Interloper at Glencoe Read online

  “I’m not a Sasunnach. I’m American. French American, and if you call me a Sasunnach again I’ll punch your lights out.”

  Beth went entirely still and stared at him, and Seòras put his work in his lap to gaze at Nick. Dùghall blinked at him for a moment, seemed to consider Nick’s statement, then gave a slight nod and said, “What secrets, then, a Neacail?”

  Returning his attention to the fire and squatting before it, Nick replied, “If I told you, they wouldn’t be secrets, would they?”

  “Ye cannae hide things within a household.”

  Nick pretended to think about that, then said in a tone that suggested he was accepting Dùghall as a brother, “Well, I’ll tell you, mo caraid, one of the things he said was that we should be careful of English soldiers.”

  The other men both laughed at that. Seòras said, “And did he also tell you to never offer your hand to a growling dog?”

  Nick stuffed his hands into his armpits, took a deep breath of the warm air near the fire, and forced the shivering down some more so his voice would stop shaking. “Particular Redcoat soldiers, he meant. Ones who will come to the glen very soon. They will be billeted here, stay here for a couple of weeks, and then they will turn on you... on us, and try to kill all the men of the clan.”

  The two thought that over, then Seòras said, “Why would they be foisted upon us when the garrison at Fort William is so close by?”

  Nick didn’t know the answer to that, so he just shrugged. “Dunno. The faerie didn’t say. He just said there would be a massacre here, and that anyone who wanted to get out in one piece should leave before it happened.”

  Dùghall said, “Are we to see the back of you, then?”

  Nick couldn’t help a glance at Beth, who had come to the fire to tend a pot of something for dinner. Supper. Though Dùghall had meant to insult him, if Beth would go with him and leave them behind he would take her away that very night. But that wasn’t going to happen. He said, “I recommend we all leave.”

  “To go where? And for what cause? Are we to run to our neighbors and tell them, ‘A faerie said to leave our homes, so take us in’? And for how long? It’s madness you speak. And you know the wee folk are not to be trusted. They lie as often as not.”

  Nick surely had no argument for that, and fell silent. Warm enough to function now though the chill still radiated from within, he picked his coat off the floor and hung it on a peg by the door. He didn’t know whether he’d been able to plant enough fear of the army into Seòras’s mind, or made any real progress toward making them accept him as Beth’s suitor, but at least he’d gotten Dùghall off his back about the shivering. He said, “I don’t know. But I think you should think about it. You’ll know when they get here that I’m telling the truth.”

  Beth declared supper ready, and the household gathered around the table to eat.

  Two days later, as Nick carried a bucket from the river for Beth through a new snow that laid enormous flakes over the village of Inverrigan, the sounds of men’s voices, creaking wagons, and horses caught his attention. He slowed to a stop, then stepped close to a tree where he might go unnoticed without looking as if he were running away. A fleeing man was cop bait in any century, so he kept still when he saw a column of red uniforms down the glen. All a hodgepodge of shades varying from the bright blood-red of the new recruits to the faded near-pink of a few who had seen many campaigns but lacked money to keep themselves in new coats. Though Nick had known they were coming, a small part of him had hoped something would happen to keep them away, and there was a sinking disappointment. If a butterfly in China could cause a hurricane on the other side of the globe, then why couldn’t his efforts have averted this? His throat closed, and he swallowed hard. Then he hurried on his errand and returned to Beth.

  “They’re here,” he said as he ducked inside through the doorway.

  “Who are?” Beth was cutting up some smoked fish for the pot.

  “The Redcoats.” Had she forgotten? It seemed to be all he’d thought about since their return. “The Campbell regiment I told you about.” The murderers.

  She looked up, and realization darkened her eyes. “It’s true, then.”

  “Yeah, it’s true. Is that why you wanted to come back here? You thought I was kidding? I mean, joking?”

  “No... well, I...” She wiped her hands on her towel.

  “Never mind. They’re here. And I think we should go.”

