Page 97 of Highlanders for the Holidays
Chapter 8
Lily gaspedas another wave broke over the side of the boat, drenching her with cold spray. Her hair had blown free from its knot and whipped across her face, stinging her skin. Through the loose strands, she watched Roderick, fixing every image of him in her memory. She stifled a sigh and told herself not to ruin what little time she had left with him by dwelling on how miserable she would be when they parted.
Despite the rough sea, Roderick was laughing and talking with the other men as if he was unaware that the boat was bouncing like a cork. Clearly, the man was born to sail. After adjusting the ropes holding the sail, he crossed the boat to where she sat clinging to the bench to keep from sliding back and forth.
“’Tis a great day for sailing, aye?” he said with a wide grin.
Racing across the water was rather thrilling, but if she were honest with herself, she missed the physical closeness of riding on horseback with him. And she could do without the dozen other men in the boat, who eyed her while speaking in Gaelic.
“What are they saying?” she asked.
“Well, they’re curious as to why I’ve returned with a Sassenach,” he said. “But mostly, they’re remarking on how fetching ye look in breeches.”
She looked down at her wet and dirty clothes.Fetching?Either he was lying or these Highlanders had not seen a woman in a very long time. When they reached their destination, she would have to use one of her precious coins to buy a gown and shoes.
Roderick rested a hand on her shoulder and leaned down while he pointed to an island ahead. “That’s the Isle of Islay, the center of the great MacDonald clan. We’ll leave the galley in the bay and walk inland to Finnlaggan.”
She heard reverence in his voice when he spoke of Finnlaggan, but she did not expect to be impressed. As a Londoner, she had seen royal processions, royal barges, and the formidable walls of the two royal palaces on the Thames.
“Clan MacDonald has castles throughout the isles and on the mainland,” he said. “But Finnlaggan is where Alexander, the Lord of the Isles, meets with the council, and he considers it his home.”
After the men pulled the boat onto the shore between dozens of others, Roderick lifted her down. The ground felt as if it were rolling under her like the sea, and she was grateful for Roderick’s arm to steady her as they followed the others down a well-trod path.
They had walked some distance when they entered a large meadow with a lone holly tree on one side of the path and a tall, rectangular stone on the other.
“What is that stone?” she asked, pointing.
“’Tis from long, long ago, before our people were Christian, before the oldest tales of our heroes. You’ll find stones like this alone and in circles throughout the Highlands. Some believe they still hold ancient magic.”
Lily felt an odd vibration in the air, like the buzz of a bee’s wings. It grew stronger as they neared the tall stone.
“I feel it,” she blurted out.
Roderick halted and gave her a penetrating look. Unease crept up her spine.
“You don’t think I’m a witch, do you?” she asked.
He crossed the path to the holly tree, snapped off a sprig, and stuck it in her hair. Then he winked at her. “Holly wards off evil. A witch cannot wear it.”
“If the London rabble knew that,” she said with a relieved laugh, “I could have worn holly and saved myself a long journey.”
His expression turned serious again, and he took her hand. “What happened in London that made ye leave?”
She trusted him enough now to tell him. Roderick was a good man, and he would not turn on her.
“Witch fever was at a high pitch, and mobs were roaming the streets,” she said. “I knew they would burn innocent women like me next. My heart told me I must leave, so I did.”
“Ye need have no fear of that here,” he said, and put his arms around her. “Women with your gift—healers—are valued by us Highlanders.”
He stood in the middle of the path holding her and murmuring soothing Gaelic into her hair for a long time. Heaven help her, but she would miss him.
They held hands as they resumed their walk. Eventually, they crested a hill, and a large inland loch appeared nestled in the valley below. The village along the shore seemed to be a hive of activity, with people, carts, and horses. That looked promising. She should be able to ply her trade here.
Roderick drew her attention to the two islands in the loch. The larger one was connected to the shore by a narrow causeway and to the smaller island by a bridge.
“The small island farther from shore isEilean na Comhairle, The Council Island,” Roderick explained. “The single stone building on it is the meeting place for the Council of the Isles, which is comprised of the chieftains from the branches of the MacDonald clan and chieftains from the clan’s vassals, including the MacLeods, Mackenzies, MacNeils, Macleans.”
The Lord of the Isles apparently was a far grander person than she had reckoned. Roderick had not exaggerated when he said this chieftain of chieftains was like a king.
