Page 2 of The Highlander's Twisted Deal
Elsie sighed. She turned back to face her friend, and Ava hated how exhausted she looked. There were purplish bags under her eyes, the signs of restless nights and no sleep.
“I mean that I cannae find work. Niamh is so kind, she’d never reproach me, but I need to bring in money. In the five years since… since ye left, there’s nay work for me. I tried going back into service, but Laird MacCarthy’s seen to it that nobody will hire me. Not even the farmers dare give me a few coins for a day’s work.”
There was an edge to her voice, something bitter and resigned. The current Laird MacCarthy hadn’t exacted his revenge on Elsie—evenhehad to admit that she had been wronged by the old Laird—but it seemed that he still blamed her for what had happened.
The Laird had made no effort to drag Elsie and Niamh into the Keep in order to find Ava’s whereabouts—not that Ava had been so stupid as to tell them—but they knew there were limits to what they could do. If Elsie and Niamh were foolish enough to visit her or try to leave the clan, they would be followed and executed. All three of them.
“Ye shouldnae have come, Ava,” Elsie said, her voice soft. “The Laird thought he’d have ye by now. He’s getting angrier and angrier. Ye are going to get caught, then that will be the end.”
Ava shook her head. “He willnae catch me. I’m careful.”
“Aye, so ye are, but one mistake—or even a bit of bad luck—is all it takes. It’s nae that I dinnae like to see ye, but…”
“Well, that’s what it sounds like,” Ava snapped, a little more sharply than she’d intended to.
Elsie flinched, looking wounded, and Ava avoided her gaze.
“I’m sorry,” Ava muttered. “It’s just… it’s just been a long way. A hard journey, and it’s rained all the way, and I miss ye all so much, and it hurts that I cannae come home.”
Elsie sank into the seat opposite, snaking her hand across the table. She took Ava’s hand in hers, squeezing gently. “It’s all me fault,” she whispered. “I think about it all the time.”
“Elsie, nay. Ye mustnae.”
“Nay, I do. I think about how different things would have been if I hadnae gone to ye that night, if I’d kept quiet. I’m sorry, Ava. Ye did what ye did because of me.”
“Forye, not because of ye,” Ava corrected. “For all of ye. The women who went before and the ones that would have come after. I dinnae regret it, not for an instant. Besides, ye have more than repaid me by living here and taking care of me Ma. It does me good to ken that she is here with ye. It’s like she has another daughter.”
This didn’t seem to reassure Elsie. “Laird MacCarthy isnae a man to be mocked,” she began. “He’s clever, and…” she trailed off, her eyes widening.
Ava heard it, too—footsteps approaching the door. They both fell silent, holding their breaths.
“The door,” Ava whispered as quietly as possible. “Is it locked?”
Elsie shook her head wordlessly.
They heard the latch click, and the hinges squeak. Ava rose slowly to her feet, reaching for the knife at her belt.
Then, a woman in her late forties stepped into the hall, her graying brown hair tied back in a lopsided knot. She wore a green-brown cloak, ideal for blending into the forest, and had a healer’s belt, with all its bags and pouches, tied around her hips.
She turned to face them, lifting her hands to undo the laces of her cloak, and froze when she saw Ava.
“Ma,” Ava said, breaking out into a relieved smile.
“Ava, me wee darling!” Niamh gasped, holding out her arms.
Ava went running into her mother’s arms, a child again, and buried her face in her shoulder.
As she remembered, Niamh smelled of lavender and sage, her cloak smelling of crushed grass and wet earth.
Abruptly, Niamh let go, pushing Ava back by the shoulders and casting an experienced, incisive eye over her.
“Ye look tired,” she pronounced. “And thin. Oh, lassie, I’ve missed ye. How long has it been since we saw ye last? Close to a year, I think. Ten months, perhaps? Oh, I’m glad to see ye, glad to see ye! Elsie, love, put on the kettle… oh, ye already have. Never mind. Well, well, Ava, how have ye been?”
Ava smiled tiredly, letting the babble wash over her. Niamh seemed to age more every time Ava saw her and far more than she should have. Ava tried not to dwell on it too much.
In the background, Elsie bustled about the kitchen, making it plain that this was her home, and she was comfortable in it. Ava felt, just for an instant, that she was the guest here—an uninvited one, at that—and Elsie was the daughter of the house.
It was not a pleasant thought and not one Ava wanted to entertain. There was no helping the fact she couldn’t come home. No helping the fact she could only snatch a day’s visit every ten months if that.
