had caused such a long-overdue realisation, but it had. Now, though, she needed to gather her wits and her control and speak to the current laird to gain a place here. So that her son could claim his place here when the truth was known to all.
‘Anna Mackenzie. The chieftain calls you now.’
That man who’d led her inside stood before her now and she glanced up to find everyone in the hall looking in her direction. So caught up in her past was she that she had missed her summons forward.
Anna stood quickly and lifted her basket on to her arm. Following the man forward, she stopped where he pointed and she curtsied to the man seated above her without looking up. She waited until the laird spoke her name, signalling her to rise.
‘My commander tells me you are a healer, Mistress Mackenzie.’
‘I am, Laird,’ she said, without raising her gaze.
‘You seem young to be such,’ The Cameron said. ‘How came you to be here in Achnacarry?’
‘My mother lived here some years ago and I wished to return.’
‘Your mother?’ Davidh asked now. She did not yet raise her eyes, but he came down the steps and stood next to her. ‘You did not say your mother lived here.’ He moved between her and his chieftain then. ‘Anna?’
‘I think I understand,’ The Cameron said from his seat. ‘Your mother was...’ She did look at him then and saw that he knew.
‘Aye, Laird. She was the one they called the Witch of Caig Falls.’ The word echoed through the rest of the hall, not because she’d said it but because those watching whispered it then. ‘Though she was only a talented healer and could cast no spells or enchantments.’
‘Surely she could not,’ The Cameron said. ‘She was a God-fearing woman. The rest were just rumours.’ He waved Davidh back; his action declared she was no threat.
Had this man, the head of the mighty Cameron clan, just defended her mother against the fanciful but very dangerous claims of being a witch? His eyes crinkled with merriment as he smiled at her. The last chieftain here would never have done such a thing, nor the one before him. Malcolm’s father had ignored the threats against her when they began. That was another reason her mother had chosen their time to flee—a woman called witch was living in a dangerous situation and it would take but one incident to spark into a life-threatening one.
‘Aye, Laird,’ she said now. ‘She had the skills of a talented healer. I only hope I can be as able as she was.’
‘Well, Old Ranald will be glad to have someone take over those duties from him. He has more skill with a saw and wooden splints than any of the finer healing talents. You will live by the falls? Davidh said the cottage there is fit for living, but remote.’ A glance at Davidh who had stepped to her side revealed his nod. ‘Will you not live here in the village?’
‘My mother’s plants yet grow near the falls. ’Tis easier to cultivate what I need there.’ Anna glanced around and wondered which of the laird’s counsellors would turn against her if she did not agree to his terms. At least one dark, narrowed gaze met hers—the man who’d escorted her in was not happy over this, over her. No need for trouble now, she thought, so, she acquiesced. ‘But, if it would please you, I can make arrangements to visit the village each day and see to any needs.’
He considered her offer seriously and for some time. She was almost on the point of giving in and moving to the village instead, but the touch of Davidh’s hand on her arm, something hidden from the view of most everyone there, forestalled her from doing that.
‘If it would serve you better to live out there, you have my permission to do so,’ The Cameron declared. ‘And my protection while you serve my clan here.’
‘My thanks, Laird.’
‘Davidh, come to me after you have seen to your son.’
She released a breath she had not known she’d held in and nodded. She curtsied then and watched as he stood and left the dais. Though others there turned their attentions away from the dais, Anna could feel their gazes upon her. They were curious about the woman just welcomed into their midst.
‘I brought what I think I will need, but I would like to see what you have been using.’
‘This way,’ he said, leading her back the way she’d entered.
‘Who was the man who brought me in?’
‘That was Struan, The Cameron’s steward.’
She stopped right then and there in surprise. The steward had been sent like a common servant to fetch her from the gate? The steward? The same man who’d stared at her with open dislike in his eyes was the steward and in charge of everything in The Cameron’s household here at Achnacarry.
‘You sent the laird’s steward to the gates?’
‘Aye,’ Davidh said. ‘Robert wished to continue the discussion and you needed to be admitted. Struan was the only one not needed in the hall just then.’
Men could be both practical and oblivious at the same time. Davidh had walked on and she rushed to catch up to his long-legged strides. They left the keep and the yard and walked back into the village. Now, people openly stared as she passed by them. Word would spread about her identity quickly, for that was how news raced through these small villages. Soon, everyone would know.
They turned down a path and she smelled the scent of hot metal and fire and knew the smithy was nearby. Soon, they walked by it and stopped at the large cottage next door.
‘This is your cottage?’ she asked, peering around him at the dwelling. ‘Is your wife within?’
Now, he stopped and turned to face her. His face had lost most of its colouring, making him appear gaunt and frightening. He took a step towards her and she fought not to shrink back away from him. He leaned down closer to her and spoke in a harsh whisper.
‘My wife died of fever a few years ago and I have raised him since.’
‘I...am...’ She could not speak the right words to him now.
‘I do not wish to discuss Mara before my son, so I pray you will not mention her within.’ His voice betrayed the emotions he must feel. She heard the loss and grief and yearning there and her own heart wanted to weep for his loss. ‘This...’ He paused then and cleared his throat making hers feel even tighter with the emotions she could see and hear within him. ‘This is where Jamie, the blacksmith...’ he nodded over her shoulder at the smithy ‘...and his wife Suisan live. She cares for Colm when I am on duty.’
‘I understand,’ she said softly.
He nodded, knocked on the door and then lifted the latch gently. She smiled at the efforts he took not to disturb those within. For all his strength and formidable size, he softened as he must for his ailing son.
The good thing about this cottage was that it was filled with light and fresh air. Often, those treating the sick closed the windows and built up the fire which allowed the smoke from the peat and wood being burned to fill the often cramped place. In her mother’s opinion, that did more harm than any possible good for most ailments and illnesses. Anna followed Davidh in, smiling at the anxious woman standing next to the pallet.
‘Suisan?’ she asked. At the woman’s nod, she introduced herself. ‘I am Anna Mackenzie.’
‘From the falls?’ the woman asked.
The damn rumours and stories always followed her and her mother before her. ‘Aye, from the falls.’
‘I am glad he sought ye out. The puir wee lad is not much better this morn than he has been these last days.’ Anna had learned early that suspicion was hard to fight and so this unexpected sense of welcome surprised her. ‘Let me show ye what the last healer gave us to treat him.’
‘I would see your son first,’ she said, lifting her head to meet his gaze.