Chapter 11

Tearlach was torturing himself. He had spent years thinking and wondering about Norah, years in which he had visualized their meeting, but in his mind's eye it had always been somewhere grand and beautiful. Indeed, he had built a splendid palace for her in his mind.

When they finally came together, he thought, his garments would not be the filthy, tattered ones he was wearing now. They would not be covered in the grit and grime of travel, nights spent sleeping under the stars, in the middle of forests, and sometimes on the wet soil of muddy fields.

No, he would be wearing his finest kilt and plaid, and the shaggy red beard he had grown through the inability to shave would be a thing of the past. He knew, without vanity, that he was handsome, because he had been told so many times, and hopefully his face would then be shown to its best advantage.

He would be riding his handsome chestnut stallion Rory, who would be brushed till his coat was glossy and shining, and Norah would come to meet him on a fine white horse. She would be wearing a pale grey velvet riding habit and her lovely fair hair would be falling softly over her shoulders and cascading like a waterfall down her back. And of course, she would gaze at him with naked adoration in her eyes.

He would help her dismount from her horse, then bow down over her hand and kiss her knuckles, smiling into her eyes as he did so. In his travels, he had seen that this was how gentlemen behaved towards women of good quality, and he wanted to be just like them. Yet he had no interest in any other woman but Norah, and never had done.

He wondered if she would like or admire him more if he was like other men, able to adopt polite table manners, follow orders, and perhaps even learn to dance. Dance? Him? He would very likely tread on every one of his partners' toes and make a complete fool of himself. Tearlach would have laughed out loud if he had not been afraid of waking the others. He might as well admit it to himself; he would never fit into her layer of society. He might, by some miracle, acquire wealth, but he was never going to be anything but a common working man in his heart of hearts.

Another revelation came to him as he lay in the dark: he had completely underestimated the power that Norah had over him. All these years he had thought of her as his equal, even though they were of different social classes, but he knew now that she had more power over him than he had over her. Much more. It had been said from time immemorial that women were the weaker sex, but Tearlach knew that was far from the truth. Norah might not have his muscles, but that kind of strength was not everything.

He sighed, and tried to put her out of his mind completely, but this made him start thinking about his parents, and how worried they would be, wondering how he was and if he was even still alive. A crushing weight of guilt had settled on his shoulders since Norah had told him about his mother's suffering, yet he was helpless to do anything about it. If he went back home he would make them a target, and he certainly had no wish to do that. If only he had thought about what he was doing before he had acted all those years ago then things would have been so much different!

Another hour of fruitless tossing and turning persuaded him that he could not stay under Caitrin's roof a moment longer. He tossed aside his blanket and stood up. Moving as quietly as he could, he put on his boots and ventured outside. There were no locks on the doors here, he noticed. Everyone trusted each other, just as they did in his own village. He hoped that would never change.

Norah had found sleep impossible, even though she was exhausted. Her anxiety about Tearlach was keeping her awake, but that was not the only reason he was keeping her from sleeping. Why was it that she wanted to cross the space between them and snuggle into his arms? Was it because she felt safe with those arms wrapped around her? Or was it because of the strange but wonderfully sensual feelings she had when he held her close to him? Whatever it was, this attraction she felt for him was so deeply unsettling that it was stopping her from sleeping.

Norah was so acutely aware of him that she noticed every sigh and little grunt that he made, and every restless movement, but she merely assumed that he was having disturbing dreams. God only knew what horrors he had seen on the battlefield that could give him nightmares, and she ached to put her arms around him and soothe him.

That was until, by the faint light of the moon streaming through the small window, she saw him standing up. A moment later, he put on his boots and moved to the door, then she heard it creak open and he stepped outside, closing it quietly behind him.

Norah did not hesitate for a moment, but got to her feet and threw on her clothes before quietly going out. She wanted to wake Caitrin up to tell her where she was going, but she knew that the old lady would find some way to stop her, and this time Norah was determined not to be stopped. This was history repeating itself, except this time she would not allow him to disappear into the great beyond without a word to her. She was furious with him and with herself, because she knew that her anger was because she loved him so much she did not want him to leave her again.

