Glasgow rogue, p.19
Glasgow Rogue, page 19
The frown deepened. “We are hardly a way-stop. Why bring him here?”
“For heaven’s sake, does it matter?” a female voice asked behind him.
Annie started as a young woman, with chestnut hair that had an odd blonde streak through it, appeared beside the man. A resigned look replaced the frown. “I thought I told ye to stay inside, Jillian, until I kenned it was safe for ye to come out.”
“I believe you did say that, Ian.” The woman turned to look at Annie. “My husband is quite overly protective of me. How badly is your friend hurt?”
Her accent was English, but Annie felt an immediate empathy for her. “His leg is infected from a stab wound four days ago—”
“Four days! Why did ye nae take him to a physician?” Ian asked, giving her a look that said in no uncertain terms she must be completely daft. “I ask again. Why bring the man here?”
“’Tis where he wanted to come and Captain Vance has already sent for the physician from Glenfinnan,” Annie replied. “Niall said ye were Alasdair’s brother by marriage—”
“Alasdair? Niall? Ye have a MacDonald in there?” Ian pushed past her without waiting for a response and jerked the door wide and then cursed. “God Almighty! He is near death.”
Jillian gestured toward two soldiers standing nearby. “Come here and assist.”
“Just have them get the door,” Ian said as he pulled Niall halfway out of the carriage, then stooped to bring Niall over his shoulder. With a grunt, he stood and began walking toward the house.
Annie stared after him. Niall was a solidly built man and not short, yet Ian MacLeod did not seem to be bothered by the weight. Jillian caught her look and smiled. “As laird of this branch of MacLeods, my husband also insists on being the strongest.”
“Laird? I thought the English outlawed that claim,” Annie said as she and Jillian followed Ian inside.
“Oh, they have.” Jillian smiled again. “But one thing I have learned since marrying Ian is that Highlanders do not much care what the English think.”
“But ye are English?”
Jillian nodded. “It is a long story and one which you will probably have time to hear while your…husband?…heals.”
“He is nae my husband.” Annie felt her face warm at Jillian’s inquiring look. “’Tis a long story too.”
“Then it can wait,” Jillian answered as two identical-looking girls no more than four-and-ten rushed into the foyer, trying to shout over each other.
“Who is the stranger?”
“Why is he here?”
“Was that why the carriage—”
“Hush,” Jillian said and looked at Annie. “Our nieces, Kaitlin and Kaylin. They are a rather long story, too.” She turned back to them. “I want one of you to go upstairs and get the faerie stone, then go to the glade in the forest and wait for the crone. Bring her here.”
“We will both do it!” one of them said as they rushed off.
“And no loitering!” Jillian called after them.
“The faerie stone?” Annie asked as they followed the twins up the stairs at a somewhat slower pace. “I ken of rumors that Clan MacLeod keeps the remnants of a faerie flag at Dunvegan castle on Skye, but I have nae heard of a stone.”
Jillian nodded. “The flag is part of the ancestral legend, but the stone was given to me by a young girl at the local market two years ago. It is brown with a golden streak through it, much like my hair. The child said a faerie lived inside and I could call on her for help if I needed it.”
“And ye think she spoke true? That the stone has powers?” Annie tried to keep the skepticism out of her voice, but Jillian probably heard it, because she raised one shoulder in a half-shrug.
“I can only tell you that when Bridget and I went back to look for the girl, she was nowhere to be found and no one else had seen her.” Jillian hesitated and then went on. “And, a few weeks later, when my life was in danger, a young woman appeared out of what seemed nowhere and intervened.” Jillian stopped in front of a door on the second floor. “But enough on me. It is your…um, Niall…that is in danger now. The Crone of the Hills is a healer.”
