The small calf was lying beside the path, its thin flanks heaving. Ailsa crouched beside it, saying encouragingly, ‘Come, sweeting, up you get. Just another few yards.’
Jeanie plucked at her sleeve. ‘Come away, Ailsa, we have tarried too long here. She was a late baby and by rights should not have survived this long. She is too weak for the journey. It cannot be helped. You must leave her.’
Ailsa straightened, but remained standing over the calf. She shook her head. ‘No. Rab will carry her. You could do it, could you not, Rab, if I carry your pack for you?’
He took off his bonnet and scratched his head. ‘Aye, I could, I suppose,’ he said doubtfully. ‘If ’tis what ye want, Miss Ailsa, but my pack’s fair heavy, mind.’
‘I have been shifting the clàrsach back and forth since I was a child, I will manage,’ she replied with great determination. ‘I will not leave this poor creature here to starve.’ She waved the older woman away. ‘We will be obliged to stop often, Jeanie, so you go on with the others. We do not want to hold you back.’
‘I do not like to leave you, Ailsa.’
‘Whisht, now. We will not be far behind and what harm can come to me walking up the shieling track? I have Rab with me, too. We will be safe enough.’ She hugged Jeanie and kissed her cheek before giving her a little push. ‘Off you go now. It is not that far and we will have the wee beastie on the high pasture with the others before sunset, I promise you.’
Jeanie hurried away to catch up with the other women walking up the hill and Ailsa turned back to her companion.
‘Very well, Rab. Give me your pack and we will be on our way!’
But although Ailsa carried Rab’s bag on her shoulders, it was slow going, even along the valley bottom. By the time they began to climb away from the burn and up the hill path to the summer pastures, everyone else was out of sight. The track was well worn and covered in stones and they had not gone far when Rab stepped on a loose rock and stumbled. The lad recovered, but Ailsa could see he was sweating profusely and she touched his arm.
‘We should bide here a while, Rab.’
He did not argue, but put the calf down carefully and they sat beside it, allowing the fresh breeze to cool them. It was then that Ailsa saw two riders in the valley. A frisson of excitement went through her. They were coming from the western end of the glen, the most direct route from Ardvarrick to Contullach. She put a hand up to shield her eyes and stared at the figures as they cantered along beside the burn. Very few of her uncle’s people owned horses and she knew Fingal was expecting the Laird to call any day.
Rab had also seen them and he said anxiously, ‘Who is it, Mistress Ailsa?’
‘It is Logan Rathmore and his man Tamhas,’ she said, trying to keep her voice calm. ‘They must be on their way to Contullach for the meeting with my uncle. Keep still, Rab, perhaps they will not see us and ride on.’
She knew it was a vain hope. The men could not fail to spot them on the exposed hillside. She felt a little guilty, as if she had deliberately put herself in the Laird’s way, but what could they do, short of diving off the path and hiding in the heather?
Ailsa knew the moment Logan Rathmore saw her, for he checked his horse and soon the two men turned off their track and crossed the burn to ride up towards them.
‘Mistress McInnis!’ Logan called to her as he approached. ‘Is anything amiss, can I be of assistance?’
When she did not reply he dismounted and handed the reins to Tamhas before scrambling up the rocks and on to the track. She moved away.
‘Pray continue on your way to Contullach, sir. My uncle will be waiting for you.’
‘I am sure he would not wish me to abandon his niece without attempting to help.’
His smile set her heart fluttering, just as it had last year. She recalled her aunt’s words, that feelings could be stronger than duty. It was her duty now to assure the Laird of Ardvarrick that she did not need assistance. It was her duty to send him on his way. She should do so. She must do so.
She remained silent.
Logan knelt down beside the calf. ‘What have we here?’
‘The wee beastie canna walk up to the shieling,’ offered Rab, responding to the friendly question. He added proudly, ‘I’ve been carrying her.’
‘They said to leave her,’ Ailsa explained. ‘But there’s no grazing left here and I know she will recover, once we get her to the higher pastures.’ She glanced fleetingly at Logan and flushed. ‘I could not leave her to starve for want of a little effort.’
‘No, indeed. I will take her for you. We can put her across my saddle.’
