brother, Niven, running down the hill as if the devil himself was after him.
Mairi frowned. Had he not gone for a walk with Davina? Mairi’s heart beat faster. Where was Davina?
She dropped the basket and ran through the gate.
‘Mairi! Mairi!’ Niven called. ‘Come quick! I need you!’
Mairi rushed to his side. ‘What is it? Is it Davina?’
‘No. Well, a little.’ He fought to catch his breath. ‘Oh, just come with me. Now.’
Niven, at sixteen, was old enough to have some sense, but he was as impulsive and impractical as their father. This would not be the first time Mairi had had to pull him out of a scrape. But Davina, their younger sister, was typically more prudent. Slightly.
What did he mean, a little? Was she hurt? If something had happened to Davina, she could not bear it!
Mairi followed Niven over the hill and to a part of their land that remained rustic and wild. They rushed too fast for talking. Niven led her to the stone circle, a place of danger, magic and mystery, according to family lore. She saw Davina silhouetted against the sky, the stones framing her. The ache in Mairi’s throat eased a little.
Davina ran to meet them. ‘Mairi! I am so glad you are here. We did not know what to do.’
Mairi wanted to embrace her in relief, but held back. ‘Do? About what?’
Davina gestured for her to follow, leading her into the circle where a man—a stranger—was slumped against one of the stones, no hat on his head, his grey topcoat open and his clothing underneath rumpled and stained.
Two empty whisky bottles lay at his side.
Mairi’s skin grew cold.
‘He’s passed out,’ Davina said. ‘I believe he is sick.’
Drunk, more like.
Mairi seized her by the shoulder. ‘Did he hurt you?’
‘Hurt me?’ Davina pulled away. ‘What a silly question. We found him leaning against the stone. When we called out, he tried to rise, but he collapsed again. I sent Niven for help.’ She knelt at the man’s side. ‘I think he is feverish.’
Mairi wanted to drag Davina away from him. Her sister had no idea how dangerous a man—a drunkard—could be.
But the stranger was senseless at the moment, so there was no immediate threat. Mairi leaned down close.
Davina touched the stranger’s forehead. ‘He feels hot to me.’
The man was pale, but fine-looking. Fair-haired. A chiselled chin, strong nose, and lips befitting a Greek statue.
‘Is he dead?’ Niven asked.
Mairi forced herself to press her fingers against the side of his neck. She felt a pulse. ‘He is alive.’ She placed her palm against his brow. ‘He is feverish, though.’
‘Do you suppose the Druids got him? Mayhap he came here at midnight.’ Niven spoke in all seriousness.
Tales of the Druids had abounded for generations. It was said their spirits would rise to attack anyone disturbing their midnight frolic amid the stones.
His clothes were damp.
‘More likely he was caught in last night’s rain,’ Mairi said. What had he been doing on these hills in the middle of their land? The dampness of his clothing indicated he might have been there all night.
Davina’s voice rose. ‘We must be like the Good Samaritan.’
Davina had heard the sermon on Sunday? Mairi had thought she’d been too besotted with Laird Buchan’s youngest son to heed Vicar Hill.
‘We cannot leave him here,’ Davina went on.
Leave him was precisely what Mairi wished to do. She wanted to run from him and take her brother and sister with her.
‘No, we cannot leave him,’ she said instead. He was ill, even if he was also drunk. He was in need.
And he could pose no danger in the state he was in. Could he?
She reached out her hand, but almost took it back again. She made herself shake the man’s shoulder. ‘Sir! Sir! Wake up.’
His eyes opened—blue eyes, vivid blue eyes—but they immediately rolled back in his head. They would never get him on his feet. And he was too big for them to carry.
Mairi turned to her sister. ‘Davina, run back to the stables. Tell MacKay or John to come and bring a wagon.’
MacKay, older than their father, had stayed on as their stableman, and John was his only stable worker. In better times they’d had five or six men keeping the horses and carriages in fine order.
‘Me?’ Davina protested. ‘I want to stay. Have Niven go.’
‘I’ll go,’ Niven said.
Mairi didn’t want Davina anywhere near this stranger, but nor did she wish to explain why.
‘Very well,’ she conceded. ‘Niven, you go get the wagon.’
He dashed off.
It would take a long time for a wagon to wind its way around the hills to the stone circle. They would have to wait with him all that time.
‘We will take him to our house, won’t we, Mairi?’ Davina asked. ‘Not to the village, surely.’
Why not the village? Mairi thought.
‘Who would care for him in the village?’ Davina went on. ‘We can nurse him until he gets better.’
Mairi did not want this man under their roof, but it made better sense to take him to their house. The village was further away and there was no guarantee someone would agree to care for him.
‘We should summon the doctor, too,’ Davina said.
How would they pay the doctor, then? This man would have to pay. If he had money. And if he had money, why had he been caught out wandering in the hills and not in some snug and dry inn?
‘Should I run to the village for the doctor?’ Davina asked.
Davina go alone to the village? Mairi hated it when Davina walked alone to the village, although no one but she knew to worry about it. On the other hand, she certainly did not wish to leave Davina alone with this strange man. Mairi trembled at the thought.
And at the memory of when she’d encountered a stranger while alone, a man who’d also been full of drink. Mairi did not want to be alone with another stranger.
But this man was obviously very sick. How would she feel if he died for lack of a doctor’s care? Her heart pounded.
What if the man died before help arrived? And what if Mairi left Davina alone to care for him? Davina was too young for such a burden.
‘Yes.’ Mairi nodded. ‘Excellent idea. I will stay here and wait for Niven to come with the wagon. We will meet you back at the house.’
‘I will run like the wind,’ Davina said dramatically.
Mairi watched her run down the hill where she’d meet the road and still have another three miles to go until she reached the village.
Mairi sat on the still-damp grass next to the man. ‘At least you are no threat to me,’ she murmured.
His eyes opened again and he suddenly lurched forward, seizing her by the shoulders.
She shrieked.
‘My brother,’ he rasped, his eyes wild. ‘Bradleigh.’
He tried to stand and she scrambled away from his grasp.
He staggered, touching the stone to steady himself. He looked around, staring in her direction, but