Page 49 of Kidnapped By a Highland Shadow

The Urquhart Clan

If Pippia had found the journey from McTavie Castle to Laird James Stewart’s castle difficult, it was nothing compared to the next journey.

They traveled for almost four days, fearfully looking over their shoulders for pursuers.

After the first day of travel, after they had come to an understanding beside the river that split McTavie and Stewart territories, Pippia and Arran had left the dense forests and ugly hills behind. Sooner than they could have imagined, they were well on their way into the true Highlands.

They quickly realized that Edward would tire too quickly when carrying them both. So, Arran and Pippia took turns sitting on the horse’s back while the other one held the reins and walked ahead.

The terrain was more difficult out here. They passed along shaley, dangerous cliffs with a sheer drop when they had to dismount and carefully lead Edward along the cliff’s edge. The wind howled, and the rain bucketed down. Arran gave Pippia his cloak, which was still the McTavie tartan, and Pippia wrapped it tightly around herself, grateful for the warmth.

At night, they huddled together wherever they could find shelter. When the wind dropped enough for their voices to be heard, Pippia and Arran talked about their lives, their likes, dislikes, their families—not that Arran had ever had much family to speak of.

“I’ll be your family,” Pippia said once they huddled in a ditch that had proved to be their only shelter from the elements. Arran had smiled fondly down at her.

“That means a lot to me, you know.”

“Well, you don’t know what kind of family I’ll be…yet,” Pippia joked, and Arran chuckled, pulling her closer.

As the sun was beginning to set on the fourth day, they saw another dwelling for the first time. This far north, houses and villages were far apart and few. They had passed a huge loch, and Arran had commented that they would soon find civilization.

At least, so they hoped.

They were coming down a hill, leading a tired Edward behind them, when Pippia spotted the little house first.

“Arran, look. D’you think we’re far enough away from McTavie and Stewart lands?”

“I think so. Four days north from them both should be enough. I hope,” Arran added, following her pointing finger with his eyes.

The house was little more than a thatched-roof shack, likely with just one room inside. A woman sat outside, wrapped in an unfamiliar tartan, cooking something on a cauldron over a fire. She was watching them approach, calm and unhurried.

She had long, greying hair hanging loose over her shoulders and a face that could have been thirty years old or fifty years old. There was a kind of serenity there; no resignation, nor fear, not anger—just calmness.

Pippia waved, and the woman gave a nod in reply. That, at least, indicated that she probably wasn’t going to kill them as soon as they were close enough.

They continued making their way down the hill, and the woman watched them shrewdly.

“Good day,” the woman greeted, quietly stirring her cauldron. It was some kind of stew, and the rich, meaty scent made Pippia’s stomach rumble.

“Good day,” Arran echoed, his eyes fixed on the stew. “My name is Arran, and this is Pippia.”

“Ye can call me Mary. Mary Urquhart,” the woman replied, taking a sip of her stew. She nodded approvingly and dropped a handful of chopped green herbs into the cauldron. “Travelers, are ye?”

She spoke with a thicker, more languid accent than either Arran or Pippia were used to.

“We are,” Pippia put in. “We’re looking for a place to stay.”

“And where are ye going?”

“We haven’t decided yet,” Arran admitted. “We’re looking for a place to settle.”

She nodded, glancing shrewdly between the two of them. “Are ye married?”

Arran hesitated, meeting Pippia’s eyes. She knew that he was considering a lie, and that seemed to be a very bad idea. This woman seemed to have piercing eyes that would see through any falsehood immediately.

Apparently, Arran saw the danger too.

“No,” he said. “We’re not married. We haven’t found anyone to marry us yet.”