjoyed.
It was like a little home of her own with a generously sized cot bed, a padded seat and a washstand.
Next to her bed was a chest for her clothes, which was being used as a table.
An oil lamp stood on it, as well as a clay vase with a bunch of heather in it.
“Don’t expect flowers every day,” Hamish warned, smiling at her. “These are just to say welcome.”
Amanda laughed, then her gaze fell on another chest, one that was chipped and scratched with the wear and tear of many years of use. Her heart skipped a beat. “My medicines!” she cried. “Where did you get them?”
“Two of my men went back to see if there was anything left in the carriage and found them,” he replied. “None of your other possessions, I’m afraid.”
“Pfft!” Amanda flapped a hand at him. “Those are replaceable.”
She knelt down and opened the chest to find her herbs, powders and potions and almost wept with joy.
“Thank you, thank you, Hamish…” Her voice tailed off as she caressed the bottles full of life-saving fluids and powders.
Hamish looked down at her, thinking how much he wanted to kiss her at that moment, then wondering what was stopping him. He gave himself a mental shake.
“I have to get to sleep. We have a very early start in the morning.” He turned to leave, then chanced a glance back. “Goodnight, Amanda.”
“Goodnight, Hamish,” she replied as he left. She quickly went through her medicines to see if any of them were missing, then stood up, yawned and quickly undressed to put on her new nightgown.
New bed, new nightgown, Amanda thought. Is this the beginning of a new life?
It seemed ridiculous to be this excited when laying in the middle of a makeshift camp, among the people who took her, but something made her feel whole.
Feeling that she had a purpose, that she could actually do something instead of being her father’s reluctant banker, filled her with a sense of contentment.
She was so excited about the next day that it took her ages to fall asleep, since she kept visualising scenarios of herself healing people from all sorts of maladies.
There was one obstacle to overcome, though. After breakfast the next day, Amanda knew she would have to face her fear of riding. Until yesterday, she had never sat on the back of a horse, and it was only then that she had realised how far off the ground she was.
She stood in front of her mare and felt her heart beating wildly as she tried to swallow her fear. On one side of her stood Jimmy, the soldier she had healed, and on the other stood Gregor, both of them trying to coax her to mount the horse with gentle words and gestures.
“Come on, hen,” Gregor said softly. “She is a gentle wee thing, that is why Hamish chose her for ye. Dinnae be scared.”
“Dae ye know what her name is?” Jimmy asked. “It’s Honey, mistress, because she is sae sweet. There is nae need tae be scared o’ her. She is a wee darlin’.”
“We do not have time for this,” Hamish said impatiently as he swooped in from behind Amanda, took her by the waist and lifted her onto the horse.
She gave a little squeal of surprise, but did not resist him.
Hamish adjusted the length of the stirrups, then settled Amanda properly on the saddle. He took one of her hands and squeezed it.
“She will not let you fall,” he said soothingly. “And neither will I. You can do this, Amanda. I have faith in you.”
Hamish turned away and mounted his own horse, then they began to move. He gave her once more encouraging smile before he turned to look at the road ahead.
You can do this, Amanda, I have faith in you. The words repeated themselves over and over in Amanda’s head to the rhythm of the horse’s hooves, soothing and reassuring her as they trotted along.
After her initial bout of nerves, Amanda began to feel decidedly more cheerful.
She was part of something important—she had a purpose, and she was beginning to win these people’s trust. She was at last fulfilling her purpose and becoming a useful member of their community who had an important part to play in their lives. It felt good.
“Tell us a bit about yourself, Amanda,” Gregor said, smiling. “Ye’re still a wee bit o’ a mystery tae us a’.”
“What would you like to know?” Amanda asked.
“Dae ye have any family?” Gregor asked curiously.
“I have two sisters,” Amanda replied. “Claire and Rose. They are both Highland Ladies. Claire is married to Laird Iain Ross, and Rose is married to Laird Cormac MacTavish. They are both very good men, so I’m told.”
“Ye havenae met them?” Gregor asked, astonished.
“I have not seen Rose for over two years, and Claire for about a year and a half,” Amanda answered sadly. Then she became cheerful again. “But we write to each other when we can.”
“I have heard o’ both of them,” Gregor remarked. “Laird Ross in particular is very fierce, so I’m told.” He grinned. “I wouldnae like tae get on the wrong side o’ him!”
Amanda felt a wave of sadness passing over her. Would she ever meet her brothers-in-law? She smiled sadly.
She was becoming used to the up and down motion of the horse’s trotting, and was actually beginning to enjoy the ride. She looked across at Hamish, smiling, but he did not return it.
His face wore a grim, almost hostile expression that made Amanda feel apprehensive, and she frowned as she watched it change to one of infinite sadness. What was wrong with him? What was he thinking about that was making him so downhearted?
Presently, he looked around and caught her eye, and Amanda saw the glitter of tears in his eyes, which he quickly dashed away with the heel of his hand. She wanted to suddenly call out his name and ask him what was wrong, but there were too many other people there, and she would have had to shout.
Somehow she thought that this was too personal and deep a problem for Hamish to discuss over the noise of horses and the shouts of the others.
The view as they rode along the shoulder of a steep hill was breathtaking. Steep emerald green slopes led down to a sparkling, fast-flowing burn that was splashing over pebbles and rocks with a musical tinkling sound.
Sheep were everywhere, and Amanda smiled as she saw wisps of wool blowing in the breeze where they had become caught on the heather and gorse bushes. On the horizon were the blue jagged shapes of distant mountains silhouetted against the grey backdrop of incoming rain clouds.
However, nothing could have prepared her for what she saw next. When they came within sight of the outskirts of the village, she drew in a gasp of horror.
Amanda had somehow imagined that the people of Inchkeith would be living in the same kind of conditions as those at the camp. However, nothing had prepared her for what she saw before her.
The people were thin and underfed, and every one of them had a sad, dispirited look.
Even the children looked pallid and lethargic, not playing, laughing and running about like normal little people, but lying on the ground or lounging in corners.
They were mostly silent, and Amanda felt infinitely sorry for them.
Their clothes were ragged and threadbare, and Amanda, who now knew how clothes were repaired, reused and patched over and over again, could see that these garments had moved beyond even that stage.
She wished she had a trunk full of items for them to wear and another with food for them to eat, but she was comforted by the knowledge that Hamish and the men were bringing a deer with them. It was a huge stag that was past breeding age, and would feed the villagers for about a week.
Hamish knew that his brother would regard this as poaching, but he did not care. If Struan McNeill would not take care of his people, then Hamish McNeill would.
“You see how a good Laird treats his people?” he asked Amanda, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
His face bore a terrifying frown, and he looked as though he might explode with fury at any moment; Amanda could not blame him.