The waiting was the worst part, but Ella was determined not to make the same mistake she made during her first escape attempt by allowing impatience to ruin her get away. After she thought a good quarter of an hour had passed, she calmly checked her cloak, all was well. She had her meager rations. It was this moment or never. Using her hair pin to help dislodge the hinges, she worked to release them from the door. Satisfied she had loosened the door enough, she pushed against it with all her might. The door wouldn’t budge.

“No!” she shouted out. “No, no, no!” She tried again, this time she backed up from the door and tried to run toward it. It was no easy feat. The carriage still sat at an impossible incline, and even though she was small, there was no room inside for her to get the momentum she needed to gather any additional strength. She had only succeeded in hurting her shoulder, and the door didn’t move an inch.

Determined not to be discouraged, she took the unladylike position of placing her body on the floor of the carriage, she had seen boys in the stables back home use their legs as leverage when trying to move heavy objects or even the horses and cows. Why couldn’t she do the same? She hiked her cloak and skirt above her knees and took a deep breath. Counting to three, slowly, she raised both legs and kicked the door with all her might. Letting out a scream as she did, and to her surprise and delight the door moved. She repeated her kicking several times and the door finally came off its hinges. She squealed in delight, but there was no time to stand around and admire her hard work. She gathered her skirts about her and climbed down from her prison. She felt the weight of her situation fall off of her. No matter the next challenge, for this moment she was free.

The sun had dipped low behind the rolling hills of the countryside. Before leaving the mud pit where the carriage had crashed, she made sure to create a distraction with her footprints in the mud. She hoped she’d been successful in making Richard think she had travelled back the way they came to the south; however, she had actually gone to the north and west. She knew she would be soon close to the dreaded Scottish Highlands, but it was a risk she was willing to take.

As a child she had been terrified when their governess told her and Amelia stories of the brutish men from the north of Scotland, who would kidnap blond-haired English ladies such as herself, with fine features and manners. Telling her about how valuable her light grey eyes would be in the highlands, not being of an average shade of most Scottish lasses. The governess would scare her into believing if she was a difficult child, the Highlanders would come like thieves in the night and capture her from her bed. Being terrified of the horrible stories she made sure to behave, not wanting to be taken deep into the highlands and having a brute force her into marriage and making more Scottish babies.

She shivered in the cool of the early evening. She thought she had been walking for almost three or maybe even four hours. Keeping her mind busy by singing songs to herself and having conversations with Amelia and Gwen in her head. If they only knew what she was undertaking. They would think she was on a grand adventure. They would not realize the fear that gripped her of being discovered, or how the mud caked to the bottom of her skirts and cloak, weighed her down, making her legs feel like lead with each step she took.

She had also developed a new identity for herself. Emily Peters, orphaned. Her father was a merchant who was recently lost at sea. So, she had no family to speak of, except for a sister who was far away in England being cared for by a kindly old woman who had not the funds to take Emily in as well. She needed to secure work in order to send coin to her sister and to take care of her own keep. She was a hard worker. Emily Peters was handy with a needle, and sturdy enough to help out in any farm or kitchen. Of course, Ella had no idea what to do in a kitchen or on a farm, but she figured if someone took her in, she could learn quickly. Emily Peters was whip smart.

Losing the sun entirely she no longer knew in what direction she was heading, but she doubted Richard had followed her. Hopefully, he would have only just arrived back to the carriage and realized she was gone. There was a good opportunity that he looked at the damage to the carriage door and thought her kidnapped. If that happened, she would be even luckier. No one would be suspicious of a woman traveling alone and associate it with her, as they would be looking for a kidnapped English lass.

Her surroundings started to look different, the terrain changed from the rolling hills and gave way to flatter farmland and soft grass covered meadows. She spied a cluster of rocks in the distance. At least, she hoped they were rocks. It was hard to tell in the waning light. They could’ve also been those wretched highland cows, covered in fur and horns. She’d only seen them from far away through the carriage window, but they were huge and terrifying. If she came face to face with one of those beasts, she was unsure what she would do.