Jillian opened the door and stepped aside to let Annie enter. She looked around in amazement. In the few minutes it had taken for them to get up here, servants were bustling about. One maid stoked the fire in the hearth while another poured water into a kettle and set it in front of the fire to heat. A third ripped strips of linen into bandages while a fourth dipped a washcloth into a basin and pressed it to Niall’s forehead and then down his neck and on to his shoulders as he lay in the bed, a crisp white sheet pulled halfway up his bare chest. All of his clothing, including the bloodied breeches, lay neatly folded in a stack at the foot of the bed. Annie frowned, wondering which one of the maids had undressed Niall. They were all young.
Ian stood in the middle of the room, an apparent pillar of stone in the midst of all the movement. The servants were evidently well-trained—not a surprise if they considered Ian their laird—because he didn’t say a word but commanded with a glance.
He did look somewhat relieved, though, when Jillian came in to take charge. “I will go and get the crone.”
“I have already sent the twins for her,” Jillian said, looking around the room with a practiced eye.
“The twins? Are ye sure that was a good idea? The healer has nae liking for the noise they make. She might well hide instead.”
Jillian shook her head. “She will come when she sees the stone.”
Ian grimaced. “Let us hope they doona lose it first.”
“They will not lose it.”
Annie didn’t know how Jillian could be so sure, but she moved away from the conversation and went to stand by Niall’s side. She held out her hand to the maid who was semi-bathing Niall. “I will do that.”
The girl glanced in Jillian’s direction before giving over the cloth with a grumpy look. Annie ignored it and dipped the cloth again before sitting on the edge of the bed to apply it.
Niall’s eyes were still closed, but she thought his breathing was stronger. That, along with the two times his eyes had fluttered open, made her think he might be coming out of his laudanum-induced coma. She desperately wanted him to, but then wondered if the pain would be unbearable if he did. If he started thrashing around, it would only make the infection spread.
Annie lifted the sheet slightly to check Niall’s leg. Ian had left the bandage on so all she could see was the redness around it. The swelling hadn’t gone down, but she didn’t think it had gotten worse either.
She hoped the doctor wouldn’t be long in coming, although she didn’t know how long it would take for him to climb the mountain. Would he make it before nightfall or would he wait until morning? Annie bit her lip as she applied the damp cloth again. It seemed all they did was wait.
As if reading her mind, Jillian came to her side as Ian left the room. “It should not be long. Once the crone sees the stone, she will hurry.”
“Ye put a lot of faith in that stone,” Annie said, hoping she didn’t sound too cynical. Magical stones and local healers whose reputations were often more folklore than fact didn’t exactly set her mind at ease. But then she remembered the conversation she’d had with Mrs. O’Connor at the convent home regarding the Fae. Maybe one day ye will believe, she had said.
“Perhaps, but superstitions run strong in the Highlands. What Ian said is true. The healer has no liking for all the chattering the twins do. It is one reason I sent them.” Jillian winked conspiratorially. “To hurry her along.”
Annie smiled, in spite of the grave situation. She liked Jillian even if Ian did seem a bit imposing. “Where did your husband go?”
“He is going to send a messenger to Arisaig to let Niall’s family know he is here.”
“’Tis a good idea. Could ye send a post to his other brother in Glasgow—as well as my mother—to let them ken where we are?” Annie said and then paused. “Niall was going to take me to Arisaig to be safe.”
Jillian gave her a curious look and then shooed the maids out of the room. She waited until the door had closed behind them. “Safe from what?”
“My life might have been in danger,” Annie said.
Jillian studied her a moment. “Are you in trouble with the local authorities?”
“Nae. At least, I doona think so,” Annie answered as she thought about how complicated the whole situation was.
“I am only asking because if I do not, my husband certainly will,” Jillian said quietly.
Ian MacLeod would no doubt command to know not only how the stabbing had happened, but why it had happened. He and Jillian had the right to know if they were protecting fugitives. Annie swallowed hard. They certainly wouldn’t put Niall out since he was wounded and kin by marriage, but she was not related to them in any way. Ian looked formidable enough to toss her out and let her fend for herself.
Before she could begin to speak, Ian returned. The room suddenly seemed smaller with him in it.
