Page 41 of The Highlander's Alluring Spy
“If anythin’, ye’d better watch out for my Elaine spiritin’ ye away yerself,” Nathair replied, ruffling his daughter’s hair fondly. “She’s half-fae herself, I sometimes think.”
Magnolia stood back and watched, her heart softening at the lightness in Nathair’s tone and movements as he interacted with Elaine and with Greta and Bernie.
A good man. Truly good. If only I knew what that meant for me.
* * *
They walked together through the village, keeping a respectable distance without it feeling like they were trying to avoid each other. Nathair was surprised and a little relieved by how comfortable he felt around Magnolia even now.
Turns out I’m a big enough lad that a couple wee kisses dinnae need to ruin a friendship after a’ that.
That was good. It assuaged Nathair’s guilt about his confused feelings and gave him time and space to focus on the real problems.
Magnolia had suggested they visit Ewan McLeod after Greta told her about the village headman. Though Nathair knew the old man’s title was nothing but honorary, especially now, he figured it would do no harm to visit the old widower.
They reached the top of the hill where Ewan’s little hut resided, separate from the rest of the clan. It was really small, covered in moss and grass, looking more like a pixie-house from a faerie story than a human dwelling. Nathair knocked on the door, and they waited.
“He lives here? Alone?” Magnolia asked, clearly surprised.
Nathair nodded. “Aye. McLeod used to live in the middle o’ the village, right aroun’ the whole clan. He was friends wi’ my Grandfaither, and then me Faither, and he worked well managin’ the day to day thin’s we couldnae. But…”
But before he could explain what had happened, the door opened, and the old man made his way slowly and painfully through. “Aye? What dae ye want? If ye’re here to steal me fortune, ye’re too late!” the old man said, then started to laugh. It sounded like a witch’s cackle mixed with a hacking cough.
Nathair saw Magnolia flinch. He was impressed that the woman did not verbally react at all. Most people gasped or exclaimed in surprise the first time they saw Ewan. He was near ninety years old, bent over almost double, only able to walk by clutching a walking staff near as old as he was.
The pate of his head was completely bald, covered in dark moles and freckles, though long white hair sprouted madly from the sides of his scalp and down past his ears. He was thinner than any man Nathair had ever met, and his skin, always pale, was now near translucent.
He had four teeth in his wrinkled mouth, and his fingers that curled around the staff looked stiff and arthritic. But none of that was the shocking part. No, that was his eyes.
They had been blue, once, but that had been a long time ago. Now they were milky white and clouded over, the irises barely distinguishable from the whites, the pupils barely visible at all. And yet, for all his evident blindness, he let off a strange aura of being able to see everything about a person.
“It’s me, Nathair Irvine, sir,” Nathair said with respect. He may be Ewan’s liege Laird, but Ewan had been a core part of this village long before Nathair had drawn his first breath. “I’ve come to visit ye. Are ye busy?”
“Wee Nathair?” Ewan asked, and then cackled again. “What’s wee Nathair doin’ all the way up here at me wee hut? Arenae ye supposed to be the Laird o’ the castle now? How dae ye have time to be visitin’ hermits?”
Nathair saw Magnolia glance at him with alarm, but he just gave her a reassuring smile. “What kind of Laird would I be if I didnae visit friends and family, Mr. McLeod?”
“Aye, aye. True enough,” the old blind man agreed. “And who’s wi’ ye? Is that Catrina? Did ye bring me some o’ yer bonny stories, lass?”
Magnolia blanched and hesitated, clearly uncertain on how to respond.
Nathair grimaced. “Catrina’s deid. Dinnae ye remember? She went just before the last war when me bairn was born.”
“Och. Och. A shame, a shame. But that’s nae bairn ye’ve got with ye. Ye courtin’ again, Beithir? Hard to believe ye’re old enough for a’ that even now,” Ewan muttered to himself.
Nathair smiled to himself. He hadn’t heard that nickname since his father passed. Nathair’s name meant snake, and the Beithir was a giant and fearsome serpent of myth. His father used to call him that every time he said he’d grown. “Nay, sir, I—"
Ewan either did not hear or did not care. “I remember when yerAthairbrought yerMaitherto meet me for the first time. I could see back then, and ye werenae born. I recall…”
“I’m not—we are not courting, sir,” Magnolia interrupted gently. “I’m simply Elaine’s nanny. My Laird has requested me to join him in his tour of the village today.”
“English!” Ewan exclaimed. “Ye’re courtin’ an English lass! Good God above, Beithir, have the times changed that much while I’ve been trapped here in me wee hut? What else is goin’ on at yon castle?”
Magnolia shook her head emphatically. “No, sir, we are not—”
Nathair held up his hand, indicating to her that it was no use trying to argue with the old man when he got an idea in his head. “May we come in, Mr. McLeod?”
“Och aye, och aye. Leave yer Englishness outside, lass, an’ ye can come in.” He turned and hobbled inside, leaving the door open, still muttering as he walked. “If the wee Laird trusts ye, then ye’re good here, I suppose.”