If they are those damned cows, I shall kill one and enjoy the beef, she thought. Laughing at her own absurd thoughts, she remembered the bread and cheese she’d kept in her cloak, and her stomach rumbled loud enough she thought to echo from the newly risen stars. Pulling the insufficient food from her cloak, she pushed down the disappointment and devoured it as if it were the finest meal in all of Britain.

Her meal finished, she continued on toward her destination, and realized that her imaginary cows were indeed rocks. She sighed with relief. She certainly wasn’t in the mood to wrestle with giant animals, no matter how delicious a side of roasted beef sounded. She didn’t have the means to create a fire anyway. She wrapped her cloak more tightly around herself, she settled against one of the largest rocks. An owl from somewhere nearby let out a loud hoot and Ella nearly jumped from her skin. The wind had picked up and the chill she felt crept through her cloak and dress to settle into her bones. The rock would block at least the worst of the wind. Without a road in sight and thinking she was deep in the middle of nowhere, she decided there wasn’t a better place to at least try and take her rest. Up until this point she thought Richard and hunger were her largest threats, but now as the moon was high and exhaustion overcame her, she worried she might freeze to death exposed to the elements or be attacked by some unknown animal in the wild. Should she freeze to death in the night or be eaten, it would still be a much better fate than being forced to marry Evans. Should she make it until morning, she would keep going and hopefully find a nice farming family who could offer her assistance in finding food and work. Thoughts of the dream mystery man entered her mind again. Never in her waking life could she remember having met a man who as strong and handsome. Her stomach gave a flutter. If he was indeed her guardian angel, she would welcome dreams of him every night. The emerald of his eyes welcoming her as she closed her own.

The poking at her side was persistent. “Amelia, leave me be,” Ella moaned and rolled over. Her sister never let her sleep later than sunrise, and she was exhausted. “Let me sleep, but first I’m dreadful cold, give me another fur,” she grumbled.

“Ah we hae a braw lady her askin' for a fur coverin’.”

Ella’s eyes opened wide, she looked up to see an old man with a Scottish accent as thick as his grey beard standing over her, his eyes were blue like a clear lake on a summer day and looked kind, and he was poking her with a stick. Where was she? It all came back in a rush—the cold hard ground, Richard, her escape. She moaned again, fully waking up quickly now that she had an audience.

“Good morning sir, I’m looking for work and am afraid I slept here the night for want of anywhere else to go. Please accept my apologies,” Ella said. Ugh, there was no way she could sound like anything less than an educated lady. She wished she’d paid more attention to Gwen and her accent over the years. No one would think she was a working woman. ^p “Och, bide until me Sarah hears about this, a fine sassenach lass in me fields,” he replied. “Lookin' fur werk ye say?”

“Yes, I’ll do anything you need. I’m fine with a needle and thread, and can find my way around the kitchen,” Ella said.

“Well I don’t think we hae much werk, but ye should come break ye fast wi' me an' mah wife. She is good in th' scullery ye ken. We can at least get ye warm an' yer belly full afair ye get on yer way,” he said. “Mah name is Fergus Cameron, by th' way. What do they call ye?”

“Emily,” Ella replied. “Emily Peters.”

“Ahh, Emily is a right braw name, tis,” Fergus said.

She followed Fergus through the farm fields. He chattered the whole way, Ella only picking up some words here and there from his thick accent and the speed at which he spoke. At points he would ask her about herself, and she stuck to her lie about being a recently orphaned merchant’s daughter. Adding details like traveling up from their home together in Edinburgh when she ran out of money to keep the shop open.

