High on a Mountain (4 page)

He thought of a reply. “No, brother, you were
too dumb to avoid getting cornered and caught. I, on the other
hand, am too smart to succumb to female wiles. Besides, there are
things I want to do before I get myself entangled with a
woman.”

Raghnall laughed. “I love these drives. Being
with the two of you for a few weeks is more amusement than I get
the rest of the year.”

Ailean saw his father had stopped and stood
to the side of the herd as it passed, waiting for his sons to reach
him. When they drew near, Aodh said, “Ailean, I think you need to
walk up by the lead steer. Looks like he may be wanting to balk
again.”

“All right, Da.” Ailean trotted to the front
of the herd.

He walked alongside the lead steer, singing
and enjoying the scenery as the trail neared Loch Lomond. The track
made an abrupt turn around the foot of a hill, and ahead of the
herd, he saw a flock of small Highland sheep. A red-haired girl was
herding them across the trail toward the loch shore.

The sheep saw the cattle coming and ran in
alarm. Some of them continued in the direction they were being
driven but the others ran back the way they had come, despite the
frantic efforts of the girl. Ailean sprinted to her side to help
her. Together, they drove all the sheep across the trail before the
lead steer reached them.

“Thank you,” the girl said as she looked up
at him with the most brilliant blue eyes he’d ever seen. “I…I
sometimes bring them down to this glen to graze. I didn’t expect…”
Her voice trailed off as she lowered her gaze and took a step
backward.

“I…we-we’ve never…come this way…be-before,”
he stammered, overwhelmed by a rush of unfamiliar feelings and
unable to think or speak coherently.

The girl didn’t reply, and he searched for
something else to say to her, anything that would make her look at
him with those eyes once more.

“This is…it’s our first drive to…to
Dumbarton. We usually go to Crieff,” he said.

She still didn’t say anything, kept her eyes
lowered and backed farther away.

“I’m sorry we scared your sheep.”

She looked up at him again, and a shy smile
brightened her face. “Thank you for…helping me.”

He brushed his long, reddish-brown hair back
from his face and tugged the right side of his bonnet lower.
Delicious emotions flowed through him, lifted the corners of his
mouth and spread a foolish grin across his lips.

“Ailean!” his father called, and he
remembered he had a job to do.

“Goodbye,” he said and ran back to the herd,
looking over his shoulder at the red-haired girl.

____________

“Your idea was a good one, Aodh,” Gabhran
said with a smile, putting his money into his
sporan
.
“Eachann Cambeul will never get a coin from
me
again.

“Aye,” Boisil agreed. “I wonder what he’ll
think when he doesn’t get his crossing money from us this
year.”

All the men laughed at the thought of having
outwitted Eachann and Latharn.

They left Dumbarton as soon as the sale of
their cattle was complete that afternoon. They were unwilling to
spend more time than necessary among the Lowlanders, who viewed the
poor Highlanders, barefoot and dressed in tunics and
féileadh-mòr
, with contempt. The men chose a more direct but
rougher route for the homeward journey, since they didn’t have
cattle to consider.

Except for Ailean and Coinneach.

“I don’t know why I let you talk me into
coming back this way,” Coinneach grumbled. “I could have been home
by now if I’d gone with the others.”

“You know you came along so you could be free
a little while longer.”

Coinneach gave his younger brother a mock
punch on the arm, and they both laughed.

When they neared the place where he’d met the
red-haired girl, Ailean slowed his pace as he scanned the area on
both sides of the trail. When he spotted her in the glen below, he
stopped and stared.

“Ah. Now I know why you had me come this
long, weary way. Why are you standing there? Go see if she would
welcome a word from you.” Coinneach gave Ailean a little shove and
sat on the grass beside the trail to wait.

Ailean’s steps slowed as he neared the girl.
He didn’t know what he should say, what he should do. He only knew
this was the loveliest girl he’d ever seen, and he was drawn to
her. The mere thought of her aroused feelings in Ailean he couldn’t
quell.