‘What? No! We will manage well enough.’ Ailsa was panicking now. ‘Rab, get up, we must be on our way.’
‘No, I insist. Rab, stay there while I fetch my horse.’
Ailsa was mildly annoyed that the simple lad recognised the voice of command and remained where he was while Ardvarrick ran nimbly back to his companion. She watched him lead his horse up the stony incline to re-join them on the track.
He turned to Rab. ‘Now, lad, the calf knows you, so it would be best if you held her. Up you get and I will pass the poor creature up to you.’
Ailsa knew she should object, but Rab was already scrambling up into the saddle, highly delighted with this rare treat. Once the calf was safely laid across the boy’s lap, Ardvarrick insisted on shouldering Rab’s pack, then he took the reins and invited Ailsa to lead the way. She made one last, half-hearted protest.
‘But my uncle is expecting you.’
‘I have told Tamhas to go on and give my apologies.’ She could not prevent a little gasp of alarm and he gave her a reassuring smile ‘Have no fear, mistress, he will merely say I have been delayed. Tamhas will be discreet.’
Ailsa could not deny that the horse would carry the calf up the hill much more quickly and easily than she and Rab could ever manage, so she accepted the inevitable and turned to walk alongside Logan Rathmore.
‘I should thank you for your efforts,’ she told him.
‘You should,’ he replied gravely, ‘but I can see it is causing you some difficulty.’
She choked back a laugh. ‘I am grateful, sir, but I am also conscious that you should not be doing this.’
‘Why not?’
She hesitated, then decided it would be best to be honest.
‘Because Fingal is sending me to the shieling to keep me out of your way.’
‘Does he think me such a danger, then?’ He glanced back at Rab, then asked her quietly, ‘Did Contullach learn of your coming to Ardvarrick last September?’
‘No, no one knows of that.’ She flushed a little. ‘Fingal does not want my head turned by you.’
‘I am flattered he thinks so highly of me.’
‘Or by any man,’ she added quickly. ‘I am a harper. Music is my life,’ she added, so there could be no misunderstanding, ‘to the exclusion of everything else.’
‘Except helpless animals.’
‘Now you are making fun of me!’
‘No, no, I assure you I am not. I admire your efforts to save the calf. I presume everyone else had given up hope?’
‘The weakest animals starve in the winter, I know that, but this calf has survived thus far, so I know she is a fighter.’
‘Then we shall get her there.’
She stopped ‘I cannot have you do this for my sake!’
He slanted a wry look at her. ‘Put down those hackles, mistress, and keep moving. I have cattle of my own. Every animal is an investment for the future. As you know full well.’ He lowered his voice so only she could hear him. ‘Why else would you have come to warn me of that impending raid last year?’
It was a rhetorical question and she was glad he did not require an answer. It was true she wanted to maintain the peace between Ardvarrick and her uncle, but that had not been the principal reason she had made such efforts to warn him. That was something she could not admit, even to herself.
He said, ‘Perhaps this will go some way to repay the debt I owe you.’
‘There is no debt,’ she said fiercely. ‘I did what was right. I did not want your agreement with my uncle to fail.’
Mentioning Fingal brought back Ailsa’s worries. He would be furious when he learned of this encounter, but it was too late to do anything about that now.
They walked on in silence for a while, Ardvarrick leading the horse carrying Rab and the calf along the rocky path. It was a crisp, sunny day and the Laird seemed to be enjoying himself, humming softly as he went.
‘I know that tune,’ she said, when she recognised one particular melody. ‘I play it often.’
‘Do you? It is well known in the Isles, I believe.’
‘It is.’ Ailsa nodded. ‘My father’s family came from the Isles.’
‘But it was your mother who taught you to play? She was Contullach’s harper, too, was she not?’
‘Yes, but that was before I was born. She died when I was a baby.’ Ailsa did not wish him to offer sympathy so she continued quickly, ‘It was her sister—my aunt—who taught me, at first. When it was seen I had the gift, I went first to a family in Dingwall and then my uncle sent me to Skye, to study with the finest harpers.’
‘Their teaching is rewarded. You play very well.’
‘Thank you. However, it is the only thing I know how to do.’
‘Do not forget you told me you could read and write.’
