The person looked her up and down, hands on hips. She was small, almost fairy-like. Had the fairies sent someone to watch over her?
The girl—woman—tilted her chin up at Cait, who wondered if it was some sort of greeting or acknowledgment.
“Can I help ye?” Cait asked.
“I’m Maggie MacLean.”
Colin MacLean’s wife. Cait had heard of Maggie. The rumors that the lass liked to dress like a lad must be true, because Maggie was wearing a white shirt tucked into breeches. She was a slight thing but moved like a dancer, swift and graceful. Her hair was shorn, but it was becoming on her, curling around her face, accentuating her high cheekbones and large eyes.
“It’s nice t’meet ye, Maggie MacLean.” Cait didn’t comment that it was odd to be meeting in the deep of the night in her own bedchamber. Nothing seemed odd anymore.
“Colin told me about yer problems,” Maggie said, still eyeing Cait. “It’s sorry I am about the Campbell.”
“Thank ye.”
Maggie’s eyes narrowed. “I thought…well, I thought maybe ye might want to talk, seeing as I’ve been a guest at Fort Augustus myself. I’m no’ sure I can ease yer mind about the Campbell, but I know what it was like, being there and all.”
Cait’s heart softened, and tears sprang to her eyes at the thoughtfulness of Maggie MacLean. She was rough around the edges but clearly had a large heart.
“I’m worried about him,” Cait said through a tight throat.
“May I?” Maggie indicated the other half of the window seat where Cait was sitting.
“Of course.” Cait scooted over and Maggie sat down, leaning against the wall so she was facing Cait. She pulled a booted foot up on the seat and rested her arm on her bent knee. Cait had never seen a woman sit in such a way—plenty of men, but not a woman.
“Do ye think he’s still alive?” Cait whispered her worst fear, the one that she’d barely allowed herself to think.
“Oh, aye,” Maggie said with conviction. “If there’s one thing the damned English like to do, it’s prolong the agony. They’ll no’ be through with him just yet.”
Cait wasn’t sure whether that was good news or bad. He was alive, and she would cling to that hope.
“Colin thought I might ease yer fears, but I think I’m doing the opposite,” Maggie said.
“No. I want to hear this. I need to know. My imagination is probably far worse than what ye can tell me.”
“It’s rough,” Maggie said softly. “They’re no’ nice to the Scots, that’s for certain.”
“Even though they think he’s an ally?”
Maggie shot her a veiled look. “That might help. But he’s also suspected of killing English soldiers.”
“Soldier. Just one.”
Maggie’s look turned to pity. “There have been a few more English soldiers killed. They’ll try to blame him.”
Cait’s hand went to her throat and she swallowed. She’d not even thought about that. “How can we save him?” she asked.
Maggie paused for so long that Cait began to lose hope.
“I don’t know,” she finally said. “But ye’ve got Sutherland and MacLean on yer side, and I do know that’s a powerful force. They’ll do whatever they can to help the Campbell. He saved their lives, and they’ll do no less. They owe him that.” She sat forward, and by the light of the moon, Cait could see the glimmer in Maggie’s eyes. “Don’t tell anyone this, but I think Sutherland and MacLean sort of like the man.”
—
They mounted up and left very early the next morning. Maggie and Eleanor stayed behind with a contingent of MacLean and Sutherland warriors. Eleanor hugged Cait tightly. “God be with you,” she whispered.
“Thank ye,” Cait said.
Maggie stepped up to her. Instinctively, Cait knew that Maggie wasn’t the hugging type.
