Highland Ballad | Page 9

hair, the green eyes
fierce beneath scowling brows. But it was the same green, the hair the
same shimmering black. Identical too was the fair, unmarked
complexion, the smooth and finely chiseled nose and chin. Something
in the shape was dissimilar, yet still.....
She could not at first read the riddle, until with an arrogance that could
never have come from her niece, he threw back the door and advanced
upon her, driving her back into the passage.
"So, my good widow Scott. You recognize the son of your esteemed
overlord, and perhaps were expecting him as well?"
"No, truly sir. I don't know what you mean." It was not necessary to
feign surprise. She could not imagine what the son of the Lord
Purceville could want of her.
"I don't have time for games!" he shouted, pushing past her and
searching the adjacent rooms before returning to stand before her. "And
what of that hag sister of yours. . .and your daughter?" At these words
he perceived genuine alarm in the face of the other.
And alarmed she truly was. For since the day of that terrible battle,
which had occurred but a few days' ride from the cottage, the two
women had done everything possible to hide their adolescent charge,

whose beauty and innocence made her a natural target for marauding
troops.
"I have no daughter, sir, you are mistaken. No one lives here but myself
and my aged sister-in-law. If you would be so kind---" The back of his
hand crashed across her face, starting a trickle of blood at the corner of
her mouth. He raised the hand again threateningly, then for some
reason, smiled.
"You're not too old, you know. I might have a bit of sport on you
myself." But remembering his purpose, he grew cold and severe again.
"Pray do not think me an idiot. We too have spies, loyal folk among the
hills. I spoke to one such gentleman scarcely an hour ago..... But that
would be telling. You have a daughter, Mrs. Scott: Mary by name, a
charming creature by all accounts. If you wish her to remain so, you
had best tell me what I want to know."
"Please, sir, I beg you. Just tell me what it is you want. I'll give you
anything I have, but please, spare the girl. She's a poor, helpless
creature, alone but for the two of us. We've done nothing wrong, I
swear it."
"Well," he replied more calmly. "At least you have a bit of sense."
But if she had meant to turn aside his interest in the girl by calling her
helpless, and alone in the world, her understanding of men (at least that
kind of man) had failed her badly. He began to pace eagerly, his hands
behind his back, speaking with the aggressive assurance of one
accustomed to having his own way. And for all her fear and agitation,
she could not help but notice that he was also terribly handsome.
"This is what I want from you, for now. A small group of war prisoners
(in truth it was closer to a hundred) have escaped from the hold at
Edinburgh, the last, effectively speaking, of your would-be prince's
Highland rabble. Our information is that they have since split up into
smaller bands, each heading for their respective homeland. There, no
doubt, they will attempt to stir sympathy for your deluded cause.
"Fools!" he continued, as if possessed of the truths of the Universe.
"Scotland's day is done. Henceforth her destiny shall be irrevocably
tied to that of England. We are trying to be magnanimous, and make
reforms. But we will not tolerate, we will crush utterly, any attempt at
further rebellion."
"Magnanimous?" she mocked, her pride returning. "Is that why you

struck me? Is that why you threaten three lonely, bereft women, who
have already lost to you all that they loved and held dear?"
"I did what I had to do!" he cried hotly. "And will do more besides, if
you don't hold your tongue. These traitors will be found, and
punished---drawn and quartered, or hanged from the nearest tree. And
anyone who aids them, or does not send word of them to me at once,
will receive much the same. Though in the case of three lonely, bereft
women, the punishment might be slower, more amusing."
Again she was driven to fearful silence. She hoped that this would be
the end of it, but apparently he had not yet received what he came for, a
motive, perhaps, not entirely official.
"And now, good widow Scott, I would very much like you to tell me
where I might catch a glimpse of your charming daughter. Oh, do stop
the theatrics," he said irritably, as she clasped her hands to