He pushed open the door and waited for his eyes to adjust. She was sitting by the fire, two horn cups on the table in front of her. “Won’t you join me for a drink?” she asked, sliding one toward him. “Fresh nettle tea.”
He took the chair opposite hers, her cat immediately leaping onto his lap and curling up into a ball. He smiled, stroking its soft fur. “You know I don’t let anyone else call me Andy.”
“You want me to call you my laird? Bow and scrape to you? I didn’t think you were one for such nonsense.”
“You could at least pretend to have respect for my office.”
“Och, I cleaned enough things from your tiny wee body when your father first brought you here to call you what I want. Or should I call you stinky drawers like your mother used to?”
He smiled. “It’s good to see you.”
“Is it? You do not look as if you’re happy to be here. What brings the mighty clan chief out to the home of a dotty old witch anyway?”
“You’re no witch.” He took a sip of the tea. “Although I sometimes wonder how you always know when I’m coming.”
“You’re as noisy as a herd of cattle coming down that hillside. Now you didn’t come here just to drink my tea and stroke old Podgorny. What’s on your mind?”
Andrew drained his cup before answering. “Did you hear about what happened at the old hall?”
“Aye. Was a tragic business that and no mistake.”
“I’m on my way to speak to Duff MacLeish about it.”
“Oh. Why him?”
“Because it was his men who lit the fire.”
“Was it indeed? Well, if you’re so sure, off you go then and good luck to you.”
“What do you mean?” He sat up straight in the chair. “Do you know something I don’t?”
“All I know is the stars are aligning above us all and things are coming to a head for more than just you. Did you see the shooting star last night, flaming red as it fell?”
“No, was there one?”
“You should try looking up above your head sometime, Andy. It might do you some good.”
She had a strange expression on her face. He was still trying to work out what she meant when she spoke again. “The omens are all there for those who know how to read them.” She pointed to the ash that had fallen from the hearth. From his perspective it looked very much like it had formed the letter B. B for Beth.
“You know, don’t you?” he said, leaning toward her. “You know about Beth. Who is she? Is she really from the future?”
“Time is not my concern, Andy. I only know that a wee lassie has taken hold of your heart and whoever she is, I hope she’s worth the trouble that’s come along with her.”
“Trouble? What trouble?”
“I’m no oracle, Andy. I’m only a dotty old witch who needs her sleep. Your men will be waiting for you and I’m away to my bed. Off you go.”
Podgorny jumped down from his lap and disappeared out the single window as if he’d been prodded with a stick. “Hunting mice,” Fenella said by way of explanation. “Whatever happens, don’t let the lassie go.” She squeezed Andrew’s hand so tightly he thought the bones would break.
How could one so small be so strong? “I thank you for your hospitality as always,” he said, hovering on the threshold for a moment. “I never know what to make of the things you tell me.”
“That’s because I don’t tell you anything you don’t already know and you don’t trust yourself as much as you should. Good night, my laird and remember, look up sometime.”
“Good night, Fenella.”
Dusk was approaching fast when he got back to his men. “What did she say?” Lorne asked, chewing on an oatcake as he spoke. “Are the omens good?”
“She thinks the blaze may not be the work of Duff MacLeish after all. She also thinks I should hold onto the lassie.”
