Determined to put the past behind him, he strode to the boundary of his ghostly bondage and, as he’d dreamed of doing for over two centuries, boldlycrossed!A brief, glorious, giddiness filled him. The walls of his prison no longer existed!
And now? There were centuries of wishes to pursue, promises and vows to keep. The weight of them crushed his initial, childish joy. First, he’d pay his respects to the parents he’d left behind. They’d sacrificed for him, for Scotland. But to what extent? What happened to them after he left? Were they punished for having the McColl name? For uncle Fergus’ crime? Did they stay on the land, or had they been chased off by the English forces, determined to annihilate all Jacobite sympathizers, after Culloden?
He took a step, another, then another, his strides long and determined.
At last, he was going home!
Refusing even a cursory backward glance at his ghostly prison, he set a steady pace toward his birthplace, even if he’d no’ recognize it as such. Determination fueled him. He’d face the past, and finally, be free to go forward.
Chapter Two
Exhausted by the long-forgotten effort of moving the mass and weight of a mortal body over a long distance, Reginald continued walking southwest, guided by the only familiar thing he’d seen since leaving Culloden; the setting sun. The day had been long, the sights overwhelming, and the noise, deafening. So many roads. Vehicles flew past at unimaginable speeds and seldom, even when out of sight of them, did he no’ hear their distant hum, like annoying midges, buzzing his ears.
As much as he was able, he’d taken the straightest route, ignoring roads whenever possible. But, far too often, he’d had to detour around farmsteads and villages so unfamiliar in makeup, ’twas as if he’d stumbled into an altogether different world.
There was a favorite place he’d carried in his memory, where he hoped to spend the night. ’Twas the verra same spot he’d taken an evening's respite in, on his way to join the Jacobites all those centuries ago.
Thankfully, as the sun forfeited its last desperate claim on the land, and Reginald left all signs of humanity a good hour behind him, he neared the spot he’d searched for.
Trees were taller, undergrowth thicker, but the ragged outcroppings he remembered, were unchanged and thankfully, as far as he could tell, still untouched by civilization.
Below an embankment several times his height, a stream tumbled swiftly over a rocky bed. He smiled his pleasure as the sound stilled the echoes in his head from the noises that had plagued him throughout the day. Trees and brush clogged the rim, but the bare, not quite vertical bank afforded a clean slide to the bottom.
A wide grin split his face as he studied, the broad rocky streambed, littered with pieces of wood and debris from recent high water. If his memory could be trusted, he judged the wee glen he called home to be no more than a half day’s walk from here. Presuming, o’course there were no’ as many detours as he’d encountered, thus far.
Ignoring the bit of tepid water he’d saved in the bottle Wickham had given him, he dropped to one knee at the stream’s edge and scooped up double handfuls of icy refreshment. Reveling in his renewed senses, he rinsed the perspiration from his face and neck. Happily refreshed, he sat back to let both the water and the familiar sights soothe him. He’d begun to think these ancient places no longer existed in this modern, and shockingly unfamiliar, Scotland.
He hadn’t realized his eyes had drifted closed until the sound of something thrashing through the undergrowth on the rim of the opposite embankment, startled him awake. Cursing his carelessness, he was in battle mode before he’d fully regained his footing. Such negligence would have gotten a man killed in his time and he worried ’twas mayhap one of the few things time hadnae changed.
Feet spread, weight balanced, he studied the opposite rim and automatically reached for the skean dhu in his boot. Soncerae had given him mortality, but no weapons to protect himself. Luckily, Wickham—bless him—had seen that he left with at least that small bit of comfort, safely tucked away.
A final crash and high-pitched shriek preceded a body tumbling down the embankment.A woman?She landed on her backside with a thud and a surprised gasp.
“Oh, for the love of…!” Shaking her head and muttering, she quite ungracefully, hoisted herself off the ground. “Ooowww,” she cried hobbling a bit and favoring one foot as she dusted off her bottom, pausing to rub what must be a sore spot. A frown appeared when she tested putting weight on the injured foot. “This is great!Just great!”
Turning her attention to the ground she limped in a slow circle, apparently spied whatever she sought, and hobbled a few steps to retrieve it. ’Twas one of the talking devices everyone in this period of time seemed to carry.
Reginald studied the tree line on the embankment above her, lest there be more surprises, then turned his attention back to her, while she studied the apparatus. She shook and poked it a few times, then repeated the process, her brows scrunched over a deepening scowl.
“Are you kidding me?” she grumbled. “I fell into this stupid ravine looking for service, and now you won’t even turn on?” She jiggled the device once more and stabbed it again, with her finger. “Great! Now, what?” She shoved it into a back pocket, very near where she’d just rubbed.
Reginald tucked the skean dhu back in his boot. The lass dinnae seem to pose much danger, especially with her injured foot, unless, mayhap, to herself.
At his movement, her head came up, eyes and mouth rounded in surprise. “Oh!” she gasped through tumbled locks of auburn curls, half obscuring her face, and tangled with sticks and leaves. Using both hands to shove her hair back, she retreated a painful step, then another, quickly scanning both left and right before settling her wide-eyed gaze back on him. “Who are you?”
“Who areye?” Reginald countered.
“What are you doing here?” The woman’s eyebrows rose over wide, fearful eyes. Once more, she glanced up and down the stream. “Are you…alone?”
“Aye,” he countered. “Are ye?”
She shifted, grunted, jutted her chin to an imposing angle and planted her hands on her hips. “No. I’m… I’m not.” She jerked her head to indicate the embankment behind her. “My…uhh…friend is with me. He’s…waiting…up there. But if I’m not right back, he’ll come looking for me.”
The words were clearly meant as a warning, no’ an exchange of information, but the lass was so poor a liar, the contradiction showed in both her face, and mannerisms. Surprisingly, he wished to comfort, rather than confront her lie. What could it hurt to play along?
“ ’Tis good. That ye’re no’ alone, I mean.”
“Yeah, well… I’m not,” she repeated.
