now that the babe has come?"
Neil nodded his head vigorously, his reddish-blond hair
glistening in the warm sunshine. "Mama says as the oldest, I make a fine
man o' the house!"
Madeleine felt a rush of pity but gave no note of it in
her voice. "And right she is, Neil Chrystie," she agreed heartily as
she flipped aside the linen cloth and reached into the basket. She pulled out a
white tissue-wrapped packet and handed it to the boy. " 'Tis fresh from
Glenis's kitchen. Mind ye, remember to save some for yer brothers."
Neil hastily tore away the paper, his small face
splitting into a wide grin as he revealed the sweet treasures. He bit eagerly
into a thick square of tablet candy studded with sugared walnuts. Munching
happily, he suddenly remembered his manners. "Thank ye, Maddie," he
managed, his mouth full to bursting. Thanks to the English is more the truth of
it, Madeleine thought, walking toward the neat stone cottage. She had found the
unexpected surprise of a large bag of walnuts in one of the supply wagons
stolen earlier in the week.
Aye, it had been a most successful raid. Almost
perfect, except for the shooting. She had never shot a man before. Yet she did
not regret her action. She had done what was necessary to protect her kinsman,
and she would gladly do it again if she had to.
Och, dinna think of the blasted redcoats, she scolded
herself, or 'twill ruin yer outing for sure. She thought instead of what had
transpired that day, and her sense of pleasure swiftly returned.
She had had a wonderful morning paying calls on the
villagers in Farraline, especially the widows of Culloden and their children.
The well-fed, contented faces that had greeted her at every turn were a reward
more precious than gold. The stocked pantries and bubbling stew pots further
gladdened her heart and heightened her belief that she had done the right
thing.
Madeleine stopped and rapped several times at the stout
wooden door of the cottage. "Flora? 'Tis Maddie." A lilting voice
called out for her to enter. She had to duck her head as she stepped through
the low doorway.
Her eyes quickly adjusted to the dim light in the
one-room cottage, a stark contrast to the bright sunshine outside. The simple
cottages of the clansmen were known as black houses because most of them could
not afford glass for windows and used sacking instead. The peat fire in the
middle of the room cast a welcome glow, its smoke curling through a hole in the
thatched roof.
" 'Tis good of ye to visit, Maddie," Flora
said. She began to rise from a chair set beside the cradle, but Madeleine waved
her back down.
"Rest yerself, Flora. Ye dinna have to get up on
my account," she said, placing the basket on a table. She walked quietly
to the cradle and knelt in front of it, heedless of the dirt floor.
"Oh, she's a wee darlin'," Madeleine said
admiringly, gazing at the cherubic face of the tiny infant who was barely one
week old. A tuft of pale hair peeked from beneath a fleecy cap, and she
couldn't resist reaching out and stroking the silken strands. Her hand brushed
against the smooth magic stone placed beside the babe's pillow to ward off
witches. It was a heathen custom in a Christian land, yet no Highland mother
would do without it. "Have ye decided upon a name?" she asked.
"Mary Rose," Flora replied. "After my
dead Neil's mother."
Madeleine glanced up at the young woman and met her sad
eyes. " 'Tis a bonnie name for the lass, Flora," she said. "Neil
would have been pleased by yer choice."
"Aye."
A silence borne of a common sorrow fell between them.
Madeleine sighed as she looked down at the sleeping infant. She had always
loved children. She marveled at the babe's tightly curled fists and her pink,
pouting lips. A trail of milk was dried on her petal-soft cheek.
She noticed a slight movement in another corner of the
room. Twin boys lay napping on a pallet in a tangle of plump limbs and tousled
red hair. How fortunate Flora was, she thought, despite the loss of
Neil nodded his head vigorously, his reddish-blond hair
glistening in the warm sunshine. "Mama says as the oldest, I make a fine
man o' the house!"
Madeleine felt a rush of pity but gave no note of it in
her voice. "And right she is, Neil Chrystie," she agreed heartily as
she flipped aside the linen cloth and reached into the basket. She pulled out a
white tissue-wrapped packet and handed it to the boy. " 'Tis fresh from
Glenis's kitchen. Mind ye, remember to save some for yer brothers."
Neil hastily tore away the paper, his small face
splitting into a wide grin as he revealed the sweet treasures. He bit eagerly
into a thick square of tablet candy studded with sugared walnuts. Munching
happily, he suddenly remembered his manners. "Thank ye, Maddie," he
managed, his mouth full to bursting. Thanks to the English is more the truth of
it, Madeleine thought, walking toward the neat stone cottage. She had found the
unexpected surprise of a large bag of walnuts in one of the supply wagons
stolen earlier in the week.
Aye, it had been a most successful raid. Almost
perfect, except for the shooting. She had never shot a man before. Yet she did
not regret her action. She had done what was necessary to protect her kinsman,
and she would gladly do it again if she had to.
Och, dinna think of the blasted redcoats, she scolded
herself, or 'twill ruin yer outing for sure. She thought instead of what had
transpired that day, and her sense of pleasure swiftly returned.
She had had a wonderful morning paying calls on the
villagers in Farraline, especially the widows of Culloden and their children.
The well-fed, contented faces that had greeted her at every turn were a reward
more precious than gold. The stocked pantries and bubbling stew pots further
gladdened her heart and heightened her belief that she had done the right
thing.
Madeleine stopped and rapped several times at the stout
wooden door of the cottage. "Flora? 'Tis Maddie." A lilting voice
called out for her to enter. She had to duck her head as she stepped through
the low doorway.
Her eyes quickly adjusted to the dim light in the
one-room cottage, a stark contrast to the bright sunshine outside. The simple
cottages of the clansmen were known as black houses because most of them could
not afford glass for windows and used sacking instead. The peat fire in the
middle of the room cast a welcome glow, its smoke curling through a hole in the
thatched roof.
" 'Tis good of ye to visit, Maddie," Flora
said. She began to rise from a chair set beside the cradle, but Madeleine waved
her back down.
"Rest yerself, Flora. Ye dinna have to get up on
my account," she said, placing the basket on a table. She walked quietly
to the cradle and knelt in front of it, heedless of the dirt floor.
"Oh, she's a wee darlin'," Madeleine said
admiringly, gazing at the cherubic face of the tiny infant who was barely one
week old. A tuft of pale hair peeked from beneath a fleecy cap, and she
couldn't resist reaching out and stroking the silken strands. Her hand brushed
against the smooth magic stone placed beside the babe's pillow to ward off
witches. It was a heathen custom in a Christian land, yet no Highland mother
would do without it. "Have ye decided upon a name?" she asked.
"Mary Rose," Flora replied. "After my
dead Neil's mother."
Madeleine glanced up at the young woman and met her sad
eyes. " 'Tis a bonnie name for the lass, Flora," she said. "Neil
would have been pleased by yer choice."
"Aye."
A silence borne of a common sorrow fell between them.
Madeleine sighed as she looked down at the sleeping infant. She had always
loved children. She marveled at the babe's tightly curled fists and her pink,
pouting lips. A trail of milk was dried on her petal-soft cheek.
She noticed a slight movement in another corner of the
room. Twin boys lay napping on a pallet in a tangle of plump limbs and tousled
red hair. How fortunate Flora was, she thought, despite the loss of
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