‘I can,’ she conceded. ‘And I can reckon a column of figures, but I know little else that is of any practical use in running a household. That is another reason I am going to stay with Jeanie Barr at the shieling, to learn such things.’
In the past few days Morag has told her many times how fortunate she was and it was so, Ailsa knew it. There was no denying she loved her music, but recently she had been aware of a growing dissatisfaction, a feeling that there was something missing from her life. Quickly she pushed the thought aside and sought to turn the conversation away from herself.
‘You must find life at Ardvarrick very strange, after England.’
‘It is certainly different.’
‘You do not like it here?’ He had spoken lightly, but she had detected a bitterness in him.
‘It is not a question of liking. My father left me Ardvarrick and all the responsibility that comes with it.’
She sighed. ‘Then we are both of us bound by our duty.’
‘We are, but that is not to say duty must be unpleasant. On days such as this, there is nowhere better.’
Ailsa nodded. If she had not been ordered to go with the women and children to the shieling today, she would have taken the clàrsach to the loch, adding her music to the sigh of the wind, the song of birds. She would have played to the accompaniment of the gentle lap of water against the shore.
A sudden ache of regret welled up that it would be months before she would be able to return to her harp. Perhaps Fingal was wise to send her away, perhaps he knew it would convince her that without her music she was nothing.
‘You are silent,’ he interrupted her thoughts. ‘Do you not agree with me?’
‘On the contrary. There is nothing I enjoy more than being out of doors on a sunny day.’
‘It is even better when one can spend it in good company.’
He smiled down at her and she felt a familiar flutter of alarm. She had to remind herself that Logan Rathmore had been schooled in Edinburgh and lived ten years in England. He was Laird of Ardvarrick, a man of considerable wealth and power. What would he want with a female who had seen so little of the world? She had nothing to offer him, except perhaps a flirtation to pass the time and that could prove dangerous, at least for her.
Your worries are foolish, Ailsa. He has asked you for nothing. As long as you keep a guard on your heart there can be no harm in talking with him.
The tiny whisper of rebellion would not be silenced. Worse, she wanted to believe he liked her company. So she returned his smile and decided to enjoy this time, ruthlessly quelling the positive clamour of voices in her head that warned her there could be a great deal of harm in it.
The sun was low by the time they reached the huddle of low buildings that provided summer quarters at the shieling. Smoke was already issuing from some of the bothies and it was quiet, most of the children already sleeping after their long walk. Jeanie Barr was standing at an open doorway and as soon as she saw Ailsa, she hurried towards her.
‘The Lord be praised you are here, lass. I was about to set out in search of you.’
She was frowning at Logan Rathmore, but the Laird appeared unaware of her disapproval. He held the calf while Rab dismounted, then watched as the lad carried it away to join the other cattle. Only then did he turn back to address Jeanie.
‘You must be Mistress Barr. My apologies, madam, if our late arrival caused you concern.’
Ailsa noted with amusement that her friend was in no way immune to that charming smile. Jeanie shook her head and tried to look stern, but she was blushing like a young girl.
‘Aye, well, Ailsa is here now and that is all that matters.’ She folded her arms. ‘I suppose you’ll be needing supper?’
His smile grew. ‘I confess a bite to eat would be welcome, mistress.’
‘You had best come away in, then. ’Tis only the bannocks and goats’ cheese I brought with me,’ she continued, ushering them inside. ‘I’ve not had time yet to get the broth pot on the fire.’
‘I shall be glad to share whatever you have,’ he told her. ‘But only if there is sufficient. I’d not have you go short.’
Jeanie gave him a baleful look. ‘And I’ll not have it said anyone was turned away from my table, Logan Rathmore.’
Ailsa wondered if the Laird would take offence at her friend’s speech, but at that moment he met her eyes and she saw only warm amusement in his own.
Ailsa would never forget sharing a meal in the small dark bothy with Jeanie and Logan Rathmore. She struggled to eat the food on her plate, her stomach knotted with nerves. She reminded herself that she had dined with him and his cousin at Ardvarrick, but somehow this felt much more intimate and even Jeanie’s presence as chaperon made little difference. It was not that the Laird paid her any special attention, he addressed most of his remarks to Jeanie, but his very presence unsettled her. She wanted him to go, but as the evening wore on another worry surfaced and by the time they had finished eating, she felt compelled to speak.