The sheep watched him approach, looking as if
they were ready to run. Their wariness alerted the girl to his
presence, and she turned toward him, alarm widening her eyes. She
took a step away from him, and Ailean thought she might take flight
at any moment.

Ailean stopped and said, “Please, don’t be
afraid. I mean you no harm.”

She didn’t run, but her posture told Ailean
that any small thing could send her scurrying away.

“Don’t you remember me? I helped you with
your sheep a couple of weeks ago.”

A look of recognition flitted across her
face, and her shoulders, drawn tight, loosened, and she relaxed a
bit.

“My name is Ailean MacLachlainn.”

She dropped her gaze from him, stared down at
her feet, and her shoulders began to lose their hunched look. She
clasped her hands and began twisting her fingers together, still
not raising her eyes nor speaking.

“I just wanted to tell you again that I’m
sorry our cattle caused problems with your sheep.” He rubbed first
one foot, then the other, across the rough grass.

“Thank you,” she mumbled.

“I’ve told you my name. What’s yours?”

She glanced at him. “Mùirne…MacPhàrlain,” she
lied.

“Mùirne? That’s a lovely name.”

She blushed, smiled at him and lowered her
gaze again.

“So, do you live near here, Mùirne?”

She nodded, keeping her eyes lowered.

Ailean took one step closer to her and she
glanced up again, the blazing blue of her eyes causing Ailean to
catch his breath.

“Do you mind if I come to see you again,
Mùirne?”

“I…I don’t mind,” she said and turned her
eyes toward the ground once more.

“I have to go. My brother is waiting for me.”
He gestured toward Coinneach. But he made no move to leave.

Mùirne raised her gaze to meet his, and he
noticed the sprinkling of small freckles across her nose and
cheeks. She was so delicate and fragile, so small and defenseless.
He looked again into her eyes that were bluer than the sky above
her head, and he was totally captivated.

“I have to go now, but I’ll be back, Mùirne
MacPhàrlain.”

FOUR

Mùirne herded the sheep into the byre for the
night and fastened the gate. She wandered to the hearth and took
her seat, sitting on the edge of the chair, hands clasped in her
lap. Suppertime and the hours following it were her least favorite
time of the day.

Grandma and Granda MacPhàrlain sat on their
chairs on the other side of the fire. Her mother dipped a bowl of
stew from the iron pot for each of them and handed around slices of
bread. Mùirne devoured her food. She wanted to be done with it and
leave the warmth of the hearth for her bed, where she could pull
the covers over her head against the terrors of the darkness.

“Hello, the house!” a voice called from
outside.

A chill of recognition swept over Mùirne.
No, not him!

Grandma smiled, gave Mùirne a knowing look
and rose from her chair. She went to the worktable, laid her bread
and bowl on it and hurried to the door. She straightened her
clothing, tucked a stray strand of gray hair under her curtch, and
raised the bar. She invited Latharn Cambeul in.

“Good evening,” he said, his voice as smooth
and soft as new-made butter, a polite smile affixed to his face. He
inclined his head in a slight bow.

“Please, sit,” Grandma said, gesturing to her
chair.

Mùirne’s stomach roiled, and she almost
retched. She wanted to run to her bed and hide under the covers but
hadn’t the strength to stand. And she knew from past experience
that Grandma would drag her back to her chair, make her endure the
presence of this…this…Cambeul.

Latharn exchanged pleasantries with her
mother and grandparents. He complimented them, ingratiated himself
further with them, then turned his attention to Mùirne. She kept
her eyes averted, wouldn’t meet his. She couldn’t bring herself to
look into his eyes, didn’t want to see past the thin veneer of
civility that covered his face like a mask and hid a mass of
ugliness beneath it.

She looked sideways at Grandma as her breaths
came faster. How could Grandma not see? How could she not know? How
could she insist that Mùirne’s future lay with this…Cambeul? Didn’t
she know that a life with him would be a living death for her
granddaughter?

The answer came as she saw a glint of greed
in Grandma’s eyes when they rested on Latharn. The money. Grandma
was impressed with Latharn’s wealth, with his fine clothes, his
genteel manners. Mùirne gagged.

