Chapter 12
The journey to Inverness had been uneventful, at least. That was something.
Evander’s head ached, and his eyes were gritty from lack of sleep. He was sure he hadn’t had more than two minutes’ sleep the previous night, to say nothing of other things that had occurred.
He clenched his jaw to stifle a yawn, resolutely refusing to let himself think of the kiss, of the way Skye had felt under his hands, the way she’d kissed him back—
Nay. Stop it. Now isnae the time.
He smothered another yawn, trying resolutely not to think of the ache in the pit of his belly, and concentrated on pushing his way through the crowds.
Inverness was crowded, as usual. Market stalls lined the streets, the air was full of shouts and laughter, and sellers called out their wares indiscriminately to any passers-by.
They yelled prices—ludicrous prices for the most part, obviously intending to drop the amount to a more ordinary level once a little haggling had taken place.
Here, just about anything could be bought for the right amount. There was the usual array of fabrics, tools, trinkets, perfumes, and jewelry, but also more exotic goods.
One stall was laden with furs, the patterns and textures of which didn’t seem to belong to any animal in the Highlands. Skye, who had darted ahead, criss-crossing the space between stalls to peer at the wares at random, slowed down beside the fur stall, frowning.
The seller, a craggy-looking man with a shiny bald head and small, mean eyes, leaned forward and named an eyewatering price. Shivering, Skye pulled back.
“Those poor creatures,” she whispered, nudging her shoulder against Evander’s.
“I daenae mind using deerskins and such, because I ken that we use every part of the animal. I daenae mind wool because the sheep doesnae die. But I think it’s such a crying shame to strip an animal of its coat just… just because.”
“Cruelty is a second language for some people,” he responded briskly. “Ye’ll nae change their minds.”
“Nae if I daenae try,” she murmured, twisting around to look over her shoulder.
For one horrifying moment, he thought that she was going to plunge back into the crowd and confront the man. However, at the last minute, she shook her head and mercifully faced forward once more.
“Stay focused,” he instructed. “We’re here to get ye a dress, and then we can move on. Look for a stall selling ready-made clothes. We daenae have time to buy fabric and make something for ye.”
She hummed to herself, and he eyed her warily.
“Did ye hear me, lass? We arenae here to shop.”
She clicked her tongue. “I’m nae shopping. I’m just looking.”
Abruptly, she tore away from him, hurrying over to yet another jewelry stall. He followed, smothering a sigh.
This stall sold a variety of jewels. Nothing precious, no gold or silver or valuable stones, only polished wooden beads, intricately braided twine or thread, and smooth stones. Hagstones, mostly. Evander wandered over to stand beside Skye. She was poring over the jewels, gasping and cooing.
The seller was a round-faced woman, aged anywhere between forty and sixty, with iron-gray hair and a placid smile on her face. She made no move to make any offers, nor did she bother sitting forward and eagerly trying to make a sale.
“Hagstones are popular,” she remarked, gesturing. “They’re portals, ye ken. Ye can look straight through and see that which is usually unseen. Useful, ye ken?”
Evander glanced down. The hagstones were piled up in a wooden box.
They were all different sizes, colors, and shapes.
Some were smooth and had clearly been carved into a polished shape.
Others were as rough and ugly as if they’d been picked up from the dirt, brushed clean, and slipped onto the end of a braided leather string.
To make her point, the woman picked up a stone, roughly triangular, and held it up over her eye. The eye landed squarely on Evander.
“Now I can see ye as ye truly are,” she whispered softly.
Evander flinched. “Come away, lass. We’ve got no time to waste.”
He didn’t wait for a response, turning instead and striding off through the crowd. He couldn’t move fast, of course, what with all the people crowding around them and the two horses trooping behind him.
Skye gave an annoyed tut, hurrying to catch up with him.
“I was just looking.”
“Well, we daenae have much time,” Evander shot back. “Less chatting, more walking.”
She rolled her eyes. “Need I remind ye that ye have one month to convince me to stay wed to ye? That choice is mine. I’ll nae choose to stay if ye daenae talk to me, will ye?”
“Need I remind ye that that is the marriage we decided upon! Ours was to be a marriage of convenience. That was the plan.”
Skye pursed her lips, frowning. “I cannae understand how I agreed to that. I always thought I wanted a love marriage.”
He shrugged. “Maybe ye decided that there were worse fates than a marriage of convenience which benefited yer clan. But I willnae speak for ye; I daenae pretend to ken the reasons of yer heart.”
She said nothing to that.
When he glanced over his shoulder at her, her face was set, her eyes pensive. She was thinking over something, probably racking her brains for a memory. He wished she would stop. It was more likely that the memories would come by themselves if she didn’t force them.
