Chapter Two
As she lay atop the box bed, Skye listened to the heavy breathing as it echoed throughout the cottage. Her parents were shut in below where they always slept, but she’d exchanged places with Tommy. By the light from the fire, she could make out the lad’s wee form slumbering on her pallet near the hearth. Across from him was Kier Campbell, the lieutenant. It was strange having a Campbell sleeping right there in the cottage. Further, the man slept on his side as if he hadn’t a care. As if it were perfectly normal for him to be there.
Nonetheless, Da had gone to bed with a dirk in his hand. This night, all the folk in Glencoe were sleeping with one eye open, even though the laird had reassured them that nary a soul would accept Highland hospitality and turn backstabber. Not even a Campbell.
Skye rolled to her back and pushed the heels of her hands into her temples. Their uninvited guest was inexplicably unnerving. True, his manners were impeccable, but all evening he’d stared at her with those midnight eyes. They were curiously dark, not to mention intense and shiny and…well, they made her so…so…befuddled.
Neither did it help matters that the man might just be the brawest creature she’d ever seen. Tall, masculine, with a square jaw and an intelligent brow. He wore his dark tresses pulled back with a ribbon, but by the end of the evening meal, a thick lock had sprung free and hung in a lazy wave along his cheek. It was all Skye could do not to reach out and touch the lock to see if it felt as silky as it looked.
Groaning, she let out a long breath. In winter, the sun was always late to rise and Skye had been lying awake for an eternity already. She might as well climb down from the bed and set to her chores. With a lantern, she could manage the washing just as well now as she could in daylight.
Her mind made up, she crept down the ladder trying not to make a sound…until a timber groaned beneath her foot. Holding her breath, she froze in place. The Highlander across the cottage didn’t move. There was no sound of her parents stirring either. To avoid the risk of another loud creak, Skye hopped down, donned her boots and pulled an arisaid around her shoulders. After tiptoeing to the hearth, she quickly lit an oil lamp, then picked up the washing and darted out the door to the River Coe which cut through the back of their lands. Night had brought on a heavy frost and her nose ran. Skye hastened her step to warm herself, knowing full well the water would be icy and miserable. At least the river ran fast enough and rarely froze solid.
Shivering, she set the basket down at the river’s edge and crouched beside it. The idea of dipping her fingers in the chilly water always made her shudder to her toes but the washing had to be done. And the faster she worked, the sooner she’d be back in the warm cottage. She picked up the cake of soap and went to work.
“Do you always start your chores afore you break your fast?”
Skye startled at the deep voice behind her. Snapping her head around, she gasped. Something had told her it was the lieutenant, but he’d taken her by surprise all the same. “Ah…I couldn’t sleep.”
He took a seat on the rock beside her and smiled casually as if they’d been friends for years. “Neither could I, though I must say, ’tis not the best of ideas for a maid to venture out alone afore the sun rises.”
Returning to her work, Skye scraped her teeth over her bottom lip. After Glenlyon promised he’d come on friendly terms, she hadn’t worried about her personal safety. “Are you saying your men are not to be trusted?”
“Nay, lass. I’m saying a woman as bonny as you shouldn’t be out in the dark alone.”
Her insides fluttered as if she’d never heard a compliment before. What was it about the lieutenant that made her so self-aware? “The folks in these parts are my kin. Nary a one would lift a finger to harm me.” She twisted the wet linen to wring out the water, her fingers freezing to the bone.
“Allow me.” A warm palm covered her hand as Mr. Campbell pulled the cloth away.
Skye thought to stop him, but when she met his gaze, the determination in his eyes gave her pause. “I reckon a man like you has never had to do the washing.”
He twisted the fabric making twice as much water cascade to the river. “I reckon you are correct, miss.”
She rocked back on her haunches and studied him. “What is your relation to Glenlyon?”
“He’s my uncle.”
“Then you were born to a life a privilege?” she asked.
“Of sorts, I suppose.”
Trying not to appear too interested, Skye reached for the next piece of bed linen and dunked it in the river. “Does your family live in a castle?”
He tossed his cloth into the basket. “Aye—Sigurd Castle on Loch Dochart.”
“Oh, my. I cannot even imagine what it would be like.”
“Draughty on a day as chilly as this.”
“Are you a second son, then?”
“Nay, the only son. I have four elder sisters.”
“I beg your pardon.” Skye stopped with her hands in the water. “You’re the heir of a castle and you joined the army? Why ever would you do that?”
“My father thought it would turn me into a man.”
“I see.” She furiously worked up a lather. “And has it?”
“Turned me into a man?”
“Aye.”
“I reckon so. Besides, my da pays fealty to Glenlyon. My service is expected.”
“That is unfortunate.” She twisted the linen.
Mr. Campbell chuckled as he again plucked it from her fingers.
“Do you think I’m humorous?” she asked.
“I think you’re quite perceptive. Many a man has wondered the same. Unfortunately, my uncle’s philandering ways have given him an unsavory reputation that will follow the man the rest of his days.”
“But you do not condone his habits?”
“I may be my uncle’s man, but I have my own opinions.”
“Interesting.” She reached for another piece, a shirt this time.
After giving it a good wring, Mr. Campbell held the damp bed linen to his nose. “Mm. That’s why you smell like roses.”
Though Skye was half-frozen, heat spread through her cheeks. “Ma uses rose petals in the lye.”
He gave it another sniff before tossing it in the basket. “’Tis nice.”
Sky hurried to wash the remaining clothes while Mr. Campbell stayed right beside her and wrung out every piece. When she was done, she stood and blew on her freezing hands.
