“For what?”
“I can die in peace now that I know he will never be alone.” She removed the glass stopper from the vial and tapped it against the opening to avoid wasting a drop of the precious liquid. “Ye best go now. It is time. My mind is made up.”
“No. I willna go. I willna leave ye to die alone.” Mila scooted closer and took Lady MacDonald’s free hand. “I will stay here until ye pass beyond the veil and I see ye dancing in the light. I promise.”
The old woman’s pale blue eyes filled with tears. “I will tell Francene what a fine woman ye are. She will be so proud.”
Mila didn’t bother to blink away her own tears. “Tell her I love her and miss her something fierce.”
“I will, child.” Grandmother MacDonald downed the contents of the vial, squeezed Mila’s hand, then relaxed back into her pillows. “I wonder how long it…” Lips barely parted, she went quiet. As she still stared off into the distance, the rise and fall of her chest slowed, then stopped.
“I love ye too,” Mila whispered. “And I will miss ye fiercely.”
The wind roared and banged the shutters so hard that every pane of glass shattered. Mila smiled. The old woman’s body might have been weak, but her soul possessed the power of a storm.
“Bethia,” she called out while still holding Lady MacDonald’s hand.
The maid appeared at the end of the bed, silent as a specter. “Aye?”
“Yer mistress has escaped her bonds.” Mila leaned forward and kissed the sly one’s forehead for the last time.
Bethia crossed herself. “Thank ye, m’lady.”
Mila rose and pulled herself together with a deep breath. “Take care of her, aye? See that she is buried wherever she wished to be buried. I am certain she told ye.” She managed a smile at the solemn young woman. “Ye served her well and made her last years bearable. Well done, Bethia. Well done, indeed.”
Eyes still lowered, Bethia dipped a curtsy but didn’t speak.
Mila studied the young woman, wondering what would become of her now that she had no mistress to dedicate herself to. “Ye will come with us, aye? To France. Then on to the Northern Territory?”
“No thank ye, m’lady,” Bethia whispered.
“What will become of ye?” Mila almost feared the answer. The quiet maid had always struck her as somewhat odd.
“I will stay here with my mistress.” Bethia smiled for the first time, and Mila found it mildly disturbing. The look of happiness seemed strange on the woman’s face. “Dinna fash yerself, m’lady. It is my lot, and I accepted it long ago.”
“It doesna have to be yer lot. Come with us.”
Bethia reached into her pocket and withdrew a vial identical to Lady MacDonald’s. “Once my lady is laid to rest in the cave where himself was born, I shall join her. It will be fine, m’lady. It is our agreement. She waits for me. I canna disappoint her.”
“Bethia—”
“Save himself and take him away from the dangers of now and those dangers that are yet to come. Lady MacDonald told me all about them. I dinna wish to live through them either.” She smiled again, but this time, it seemed more natural, more serene. “Save himself. Her knowing ye could protect him brought her great peace. That brought me peace as well.” She took a firm hold on Mila’s arm and escorted her to the door. “It is time for ye to complete yer destiny. Farewell, m’lady. It has been an honor serving my clan in this manner.”
Mila knew that more than a dozen men waited below. She hated leaving, knowing that Bethia fully intended to join her mistress in death when they laid the woman to rest in the cave. Her loyal sacrifice boggled the mind. But then Mila remembered what Bethia said about Lady MacDonald warning her about the coming years. 1746 was only twenty-four years away, and the meat of the conflict started before that. The healthy young woman could easily live to witness the end of the final Jacobite uprising and all the horrors that followed. Yet another reason why Mila had to get Teague to Nova Scotia. Europe was too dangerous, and with any luck, they could avoid the wars that would erupt in a little over fifty years on the other side of the pond.
She raced down the steps and hurried outside. Robbie, Auley, Calder, and the rest of the men already sat on their horses, waiting.
“How was she?” Robbie asked as she settled in the saddle.
“Hopeful.” She would not share Lady MacDonald’s passing with anyone until she told Teague. He deserved to be the first to know. “Lead us, Calder. Ye know the area and the way they might take better than I.”
“They said they were bound for London. Probably a lie, but I would still lay odds they are headed south. There is but one route from here, then they cross over onto Campbell lands. We will find him, m’lady. I willna leave my brother to suffer the injustice of those bastards.” With a curt nod, the man urged his mount into a run and took the lead.
Chapter Sixteen
Teague drank deepfrom the quietly gurgling spring while staying alert to every movement and sound. Predators often waited at the water to capture their prey. He had no doubt the Campbells would do the same. All remained safe and quiet this misty morning. Nothing but peacefulness filled the area as dawn’s bright rays filtered down through the leaves. A slight chill rode the breeze, kissing the dew on the grasses and stones clustered at the mouth of the stream. Frost would come soon. After that, winter snows.
A twig snapped, making him crouch lower and turn. It was naught but a squirrel seeking a drink. The wee, furry beastie spotted him, then scampered up a tree. Teague turned back to the water and splashed his face. No sound could be taken for granted. Two evenings ago, barely past dusk, a pair of his murderous hunters had walked within an arm’s length of where he lay hidden under a hollowed-out, rotting log. He had eavesdropped on their conversations, hoping for information. It did him no good. All they did was complain. They resented their laird’s order to seek him both night and day and bemoaned the quality of their provisions. He had nearly bitten through his tongue to keep from making a sound. Let the bastards try filling their bellies with berries, raw barley, and spring water. Then they might be more thankful for the dried meat, oatcakes, and cheap ale their liege provided.
