Page 28 of The Highlander's Alluring Spy
Quickly, she turned back to the forest. “Please, Mamaidh. Help me.”
Magnolia and Betty reached her side, and Magnolia said, “You shouldn’t run off like that, Elaine. You terrified poor Betty! Please apologize immediately.”
Elaine nodded, affecting a sad expression. “Aye. I’m sorry, Betty,” she said.
“That’s a’right, Elaine, but dinnae run off like that again,” Betty replied, hugging her tight.
“I willnae,” she promised.
As she left with the maid and her nanny, she thought hard one more time.
Please help me to help them, Mamaidh.
Elaine had never heard her mother’s voice, but the wind in the trees was gentle, and the way it sounded was achingly familiar. It almost seemed to say, “I’ll dae me best, mo chridhe.”
Maybe she’d imagined it, and perhaps she hadn’t, but Elaine felt stronger for it. She knew one thing for sure. For Magnolia, and for Dadaidh, Elaine had to do her best, too.
8
The Farmer’s Widow
Magnolia and Elaine wore matching deep blue dresses as they made their winding way down from the castle into the village. Elaine had been very excited by the prospect of them going down together looking the same, so Magnolia had hardly been able to refuse her.
“We look lik’ a real family!” Elaine told her excitedly, clinging to her hand as they passed along the tree-lined path that led down to where the clansmen lived.
Even as Magnolia smiled, she felt a lance of guilt.
My Father is my family. Your family is a threat, Elaine.
That thought was the right thing–so why did that make her feel guilty, as well?
She shook it off. She had much more important things to worry about than word choice right at this moment in time. Today would be the first day she had ever spent time alone in the clan’s village. This meant that today she could talk to the ordinary folks and maybe, finally, understand what the Scots were planning.
And at last, I may be able to get my mind occupied by something other than what happened in the library two nights ago.
“Maggie, look! Look! It’s Bernie!” Elaine said excitedly, squeezing her hands and drawing her out of her maudlin thoughts. “Bernie! Hail, Bernie! Come an’ meet Maggie at last!”
A boy who had been playing in the garden looked up at the sound of his name. He was a little older than Elaine, perhaps six or so, and he had a round, ruddy face and frayed clothing that marked him out as a farmer’s son. He brightened at the sight of her and hurried out of his garden to meet them.
“Good morrow to ye!” he said happily. “I havenae seen ye in a while.” Then he turned, nervously pulling at his tattered too-big cap, and gave Magnolia a nervous little bow. “An’ God’s blessed greetin’s to ye as well, Me Lady.”
Magnolia couldn’t help but smile at the formality of the child’s gestures. “A lady I am not,” she said. At least, not here. Not now. “I am just Elaine’s nanny. You may call me Magnolia, or Maggie if you like. Are you a farmer, young man?”
Bernie straightened up, blushing bright red. “Och, that’s awfie kind o’ ye,” he said with a bashful grin. “Well, Me Lad—I mean Miss, I’m Bernard Reid. Me mam runs the farm since me dad died in the fightin’ when I was just a baby. I dae me best to help out.”
“Bernie’s me friend, Maggie, just like ye are,” Elaine said proudly. “His mam is always ready to gi’ me a piece an’ jam whenever I like. She makes the jam herself, too!”
“She’s just made breakfast if ye want to come in,” Bernie suggested happily. “She’d be more than happy to feed ye both.”
Magnolia was ready to refuse–she simply couldn’t take food out of the mouths of what was obviously a poor family–when she realized that this was an opportunity. Before she had a chance to worry about the moral quandary, Elaine had solved it for her.
“Come on, Maggie! Ye’ve got to try this jam!” she said, pulling impatiently at her hand.
Inside, Bernie’s mother didn’t even seem surprised by the sudden guests. She just smiled and bid them sit, and busied herself fetching them bread.
Elaine happily chewed on a slathered piece of bread and jam, making happy little noises as she did. “Mrs. Reid, ye dinnae half make the best jam in the world! Did ye grow these strawberries?”
“Aye, I did,” Mrs. Reid said, pleased. “It’s the right season for it, and I ken how ye and Bernie love it. I was gonnae bring some up for yer Da, too, and Eliza and her Betty. Ye think they’d like that?”