  “We cannae go.”

  “Talk your father into leaving the glen. Spend a couple of weeks with relatives.”

  “’Tis winter.”

  “Tell him to go take an ice fishing vacation, then! Just, get the old man and your brother out of here, so they can take you with them!”

  She returned to her work. “I’ll try.” He knew she would, and that made him feel better, but not much. He went to set the water bucket on the table.

  The door opened behind him, and he and Beth turned as three soldiers barged in. One was a young private and the second a bit older, but not by much. The younger one was pink-cheeked and wearing a coat so pristine new and deep red it appeared drenched in blood. His baldrics were as white as the fresh snow falling outside. The kid snorted phlegm up into his nose as he looked around at the house of Seòras MacDonald, and Nick recognized him. This was the soldier who would write the book Nick had found in that thrift shop. The look of the young man stirred something terrible in Nick, a horror and hatred he’d never felt before in his life. It sickened him.

  The third Redcoat, a sergeant, older and more worn, also looked about, then addressed Nick while the other two milled about the room examining the place and its contents. “You’re the man of the house?”

  “I’m a guest. This woman’s father is not here right now.” Nick watched the two privates poke sacks of grain and dried fish, and felt the house was being searched. He wanted to ask for a warrant, but knew it was a silly American thought under the laws of this time and place.

  “Very good of you to speak English, in any case. Bloody impossible to find anyone talking civilized like around here.”

  Beth spoke up, and Nick wished she’d keep quiet. “You’re nae a Campbell, then?”

  “The name is Sergeant Donald Buy, if you please. And that there is Duncan Muirhead.” With a nod he indicated the older private, then another nod toward the younger. “But this lad here is a Campbell right enough. First name—”

  “William,” Nick blurted.

  The younger soldier looked over at him, his curiosity piqued. “How did you know?”

  Nick stammered, and wished they were all gone from there. “I... you look like a William, and besides I think half the country must be named that.”

  The young man smiled and nodded. “Aye, there are a number of us. They call me Liam.”

  “These two will be staying here until we receive our orders,” said the older one.

  That sick feeling blossomed in Nick’s gut and he felt himself pale. Their orders. Seeing William Campbell in the same room with Beth was like watching a scorpion crawl over a baby’s face. The horror of it made his jaw go slack.

  But of course the soldier was oblivious to it, for he hadn’t yet received those orders and had no idea what was in store for them all. He gazed blandly about the room, obviously not impressed with the accommodations, but not surprised by them, either. He addressed Beth in Gaelic.

  She nodded toward the byre door and replied in a tone that Nick took for rudeness even allowing for Beth’s blithe, straightforward nature. Nick guessed she’d just told the soldier to sleep with the cattle, a theory supported by the dark flush and pressed lips of Private Campbell and his buddy Duncan.

  Campbell said, “We’ll put our bedrolls here,” and he indicated Nick’s customary spot by the fire. Nick let it go. He didn’t care which patch of dirt floor he slept on, and figured he’d place himself between those guys and Beth’s bunk.

  “Well, then,” said Sergeant Buy. “I’ll leave you folks to acquaint
yourselves.”

  Nick threw him a glance, for the sarcasm was thick in the soldier’s voice. Nick wanted Liam Campbell as far away from Beth as possible, and the urge to throw both these young Redcoats out on their ears was maddening. He took deep breaths as Buy turned and left. Then he stared at young Campbell and Muirhead, who gazed back without expression. There was nothing to say. So Nick took a seat near the table and said to Beth, “Give me the stone, and I’ll sharpen that old knife for you.”

  She handed him the whetstone and the kitchen knife that had rusted nearly beyond hope when it had been left outside by Dùghall. Nick and Beth ignored the soldiers as they went about their work, though Nick watched Campbell carefully from the corner of his eye.

