Page 14

ON HER LAST morning in the cottage, Rose awoke early and started clearing up. Eara arrived to help her, and together the two friends worked in brittle silence. There was little either of them could say that would bring solace to this day.

The night before, Rose had packed everything of sentimental value and a few essential items—for she was wary of cluttering up Kenna’s cottage with her belongings. With the dawn, she and the alewife carried anything remaining outside, built a pyre, and set fire to it.

Tears filled Rose’s eyes as she watched the pyre burn, while Eara put a comforting arm around her shoulders. There wasn’t much, as they’d been forced to sell many of their belongings to pay for food over the winter.

Among the items she’d kept was a small wooden horse Knox had whittled out of rosewood for her years earlier. There were also half-finished items he’d been still working on, as well as her mother’s amber brooch—an item she’d had to hide from her father, to stop him selling that too.

Dark smoke drifted into the pale dawn sky.

The rain had spent itself overnight. “It looks as if our journey to Kenna’s cottage will be a dry one,” Rose murmured.

“Thank ye, Eara … for suggesting we use yer handcart. I don’t have many things to bring to my aunt’s, but it will be easier with the cart. ”

“It was the least I could do for a good friend,” Eara replied, squeezing her shoulders gently.

Rose cast Eara a sidelong glance then. “I feel guilty about ye missing this morning’s market.” Indeed, the alewife always sold ale at the twice-weekly market in the village square—it was where she earned most of her coin.

“Don’t worry about that,” Eara replied firmly. “It’s not the end of the world if I miss it once.”

As the fire burned down to embers, they went back inside to collect the last of Rose’s things.

Hazel watched them curiously as they worked, from her perch by the window, and eventually Rose approached her. Reaching out, she stroked the owl’s soft feathers. “Do ye wish to come with me, lass?”

The owl shuffled forward and gave a soft hoot as if answering ‘aye’.

Rose tried to rouse a smile, for she appreciated Hazel’s company, especially now—but failed. She didn’t have much to smile about these days.

While Eara carried a few packs and bags outside, Rose wrapped her father’s sealskin cloak, one he’d used for rainy weather, around her shoulders. Putting on a heavy leather glove, she moved to the window and lowered her wrist to the ledge so that Hazel could climb on it.

The eagle owl was smaller than some, yet the bird was still weighty. Rose wouldn’t be able to carry her for long on her wrist, so she lifted the owl up, allowing it to step onto her shoulder.

Hazel’s claws dug in, yet the thick sealskin protected Rose from any damage.

The bird’s soft feathers tickled her cheek as she made her way toward the door.

The cottage’s interior was stark without the familiar objects surrounding her.

Now that she’d cleared everything out, she just wanted to be gone.

Strangely, it no longer felt like her home—and later in the day, the MacDonalds would reside within it.

Stepping outdoors, she found Eara waiting for her, handcart at the ready. Immediately, her friend’s gaze went to Hazel. “Well, look at that,” Eara murmured, her mouth quirking. “She’s so tame.”

“Hazel doesn’t want to be left behind,” Rose replied. “But hopefully Kenna and Ailis won’t mind her moving in with me.”

Eara’s gaze met Rose’s. “Ye can live with me, ye know … my bothy is a bit cramped, but I’d make space for ye.”

Warmth suffused Rose’s chest at her friend’s offer. However, she was aware how unpopular she was in the village at present. Just the day before, a group of young lads, all MacDonalds, had heckled her as she walked up the street to Eara’s.

No, it was best for all if she went to her aunt’s—even if that meant she had a lengthy walk into the village. She’d still make the trip to Eara’s a few times a week. Some things could continue as they had.

“I don’t think Ember would appreciate Hazel,” she said deliberately making an excuse that wouldn’t set her friend to worrying. Indeed, the alewife’s well-fed black mouser stalked around Eara’s bothy like a queen.

Eara snorted. “She’d just have to get used to it.”

“All the same, Kenna might take offense if I didn’t stay with her.”

That wasn’t true—her aunt wouldn’t mind either way—and Eara’s gaze narrowed a fraction as if she’d seen right through Rose’s excuses. Yet she didn’t press the matter.

“Well then,” she said, picking up the rope to tow her handcart. “We’d better get moving.”

They walked down the path, through the rambling garden Rose had done her best to keep productive since her mother’s death. They then took the rutted road back toward Dun Ugadale.

The two women traveled in silence for a spell, and soon enough, the outline of the broch shadowed the sky. Smoke rose from the roofs of the bothies below.

However, when Rose saw a group of women standing together by the roadside, she cursed under her breath.

“That’s Maisie MacDonald and her friends,” Eara murmured. “What do they want?”

Rose’s pulse quickened. “Reckoning.”

“There she is,” Maisie called out, her voice carrying across the road. “The criminal’s daughter!”

“Aye, turfed out of her home,” another MacDonald woman added smugly.

“And rightly so,” Maisie replied. “After what her kin did, she should be run off these lands.”

Heat washed over Rose, a mix of humiliation and anger, yet she managed to bite her tongue. She didn’t want an argument with these women—not this of all mornings.

Self-righteous muttering followed these words as Rose and Eara drew close, the handcart rattling behind them.

“Enough of this heckling,” Eara greeted them with a scowl. “Why don’t ye get yerselves off to market like most folk and leave Rose be?”

Maisie’s round face tightened. “Ye’d be wise to distance yerself from this one, Eara Mackay,” she replied, placing her hands on her hips. Eara snorted, yet Maisie plowed on. “Look at her, carrying an owl about with her. I’d say she’s going a bit strange in the head.”