Fergus shared about his life as well, and she felt a fondness for the kind man. She gathered he lived alone with his wife Sarah. They had not been blessed with bairns, in their long marriage. Which Ella realized meant children, they hadn’t had babies. It caused them great sadness early on, especially Sarah who wanted nothing more than a babe of her own. But eventually they learned to be happy without. They had built a good life—one Fergus wouldn’t trade for anything in the world. Ella thought on their happiness for a while in silence. What more could anyone ask for but a good and happy life. Noting the beauty of the patches of comfrey and lavender scattered about the fields. The late summer had them almost still in bloom. But the recent chill would end that, she thought. She also noted that the soft grass she’d seen the night before, glittered with the morning dew was quite lovely. Thoughts of her sweet mother came to her. Charlotte Pearson had been beautiful and smart. Charlotte was also a healer, it made Ella sad to think she was unable to help herself when she needed it. Even though she had stopped practicing once she married Ella’s father, she’d spent many spring and summer days with Ella walking through the gardens explaining the flowers, plants and herbs. Ella loved to learn how they were used in treating various maladies. Once or twice her mother even let her treat Amelia if she hurt herself climbing a tree or running through the woods that surrounded their Derbyshire home. Times were happy then. Ella wondered how different things would be now had her mother survived. Dying much too young in childbirth with what would’ve been Amelia and Ella’s little brother, had the babe survived.

Soon they came upon a small thatch-roofed cottage and short wooden barn. This must be where they live, Ella thought, pushing on her stomach while it rumbled as the smells of cooking porridge and biscuits carried over from the smoke coming from the chimney of the cottage. Fergus, hearing the complaint from her stomach, laughed. “Follow me, lassie, food is this way.”

As they entered the cottage, Ella felt immediately surrounded by warmth, not only from the fire in the hearth crackling and warming the air, but the hominess of the farm house itself. It looked lived in, and now knowing what she did of Fergus and Sarah, it looked well-loved in. She quickly wiped a tear from her eye. She knew she would never know a love like Fergus and Sarah shared.

A large woman with the same grey hair as Fergus was standing over the fire stirring a large pot that hung from the sides of the chimney with a crudely fashioned iron bar.

“Ye Fergus is back love, an' Ah brin' a guest wi' me,” Fergus said lovingly to the old woman, planting a loud kiss on her cheek as he dropped the rabbits he’d picked up from the fields in a bucket by the fire. Sarah smiled as she leaned into her husband’s kiss.

“Ah missed ye thes morn, Fergus. I see ye caught some braw rabbits. Are ye after me makin' ye a stew?” Ella felt like an interloper in their warm, happy world listening to Sarah thank her husband for the bounty he left her.

“A stew would be braw indeed. Will ye stop cookin' fur a moment, woman an' say awrite tae our guest, Emily? I brought to break our fast with ye,” Fergus said, as Sarah wiped her hands on her apron and turned to face Ella.

“Step closer tae me bonnie, lit me get a good swatch at ye. I’m half blind ye ken.” Ella stepped closer. She could indeed see that one of Sarah’s eyes had the white film of blindness over it. Ella couldn’t help but feel badly for the woman.

“Fash, dinnae feel badly fur me lassie, I get along just braw with me one good eye,” she said, as if reading Ella’s thoughts. “Where did ye say ye came from again?”

“I traveled from Edinburgh on foot. My father was a merchant, but I received word he was lost at sea, now I’m looking for work. I need but just a little coin to send back to England for my sister’s keep,” Ella wondered if the longer she told the lie the more believable it would become. Sarah did not look impressed.

“Well sit at th' table, lit me get ye some food. ye must be starved. It’s nae much but it keeps our bellies full,” Sarah said. Ella knowing how to follow instructions sat down at the rough wood table. There were only two chairs, but before she could protest Fergus brought around a small wooden stool and plopped himself down on it.

There was no talk while the three ate in silence. It was no exaggeration that the porridge was the finest Ella had ever tasted. Ella wondered if she couldn’t just stay here with Fergus and Sarah. After all, they had no children of their own, and in their advance age, they would most definitely need help around the farm.

