Page 60 of The Last Debutante
When he had gone, Jamie grabbed Daria’s hand and they flew down the hill and up the path. They reached the horses just as Mamie appeared on the path before them.
Mamie cried out in fright, clamping her hand over her heart. “Who’s there?” Then she suddenly dropped her hand.“Daria?”
Eighteen
“MAMIE!” DARIA SAIDbreathlessly, stepping forward. “What are you doing here? We were just on our way to see you.”
“I... I was having a walkabout,” the old woman said nervously as she eyed Jamie.
“Mrs. Moss,” he said, giving her a curt nod.
“You look to have recovered well,” she said, her gaze flicking over him.
“Aye, I have. Surprised, are you?”
“Mamie,” Daria said, moving between her and Jamie, “how do you fare? I’ve been so worried about you.”
“Me? Oh, my darling, it is I who have worried foryou.Have they treated you well? Have they fed you, given you a proper place to sleep?”
A proper place? Jamie refrained from pointing out to the old witch that the accommodations at Dundavie were far superior to any she had offered.
“Yes, I have been treated very well. Did you not receive my letter?”
Mrs. Moss blinked. “I did!” she said, as if just remembering it. “Yes, yes I did.”
Daria looked perplexed. “Then why did you not send a note in reply?”
“That’s very simple, darling,” she said as she fidgeted with her cloak. “I haven’t pencil or paper. And I thought the money would come soon enough, and you’d be back. Why are you dressed in that fashion?”
Daria glanced down, apparently having forgotten she was wearing pantaloons.
The old woman glared at Jamie. “What have you done? Why is she made to go about in this manner?”
“I am dressed this way for riding,” Daria said. “It’s a treacherous path over the hills and I couldn’t manage it sidesaddle.”
But Mrs. Moss was still glaring at Jamie. He returned her look with an impatient one of his own. “Once again, Mrs. Moss, you seem to think I am the one who means harm, when all the evidence points to the contrary.”
“Shall we go on to your cottage?” Daria said quickly. “The laird has brought you some fish.”
Jamie jerked his gaze to Daria; she smiled at him, her hand subtly touching his. He could see what she was about—she would tread carefully to tease something out of the old bag of bones. But give away his fish? He looked at the basket he’d left on the river’s edge and sighed.
“I don’t need fish,” Mrs. Moss said ungratefully. “I need flour. I’ve no money for flour.”
“But... I brought you a banknote from my father,” Daria said.
“Times are hard, Daria. A coin doesn’t go as far as it once did.”
“Let us have some tea and talk a bit, shall we?” Daria gently suggested.
“All right, I suppose.” Mrs. Moss ran a hand over her unruly hair. She sounded unhappy at the prospect of receiving them but walked on, her old boots striking loudly against the rocks on the path. Daria exchanged a look with Jamie as she gathered her horse’s reins and walked alongside her grandmother.
Jamie returned the fishing gear to the clan’s hiding place, then whistled for Niall and followed behind them, his mood effectively darkened.
AT FIRST GLANCEthe cottage appeared just as it had the week he’d been practically entombed here. But as Jamie dipped his head to step inside, something felt different. He couldn’t put his finger on what it was.
Daria had removed her coat and was helping the witch put a pot over the fire, asking questions. The sight of her derriere in the pantaloons distracted Jamie so much, it was a feat of mental strength to keep his thoughts on Mrs. Moss and the strange goings-on.
“Here, then, the water is hot,” Mrs. Moss said when the water had boiled. “Let’s drink up, shall we? I haven’t much time—I am to Nairn this afternoon.”
