Chapter 1

‘Thank god it's summer!' Norah thought as she trudged along through the woods beside Loch Binnie. She had been traveling for two days wearing nothing but the beautiful but very impractical dress she had put on for her wedding, the wedding that had thankfully never taken place. She was exhausted, but she was persevering through sheer force of will. She had to: it was that or go back with her tail between her legs and marry a man she actively hated.

Norah had been lucky enough to find a decent horse to start her journey, but it belonged to one of the wedding guests. Since she knew that horse theft could mean a long prison sentence or even death, she had been obliged to set him free and hope that he made his way back home.

Norah was beginning to wish she had a pair of men's breeches to wear. The wedding dress was now a ruin of its former self - stained with mud, its hem ragged and its lace sleeves so torn that they might as well not have existed. Her dainty wedding slippers were almost worn out. Clearly, silk shoes were not made for tramping along on muddy paths. That was a job for stout leather boots, but she had no hope of getting a pair of those.

Still, although summer days were never exactly balmy in the Highlands, they were a great deal better than winter, when traveling in her present clothes would have meant freezing to death in a matter of hours. Where would she be in winter, she wondered? ‘Far away from here,' she thought grimly. She had tried to be hopeful, but hope was in short supply at the moment.

Fortunately, by the time nightfall arrived, Norah had arrived at a tiny village where she saw the sign for an inn. Her whole body sagged with relief. She still had her pouch with a few coins in it, and she counted them quickly. There would never be enough for a meal, a drink, and a bed for the night, and she still had to find clean clothes, unless…She looked down at the pearl necklace she was wearing. She knew that nobody would give her the real value for it, but it could buy her something, and she was desperate.

When she went into the inn, all the patrons sitting at the tables looked around at her in amazement, and a hum of conversation broke out. Norah felt her cheeks flush. She must look like a scarecrow, she thought, with her filthy, tangled hair, her tattered dress and muddy cloak. What did it matter, though? After she left, she would never see these people again.

The landlady, a plump woman in her middle years, came over to her and made her sit down in a rough wooden chair. She had a kindly face, and her bright blue eyes were shadowed with concern for this poor young woman who had staggered in out of the night looking as if she had escaped from bandits.

"What happened to ye, love?" she asked, frowning. "Were ye attacked?"

Norah shook her head, unable to speak for a moment, then she croaked, "can I have something to eat please? Anything. I can pay."

The landlady disappeared and came back a moment later with a bowl of thick mutton stew, a big bannock and a cup of ale. Norah made short work of the food and asked for more. When she had finished her second helping, she sighed and managed a weak smile for the landlady, then paid her for the meal with a shilling that she had grabbed on her way out of her room. "I need a place to sleep, please."

The woman frowned. "Can ye pay?" she asked warily.

"I have no more coin," Norah was embarrassed and terrified. She had never had to beg before.

The woman shook her head regretfully. "I wish I could help ye, hen, but everybody has to pay, otherwise I would go out of business."

Norah nodded, then reluctantly pulled out the gold chain she was wearing around her neck. She took the pearl off it and put it in her pouch, then held up the chain for the landlady's inspection.

"I need a bed for the night, clean clothes and shoes, and breakfast in the morning. Will this do?"

"Aye, hen. It will," the woman replied, grinning from ear to ear, her eyes glinting as she looked at the gold chain.

The clothes that Norah was given were too big, as were the shoes, but they were warm, even if they had been worn before. The landlady was delighted with her new necklace, put it on straight away, and was parading it in front of her customers before Norah left. Norah knew that she had been swindled, but she had also been desperate, and therefore an easy mark.

Sighing, she went on with her journey, reasoning that if she followed the edge of the loch it would take her to somewhere she could stop for another night, even if she had to sleep in a barn. She was not quite sure how she could feed herself. The only things she had left were the single pearl from the necklace and her mother's wedding ring, which was pure gold with a solitary diamond embedded in it.

Norah had stuffed the ring down the front of her dress to keep it safe, but she would only part with it as a last resort. It was not only worth a lot of coin, but it was dear to her. The necklace had been her own, given to her as a rare gift from her father, but the ring was all she had left of the most wonderful, loving woman she had ever known. Her mother had died when she was only seven, and already Norah's memories of her were fading, but she felt her love and warmth every day, even though she could no longer remember her face clearly.

