Page 80 of The Witch of Threadneedle Street

So, it had been Bertha? But atween worlds? Moll shivered at the truth in the words.

“Come now to Heather House.” Christine waved them forward. “‘Tis time for ye and the bairns to rest and heal.”

Moll hesitated, her heart wanting to follow, but her mind still, as yet, unsure.

“There’s naught to fear, lass.” Taran slipped an arm about her waist. “I was here afore, with my cousin, Alec, and Sorcha. Indeed, Heather House was her childhood home.”

Christine smiled. “Heather House will always be a home to our kind.”

She turned, and they followed her, silently, as she led them down a woodland path, and then to a stone bridge spanning a bubbling burn. On the far side stood a cottage with a thatched roof and a goat shed behind an ancient, spreading oak. ‘Twas a homey place, one that set Moll instantly at ease.

As the clansmen began to make camp, Taran laced his fingers through Moll’s and led her to the cottage. “Ye and the bairns will stay with Christine.”

‘Twas strange. She’d only just met the woman, yet, it seemed so natural a thing. ‘Twas almost as if she had arrived home.

`With a nod, she followed Christine inside, the children trailing close behind.

A Lone Wolf No More

Moll leaned against the castle wall and breathed deeply of the fresh Highland air. Nearly two months had gone by since they’d left Haddon Hall. Her life now was nothing like before. The time at Heather House had been healing. ‘Twas a place of peace, a haven, to be sure. They’d stayed nearly a fortnight, and when she’d finally kissed Christine farewell, she felt more herself than she’d been since a small child.

Taran had kept them company for the first day as they’d journeyed further north, but upon reaching the Great Western Road, he’d taken his leave to speak with the king.

“I’ll see ye soon, my love,” he’d promised, kissing her brow.

She’d wanted to hold onto him, Lord help her. She’d wanted to go with him, but they’d already decided ‘twas safer for her and the children to ride north with the clansmen. She’d watched him gallop away, and then she’d been forced to forget her own tears in her haste helping a weeping, devastated Charlotte.

When they’d arrived in the Highlands at Castle Leod, Doughall had gathered the clansmen to introduce her as Taran’s lady.

Taran’s lady.

Moll shivered and moved back from the wall. Taran’s lady. Just what did that mean? He was still gone. She hadn’t seen him in over a month. When he returned…would he still feel the same?

She scowled.

A pox on the man if he didn’t. Here she was, near wasting away and pining like a lovelorn fool…

Irritated with herself, she pushed open the door and descended the tower to the main hall.

The sound of squealing children greeted her ears as she stepped inside. ‘Twas Wee Jack, Jamie, and James, tearing by with Doughall’s grandchildren screeching upon their heels. Shaking her head, she watched them vanish through the kitchen door.

Through the arched window beyond, she spied Francis in the yard, saddling a horse for Charlotte. Since their arrival, they’d both taken to riding the moors like ducks to water.

George sat at a table near the fire, pouring over the pages of a book with the silver-haired Jean, Taran’s nanny, at his side. In just a few weeks, she’d taught him to read. Moll wished to learn herself. She would, soon, but she couldn’t relax enough to concentrate. Not yet.

Restless, she wandered back to the tower to stare across the moors.

Why wasn’t he coming home? Had he lost interest in her?

“Marry me,” he’d said, again and again. She should have. If she had, she wouldn’t be fretting over how he might have changed his mind.

Night descended and soon, ‘twas time for bed. The younger children went up first, and then George and Francis. After a time, Moll yawned and ascended the stairs herself.

As was her habit, she popped her head into the younger children’s room for one last check, but this night, when she opened the door, she found the room cold, silent, with no fire on the hearth.

Frowning, she stepped inside to inspect the bed, but she knew already ‘twas empty.

She frowned. Where had they gone? She’d seen them go up the tower stairs herself, not an hour before.