But then, can ye imagine how it feels to remember nothing from a whole year of yer life? It must be unbearable.
At that moment, a woman stepped out from between two stalls. Short, plump, and round-faced, she looked like any other young woman, swathed in a gray wool with no tartan to be seen. Glancing up from fiddling with her basket, her gaze fell on Skye. Her eyes lit up.
“Why, it’s ye!” she cried, darting toward them.
Skye and Evander paused. He glanced down at Skye, who stared at the woman in confusion.
The woman’s smile didn’t falter. She trotted through the crowd, beaming, hand outstretched to take Skye’s.
“What a pleasant surprise to see ye here,” she twittered, her smile never wavering. “How are ye doing this fine morning, Lady Moira?”
Lady Moira?
“I… I think ye have m-me mistaken for someone else,” Skye stuttered.
The woman blinked, hurt inching into her eyes. “Do ye really nae remember me, Lady Moira? It’s me! It’s Annabelle!”
“I am nae Lady Moira.”
“Is it possible ye have the wrong woman?” Evander interjected smoothly.
The woman—Annabelle—was beginning to look dejected. “Nay, I wouldnae forget her. She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever tended to.”
Evander inspected Annabelle’s face. Her smile was gone, and she drooped a little, but there was no flash of malice in her eyes, no sense that she was lying.
“Ye are a healer?” he prompted. “Is… Is that how ye kent this Lady Moira?”
“She is Lady Moira,” Annabelle insisted, pointing at Skye. “I visited her in her home when she was sick. Her husband brought me.”
The hairs on the nape of Evander’s neck stood up. He stared at Annabelle, trying to control the pounding of his heart.
“And do ye see her husband around here now?” he asked, fighting to keep his voice even.
Annabelle blinked up at him, faintly baffled. “Nay, sir. As far as I can see, it’s only the two of ye.”
“And this… this husband of hers, ye would recognize him if ye saw him again? Would ye be able to lead us to the place he took ye?”
Annabelle eyed him warily for a long moment, then inched closer to Skye. “Lady Moira, is this man with ye? He’s a wee bit strange. If ye are uncomfortable—”
“Me husband apparently gave ye a false name,” Skye interrupted. She gave a taut, uncertain smile. “Me name is Skye.”
“Oh.” Annabelle wilted a little. “I thought we got on well, ye and I. I hadnae attended to a proper lady before.”
“It’s all right, Annabelle. I’ve nae… been meself lately. I’m sure ye took very good care of me.”
An uncertain smile tugged at Annabelle’s lips. “That’s kind of ye to say.”
“Where did ye attend to me?” Skye pressed, her eyes lighting up. “What can ye remember?”
Annabelle swallowed. “Nae much. Yer husband called on me at me home and said he needed me help. Ye were staying in a small cabin only a few miles away. The cabins are built to provide shelter for those who need it, so I assumed ye were only passing through. Ye were sick, but nothing much. Just a wee tonic set ye right.”
“And me husband, what can ye tell me about him?”
Annabelle gave her a long, confused look. “Well, I never saw his face. He wore a mask all the time.”
“A mask?” Evander echoed. “What mask?”
“It was a plain carved wooden mask. He said that he was badly scarred.”
Skye’s breath caught, and her lips parted for an instant. Then she collected herself. “Then how do ye ken he isnae me husband?” she responded, jerking her head toward Evander.
Annabelle barely glanced at him. “Well, I could see his eyes, and he didnae have such bright green eyes. I would have remembered that. Do ye really nae remember me?”
Skye swallowed, offering a wan smile. “I… I really havenae been meself. I’m sorry.”
“I shouldnae be surprised,” Annabelle sighed, shaking her head.
“Ye were always asleep when I arrived. Ye would wake up for a while, but ye seemed… disoriented. Yer husband said that it was the sickness, and I gave ye a healing tonic. We talked, but honestly, ye didnae make much sense. I was just so proud to wait on a lady.”
“And how long ago was the last time we met?”
“About a week. I can give ye the directions to the cabin, if ye like.”
Skye nodded eagerly. Stepping forward, she placed a hand on Annabelle’s shoulder. “I have been sick, but I am better now. Thank ye for yer help, Annabelle.”
“And if ye have any more information about Lady Moira or her husband,” Evander interjected, taking a step forward, “bring it to Laird Bryden at Keep Bryden. Ye will be richly rewarded, I can guarantee it.”
Annabelle nodded uncertainly, glancing between the two of them.
Evander couldn’t even begin to imagine how confused and nervous the poor woman was. Still, he wasn’t going to let a twinge of pity get in the way of this valuable clue.