“Well, we are kin, are we nae?” Helena responded easily. “So, ye have a sister? Ye must bring her to meet us soon.”
Nora bit the edge of her tongue. “Aye, very soon.”
Their path took them down from the Keep, circling the vast loch. From where she stood, near the shore, it seemed as though the water went on forever, fringed by thick trees. Abruptly, Nora felt a sudden, powerful urge to step away from Helena and toward the shore. She imagined herself sloshing into the water, its silky coldness climbing up her thighs, sticking the material of her dress to her skin. It would be deliciously cool, slick, and refreshing. They used to swim in lochs when they were young, she and her sister.
Ma took us swimmin’. She said that everybody ought to learn to swim. That swimmin’ mattered.
How long had it been since Nora thought about Ma? She swallowed again, her eyes losing their focus. The loch’s glittering water blurred.
“This is as far as I go,” Helena murmured, and with a jolt, Nora realized they had come to a stop. Their path, weaving around the edge of the loch, ended at a round, sandy spot near the shore overlooking the water. Helena stood very still, gazing pensively over the water, her hands white-knuckled on her cane. Behind them, a couple of MacCrimmon soldiers tapped their heels. Nora guessed that Laird MacCrimmon insisted on their accompanying his mother, just in case. The men were discreet, staying back and doing their best not to listen in on the conversations.
“I always used to go further,” Helena murmured, almost to herself. “I used to walk all the way around the loch when I was young. I could run, once. Fast as the wind I was. Nobody could catch me. Alas,” she paused, glancing down at her own hands resting on the cane. “Those days are long gone.”
Nora bit her lip. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Daenae be sorry, lass. Old age comes to us all. We all have the same amount of time given to us, though nae necessarily the same luck. It’s up to us, however, what we do with it all. That makes all the difference between lookin’ back with joy or regret.”
She glanced down at the older woman. “And which do ye feel? Joy or regret?”
“A bit of both, like most folks, I reckon.” Helena paused, a tentative smile tugging at her lips. “Mostly joy. Aye, that’s right. Mostly joy.”
They stood in silence for a few moments, the wind tugging their hair around them. Nora’s hair had mostly come free from its braid, her tangled red hair mingling with Helena’s, iron-gray and dead straight. She imagined they made an interesting pair and wondered briefly if anyone could see them from the keep walls.
That was where Creighton and Hunter had been heading when she and Helena left the keep. They were going to pace the top of the walls, surveying MacCrimmon land and talking about politics, no doubt.
Creighton hadn’t spoken to her since she left him yesterday. At breakfast, there was no getting a word in edgeways, not with Laurie and Helena’s matching chatter. Nora hadn’t even tried. Then, after breakfast, Helena asked her to go for a walk, and there they were.
“Oh!” Helena cried out abruptly, throwing up her hands. “What am I thinkin’? We should go back to the keep at once. Today is market day!”
Nora blinked. “Market day?”
“Aye, lass, market day. We daenae have markets as frequently as the MacColls, but ours are larger. Travelers come from all over the Highlands to attend the MacCrimmon market, and any seller worth their salt wants a stall here. Ah, wee Laurie will want to look at the fabric stalls. She loves dresses, that lass.”
Chuckling, Helena maneuvered herself around and began hobbling back up the way they had come. The MacCrimmon soldiers politely waited for her to go past, then followed behind at a respectful distance.
“Ye are nae much of a lass for dresses, are ye?” Helena continued conversationally. “I can tell. Healers generally arenae. It’s hard to grow attached to a dress when ye are constantly crawlin’ through the forest, wrist-deep in soil. Ye have a healer’s green fingers, I can see that.”
Nora flexed her hands, eyeing her green-tinged fingertips, and allowed herself a faint smile. “Laurie wants us to have matchin’ dresses. I suppose I should buy some fabric for that.”
“Aye, ye should,” Helena encouraged. “Put it on Hunter’s tab.”
“I cannae do that.”
“Oh, ye can. Consider it me treat. Come, let’s hurry along. I have a number of favorite stalls to show ye.”
Helena slipped her arm through Nora’s, steering her along the narrow path. They moved slowly, according to Helena’s pace, and as they talked and walked easily, she felt her worries begin to slip away.
As the keep came into view, Nora’s attention was diverted. A crowd of people poured in and out of the keep gates. The tartans were mostly MacCrimmon, with MacColl being the second most common, but there were others as well. Chatter and chaos filled the air. People carried large sacks on their backs, bulging with goods. There was the occasional horse and cart, and one man carefully rolled a trio of barrels up the path and through the keep gates.
The MacCrimmon soldiers then came forward, carefully surrounding Nora and Helena. They pushed through the crowd on their behalf, glowering at any man or woman who dared get too close.
“Me favorite stall is a whiskey stall,” Helena explained, lifting her voice to pitch over the noise. “Shall we split up? Ye go and search for fabrics that Laurie would like, and I’ll stock up on whiskey. Aye?”
“Aye,” Nora responded with a laugh, as if there was any other response.
The MacCrimmon soldiers did not seem happy.
“We ought nae let Lady Nora wander off alone,” one of them interrupted, plucking at Helena’s elbow. “Laird MacColl will nae like it.”