Rose’s heart started thumping against her ribs. “No, I’m not,” she growled. “This is Hazel … I healed her of a broken wing.”

“Really?” one of Maisie’s friends chortled. “What is it, Rose … yer consort ?”

“Aye, we should tell Father Gregor about ye,” Maisie added. “He told us to be on the lookout for unnatural women.”

“Why don’t ye mind yer own business?” Eara snapped. “I’m sure the priest has better things to do than listen to a gaggle of witless geese.”

Rose’s jaw clenched. She appreciated Eara defending her, yet her friend was just riling Maisie up. She seemed to have forgotten too that Father Gregor was likely looking for a reason to cause problems for Rose.

“And ye mind yer tongue, alewife,” Maisie snarled, her cheeks flushing red. “Or I’ll see to it that no MacDonald buys from ye at market in the future.”

“Do yer worst,” Eara shot back. “And save yer threats for those weak-minded enough to heed them.”

Rose and Eara walked on, although when they were out of earshot of the MacDonald women, Eara muttered a salty curse.

“Aye,” Rose muttered. “I did warn ye.”

“How dare they gather at the roadside to insult ye?”

“Ye know how it is between the MacDonalds and the MacAlisters. And after what my father and brothers did, some of them want blood.”

“Well, they can look elsewhere for it.”

Silence fell between them then, broken by the rattle of the cart and the thud of their booted feet on the dirt road.

“I don’t want them to turn on ye, Eara,” Rose said finally. “Maybe I should distance myself from ye for a while.” Her stomach twisted as she said these words, for she loved helping Eara brew ale and didn’t want to give it up. “Just until the dust settles.”

Eara shook her head, her slender jaw tightening. “Absolutely not. We’re not going to let the bullies win.”

Sitting in front of the hearth, a bowl of pottage balanced on her knee, Rose ate hungrily. Her aunt was a good cook; she could even make pottage tasty.

Eara perched on a stool next to her, dipping pieces of bannock into her stew.

The women had arrived close to supper time, so Kenna had insisted that the alewife stay the night. With the outlaws still terrorizing travelers, it wasn’t safe to travel alone after dark.

As she ate, Rose’s gaze slid around the interior of the cottage.

Guilt constricted her chest. The space was half the size of the one she’d left behind.

It was already cramped with Kenna and Ailis living here, but with Rose and the few things she’d brought with her, it felt overflowing.

Hazel now perched on the ledge before the tiny single window and was dozing.

Despite that the cottage was small, the two women had made it homely. Fresh rushes covered the earthen floor, and bunches of dried herbs and flowers hung from the smoke-blackened rafters. The scents of sage, lavender, and thyme mingled with the more pungent smell of peat-smoke.

A hanging, made from a patchwork of fabrics, divided the living space from the sleeping area.

Rose’s attention shifted then to Kenna and Ailis. They sat opposite her and Eara, with their shoulders touching, in a wordless gesture of intimacy.

“I’m so sorry to impose on ye both like this,” Rose said awkwardly.

Ailis waved her away. “Och, lass … ye can stay here as long as ye wish.”

“But—”

“No argument, Rose,” Kenna said firmly. “Ye don’t need to worry about the future, at present. Ye need time to heal yer grief. Ye have lost much of late.”

A lump formed in Rose’s throat. “The Mackays offered me a position in their broch,” she admitted huskily, “but I refused it.”

“What?” Eara gasped, turning to her. “Ye didn’t tell me that?”

“It slipped my mind earlier,” Rose replied weakly. In truth, she’d done her best to forget her encounter with Kerr Mackay in the barmkin and the argument that had followed.

“When did ye receive this offer?” Kenna asked, her green eyes wide.

“Captain Mackay followed me out of the hall after my audience with the laird … there’s a position as chambermaid available.”

All three women stared back at her, their expressions bemused. “Why didn’t ye take it?” Ailis asked gently.

“This isn’t because of yer resentment toward Kerr Mackay, is it?” Eara’s brow furrowed then. “Surely, ye wouldn’t cut off yer nose to spite yer face?”

“I’m not, Eara,” Rose replied, her fingers clenching around her spoon. “But the Mackays broke my Da. The past two years, Captain Mackay and his men did nothing but hound him … and then the laird struck off his hand.”

A brittle silence followed these words. Eara shifted uncomfortably on her stool, while Kenna and Ailis exchanged glances.

However, when Kenna’s gaze met Rose’s once more, her expression was grave. “The Mackays would have left Graham alone had he worked his land and lived honestly,” she pointed out gently. “I know ye loved him, lass … as did I … but he wasn’t without his faults.”

Heat ignited under Rose’s ribcage. She couldn’t believe her aunt would dare take the Mackays’ side on this. They were kin, and family had to stick together. “Ye sound like Kerr Mackay,” she said bitterly. “He tried to tell me Da wasn’t worth protecting.”

“I’m not saying that,” Kenna replied, her gaze shadowing. “However, the captain was only trying to help ye, lass. He’s always struck me as an honorable man.”

The heat under Rose’s ribcage intensified. “Honorable?” she gasped. “His men slew my brothers … yer nephews.”

“Aye, after my brother and nephews launched a rockfall that killed three men,” Kenna countered, her voice sharpening as her own anger quickened. “Blood is thicker than water, Rose, but that doesn’t mean we should defend the indefensible.”