  That coat was so red! Nick hadn’t thought such an intense color could exist in this century, but the thing was as bright as a fire engine. The soldiers set their knapsacks on the floor beneath the wall pegs and removed their baldrics and weapons to hang them. Campbell’s movements were steady. Careful. Measured. One thing at a time. Little notice of the other people in the room, but also doing little to attract notice to himself. Making little noise, and not getting in anyone’s way. His musket he leaned against the wall, and a long, thin bayonet he removed from his belt and tucked into his gear on the floor. Then he removed his gloves to slip them under his belt, pulled a rickety wooden chair to the fire, and sat staring into it and warming himself. He held out his hands to the flame and rubbed them together a little. Muirhead rolled out his blankets by the fire and sat on them to do the same.

  Just make yourselves at home, guys.

  Nick ran the cleaned and oiled kitchen blade over the stone, and toyed with the idea of plunging it into Campbell’s neck. It would have been easy enough. The soldier was within reach. One stroke, a single stab, and it would be done. He could see himself doing it, and in his mind the image was strong. The only downside of the killing he could see was that his own life would be forfeit. But Beth would live. It would be worth his life for her to survive. The knife felt warm in his hand as he turned the idea over and over in his thoughts.

  But—bottom line—killing Campbell would also be wrong. The kid hadn’t yet done anything, and there was still a chance to keep him from it.

  Nick hoped.

  Chapter 17

  Beth knew well how to hate. She’d been taught all her life to despise Campbells, for they were unprincipled, thieving, and high-handed. Entirely too full of themselves, and each one more vile than the last. They stole MacDonald cattle and hanged MacDonald men with impunity, for Iain Glas Campbell of Breadalbane was well connected with the Crown. Argyll as well. It was to the clan’s great discomfort that Alasdair Og had married a Campbell, and she the niece of Glenlyon, the man who commanded the Redcoats now billeted in Inverrigan.

  Now Beth eyed the young Campbell with intense disgust and wished him gone. Preparing supper, she hated he would be nourished by it, and afterward she hated to touch his plate and spoon to clean them. Instead she left the soldiers’ things on the table, and they cleaned up after themselves without comment.

  Nick watched her with a discreet frown, but she only frowned back at him. Nobody could force her to like a Campbell, even less a Campbell she’d been told would kill her as soon as the opportunity presented itself. It was all she could do to not spit on him each time he came near.

  The Campbell regiment settled in at the villages in Glencoe, and the private soldiers in the house of Seòras MacDonald behaved themselves. Campbell was a quiet lad, to the point of rudeness, always watching and rarely speaking. Conversation was stilted whenever he was present. The week was difficult. With yet two more sets of eyes in the house there was no opportunity to be with Nick, to speak to him or even glance at him for more than a fleeting moment. She missed the warmth of him, the sound of his breathing at night near her ear, his kisses and his smiles. The way his voice came from his chest and not his throat when he was close to her. The way he filled her, the way he caressed her as Gòrdan never had. As Gòrdan never even had tried.

  So her heart leapt the day she was tending livestock in the byre and Nick slipped through the door with a growing smile on his face.

  “They’re all out on the pasture, playing that game.”

  “Shinty?” She went to his arms.

  “I guess.” His voice sounded distracted, and he didn’t seem to care any more about the game than she did. Not then, in any case, for he drew her to him and kissed her long and hard. “I miss you,” he murmured, and the words came straight from the heart deep within his chest. Low and soft.

  “Here,” she said. “See this.” She took his hand and guided it to her belly. He felt of the firm curve of it beneath her skirt, and his smile widened.

  “You’re showing. Oh, man, you’re showing!” A light, joyful laugh burbled from him. He held her against himself and pressed here and there the slight roundness between her hips.

  “Only just,” she said. “But now is the time I would have told you, had you not already guessed.”

  “Shame on any man who would have to be told this late in the game.”

  “Men can be unobservant.” Most men were, she knew, and it was to her unending delight that Nick was so aware of her.

  Nick chuckled, then kissed her. “It’s killing me to sleep away from you.”

  “My father would kill you, did you not, and my brother would race him to it.”

