Chapter 6
The dream was a curious one. Daphne had always been lucky enough to know when she was dreaming, and she knew now that she was dreaming.
In the dream, she was standing on a high, mossy hill overlooking a place she didn’t recognize. She knew, in strange dream-logic, that it was Keep MacCrimmon.
Below her, Willow was racing away down the hill, back turned. Daphne felt a pang of unease and took a step towards her, shouting for her to slow down, to wait.
At least, she tried to step and shout. It was a dream, so of course she couldn’t move at all. Fear skittered up and down her spine. She tried to scream, but her teeth remained glued together.
Willow continued toward the rough gray walls of the keep.
A man stood there, MacCrimmon tartan fluttering around him, a ragged cloak and a kilt.
He was facing her, and she knew without doubt that it was Hunter.
Willow was running toward him, gaining speed down the hillside.
Beside her, a dark presence crept forward, its shadowy fingers—
The Wolf. It was always coming for ye. Always.
Daphne jolted awake, her eyes widening, her jaw clamping down on a scream. She knew at once where she was. The carriage, tucked in a corner, with a rug pulled up around her shoulders.
Lady Pilbury slept in the opposite corner, with Willow curled up against her. The baby fox lay half-hidden in a nest of blankets.
They’d been workshopping various names for the fox. Willow liked Foxglove, which was possibly a little unimaginative. Lady Pilbury’s suggestion of Rusty was marginally better, and Lady Helena’s contribution of River was possibly best of all.
As she watched, the little creature stirred. A glossy black nose and two intelligent yellow eyes briefly appeared above the top of the nest, watching them both coolly, and then retreated.
“Bad dream, me dear?”
Blinking, Daphne glanced over at Lady Helena, who sat beside her, having moved to give Lady Pilbury and Willow more room.
“N-Nay,” she mumbled.
“Ye seemed a wee bit distressed in yer sleep. Tossing and turning, face crumpling. I was about to wake ye up.”
Daphne cleared her throat. “I’m fine. I’ll be better when this journey is over. Are we close?”
“Oh, aye, very close.” Helena marked her place in the book and set it aside.
“I ken this place well. I’ve been Lady MacCrimmon since I was younger than ye, pet.
And even now, since me son isnae wed, I am still Lady MacCrimmon.
I’d happily step aside, however, if he’d just marry.
Every woman wants her child to be happy and settled. I’d like to see him with a fine woman.”
Daphne cleared her throat again. Already it was getting sore. “I’m nae sure that Laird MacCrimmon is the marrying kind.”
Helena fixed her with a long, cool look. “Oh, I daenae ken about that,” she murmured, the tremor in her voice hinting at a fine joke that she knew and nobody else did. “By the way, if ye look out the window on yer left, ye will see our destination. We’re home, just about.”
Daphne had been so sure that she’d be calm and cool. In reality, however, she jerked forward, eyes wide, and all but pressed her nose against the glass, watching the Highlands slip past.
Oh, I’ve missed this, she thought with a pang.
The green was greener here, somehow. The sky certainly was less blue, a dark and oppressive gray, threatening danger at any moment.
The carriage took a sharp turn onto a cobbled road leading up a steep hill toward a high-walled castle.
“Keep MacCrimmon,” Helena murmured, somewhat unnecessarily. “Ye never saw it, did ye?”
“Nay, I never did.”
“Remarkable, is it nae? The finest castle in the Highlands. Of course,” she added, her lips twitching, “I would say that, would I nae? I’m a wee bit biased.”
Daphne said nothing, but fortunately Helena didn’t seem to expect a response.
The carriage climbed steeply upward. Carts and coaches passed them, evidently heading up or down the broad, well-maintained road to the keep itself. However, folks mostly walked on foot.
Still glued to the window, Daphne watched people walk by in ones, twos, and threes, talking and murmuring, some bearing baskets, others carrying heavy bags or boxes, one or two even dragging laden carts behind them, laboring in the shafts themselves in place of a donkey or pony.
Up and up they went, steeper and steeper. It occurred to her that she hadn’t caught sight of Hunter.
The man hadn’t set foot in the carriage once during their journey, not even when the rain came down hard. From the glimpses she’d seen, Daphne could guess that he was ahead of them, leading the way.
Sure enough, ragged cheers and cries rose from the road ahead. People walking past them downwards had bright, happy smiles on their faces. They eyed the covered carriage with optimistic interest and mild confusion. Some waved.