Norah's stomach began to rumble again as she trudged on. She had taken a bannock, a little cheese, and an apple from the inn and had eaten them sparingly, but now the last morsel of cheese was finished and she was hungry again.

Presently, Norah came to another little village, no more than a cluster of cottages, where she stopped to drink some water from the well. She looked around, saw that it was surrounded by trees and bushes, and she decided to try foraging for something to eat.

When she entered the shadow of the trees, she saw immediately that the forest floor was covered in mushrooms, some as big as soup bowls. Her mouth watered as she bent to pick one, and looked at it for a second before lifting it to her mouth. However, the mushroom never reached her lips, since it was swiped it away suddenly and landed on the ground beside her. Norah looked up, her mouth open to protest indignantly.

"Do ye want to kill yourself, ye silly girl?" asked the old woman whose hand had deprived Norah of her midday meal. "Those things are deadly! Did ye not know that?" She was glaring at Norah out of faded blue eyes, and although her face was wrinkled, and her hair pure white, Norah could see that she had once been very beautiful.

"No, I-I did not know that," Norah replied, suddenly feeling very foolish. "Thank you for telling me. You probably saved my life."

At that moment, her stomach grumbled again, and the old woman's expression softened. "Are ye hungry, hen?" she asked gently. "Is that why ye are tryin' to eat poison mushrooms?"

Norah nodded and stood up. The old woman smiled at her, hesitated, then a moment later took her hand and led her out of the trees and down the small street to a cottage at the bottom. It was exactly the same as many cottages she had seen before - small, with rough wooden furniture and a recess in the wall that held a single bed. There was a fireplace at the end of the room, above which a cauldron was suspended on a chain, and a smell of cooking fish pervaded the room, making Norah's mouth water again.

"My name is Caitrin," the woman said, as she bustled around the room collecting ingredients for their meal. "What is yours?"

"Norah," she answered shyly. "Thank you for helping me. I have no idea what I would have done without you."

Caitrin turned around to frown at her. "Where are ye goin', hen?" she asked. "Because I can tell ye are runnin' away fae somethin'."

"I-I don't know," she replied, shrugging. "I suppose I will know when I get there."

Norah was exhausted and practically too tired to think any more. Caitrin was kind, and as a plate of fried trout, eggs and bread with fresh butter appeared on the table before her, Norah began to weep silently. Caitrin sat down beside her and began to eat too, surreptitiously watching Norah as she tucked into her food.

Presently, a visitor arrived in the kitchen in the shape of a pure black cat with wide, bright green eyes who jumped on Norah's lap without asking permission. Norah laughed and patted him, and was rewarded with the soft soothing sound of a loud purr.

"This is Sooty," Caitrin told her. "As cats go, he is a friendly wee thing."

"He is very handsome," Norah said, smiling as the little creature began to rub its cheek against her hand. "I had a cat once, but he was ginger, and his name was Tam." After a few moments Norah looked up at Caitrin.

"I am running away, but I don't want to burden you with my troubles. You are very kind," Norah said reluctantly.

"Only to some people," the old lady said grimly. "Tell me your story, hen. Ye will find I am a very good listener, an' whatever ye tell me will not go outside this room." She poured them each a glass of ale and put her hand over Norah's on the table.

Norah took a deep breath and began to speak, and when she was finished, Caitrin did something that amazed Norah and warmed her to the bottom of her heart. She came around the back of her chair and hugged her from behind, touching her cheek to Norah's. "Dinnae ye worry, hen," she said soothingly. "Ye are safe here."

"Thank you," Norah whispered. "Thank you so much." she looked down at the cat, who was sitting in her lap, blinking slowly and purring. "Is there an inn here? I need somewhere to sleep tonight."

Caitrin smiled again. "No, there isnae an inn here, lass. But you can stay here."

For a moment, Norah did not know what to say. "I can only pay you with this," she said, holding up the pearl from her necklace. "You can sell it."