Granted, she knew that Tearlach had to go to keep them all safe, but she had too much to say to him first. What if he died without ever finding out how much she loved him? Accordingly, she grabbed her cloak from the coat hook from behind the door and threw it over her shoulders, then closed the door quietly behind her and crept out into the night.

The moon was waxing, but it was still not quite full, although its cold light was very bright, and Norah was able to see ahead of her for some way. For a moment she stood, indecisive, wondering which way he had gone, until she saw his footprints in the hard earth of the path. He was going into the village, and had obviously moved very fast, since he was already out of her sight, but she did not hurry to follow him. She had to be very careful.

She kept to the shadows, darting from one patch of darkness to another, trying to make as little noise as she could. Her heart was beating nineteen to the dozen and she could hear herself breathing fast, the noise seeming ten times as loud in the still night air. An owl hooted somewhere and the sound made her jump.

Then, she noticed that light was still spilling out onto the street from the local tavern, the Bull's Horn. She calculated that the hour must be about midnight, and yet the tavern usually closed well before that. Finally, she saw the reason why he was heading there. There was a row of horses outside, all big, strong beasts bearing the crest of King George the Second on their livery. Redcoats, and she counted six of them.

Norah felt a surge of anger rise inside her. She knew that the landlord and his family were proud, patriotic Scots, and having to serve drinks to the enemy would be painful to them, but what else could they do? They had to make a living, and refusal to serve the soldiers might mean that they could take it into their head to completely wreck the establishment. She had heard of it happening before, those concerned were never punished, and the tavern owners lost their livelihood.

"Damn you all," she growled softly.

Suddenly, she saw a movement in front of her and flattened herself against the wall of the nearest building in the shadow of its eaves. She watched as the figure of a man made its way to the horse nearest her and began to untie its reins from the hitching rail. Norah frowned. The man was tall, too tall to be any of the redcoats she had seen in the area. Could it be Tearlach?

She watched the man for a few more seconds then crept closer until there could be no mistake. It was him, and he was stealing one of the enemy's horses. Was he mad? He had to be, for this was tantamount to suicide.

Norah moved slowly out of the shadows. "Tearlach," she hissed.

He started, then jumped back and swiftly pulled out a dagger, then held it up so that she could see its lethally sharp edge gleaming in the moonlight. When he saw who it was, however, Tearlach breathed a loud sigh, and his shoulders slumped with relief. "Norah!" he whispered angrily. "What are ye doin' here? Go back to the cottage before ye get yourself killed! These men have nae mercy!"

"I will not!" Norah felt like yelling at him but kept her voice down to a low mutter. "Running away again, Tearlach? Just like last time?" her tone was bitter.

"Dinnae be stupid, Norah!" he snapped. "I was goin' in the mornin' anyway. I just decided it would be safer for everybody if I left now."

"Do what you like," Norah said disgustedly. "To think I once cared for you, Tearlach McLachlan. What was I thinking? Go on your way, but hurry up." She turned to walk away, but at that moment two redcoats came stumbling out of the pub, laughing and staggering a little, obviously much the worse for wear. Nevertheless, they were still sober enough to see Tearlach with the horse he was about to steal, and they both ran towards him, their shouts ringing into the still night air.

Norah did not think twice. She ran towards one of the men and pushed him backwards as hard as she could. The speed of her run gave it extra force, and since he was already half-drunk, the man, already off-balance, stumbled backwards for a few steps before falling down. However, he took his comrade, who had been right behind him, down to the ground with him. They scrambled to their feet straight away, but both were inebriated, and dithered about what to do for a moment. Should they try to stop Tearlach or concentrate on Norah?

Their furious shouting had alerted their comrades, and a moment later, four more redcoats burst out of the tavern, yelling, muskets at the ready.