After the meal was complete, Ella made move to pick up their bowls wanting to bring them outside to the washing basin, but Sarah stopped her.

“Nae, nae, I willnae hae a fine lady as yerself doin th' clean-up in me scullery,” She said, with her hand on Ella’s arm, pushing her back in her seat.

“No, please, you misunderstand. I am used to hard work. I want to be of use to thank you both for your kindness,” Ella said, fear under her words at being found out. She should’ve known better than to think she could fool anyone.

“I main be simple, but am nae eejit lassie,” Sarah said, her tone touched with a hint of anger. “I smell th' braw rose water under th' dirt an' mud of yer travels. Ye no more a workin' hen than I’m a queen.” She didn’t know what to say. She could come clean and tell the truth, both Fergus and Sarah seemed so kind, perhaps they would not turn her in. But then again, the soldiers in this part of Scotland may have more control over the people than Ella knew, and thinking they could get a reward, they may be inclined to turn her in for the coin. She watched speechless as Sarah stood and made her way over to the fire, presumably to put on a pot of water for the washing.

“I hiner ye will tell me who ye really are. What are ye lookin’ fur from simple folk like us?” Sarah said calmly with her back to Ella. Ella looked to Fergus for help, but he simply shrugged. It was clear Sarah ran the household here. She would find no help from Fergus.

“I’m only looking to be of use to someone. I mean no harm, but if you don’t want me here, I thank you kindly for your hospitality. I will be on my way,” Ella said. As Ella made her way to leave a loud crash came from where Sarah stood over the fire. Ella turned to see that the boiling water had spilled, and Sarah was holding her hand high, tears streaming from her one good eye. Ella ran toward the woman to inspect the burn; the skin had already begun to blister. She turned to Fergus. “Fergus, quick, in the field about a half yard from the barn, you will see a patch of lavender and comfrey, go fast, bring me two large handfuls of each.”

The old man nodded and ran from the house. The burn was bad, but Ella didn’t want the woman to worry or suffer a shock. Most likely the pain was only beginning to set in. Looking around the room Ella spied a larger bucket of water, hopefully it would be cold enough to slow the burning. She pulled Sarah toward the bucket.

“What are ye daein’ lass?” Sarah said through clenched teeth.

“The burn is bad Sarah, I know you don’t like me, but you need to work with me a bit. We need to dunk your hand in the cold water until Fergus gets back with the herbs. I need ye to trust me,” she said, affecting a bit of Sarah’s Scottish twang hoping to endear herself to the woman.

“It's nae 'at I don’t like ye lassie, I dinnae know ye. It's 'at I ken ye arenae what ye say,” Sarah said, sighing in relief as the cool water hit her hand.

“Well, we all have secrets, but I’m a hard worker,” Ella said.

“That I dinnae doubt,” Sarah replied her eyes darkening. Fergus came rushing back in holding the herbs Ella asked for. The change in Sarah’s tone forgotten, Ella left Sarah with her hand cooling in the bucket of water and went to quick work creating a poultice to hopefully slow down or eliminate any permanent damage.

“Are ye a healer, then lass?” Fergus asked as he brought her fresh, clean strips of cloth to help her wrap Sarah’s hand.

“My mother was. Before she passed, she taught me a few things. I don’t know much, just some basics for burns, scrapes, fever and the like. The comfrey will cool the burn, and the lavender will help with the swelling and the scarring,” she said wrapping Sarah’s hand in the poultice. “Now no getting it wet, and those bandages will need to be changed with a fresh mix each morning.”

“Och, would be good tae hae a healer around Sarah? Also another pair a’hands while yer healin’?” Fergus asked his wife.

“We couldnae pay ye more than a bodle or two ye ken, but we could feed ye an' provide warm shelter,” Sarah said to Ella in response.

Ella couldn’t believe what she was hearing. They would let her stay. “That would be fine,” she said looking at them both. “That would be fine indeed.”

