Was she like this because she liked eating? Because she didn’t move a lot? Or simply because that was who she was?
The questions had made her headache return.
She was blond everywhere. There was a light mole on the right side of her belly, almost horseshoe shaped. Her fingernails and toenails were clipped short, and there was some dirt underneath her fingernails and scrapes on her hands. She looked clean otherwise, although she still would’ve loved a shower. Her hair fell to her shoulder blades. She wished she could see her face, but there were no mirrors.
Again, nothing.
Kate had beaten her hands against the bed in frustration. Then she’d put on her borrowed dress, fallen back into the bed, and cried. Was she really a thief? What was she doing in a place where no one recognized her? Had she been kidnapped, maybe? But why? And wouldn’t the person who’d kidnapped her have showed themselves by now?
Enough! She forced herself to her feet, determined to find the one person who made her feel safe in this place.
Leaving the room, she gingerly made her way down the stairs to the courtyard. She inhaled the sunny air of the castle, the scent a mixture of freshly baked bread, woodsmoke, horses, and wet earth. There was something flowery there, too. Around the courtyard, people were busy carrying baskets with vegetables, heavy sacks, firewood. They stopped and talked to one another. Men with swords and bows strode between the towers and the gates, and she could see some of the archers up on the walls. In one corner of the courtyard, men trained at sword-fighting.
She stopped a man carrying firewood.
“Excuse me, do you know where I can find Ian?”
“Ian?” he said. “Is he a warrior? Warriors are usually on the walls or in the great hall, eating and drinking.”
“Where’s the great hall?”
He pointed at a separate timber building next to the biggest tower.
“Thanks,” she said and went in the direction he’d pointed.
But she didn’t need to go into the hall, because Ian sat on a bench in front. He was pale, forlorn. It broke her heart to see a physically powerful man like him look so lost, his eyes raw.
She came to him. “Ian,” she said, and he blinked, focusing in on her.
“Lass,” he said. “What is it?”
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“I…I need to make arrangements…find Kenneth MacKenzie. My father just died…”
He said it as though he still couldn’t quite believe it. Kate sighed. Something about it felt familiar, as though she, too, knew the experience.
“I’m so sorry, Ian,” she said, covering his hand with hers and squeezing it reassuringly.
He blinked again and nodded, then got to his feet. Ian walked towards the southern tower, and Kate followed him.
“I need to arrange a cart for his body,” Ian said. “I’m taking him home.”
“Oh. You’re leaving?”
“Aye.”
She nodded, hiding her disappointment. She didn’t know him at all, but it felt like she’d be losing the only person who’d cared about her in her life.
The life that she remembered, at least.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“Home. Loch Awe. ’Tis south from here.”
“What is it like?”
He sighed. “I…I havna been there in many years. I dinna ken how ’tis now, but I remember the vast loch, the mountains, the woods. Our house. Crazy Mary would cook haggis…”
She stopped abruptly as an image flashed in her mind—roasted leg of lamb in an ovenproof glass dish, glazed in honey—mustard sauce, with a filling of oatmeal mixed with minced vegetables and herbs. With the image came a feeling of home, of comfort, of security—and anxiety. Questions, doubts, the feeling of inadequacy…
“What is it?” Ian said, stopping as well. “Are ye well?”
“I remembered something,” she said, turning the image in her mind again and again, holding on to it as though it were a lifeline. “Crazy Mary—it’s the lamb roast, isn’t it?”
“Nae. Crazy Mary is our cook.”
“Oh…it’s not the name of the roast?”
“Crazy Mary makes a great lamb roast. Aye.”
“Yes! I know that lamb roast. When I think of it, it brings me a feeling of home. Maybe Crazy Mary knows where my home is. Or even someone in my family?”
Ian studied her. “I’ve kent Crazy Mary my whole life. I havna met ye before.”
The steward walked out of the tower they had been heading towards. He threw an angry, suspicious glance and Kate, making her shrink inwardly, but she only raised her chin. Whatever the man thought, she knew for sure she wasn’t a thief. He greeted Ian, then turned to her.
“What are ye still doing here?” the man asked Kate. “I dinna want thieves in the castle.”
“I am not a thief, mister,” she said.
“Ahearn, ye dinna ken she’s done what ye’re accusing her of. The woman needs help. Clearly, she’s been unwell.”
“I had thought ye left.” He glared at her.
“It’s the first day I can stand on my feet.”
“Good,” he said. “That means ye can go. Ye must leave the castle immediately. Ye’re nae welcome here. Go home, wherever ye came from.”
Unwanted tears prickled Kate’s eyes. She was now being chased away from the only place she knew. Where would she even go? She had no idea where “home” was.
“Ahearn, dinna ye think ’tis a little too harsh on the lass?” Ian said.
“These days, ye never ken who to trust, lord. I’ve been careful with people my whole life. And it’s served me well. I must insist ye leave the castle today, lass. We have given ye enough kindness already. I canna risk thieves, spies, or whores.”
“Ahearn!” Ian cried. “She’s none of those things.”
“My apologies, lord. Mayhap nae. Still. No one kens the lass. I canna take risks. Nae in the war.”
Ian shook his head and looked at Kate.
His warm brown eyes under thick, ginger-tinged eyelashes seemed like the only familiar and dear thing she knew in this world.
“If she must leave, she’s coming with me.”
“What?” Ahearn and Kate said at