“Allow me to warm them.” The lieutenant took her fingers between his palms and gently rubbed. “We’d best take you indoors afore your hands freeze solid.”
“I’ll be fine. I’ve done the washing in winter many times afore.”
His eyes reflected kindness, yet they were still darker than sin. “You are a resilient maid. I reckon not one of my sisters would have been able to wash a single apron in that frigid water.”
“I would expect not for ladies born to privilege. Tell me, is your da a laird?”
“A lesser laird, much like Alasdair MacIain is to Clan Donald.”
Skye waggled her eyebrows. “I’d wager your da’s not as fearsome as our clan chief, though.”
“Aye, not a man in the Highlands matches MacIain’s notorious reputation. Though my da is a commanding presence in his own right.”
Skye stooped to pick up the basket. “Much like his son, is he?”
Mr. Campbell took it from her grasp. “I think not. My father is not as affable as I.”
By the time they returned to the cottage, everyone was up. Jimmy plastered on a scowl and faced Kier with his fists on his hips. “Where have the pair of you been at his hour?”
“Mr. Campbell helped me with the washing.” Skye pointed to the hearth. “You can put the basket over there.”
“The lieutenant?” asked Mistress Sineag, disbelief filling her voice.
“Aye, ma’am. I didn’t reckon the lass should be out alone afore daylight.” Kier set the basket down and looked to the rafters. “Shall I hang these for you?”
“Women’s work,” Jimmy growled.
“Thank you.” Mistress Sineag gave her husband a thump on his shoulder. “Skye, set the table, please. The porridge is ready.”
By the time the morning meal was served, Kier had the washing draped over the rafters. It baffled him how Jimmy discounted the task as women’s work. Skye and her mother were both too short to reach. They would have needed to climb up on a stool.
“Do you think you’ll have time to teach me to shoot today?” asked Tommy.
“Not certain of my orders, but if time allows, I’ll be sure to find you.” Kier looked to Jimmy. “Are you not a musketeer, sir?”
Jimmy frowned with a sniff. “A bow and arrow serves me just fine.”
Kier returned his attention to this porridge. Muskets were expensive and many a man couldn’t afford one. Even in Glenlyon’s regiment half the foot were pikemen. Kier should be more conscious of MacDonald’s circumstances in the future. He’d most likely insulted his host.
A knock came at the door. “Lieutenant, the captain wants a word afore muster.”
Kier recognized the voice as belonging to Sentinel Nicoll. After taking one more bite, he stood. “With luck, we’ll see our marching orders and I’ll no longer be a burden to you kind folk.”
Mistress Sineag smiled and smoothed her hand over her coif, but Jimmy snarled. “I’d be happy to see your backside marching out of the Coe for certain.”
“Da!” Skye cringed, looking mortified. Perhaps Kier had earned a bit of favor with the lass by helping with the washing? If only their circumstances were different, he might enjoy courting such a lass.
He retrieved his musket and shoved his feathered bonnet atop his head, then followed the sentinel a half-mile away to the Inverrigan farm. Glenlyon had set up a makeshift office near the hearth in Brody MacDonald’s cottage. “What took you so long?”
“Helped with a few chores.” Kier moved to the table and sat beside Lieutenant Richard Lindsay.
“Forever the bloody Good Samaritan,” said Glenlyon.
Lindsay sniggered, the bloody Sassenach. “He’ll have them all eating out of his palm before our orders come.”
“Wheesht.” Kier reached for a scone and took a bite. Thanks to Glenlyon, he hadn’t had time to finish his porridge. “I was hoping we’d be moving out today.”
“Not likely,” said the captain. “You’d best find a peg on which to hang your bonnet. We’ll be settling in for a good while.”
“Wonderful.”
“Don’t tell me you haven’t charmed your host.” Glenlyon winked at Lindsay. “Good God, Campbell, you’ve had an entire night.”
Snorting, Kier shrugged. “I doubt my host will ever warm to me. Every time I take a gander in the direction of his daughter, he looks as if he’s about to blow steam out his ears.”
“She’s bonny, is she?” asked Lindsay.
Kier balled his fist. “She’s—”
“Not for either of you.” Glenlyon shook a gnarled finger directly at Kier as if he’d made a grave misstep. “Leave the lassie alone and mind your orders.”
“That’s exactly what I aim to do, sir.” Kier glanced between the two officers. “Pray tell, what are my orders?”
“Keep the men busy and out of trouble. March them from dawn to dusk.”
Kier rolled his eyes. Marching, the endless grind of a soldier’s typical day when there was nothing else to occupy his time. “Marching it is, sir.”
“Nothing else, sir?” asked Lindsay.
“One more thing.” Glenlyon leaned in and lowered his voice. “Keep this under wraps, but I want to know if any Jacobite sentiment comes out. Anything at all.”
“Didn’t MacIain sign the oath of fealty to the king?” asked Kier.
“He did, but two days late.”
Everyone knew MacIain wasn’t to blame for his tardiness. Kier held up a finger. “Because of weather.”
Glenlyon shook his head. “That’s a moot point.”
“But there are others who have yet to come forward,” said Lindsay.
“That also is not my concern. If I can prove MacIain to be a backstabbing Jacobite, I’ll put him and his reiving clan under fire and sword this very day.”
With a sickening twist of his gut, Kier leaned back, knitting his brows. “These are but families.”
“Families who breed treasonous barbarians,” said Lindsay.
Kier stood, giving his cohort a frown. “Thus far, they’ve done nothing but show us Highland hospitality. It is our duty to respond graciously and show them the good nature of the king’s men.”
“Aye,” said Glenlyon. “Until they try to slit our bloody throats.”