‘The light is fading rapidly now and the path will be treacherous in the dark. Is that not so, Jeanie?’
The older woman pressed her lips together. She looked at Ailsa for a long moment, then finally she nodded.
‘Aye, it will be dangerous to set out now.’ She sighed, making it plain she would rather their guest did not stop the night but felt obliged to offer hospitality. ‘We will find room for you in the old bothy, if you do not mind sharing quarters with Simple Rab. He is a good lad and quite harmless.’
‘Thank you, that will suit me well enough.’
Jeanie pushed herself to her feet. ‘Then if you have finished your meal, I will take you across now and show you where you can stable your horse for the night. Ailsa, you will stay here and clear away.’
Logan rose and followed Jeanie, but at the door he stopped and glanced back.
‘Perhaps I shall see you in the morning?’
Ailsa turned away. All evening she had been praying for him to leave, but now the moment had come she would give anything to keep him with her a little longer, but he must never know that.
She said, ‘I fear not, sir. There is much to be done here.’
‘Then I will bid you goodnight, Mistress McInnis.’
She kept her back to him, unable to trust herself to reply and after a moment she heard the door close. He was gone.
‘Well, he is settled,’ said Jeanie, when she returned a short time later. ‘though I doubt the Laird is accustomed to sleeping on a heather mattress. And I found him a blanket, too.’ She scowled. ‘Which I would not have to do if he’d only wear the plaid like a proper man.’
Ailsa did not think there was anything unmanly about Logan Rathmore. True, his leather top boots might be more suited to a town gentleman and they were beginning to show signs of wear after the long winter’s use, but the dark riding jacket was serviceable enough and fitted smoothly across his broad shoulders. His muscular thighs were plainly apparent, too, beneath the buckskin breeches. However, Ailsa knew it would be unwise to say as much. She merely smiled and changed the subject. She pointed to the corner of the room.
‘You see I have made up the box bed that we are to share. I hope I have done it aright.’
‘Aye, it will do.’ The older woman nodded in approval. ‘And you’ve cleared away everything, too. Let us to bed, then, and leave the morning to look after itself.’
Jeanie had been snoring gently for a long time before Ailsa finally fell asleep. Fingal had sent her up here to keep her away from Logan Rathmore. What would he say when he knew the Laird of Ardvarrick had accompanied her to the shieling? That he was even now sleeping in a neighbouring hut? She shifted restlessly, wondering if Logan, too, was lying awake, recalling every moment of their day together. Reliving every word, every look. She pressed her hands across her stomach, which suddenly felt light with a strange excitement. There was an unfamiliar ache in her body, a yearning for she knew not what, except that it had something to do with Logan Rathmore.
Enough! Ailsa turned on her side and pulled the rough blankets a little tighter around her. She must stop this madness. She resolutely turned her mind to what she would be doing for the summer months. Life at the shieling would be very different for her. There would be no music to practise. Instead, she must help the women with their summer tasks: milking the cows, making the cheese and the butter which was too precious to use, but would be stored ready to sell at the market. She might also become proficient at spinning, which would be done during the long, light evenings with the women sitting in their doorways when the weather was fine.
Ailsa knew she would miss playing the clàrsach, but if she kept busy the summer would soon pass. After that she could return to her beloved music. It was time to remind herself that if she gave her heart to Logan Rathmore, she would lose that precious gift for ever, as her mother had done. Best to forget him. He would ride away to Contullach Castle in the morning and, after his meeting with Fingal, he would return to Ardvarrick. It was unlikely they would meet again for at least another twelve months. She told herself she did not care, but as she hugged herself in the darkness, she felt a sudden and quite foolish urge to weep.
Ailsa woke very early in the unfamiliar surroundings. Jeanie was still snoring gently beside her, so she slipped out of bed and dressed quickly. They would need fresh water and she decided this was a good time to fetch it. The man who had haunted her dreams was unlikely to be about at such an early hour. Alas, as she approached the burn, she saw that Logan was already on the bank, sleeves rolled up, splashing his face in the ice-cold stream. She hesitated, but it was too late, he had seen her. He bade her a cheerful good morning.
‘I decided to make an early start.’