“Annie was about to tell me what happened in Glasgow,” Jillian said.
Ian folded his arms across his chest. “And I was about to ask. ’Tis why I came up here.”
Annie swallowed again and told them what had transpired, from the time she got her position as manager of the warehouse to the magistrate raiding the place and finding the smuggled opium. Ian listened impassively until she came to the part of the weavers becoming angry and forming an unruly mob bent on finding her. Then his face darkened.
“What kind of men hunt down a woman?”
“They blamed me for their losing their money from the wool being confiscated,” Annie replied. She might as well tell him everything. “I was the one who signed the paperwork, so they held me responsible.”
“Nae matter. They wanted to harm ye.”
“Aye. Owen and Aidan heard talk of lynching—”
“Lynching?” Jillian broke in, her eyes wide. “God’s merciful heavens!”
“Go on,” Ian said, his voice cold and hard as steel. “I’ll ken the whole story.”
“Well, they got to my mother’s boardinghouse with only a few minutes to spare. Niall and I went out the back door, but some of the men had already rounded the corner and blocked the alley. We—Niall—had to fight his way out.” Annie paused and looked at the bed where Niall lay far too still. “He risked his life to save me.”
“He is a Highlander. What else would he do?”
Annie frowned slightly and looked back at Ian. His tone was nonchalant as if the men of the Highlands risking their lives for women was a common occurrence. Was it? She had grown up in the city and knew next to nothing about the wilds this far north. Owen and Aidan had also been protective in defending the Progress Club women. Maybe that was part of an unspoken code they all seemed to follow. Maybe Niall would have taken the same action for any woman in peril. Maybe all these feelings she’d begun having for Niall since their escape were just one-sided on her part. He had certainly never said he cared for her in any special way. Unless, of course, she counted being called stubborn, which was hardly a compliment.
“Still, I will be forever grateful to him.” And she would. Niall had saved her life, but she needed to remember what Ian had just said. Niall had followed the Highlander Code and done what he considered was his duty.
Their conversation was interrupted by the door banging open as the twins burst in. “I brought the crone,” one of them said.
“We brought her,” the other one corrected.
“Will ye both quit your blethering?” A small, hunched-over woman, with a shawl covering her head as well as most of her face, hobbled in behind them. “’Tis the stone that spoke to me, nae the likes of ye.”
Although they did not look particularly chastised, the twins lapsed into silence. Jillian gestured them to leave and then turned to the healer. “Thank you for coming.”
“Aye.” She pushed the shawl off her head to reveal long, white hair. “’Tis me duty to the MacLeod.”
“Niall is a MacDonald,” Annie blurted and then blinked as the old woman looked at her. Although her face was weathered and wrinkled, her eyes were surprisingly sharp and as black as Ian’s.
“’Twas the MacLeod who summoned me, nae?” The healer moved to the bed, folded back the sheet and removed the bandage from Niall’s leg, then tsked sharply. “How long has the wound been festering?”
“I am nae sure,” Annie answered. “I ken at least two or three days. Maybe four.”
The crone gave her the same look that Ian had when she’d said the same words. “We stopped at Crianlarich to treat the wound, but the doctor was away—”
“’Tis nae matter now.” The old woman looked at the pile of bandages the maid had left and then at the kettle in front of the hearth that had steam rising from it. “Bring me some of that hot water.”
Annie moved quickly to take an empty pewter bowl the maids had left by the bandages and dipped it into the kettle, then carried it over to the bed. The crone set the small cloth sack she carried on the bedside table and took out a vial which she opened and poured a few drops into the water. Instantly, a pungent odor filled the air and a cloud of mist rose to envelop her and Niall. Nodding to herself, the old woman reached into the bag again and took out a mortar and pestle, along with some dried leaves and what looked like small twigs.
As she began to grind them into a fine powder, the mist thickened, fog-like tendrils curling around the bed. The crone’s appearance seemed to change as she worked. Her back straightened, she grew taller, and the lines and wrinkles on her face faded away as her hair darkened to brown with a golden streak running through it.