“They love him,” Daphne murmured, half to herself.
“Oh, aye,” Helena answered softly. “He’s beloved by the people, sure enough. They ken he’s dedicated to them.”
Was it her imagination, or was there an edge to the older woman’s voice?
Daphne sat back, glancing at her. She was about to ask a question when Willow shifted, sitting up and rubbing her eyes sleepily.
“Mama?” she mumbled drowsily. “Are we there yet?”
“Very nearly. Come sit on me lap and look out the window.”
Willow nodded and came crawling across the carriage. She settled herself on Daphne’s lap, wrapped her arms around her shoulders, and rested her head on her chest.
Daphne wrapped her arms around her, squeezing her eyes shut.
I shouldnae have shouted at her.
She could still see the moment in her mind’s eye. It would probably haunt her dreams and remain etched behind her eyelids. She could see the terror and dismay on Willow’s face as she bent down, shouting at her, livid and furious.
It wasn’t that Willow hadn’t been shouted at before. The cook had once bellowed loud enough to shake the house’s foundations when baby Willow had toddled too close to a pan of water boiling on the stove.
Daphne had once screamed high and loud when she saw Willow leaning out of a second-story window after inching up the glass pane. Even Lady Pilbury had cried out at her once, when Willow had picked up the cat’s tail in babyish confusion and was preparing to pull, thinking it a toy.
A few pointed scratches and instructive bites had taught her to be gentle with the cat, more than Lady Pilbury’s stammered instructions and yelps.
This time was different, though.
This time, I scared her.
Daphne pressed a kiss to the top of Willow’s head.
I’ll be better. I have to be. I must be a good mother.
“Is that where we’re going?” Willow yawned. “That ugly gray building?”
“It’s only the outside that’s ugly. Ye are looking at the keep walls; they surround it all. The real castle is inside. The walls are designed to keep us safe. Enemies cannae get inside.”
“Enemies?”
The Wolf, Daphne thought, but didn’t say it. Laird Gilmore, coming to get his revenge for how I humiliated him.
She’d received letters from her family, of course, but they were few and far between.
She suspected that the post between their little village and the Highlands was unreliable, to say the least, as some of the letters she’d received seemed totally disjointed, ignoring questions she’d asked in her previous letters altogether.
So, communication between her and her family had been poor.
I could see them now that I’m here.
Do they want to see me?
Best not to answer that question. Not yet, at least.
The terrain beneath the carriage wheels changed to smooth cobblestones. A courtyard, then.
Abruptly, they passed beneath a thick doorway, the walls wider than the carriage itself. Guards nodded them through, trying surreptitiously to peer through the windows. One of them at least made eye contact with Daphne, his eyes widening in shock.
And then they were through.
The carriage slowly rolled to a halt. For a few seconds, they all sat there, silent. With the rattle of the wheels having faded away, Daphne could hear other noises. She heard the murmur of conversation, the sound of many different voices all talking together.
The distant singing of washerwomen and maids drifted on the breeze. The wind raked across the courtyard, and somewhere, drying laundry snapped on the line. A woman laughed raucously, and a dog gave an eager bark.
Opposite her, Lady Pilbury stirred, pressing the back of her thin hand against her eyes. “Why, we’ve stopped,” she croaked.
“Aye, we’re here,” Helena confirmed, leaning forward with a grin. “We’re home!”
Lady Pilbury blinked, shaking her head as if to wake herself. “Oh, what a pity. I missed the view over the last few hours. I can’t say that I cared for the last few days of travel, but I hoped to see the last leg of the journey.”
“Ahh, daenae worry about that. Ye will get a finer view from the top of the walls than ye would from the roadway.”
“I… I don’t know if I can,” Lady Pilbury stammered weakly. “Climb to the top of the walls, I mean. My chest is terribly tight. Daphne, my dear, have you my medicine?”
At once, Daphne reached into the bag at her feet and drew out a small vial. She handed it wordlessly to Lady Pilbury, who pulled out the cork and took a careful sip. Usually, the tonic brought a little color to her cheeks, but today she remained pale.
On cue, the door flew open. Hunter stood there, his face impassive.
Daphne avoided his gaze. She’d avoided looking at him since that incident in the forest.
It had to be him, did it nae? He had to be the one who saw me snap at Willow.
She wasn’t sure how far she believed that he was here to take Willow. Of course, it wouldn’t be the first time a laird flexed his muscles and stole away a bastard child against the will of the mother.
