Page 23 of First Light
“I’ve seen this before,” she murmured. “I know it.”
“Come this way,” he said quietly. “Quickly. They’re used to seeing me, but you’ll attract attention.”
Duncan hustled her down a wider path, past an old oak tree hung with ribbons and bright coins. She could see what looked like a farm in the distance and more stone houses with smoke coming from them.
After the ribboned oak, they turned right and walked through a gate leading to a narrow path bordered by thick hedges. There was something in the underbrush that sounded like laughter, and a small animal scurried away.
“Mischief,” Duncan muttered. “She better have been keeping the house if she’s causing mischief.”
“Who?”
“Auld Mags.” He glanced over his shoulder. “I’ll explain later.”
“Yeah, you say that a lot.”
The hedges opened, and in the middle of a bright meadow filled with long grasses, ferns, and coneflowers sat a round stone cottage with a thatched roof. There was a stacked chimney, and the garden around the house was filled with herbs and some overgrown vegetables.
“This is your house?” Behind the cottage was a neat shed withfirewood stacked on the side, and beyond the shed, more trees. The forest was everywhere in this place. Lights winked from between the trees, and birds sang in a riot from the canopy. “It’s beautiful.”
Duncan grunted as they walked the winding path through the wild garden. “Lachlan keeps a room at Murrayshall House,” he said. “He gave me this cottage for when I’m here.” He walked to the arched wooden door, pushing it open and ushering Carys inside with one last guarded look over his shoulder.
“You don’t keep it locked.”
“I don’t need to—it’s protected.” He immediately walked to the fireplace and threw some wood into the hearth, lifting an empty bowl that was sitting on the stones. “Let’s get warm; then we’ll find you some clothes and answer the million questions I see flying around your head.”
She looked down at her sturdy hiking pants and shoes. “What’s wrong with my clothes? I’m warm.”
“You’ll stand out.” He looked her up and down. “That’s going to be unavoidable, but we’ll do what we can.”
What Duncan could do wasoffer Carys a thick pair of overlong trousers made of a heavy woven fabric and a tunic that fell past her hips. He gave her a long tartan scarf to use as a belt and wrapped it around her shoulders for added warmth.
She walked out of the small bedroom at the back of the cottage to see Duncan already changed into a heavy kilt, a thick coat, and woolen clothes wrapped around his legs for warmth.
Carys looked down at herself—there wasn’t a mirror in the place. Duncan looked like a highland warrior in a movie, and she looked like a child dressing in her older brother’s clothes for a renaissance festival.
He nodded. “That’ll do. Plenty of the women here don’t wear dresses. The trousers won’t stand out.”
“As long as I don’t trip on them.”
“You can stuff the legs in your boots.” He frowned. “Boots might be a problem. None of mine will fit you, and the cobbler will take time.” He glanced up. “No department stores in this place.”
“Why can’t I wear my own?”
“I already told you you’re going to stand out enough already.”
Carys walked over and sat on the wooden bench across from Duncan. They were next to the fire, and the warmth was more than welcome in the stone house. The bowl was back on the hearth, this time full of what looked like milk.
Carys frowned at it. “Okay, question-and-answer time.”
Duncan rose. “I should get you some food. Are you hungry?”
“Food later, answers now.”
He wanted to say something else, but instead he sat back down.
“Fine.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “What do you want to know?”
“Where are we?”