‘Oh. I hope your bed was not too uncomfortable,’ she replied. ‘Or perhaps Rab’s snoring disturbed you—’
‘I am an early riser, that is all. Do not look so anxious, I am not grown so soft that I am easily disturbed.’ He noted her confusion and laughed. ‘I am well aware of what is said of me.’
‘I doubt anyone still thinks that, sir.’
‘It does not matter if they do. As long as you do not despise me.’
‘No, no.’ She was afraid that saying more might suggest she was encouraging him and she busied herself filling the buckets.
‘I thought Mistress Barr would keep you hidden until I had gone.’ She heard the teasing note in his voice, but maintained her silence. He tried again. ‘Rab told me the calf was grazing happily when he left her last night. We went up to check her at dawn and she looked well enough.’
Ailsa thought it would be impolite not to respond, when he had gone out of his way to help them with the calf. She said quietly, ‘I am glad.’
He wiped his face and hands with a strip of linen. ‘How long do you stay here?’
‘Three months, perhaps a little more.’
‘You did not bring your clàrsach?’
‘I shall have no time for it.’ She hesitated. ‘It is in part why Fingal sent me here. To remind me how much I love my music. I shall return to it refreshed and eager to practise again. And I shall appreciate how fortunate I am to be a harper. You will not know how much work the women undertake while they are here.’
She had filled the second bucket and turned to carry them away.
‘Let me do that.’
He had shrugged himself into his coat and stepped closer to pick up the buckets. Silently, Ailsa stood aside. Perhaps Jeanie would say she should have refused his help but the leather buckets were heavy when full and Ailsa knew she would slop much of the water over the sides before she even reached the bothy. By contrast, Logan carried them easily. She had nothing to do but to walk beside him.
‘You are mistaken,’ he said, as they moved away from the burn. ‘I do know what goes on in places such as this. As a young boy I used to spend weeks each summer on the shieling at Ardvarrick. I recall how hard the women worked. For the children it was more of a holiday, although we did help to mind the cattle and gather the plants to dye the wool.’
‘I thought you would have been at home, with your parents.’
‘My father had little patience with young children.’ His mouth twisted. ‘Or with very young men, it seems. When I finished my schooling in Edinburgh at sixteen, after a couple of months here, he packed me off to England to...er...continue my education.’
She turned to stare at him. ‘You were still studying while you were in England?’
‘Aye.’ He laughed, but there was no humour in his tone. ‘I learned the niceties of being an English gentleman. I did the Grand Tour and learned how to take snuff elegantly, how to behave in a ballroom or drawing room. Nothing of any use to me here.’
Her brows rose. ‘Are we all such savages, then?’
‘No, no, of course not. But life here is...different.’
‘You did not wish to come back to Ardvarrick.’
‘Very perceptive of you, mistress. I did not. I enjoyed my life in the south. I knew I should have to return at some point, but my father was supposed to live for years yet and there would be plenty of time for me to learn what is required of a laird.’ He shrugged. ‘To be just to my father, my mother had always wanted me to become better acquainted with my English relatives and Father could not have foreseen that he would be struck down so suddenly. Alas, I returned to Ardvarrick in the autumn, ill prepared to take his place. I have had to learn a great deal, very quickly.’
‘But you have your people around you,’ she reasoned. ‘They will be able to advise you.’
‘With the exception of my cousin, they are entrenched in the old ways. My suggestions for the running of Ardvarrick are resisted and they blame my desire for change on the fact that I have been away for so many years. I am now thought to be more Englishman than Scot.’
Ailsa had heard as much at Contullach. She glanced across at him, taking in the fine wool riding jacket, the yellow satin waistcoat and soft buckskins.
‘Perhaps there is some truth in that,’ she murmured. ‘Are you not enjoying your new life?’
‘This past winter has been difficult, coming to terms with my father’s death, taking up the reins of management. Tamhas supports me—the others, I fear, resent my new ideas.’
‘It is a common problem. Even my uncle has had to spend a great deal of time during the winter, convincing his tenants that your new agreement will benefit them.’ She smiled at his look of surprise. ‘I told you I hear a great deal of talk at Contullach. People speak quite freely when I am playing. They quite ignore me.’
‘Truly? I cannot believe that.’
