The back door opened and Morwenna and her husband, Able, came out.
“Ah, look at ye!” Morwenna said to Isabelle, clapping her hands together. “That’s one of my old dresses and I’m glad I kept it now.” She patted her ample hips. “I canna get in it anymore but it looks a picture on ye.”
“Does it?” Isabelle asked, looking down at herself. “I feel a bit stupid to be honest.”
“Oh, dinna fash! Ye may not be a Scotswoman but ye look a proper Highland lass, now.”
Magnus was glad to hear it. If the dress could fool Morwenna, then perhaps they had a chance of getting to Dun Saith without Isabelle’s real origins being discovered.
“Ye have my thanks for yer help,” he said, moving to stand by Morwenna and her husband.
“Catch the men that did this and ye’ll have repaid us a hundred times over,” Morwenna replied. “Now, take it easy the next few days. Dinna overexert yerself or do anything ye shouldnae. Ye dinna want those bruised ribs getting any worse.”
Magnus smiled at her motherly tone. “Aye. I’ll be cautious as a mouse. I need to ask ye something though—where is the nearest settlement that might have a blacksmith?”
Husband and wife looked at each other thoughtfully. “Hodwell, I reckon,” Able said in his gravelly voice. “About twenty miles north, on the border of McRae land. It’s a fair-sized settlement and there’s talk it might even be granted a royal charter to become a burgh. There’s lively trade in iron goods from out that way so if ye are looking for ablacksmith, I’d try there.”
Magnus’s stomach sank. Hodwell. Of course. Of all the places round about, it would have to be Hodwell, wouldn’t it? It was a place he knew all too well. Aye, they may well find a blacksmith there. But one willing to talk? That was another matter.
He took a deep breath. “Time we were going. Mount up, lass.”
Isabelle looked at him blankly. “Me? What about you?”
“I willnae be riding. The horse isnae big enough to carry me for any distance. Yesterday was an emergency but I’ll not put her through that again. Ye ride, I’ll walk.”
Isabelle looked up at the horse and went a little pale. “No. If you’re walking, I’ll walk too.”
Magnus didn’t want to say that if they both walked, she’d likely slow him down. Hopefully she’d soon tire and agree to riding anyway.
“Fine. Have it yer way.”
They bid goodbye to Morwenna and Able and then, with Magnus leading the horse, and Snaffles trotting alongside, they turned from the yard that had been their temporary sanctuary and headed north out of the village, towards the open moors. In only moments they had left the half-ruined village behind them but Magnus knew he would not be able to forget it so quickly.
Beside him, Isabelle trudged along at a steady pace, her face set in a determined scowl as she navigated the uneven terrain in her cumbersome dress. It didn’t quite cover her bright yellow boots but there was little help for that.
They walked in silence for some time, the only sounds being Snaffles’ soft panting as he ranged around them in awide arc, nose to the ground as he followed various scents, and the occasional rustle of leaves as a light breeze swept through the scrubby trees and shrubs that dotted the landscape.
“You don’t think those raiders will attack the village again, do you?” Isabelle said at last.
Magnus shook his head. “I dinna think so. They like easy targets and now those villagers will be ready for them. Besides, I suspect they’ll return to their master with their spoils before they head out again.”
“Their master? That McRae guy?”
Magnus glanced at her. “Aye. Him.”
He could see curiosity in her eyes and sensed a barrage of questions were coming so he sought to distract her. “What do you do?” he asked. “In the future, I mean.”
She shrugged. “Not a lot. I work in a bank. On my rest days I volunteer at the rescue center Snaffles came from. I watch TV. Read books. Do a bit of crocheting.” She paused, screwing up her face. “God, I sound so dull!”
He snorted a laugh. “Lass, dull isnae a word I would associate with ye.”
She grinned at him. “Really? You find me exciting then?”
Her eyes flashed with mischievousness and Magnus felt his chest tighten. He stumbled over his words as he tried to explain. “I just mean... ye are from the future. Ye’ve seen things I canna even imagine. Compared to that, my world must seem so limited—so...” He shrugged helplessly, struggling to find the words.
“Rustic?” she suggested.
“Aye,” he agreed. “Rustic.”
