“That may be true, but if it comes to ye or their fellow soldiers, they’ll pick the fellow soldiers every time. Ye can’t trust them. I’ve seen what they can do.”
“Were ye at Culloden?” she asked softly. She’d heard the horror stories. She’d patched up some of the wounded and knew of a few widows.
“Aye,” he said, his gaze taking on a faraway blank look.
“I’m sorry, Rory. I’ve heard it was horrible.”
“It was worse than horrible. It was hell. They butchered us and they did no’ care. Stay away from them, Cait. Stop treating their ailments. Avoid them.”
“Rory—”
His gaze sharpened and she was frightened by what she saw in its depths. She understood her people’s dislike of the English and agreed with it, but Rory’s ran to something deeper and more disturbing.
“I’ll tell Grandfather that ye’re entertaining English soldiers.”
If his look hadn’t been so serious, she would have laughed. It was something he would have said to her when they were children. “I’m no’ entertaining them. I’m healing them.”
“I don’t care. I’ll tell Grandfather anyway.”
“Rory!” she said in surprise. “We’re not children anymore. Grandfather has no control over me.”
He rubbed his forehead before taking a deep breath. “Ye’re right, of course. My emotions got the best of me. But please be careful. I mean it when I say ye can’t trust them.”
“I’m always careful.” She wondered what he would say if she told him that she was aiding Sutherland.
—
The next day Cait was feeding the chickens when Iain came striding around the side of the cottage, his long coat nearly brushing the ground. She drew in a breath at the sight of him and cursed herself for the strange reaction. It wasn’t wrong to admit that he was a virile man. He had such a commanding presence that it made people want to stop and watch him. That was all. It wasn’t like she was going to act on her reaction to him.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” she asked.
“I came to see how you are.”
She held her hands out to the sides and indicated the chickens. “I’m feeding chickens. I wish everyone would stop worrying about me.”
“Who else is worried about you?” he asked as he stopped in front of her. A chicken wandered over and pecked at his boot before moving away.
“My grandfather and my cousin Rory.” And Halloway, but she wasn’t about to say that.
“They care about ye.”
She made a noncommittal sound and tossed more feed. She didn’t want to get into a discussion about her grandfather. She’d thought a lot about his sudden reappearance in her life and couldn’t sort through it. She was glad to see him again, but she still harbored hurt. He’d cut her and her little family out of his life as if they were nothing, and that was something she could not easily forgive.
“Have ye heard?” Iain asked.
She put down the empty feed pail and swiped at a piece of hair tickling her cheek. “Heard what?”
“Two English soldiers were found dead on the road to the Douglases’.”
She instantly thought of Halloway. Was he dead? As mixed as her feelings were toward him, she didn’t want him to be dead. “That’s too bad,” she said.
“There’s a murderer out there, Cait. It’s not safe.”
“The redcoats hassle our people constantly. It was probably someone defending themselves.”
“Do you think that matters to the English? They will be searching for the killer, and they don’t always follow the rules when doing so.”
He was right. The English wouldn’t care if their soldiers were killed because they were doing something wrong. Damn the English and damn this stupid war between England and Scotland. It was about so much more than religion and politics. It was about the people and their way of life, but the ones waging the war seemed to forget that. The road the soldiers had been found on was close, uncomfortably close, to her cottage. The Douglases were Campbell’s eastern neighbors whose land abutted Campbell and Sutherland land.