  “I want to marry you immediately.” She opened her mouth to agree, and he added, “Before the twelfth.”

  Then she knew he meant before she might die, and sickness filled her gut. “There’s no priest for it so soon.”

  “Then an informal ceremony. A... one of those handfastings.”

  “A Neacail...” Disappointment colored her voice.

  “To hold us until we can be married more formally.” She hoped he meant in the Church, but then he added, “When we get home we’ll still have the wedding as we planned.”

  “Will we be even able to return there?”

  He tucked a bit of stray hair back into her kerchief, then ran his thumb over her jaw. “I don’t know. I’m going to try to find a way. But even if I can, we don’t know how long we’re going to be stuck here, and Seòras and Dùghall will want to kill me in a couple of months anyway if I don’t talk your dad into giving me your hand.”

  “They won’t like you much for a suitor. Ye’ve got no money, no property, and no prospects other than to take me away over the sea.”

  A wry smile lifted a corner of his mouth. “Gee, you make a guy feel wanted.”

  “’Tis how my father will see it, and he surely doesnae care who I love. He’ll see you as a man wanting to take me away so he and Dùghall will be required to do for themselves or marry. And there is my dowry I would take with me.”

  “Dowry? Really?”

  “Three of these cattle are mine. They were five, but Gòrdan was a poor husband of them as well as myself.”

  Nick chuckled and looked over the byre crowded with black shapes. “You come fully equipped with cows?”

  That made her laugh, but she hugged him and said, “Only if my father allows our marriage.”

  “I’ll convince him.”

  “And if that Fionn Coigreach declines to send us back to your time?”

  “I’ll think of something. I’ll figure it out.”

  Her voice went soft. “And if I’m murdered as ye say?”

  A great lot of air oofed from him of a sudden, and he struggled to breathe for a moment. Then he replied, “Won’t happen. I won’t let it. I’ll kill him first.”

  Beth wished for the soldier to do something to cause Nick to kill him. It was difficult to imagine Nick killing anyone, but Beth knew every man had it in him if pressed hard enough “How will you do all this?”

  “I’ll find a way. Just trust me. I’ll figure it out. You trust me, don’t you?”

  She smiled. “Aye, I do.” Then she kissed him, but knew all of a man’s intentions were for naught if fat
e would be against him.

  After the shinty game there was a gathering at the white house, and some of the soldiers attended. Beth didn’t wish to go, but Nick insisted and so they all went. The regiment commander, Captain Robert Campbell of Glenlyon, was billeted with the Inverrigan tacksman, so in this house there was little talk and a great deal of music and storytelling. Quite naturally, stories of MacIain conflicts with Campbells were put by the wayside for a time, and the atmosphere in the room was light. Superficial. Nobody said much of what was on everyone’s mind, and in that way the peace was kept.

  All through the evening, Nick gazed at Beth from across the room. Every time she looked over at him, he was already staring at her with the deep, dark eyes of a calf. And when her own eyes looked in his direction he smiled. She glanced away, and wondered what he might be up to. She knew that look.

  As the storytelling ended and sleepy children were bundled off to their homes, Nick came to Beth while there were still a number of folks chatting near the fire. He took her hand, knelt, then sat on his heels before her.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Forcing the issue.” He kissed her hand, and all eyes were upon them. “Smile.”

  She obliged.

  “I wish for everyone here to know my intentions.” His voice rose enough for those around him to hear, but not so loud as to be anything other than conversation. “I love you and I want to marry you.”

  Her smile widened, and joy fluttered in her. The women sitting near her leaned forward, tensing to know what she would say. Her spinning mind also wondered exactly how she would respond, and she took a moment to compose those thoughts. Then she said more formally, perhaps, than she might have without an audience, “I assure you, mo caraid, the love is mutual and I will marry you with the approval of my father.” She kissed him, right there in front of most of their village and half of the next. When she looked into his face his smile was bright, but the eyes held a touch of wariness. They’d done it now, and there was no going back.