Hunter isnae like that, came a thought.
How do ye ken?
But there was no sense in worrying about that now. At that moment, they were in Keep MacCrimmon, with Laird MacCrimmon himself standing before them, his gaze sharp.
“Lady Pilbury is ill,” Daphne said at once. “I have her medicine. Can ye summon a physician?”
“Aye, one of the keep healers is here,” Hunter responded. “Rhiannon, where are ye?”
A diminutive young woman, no more than five feet tall, came prancing forward.
She wore a long green cloak that brushed the ground and a threadbare gown that had probably been blue once.
A utility belt hung low over her hips, crammed with boxes, bags, and vials of all descriptions.
She wore her dark hair short-cropped around her ears, and with her round, freckled face and upturned nose, she reminded Daphne of nothing so much as a pixie.
Wordlessly, Daphne scrambled out of the carriage. Willow leaped down after her, clinging to her skirts and peering around, uncertain. Next, she and Helena did their best to hand down Lady Pilbury.
Lady Pilbury managed to step down, but with difficulty, her legs shaking and scarcely holding her up.
That was when Rhiannon stepped up to her, sharp eyes taking in the Englishwoman from head to foot.
“Come with me,” she ordered. “I ken where ye rooms are to be. Ye must rest, and then I’ll prepare ye a tonic. Lean on me, I’m quite strong.”
Lady Pilbury blinked at her, baffled. “You are the physician?”
“I am a healer.” Rhiannon smiled.
“A… A midwife?” Lady Pilbury stammered.
Rhiannon cocked her head. “Why, me Lady, are ye with child?”
Lady Pilbury gave a tired chuckle. “No, my dear. Forgive me, I have just never seen a female doctor before, only midwives.”
“Then what an exciting day this is for us both,” Rhiannon responded brusquely. “Come, I will take ye to yer rooms.”
“I’ll come along,” Helena volunteered. She threw a sharp, thoughtful glance at Daphne. “May I take Willow? She’s so very helpful.”
Daphne glanced down at her daughter.
Willow beamed up at her, hopeful. “Can I go, Mama?”
“I can give her a quick tour of the keep while ye see to the bags and boxes,” Helena offered. “I’ll find out where yer rooms are. Nae far from Edith’s, I expect.”
Daphne nodded tightly. “All right. Willow, be on yer best behavior, ye hear?”
Willow nodded obediently. “Aye. We’re guests.”
She trotted away after the two older women and Rhiannon.
Daphne watched her go, her heart thumping.
Will there ever be a time when I daenae feel me heart sink as me daughter walks away from me?
Nay, probably nae.
A shadow fell over her. She knew without looking that it was Hunter standing behind her.
“Come with me,” he said shortly. “We’ll talk in me study.”
Daphne cleared her throat, straightening her spine and squaring her shoulders. Only then did she turn to face him.
“I have work to do,” she declared. “I have to oversee these bags being taken to our rooms. After that, I’d better find Lady Pilbury and make sure she’s comfortable. And the baby fox, of course.”
Hunter blinked slowly at her, like a cat.
Abruptly, Daphne was reminded of Willow’s fox. She glanced around for the little creature, but there was no sign of it. Only a wadded-up nest of blankets showed that it had been in the carriage at all. She assumed it had run off with Willow. But then, who knew?
“Lady Pilbury will be comfortable,” Hunter assured her. “Me mother will make sure of it. Those two have been friends for longer than either of us have been alive. I ken me mother, and I ken that she’ll take care of her. Ye have nothing to worry about, nothing at all.”
“Perhaps it’s me job I’m worried about.”
He tilted his head to the side. “Oh, is that so?”
Daphne bit her lip, reddening. “Nay, nae exactly. I daenae ken why I said that. But I do want to join Lady Pilbury soon.”
“And so ye shall. After we’ve talked. Why, lass, daenae ye think we have a good deal to talk about?”
She eyed him, feeling that familiar bubbling in her gut, the wanting that had haunted her dreams since she’d first parted with him.
“I suppose we might nae have time for a proper conversation before I leave.” She swallowed hard and lifted her chin. “We might as well talk now.”
His face split into a wild smile, making her insides shiver once more.
“Leave?” he echoed.
“Of course. When Lady Pilbury leaves, or… or passes, I will have to find a new place to live. A new employer.”
He took a step toward her. “Get this into yer head, lass. Ye. Are. Nae. Leaving. Nae now, nae ever.”