Annie squinted through the now-dense haze. Perhaps Jillian’s talk of the faerie stone having a gold streak was making her imagine the shift in the crone’s appearance or maybe it was the strong, intoxicating scent in the air that was making her somewhat dizzy. Her eyes stung and she closed them for a moment.
When she opened them, the healer was finishing wrapping a fresh bandage around Niall’s thigh. How could the woman have finished so quickly? Less than a minute ago, she was grinding herbs… Annie blinked several times. The room was back to normal. The mist was gone and only a faint smell lingered in the air.
The old woman was back too, her hair completely white. She put her mortar and pestle back in her sack and nodded to Jillian. “I am leaving a bag of the sphagnum moss for ye to dress the wound with daily until it heals.”
“Then Niall will survive?” Jillian asked.
The crone nodded. “Aye. ’Tis nae his time.”
“I doona ken how to thank ye,” Annie said.
The crone set her dark gaze on her. “’Tis him ye need to thank.”
“Aye,” Annie said, although she wondered how the woman knew that Niall had gotten the wound saving her life. Maybe Ian had told her before she came upstairs.
“I will walk you to the door,” Jillian said.
“Nae need. I ken the way out,” the healer said.
Jillian smiled. “I suppose you do. I am sure Ian will be waiting to escort you back.”
“Better him than those two young ones,” the crone said as she stepped into the hall. “It will take me hours to get the creatures of the forest calmed down.”
Annie waited until the woman had gone and then she turned to Jillian. “I doona ken how she worked so fast, but that was some spectacle.”
Jillian frowned. “What do you mean?”
Annie gestured toward the bed where Niall now lay sleeping peacefully. “How the mist rose from the water and looked like fog around the bed. It was so thick I could hardly make anything out.”
“Fog? Mist? In this room?” Jillian’s frown deepened. “I did not see anything.”
Chapter Twenty
The physician arrived shortly after the crone left. “I got here as soon as I could, my lady,” he said as he was ushered into the parlor where Jillian and Annie were finishing a tray of sandwiches since they’d missed the noon meal. “It took a bit longer than I expected since I could not use my regular carriage on the steep hills and my horse was not used to climbing such.”
Annie could sympathize with the horse, although from the doctor’s rather shaky voice she wondered if he might have been the one more concerned with the steep hills. Not that she blamed him. She recalled all too vividly looking out the window to the sheer drop of the ravine below.
Jillian nodded. “The road is difficult.”
“I hope his lordship will understand.”
“I am sure he will,” she answered. “At the moment, he is not here, but he should return soon. Meanwhile, let me take you to our patient.”
Annie followed them upstairs. Mrs. Cameron, the middle-aged housekeeper, rose from the chair near the bed as they entered the room.
“Mr. MacDonald has been sleeping quietly. I think the fever may have broken.”
“Thank God!” Annie said as she rushed over to lay the back of her hand on Niall’s forehead. “I think ye are right.”
“Hmph. I will be the judge of that,” the doctor said as he walked toward them and moved the sheet back. His brows drew together. “Someone has already tended the wound?”
“Yes, we have a healing woman who lives nearby,” Jillian said. “An old lady who keeps a herbal garden in the forest. She applied a poultice.”
Annie gave Jillian a curious glance. Was that all the Crone of the Hills was? An old lady with a herbal garden? Could the change in appearance that Annie thought she saw, along with mist that didn’t exist, been a result of those herbs put in the water? Jillian had acknowledged that she’d seen steam rise momentarily, but that was all.
“Hmph,” the doctor said again.
“We were not sure if you would be able to get here today, since it is treacherous going,” Jillian added. “Mr. MacDonald was in serious condition. Ian thought it not wise to wait when we had a healer close.”
The physician looked like he wanted to argue the point, but he nodded, evidently realizing that disagreeing with a laird’s viewpoint was not prudent. “Of course, Mr. MacLeod made the right decision.”
