14
Old Fergus was roused from his afternoon nap by the thunder of hoofbeats drawing steadily nearer. While his mind was still muddied by sleep, the sound disquieted him, for it reminded him of the times in his youth when he had been obliged to march to war beneath the MacLeod banner.
He was thankful that those days were long behind him; however, it sometimes seemed as though the older he got, the more the lines blurred between the past and the present.
Once he remembered where—and when—he was, he yawned, snorted, spat, adjusted his trousers, and ventured outside to see the source of the commotion.
Fergus rubbed his eyes, squinted, and saw a cadre of guards from the castle. They were riding upon Morna’s cottage.
He strolled across the field to investigate, striding up to the man who appeared to be their leader. “Good afternoon to ye, lad,” he spoke up in a querulous voice. “Have business with Morna, do ye?”
“Indeed we do,” the guard agreed gruffly. “Move along, please.”
“Are ye in need of a healer, then?” Fergus inquired. “Only ye dinnae seem to be ill or injured, like, and there’s a powerful lot of ye for her to be seeing to at once.”
“Our business with her is not your concern, old man,” the guard snarled. “We are here under orders from Seamus MacLeod, and that is sufficient to our purpose. So unless you are able to provide information regarding the lady’s whereabouts—”
“Oh, ye need to find her, do ye?” Fergus scratched the top of his bald head. “Aye, mayhap I might be able to help ye with that.”
The guard’s interest was visibly piqued. The other riders seemed to be finished in the house and ready to depart, but he signaled for them to stay, giving the old farmer his full attention. “Well? Where is she, then? Speak up at once!”
Fergus rubbed his grizzled chin pensively. “Hmm, let’s see, then. On Tuesdays, she goes to the meadow near the river to gather certain herbs which grow in the marshes. Is it Tuesday?”
“No, ‘tis Friday,” the guard corrected him irritably.
“Ah, well, she won’t be there today, then, will she?” Fergus pondered some more. “No, on Fridays, she tends to go searching for mushrooms on the other side of that hill yonder.” He pointed his gnarled finger toward a hillside in the opposite direction of the castle. “Aye, that’s where I’d seek her out if I were ye. And if not that one, try the hill just beyond it. There’s fine mushrooms that grow there as well, or so I hear.”
The guard mounted his horse and rode toward the hill, gesturing for the others to follow.
As they did, Fergus snickered to himself.
Whatever “business” those men might have had with Morna—who had always been a dear and loyal friend to him—he was certain that they were up to no good, just as he was certain that Morna would appreciate the extra time he had just bought her to do whatever she had set out to.
“Godspeed, ye dear lady,” he muttered under his breath.
True to her word, Morna was able to lead Brodie and Margaret along a series of overgrown lanes, which allowed them to remain out of sight without compromising the speed of their travel. They made it back to the castle in almost half the time it had taken for them to get to Morna’s cottage, and when the stone walls began to loom close, all three of them were filled with great trepidation at what lay ahead.
“I suppose I always knew that I would see this place again,” Morna murmured. “I simply hadn’t given much thought to when or under what circumstances.”
“What do you intend to say when you enter with us?” Margaret asked.
Morna shook her head grimly. “Nay, child, you two shall go forward without me. I have my own ways of getting inside the castle and my own matters of my own to deal with once I get there. You may tell them that you sought solace with me and that you left my home to return here, and that is all.”
Margaret was tempted to ask more questions, but the look in Morna’s eyes persuaded her not to. Morna was the cleverest person Margaret had ever known. She’d been almost like a mother to Margaret, and she had always proven herself worthy of trust. Thus, Margaret chose to have faith in her now, and the look she gave to Brodie convinced him likewise.
“Thank you for aiding us,” Brodie said.
Morna gave him a lopsided grin. “Do not thank me yet, lad. We have no guarantee of a happy outcome. Nonetheless, I shall do my best to bring one about.” She winked at Margaret. “I would never dream of disappointing a man who my dear Margaret is so obviously enamored with, now would I?”
Margaret blushed, and Brodie felt a bit of color rise in his own cheeks as well.
Morna disappeared into the underbrush, as nimble as a wood sprite despite her advanced age. Brodie and Margaret exchanged a nod and began to walk toward the front gates of the castle. Each of them wanted nothing more than to reach out and grasp the other’s hand for comfort, but they both knew they could not afford to risk anyone seeing such a thing—not if this half-conceived farce of a plan was to have any hope of succeeding.
As they walked up to the front of the castle, the sentries spotted them and signaled for the gates to be opened. There was much shouting and commotion within the walls as they announced that the search could be called off, for Margaret and Brodie had returned.
Within moments, Isla and Seamus appeared in the courtyard. “Where the devil have the two of ye been all this time?!” Seamus demanded. “When ye disappeared without a word to anyone, we did not know what to make of it!”
“We thought the two of you had run off together!” Isla added angrily.