"I wouldnae know how," Caitrin replied, laughing. "Ye dinnae need to pay me, Norah. I have seen lassies like you before. You have nae freedom. The likes of us -" she thumbed her chest. "We might be poor but we can choose who to love."

"But who are we going to say I am?" she asked, shrugging. "I have appeared from nowhere. Who shall I be?"

"My great niece fae Perth," Caitrin replied promptly. "An' if any of your people come lookin' for ye, come in here an' hide in the pantry where I keep our food. If ye want to earn your keep ye can help me in the house an' in the garden, an' go to the market for me. If that is what ye want, of course."

"I do!" Norah's face lit up with joy, when she thought of something else. "But I don't speak like a Scot. They will know I am different."

Caitrin thought for a moment, then held her finger up in the air. "Ye were the daughter of a schoolteacher an' he was very particular about your speech."

Norah shook her head in disbelief. "What a clever lady you are!" she cried, then rose from her chair and hugged the old woman, dumping the little cat on the floor as she did so. He gave an indignant ‘meow' and stalked away. "Thank you!"

Caitrin laughed and flapped a hand at her. "Ye are doin' me a favor, hen," she replied. "I am not gettin' any younger an' my old bones are startin' to creak. Ye can take a bit o' the weight off my shoulders. An' I am lonely sometimes, so if ye can put up with this old widow for as long as ye need I will be very thankful."

"Gladly!" Norah took a few steps across the room to stand by the fire, and tripped over the trailing hem of the kirtle she was wearing. She recovered her balance and Caitrin turned around to inspect the skirt.

"We need to dae somethin' about that before ye fall an' crack your head, Norah. I will put a few stitches in it tonight." She held up her gnarled old hands. "These might no' look like much, but my wee hands are very good with a needle an' thread."

"I have no other clothes," Norah replied, ashamed. "I had to trade my gold chain for this thing. I was wearing my wedding dress but it was so badly damaged I will have to throw it away."

"We will find somethin' hen," Caitrin said soothingly. She went to look through her own little stack of clothes, but Norah protested.

"I cannot take your clothes away!" she cried. "You have little enough as it is."

Caitrin sighed, and frowned. "I will find ye somethin'," she repeated, and the determined expression on her face told Norah that she would. She was beginning to realize that when Caitrin set her mind to something, little could stand in her way.

A few weeks passed, and late summer was turning slowly into autumn. Norah was sleeping on a straw pallet on the floor of the cottage at night and wearing a patched-up old shift that one of the neighbors had given her. A dress had been found for her after one of the villagers had died, and some of them had looked at her oddly, remarking that the body was hardly cold in her grave. Caitrin dismissed them as superstitious fools.

"So what are we supposed to dae with a perfectly good kirtle?" she asked. "Throw it away?" So she stitched it, washed it, and the next day, when Norah put it on, she could not have been more thrilled if she had been wearing a ball gown. In fact, she had always hated dressing up.

Norah ate the most basic of foods, and had to help around the house and take care of the goat and chickens that Caitrin kept for milk and eggs. Caitrin had taught her how to forage for food properly too, ‘so that ye dinnae kill yourself,' as she put it. However, despite her reduced circumstances, Norah was more content than she ever had been at her own family home.

Norah often wondered why her father had never come looking for her. Perhaps he had, and given up, or perhaps he simply did not care. At any rate, the situation suited her. She found that she did not need a maid to launder her clothes and style her hair, and after a few days she had become accustomed to bathing in the freezing waters of the loch. As well as that, she loved the company of the little black cat, who often came to sit on her lap at night, and sometimes even came to her bed and purred her to sleep.

Norah was more content than she had ever been, and as she was drifting off to sleep one night, she realized why. The whole little community of Rosblane was kind. They helped each other, did good turns for one another, and shared what little they had between them. Although she had none of the luxuries she'd had at her father's house, she was glad to be in the village of Rosblane amongst decent, wholesome people.

On Sunday a big fire was lit outside in the town square, she couldn't stop her thoughts from drifting to Tearlach as she sat and watched the flames. What was he doing now? Was he still alive? A shaft of sadness pierced her as she thought of him, and she wished she could see him just one more time, even for a moment, and share another kiss. That had been the best moment of her life.