The Highlander's Time

Thomas promised.
    She watched all of them nod. “Thank you all for your help.” Tears dripped from her cheeks once more. Worn out from the past day, she bowed her head. “I know I'm difficult right now, but I'll make you proud of me someday. I promise.”
    “Meg, see your lady to her room. Elspeth and Malcolm, I'd have you join me,” Father Thomas said.
    “What will we do for her? The poor lass is at her limit.”
    Jenny heard Elspeth say that before she entered her chamber. “Tell them not to worry about me.” The stock response had overstayed its welcome.
    “Aye, milady. I will.”
    “I think I'll sit by the fire for a little while.” Sticking to very simple sentences, Jenny sat down heavily in the wooden chair. Chilled and dealing with the fact Lila had to want to get through her misery, she scrubbed her hands up and down her arms, wondering what the future held for her. Could she give up on being the 'go-to' girl? Did she have a choice?
    The defining answer was—no.
    “As you wish, milady.” Meg hurried across the room. She snatched the blanket from the foot of the bed and covered Jenny with it. “I'll fetch you some tea. A nice bracing cup always does wonders for me, milady.”
    “That's a wonderful idea. I'd love some.”

    ***

    “Graham Kincaid, come out here, you stubborn old fool. The river is nigh at your doorstep.”
    Iaen listened to Patricia Kincaid shout at the cottage. The good news was the rain had stopped pouring from the heavens. It now fell as a light drizzle which froze upon the blades of grass and coated the barren tree limbs with ice. The other side of the coin was the river continued to rise. “Patricia, get yourself and your family to the Keep afore you freeze,” he ordered the widow in a no-argument-allowed tone. “Think of your children, lass, afore you call my command an act of charity.”
    She bobbed a curtsy. Calling her family forward, she started walking up the muddy trail, seven of her children trailing her while her youngest rode on her mama's hip.
    “Kevin, hurry ahead and inform Lady Jenny to expect visitors.” Iaen turned to the ramshackle cottage. His thoughts refocused on what had brought him to the river bank. The levies were failing and, with the loss of the earthen walls, more families were facing grave danger. 'Twas now a mass evacuation instead of being restricted to the few cottages in the low lying areas. “Order all other refugees who have not a place to sleep to the Great Hall.”
    A frigid blast of wind coming from the north reminded him winter was upon them. Before long, the snows would swirl and the ground freeze hard. And his people, like most other of the Highland Clans, would retreat behind closed doors until spring. His clan was better off than many, but the loss of precious food stores would tax even the mighty Kincaids.
    “Have you come to badger me, too, Iaen Kincaid?”
    A small smile played at the corners of Iaen's lips. Only Graham would refuse to call him Laird. The grin slid away. “I come to care for my clansmen, Graham. You too are welcome in my home if that is your wish.” He stared at the grizzled warrior standing shakily in the doorway. Age showed in the deep wrinkles etching furrows in Graham's face. The pale pallor bleaching Graham's skin and the dark circles shadowing his eyes were impossible to disregard. His tunic hung on his skinny frame.
    He was in the twilight of his waning days.
    “My wish is for you to leave me alone, Kincaid.” He turned away, but for only a second. “I'd have you fulfill your sire's promise, Kincaid. I wish to be buried in the village of my birth.”
    “Fine, my friend.” Iaen turned on the heel of his boot and strode to his stallion. He gathered the reins. His gaze returned to the door. Watching it swing shut, he stiffened his shoulders as he gained his saddle. “Goodbye, Graham.” He clenched his teeth until a muscle jumped in his jaw. “May God have mercy on your soul.”
    Wheeling the stallion around, he kicked his warhorse into a cantor and headed north. He caught a glimpse of Castle Kincaid out of his peripheral vision. His thoughts turned to his naive wife. Aye, he regretted tricking Jenny, but there was nay help for it. Father Thomas agreed with his decision to wed the lass though the ecumenical man was loathe to perform a Catholic ceremony. Uncertain if she was baptized into the church, they decided a quick exchanging of words would serve the lass better, and appease the