His smile made her blush and she quickly averted her eyes. This flattery was something he would have learned in England, where she had no doubt it was considered a harmless enough diversion, but it was not so here. Not for her. She walked on in silence, staring rigidly ahead, and after a moment he continued.
‘And now they have had time to consider, is there more opposition to Contullach moving his cattle with mine? That is, if you can tell me without breaking a confidence.’
‘Most of my uncle’s tenants think it a good thing, to put aside the rivalries of the past.’
‘And Cowie?’ he asked her. ‘Is he still against it? There have been no more attempts to take our cattle, so I hope the beating he received has taught him a lesson, but I doubt it has made him look more favourably upon the plan.’
She said cautiously, ‘When he sees the extra revenue to be gained, he will be persuaded, I am sure. And he is to marry Kirstin this summer. My uncle believes his hot temper will be cooled, once he has a wife.’
‘I pray you are right, Mistress McInnis.’ They were approaching the bothy and he said suddenly, ‘I shall miss your playing while I am at Contullach.’
‘And I shall miss playing for you.’ Ailsa had not meant to say it aloud and she looked up at Logan in alarm. ‘Forgive me! I did not mean—that is, I should not have spoken. Pray forget I said it! Forget me.’
‘Do you truly wish me to forget you?’
He was looking at her, his dark eyes were serious, but there was a glow in them she could not mistake. She knew then, with terrifying certainty, that this was no mere flirtation. Panic flared and she dragged her gaze away.
‘This is wrong!’ She forced out her words, even though they cut like a blade as she spoke them. ‘There can never be anything between us, Logan Rathmore.’
‘I see.’
Ailsa dug her nails into her palms to prevent herself from uttering the words that were on her tongue. She did not want him to see. She wanted him to argue with her, to sweep her into his arms and declare undying love. To behave like the heroes of the songs and poems she had learned all her life.
They had reached the bothy and Jeanie was standing there, her arms folded and a frown darkening her brow when she saw Ailsa was not alone.
It is for the best, Ailsa McInnis. He might promise to love you for ever, but you know it would not last. How can it, when you have so little to offer him? If you give in to this passion now, you would lose more than your heart. You would lose your music.
Ailsa looked away from the older woman’s frown of disapproval, but Logan appeared in no way discomposed. He placed the buckets carefully on the ground beside the door and straightened.
‘There, not a drop spilled.’ He smiled at Jeanie. ‘I thank you for your hospitality, Mistress Barr. I shall go on my way now and leave you to your summer work. May the weather be kind to you.’
His farewell nod was to them both. He made no effort to meet Ailsa’s eyes again and she felt it like a stab wound.
Forget him now, as he will you.
‘Logan Rathmore has a smooth tongue, I’ll give him that,’ muttered Jeanie, as she and Ailsa watched him walk away. ‘But what Contullach will say when he knows Ardvarrick spent the night up here I do not know.’
‘Perhaps he will not hear of it,’ murmured Ailsa, hopefully.
Jeanie snorted. ‘Someone will tell him, you may be sure of that! And I’ve no doubt he will blame me for it, too, although what I can be expected to do when the man turns up here, bold as brass, I don’t know. But there’s no harm done. I hope?’ She bent a frowning look on Ailsa. ‘You didn’t let him touch you?’
‘No, no.’
But oh, how she had wanted him to touch her, she thought, as she followed Jeanie inside and sank down on a little stool. How she had wanted him to take her in his arms and kiss her.
‘Well, thank heaven for that, ‘Jeanie went on. ‘The consequences of any lass giving herself to a man can be severe, but for you the penalty would be so much worse.’
‘You think it is true, then, that the Contullach harpers cannot marry?’ Ailsa clasped her hands together and fixed her anxious gaze upon Jeanie. ‘Do you not think it could be an old wives’ tale?’
‘It is not what I think,’ said Jeanie, grimly. ‘It is what has happened to the harpers I have known in my lifetime, including your mother. And to all those that went before, if the legend is to be believed. Whatever the truth of it, the risk is too great.’
The two women were silent, lost in their own thoughts, until at last Jeanie shrugged and beckoned to Ailsa.
‘Worrying about it will not help. Come along, lassie, there is work to be done!’