____________

Ailean took his bonnet and sword from their
pegs by the door. He raised the bar, taking care to make no noise
that would rouse his family. He slipped outside into the early
morning darkness and pulled the door shut behind him. The cold wind
off Loch Fyne slapped the pleats of his féileadh-mòr about his bare
legs, and he shivered.

He paused long enough to strap on his sword
and put on his bonnet, then started loping with long strides toward
the east, toward Loch Lomond and Mùirne. He knew the way by heart
now, having traveled it often during the weeks since he’d met
Mùirne, and he hurried through the darkness over the rugged
terrain. The sooner he reached her side, the more time he’d have to
spend with her.

Ailean was well-aware of the danger in
traveling through the Highlands alone, but he disregarded the risk.
He didn’t ask anyone to accompany him because he wanted to be alone
with Mùirne.

____________

Mùirne’s waking thoughts were of little else
but Ailean. At night before she fell asleep, she remembered and
relived every word he said, every look he gave her. She thought of
what she would say, what she would do, the next time she saw him.
Mùirne imagined what it would be like to have him hold her hand,
and she daydreamed about laying her head on his shoulder. But when
he was there beside her, fear kept her silent and withdrawn.

“Well, I think I’ve told you everything there
is to tell about myself. I’ve even told you all about my family,”
Ailean said one afternoon. “But you still haven’t told me much
about yourself.”

A tiny fear trickled down Mùirne’s backbone,
but she didn’t allow it to show. She was accustomed to hiding her
feelings. She shrugged. “There’s not much to tell.”

“There has to be more than what you’ve told
me. Which is nothing.”

She shrugged again.

“Maybe I’ll find out more by asking
questions. How many brothers and sisters do you have?”

“I have two sisters.”

“Are they older or younger than you?”

“Older. They’re both married.”

“Ah, now that’s better. At least I know one
thing about you. You’re a younger sister.”

The big ewe moved closer to the woods, and
the other sheep trailed after her. Mùirne got to her feet and
started after the ewe, glad to have an excuse to end the
questioning. But Ailean followed.

“Where is your house? I’ve never even met
your mother and father.”

“My father is…dead.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

Ailean was silent for a few moments, as
though he didn’t know what to say next. He walked along beside her
as she turned the sheep away from the woods.

“I suppose I’d better start for home,” he
said.

Mùirne turned to face him. “Do you have to go
so soon?”

“Are you sure you want me to stay? We don’t
seem to have much to talk about.”

“Please stay.”

Ailean’s presence always brought an
assuredness of safety and gave Mùirne an opportunity to relax. And
she liked the rare sense of closeness to another person that
enveloped her when they sat together, the feeling that she wasn’t
alone in the world anymore.

Once, his hand brushed hers as he sat beside
her, and Mùirne longed for the time he would touch her again. A
feeling of tenderness toward him was growing, too, and she worried
about his safety when he traveled home each time he left her
side.

She had not yet told him about Latharn
Cambeul.

____________

One morning, Ailean found Mùirne and the
sheep in the little glen that bordered the drovers’ trail where
they first met. He took his sword off, laid it on the ground near a
small tree and sat close beside her, his shoulder touching hers.
They talked a while and fell silent, each enjoying the physical
nearness of the other.

A man on horseback came riding toward them
from the trail. When Mùirne caught sight of him, she moved away
from Ailean so that their shoulders were no longer touching. Ailean
glanced at her with a question in his eyes. He looked back at the
man. It was Latharn Cambeul.

Latharn neared the spot where they sat,
dismounted and sauntered over to stand in front of them. When he
saw the person sitting with Mùirne was Ailean MacLachlainn, his
smile disappeared. He planted his feet and put his hands on his
hips.

“What are you doing sitting here with this
MacLachlainn?” he asked, an angry edge to his voice.

Mùirne looked at the ground and began
twisting her
airisaid
around her fingers. Her breathing
became panting.

“And what is it to you if I sit here with
her?” Ailean asked.

“That’s my woman you’re sitting with. I don’t
like it.”

Ailean looked at Mùirne. “Is this true? Are
you his woman?”