Ella spent the remainder of her day walking the farm and small garden with Fergus. She had put Sarah to bed to rest. After the shock of her burn in the morning, Ella was afraid the woman would catch a fever if she didn’t at least lie down for a little while. Through much protesting, she finally was able to get the stubborn woman to agree.

The Cameron farm was quaint, and exactly what Ella had been looking for. Fergus had explained there was no room in the cottage for her to sleep, but he took the liberty of spreading some hay and a plaid or two down in the small shed that attached to the barn. She could sleep in there. However, under no circumstance was she to go into the barn. There was nothing in there for her. Fergus had made it perfectly clear, she stayed away from the barn and she could stay. Ella thought his insistence was strange, when he spoke of the barn his eyes grew sad, and dark. She was grateful for his and Sarah’s kindness. It would be difficult, but she had to let her curiosity wither. She would stay away from the barn. After all everyone had secrets.

For the first time since she’d left the carriage Ella allowed herself to feel safe. She would do well by the Camerons. This was exactly what she’d hoped for.

It was still dark when Ella was awoken by a strange sound. A moan or groan, to her it sounded like a wounded animal. It took her a moment to get her bearings and remember she was in the small shed outside of the Cameron’s farm house. She had been in a dreamless, deep sleep. She was careful not to move, wondering if she had dreamt the sound when she heard it again. If it was an animal it was in pain, and she didn’t want to irk it.

She suddenly wished she’d had taken the dirk that Fergus offered her after the evening meal, but she’d declined. Having never used a knife or sword in her life, she felt she would run a risk of hurting herself more than anything she tried to attack. Besides she was perfectly safe so close to the cottage. She heard the moan again. Now curiosity was getting the better of her. Upon the second hearing, she swore it was a man. Slipping off the pallet Fergus had made her, she put on her muddied cloak. Carefully slipping out of the shed, she froze. The air was still, and she’d hoped to hear the moan again to gather a direction from which it was coming.

The moan came again, this time it was deeper and louder than before. Ella was no longer afraid it was an animal, the sound was definitely human, definitely male, and coming from the direction of the barn. Unable to ignore her curiosity, she gathered her cloak up and gently tip-toed to the barn. Not wanting to be caught doing the one thing she was asked not to do, she looked back at the cottage. There was no candle light or movement. Letting out the breath she was holding, Ella tried to relax, hopefully Fergus and Sarah were still fast asleep.

Creeping into the barn she noticed a small fire hearth that was glowing red with embers. That’s strange, to have a fire going in the barn, she thought, even though she was grateful for the light and the warmth. She looked around the small barn, there were no stalls, or animals the sheep must be out to pasture. There was a small loft for hay above, with a single rope ladder for access. In the back corner almost hidden entirely in shadow was a raised pallet, very similar to the one in her own shed. Except on top of this pallet was a bare chested, muscular man. She covered her mouth with her hand to prevent a gasp from escaping. The man moaned again, and Ella rushed to his side. He was covered in sweat and clearly suffering from fever. She looked around for a bucket of water. He needed a cool cloth—with a hand on his forehead she could feel he was burning up. With nothing to be found, she realized she would need to get supplies from her shed. Leaning over the man she put her head to his chest. Feeling his heartbeat through the bandages, Ella felt a strange feeling in her center. His heartbeat was strong, that was good.

“I’m going to help you,” she whispered, running a hand along his cheek. He moaned again, but this time softer. “Shhh, all will be well.”

He turned his head into her hand, and she felt the unnatural warmth of him. He opened his eyes, just briefly, and Ella was shocked to see blood-shot unfocused eyes staring back at her. His irises were the green of polished emeralds. Her heart caught in her throat. He had the same exact eyes as the guardian angel from her dream. He wasn’t coming to her dreams to help her, he needed her help. She didn’t care if it angered Fergus or not, she would help this man. She knew it, like she knew her own mind. He would die without her.