Entwined

  Eilidh slipped the rope from Amber’s collar and set her free. The dog sprang to life in the leafy undergrowth of the trees. Her stomach drew her nose to a trail and before they knew it she had sped off in search of a meal.

  “She’ll catch all she needs,” Eilidh said, joining Duncan next to the cart.

  “I’ve no doubt she will, but in case she doesn’t there’s a lamb leg bone in that sack for her,” he said, nodding at the back of the cart.

  “So that’s what you’ve got in there,” she said, with an appreciative smile. “I’m quite sure that whatever Amber catches it won’t be as welcome as a lamb bone.”

  “She’s not having it until we’ve eaten our fill of the meat on it,” he said lifting the heavy sack and dropping it on the ground. “I bought a salted pork off the inn keeper too. That should keep us for a few days.”

  “Weeks,” Eilidh said, having a peek inside the sack. “What have you got in that sack,” she asked pointing at the second bag which was still in the cart.

  “A couple of loaves of bread, some butter and a small keg of ale.”

  “We will be rolling into York at this rate,” she said, curling her mouth in an appreciative smile. “Thank you.”

  “The pleasure is all mine, madam,” he said with an exaggerated bow which sent them both into fits of laughter.

  “Shall I unhitch the horses?” she asked when at last they had ceased their laughing.

  “Aye,” he said, pulling some dried wood from the cart. “Pa and I chopped this two summers back,” he paused and pursed his lips thoughtfully. “It was two summers back from 1715 but I’ve lost track of time. I suppose if you add up all the time we were in the ‘new world’ it would be possible to work it out, but right now I prefer to think of it as two summers back.”

  “Can you still remember how to light a fire?” she asked.

  “I don’t need to.”

  “Aren’t we cooking the lamb?”

  “Oh aye, we are cooking it alright,” he said, sliding his hand inside the pocket of his trousers. “I didn’t forget to empty my jeans when I changed,” he said, opening his hand to show her a ‘new world’ lighter.

  “Be sure you are never seen with that,” Eilidh cautioned.

  “I did consider leaving it at the farm,” he paused, at the thought of his childhood home, “but it seemed more of a risk to leave it there. Besides, for the purpose of this trip, I do believe it will be most useful.”

  Eilidh nodded her agreement and set to work on the horses.

  “There is a stream of water down there,” he said, nodding to his left. Tether them to a tree for now and I’ll take them down for a drink when I’ve got the fire going,” he said, moving off in search of dry kindling. Eilidh did as she was asked and then went about clearing a small campsite. The farmhouse had provided them with most essentials, including a cooking pot and bedding. She lifted the heavy cast iron pot from the cart and set it on the ground next to the dried wood from the farm.

  Duncan wasn’t gone long. He returned with an excited Amber and an arm full of dried twigs and leaves. His face lit up as his eyes rested on Eilidh, staring thoughtfully up at the sky.

  “A penny for them?” he said, dropping the kindling on the ground next to the cooking pot.

  “I was just wondering what time it is,” she said, watching the sun gradually disappear behind a hill.

  He followed her look and stared idly at the horizon.

  “I have never thought so much about time as I have over the past year.”

  “Nor have I,” she replied softly. “What did you do with your watch?”

  “I left it in the hole we made as kids,” he said.

  “Do you miss it?”

  “Aye, I do, but it stopped working the moment we changed time, so it wouldn’t have been much use to us.”

  “Shall I fetch the meat?” she asked, watching as a flame from his lighter caught on a twig.

  “Aye,” he said, moving the flaming twig to a small pile of leaves and wood shavings.

  “I’m glad you didn’t leave your knife behind,” she said, watching the wood shavings catch light.

  “Never,” he replied, blowing gently on the pile of kindling.

  “Be careful no one ever catches you with the knife, either,” she said, casting her eyes to the red plastic cased penknife next to the pile of shavings.

  “Oh I will be,” he replied, reaching for the knife and slipping it into his pocket.

  Eilidh grabbed two woolen blankets from the cart and laid them on the clearing beside the fire.

  “Can you fetch those two water bottles from my bag?” he said, pulling the leg joint from the sack.

  “Aye. What do you want me to do with them?”

  “Take them down to the stream and fill them with water, please?”

  “Duncan, we should get rid of all these things,” she said, retrieving the bottles from his bag.

  He shrugged, “They are useful.”

  “But dangerous,” she replied with slight panic to her voice. “People in this time are suspicious. You know that.”

  “Then we have to make sure that no one ever knows that we have these things.”

  She turned from him and made her way down a small bank to the stream. Holding the bottle under the water she shuddered at the thought of their fate, were they ever to be discovered.

  Eilidh had found some mint growing on the edge of the river bank and had returned to Duncan with a triumphant smile and a hand full of the heavily scented herb. Now the smell of minted lamb filled the cool evening air around them and Eilidh’s stomach rumbled in anticipation of the meal.

  Duncan was down at the river, watering the horses, Amber had curled up beside her with her head tucked under her front paw. She could hear the gentle rhythm of her breathing as her ribs rose and fell with each breath. Eilidh ran her hand gently over the curve of the dog’s back. She was a boney creature, despite the amount of food she managed to consume. Her eyes wandered to the glowing embers of the fire and was thankful for the gentle light. She rose and made her way to the back of the cart. Pulling a quilt from it, she wrapped it snugly around her shoulders before returning to her spot beside Amber and the fire. It wasn’t long before Duncan returned with the two horses and, having tethered them to a tree, sat himself next to Eilidh.

  “That meat smells almost cooked,” he said, stretching his legs out in front of him. “I’m surprised Amber has settled so well, given the smells from that pot.”

  Eilidh smiled down at the dog, snoring peacefully beside her. “I think she caught her fill of food earlier.”

  “Well, the bone should keep her quiet for a few hours tomorrow,” Duncan said, reaching forwards and peering inside the pot.

  “Shall I get some plates?” she asked, letting the quilt drop from her shoulders as she rose.

  “It’s a good thing that Shannon disappeared.”

  “What do you mean?” Eilidh said, sliding two pewter plates and two spoons from a wooden box in the back of the cart.

  “We’d have had a much rougher trip if we hadn’t been able to raid the farmhouse.”

  “What do you suppose happened to Shannon?” Eilidh asked, passing Duncan the plates.

  “I don’t know, but I’m not so sure I care much. She was a bad one. Rotten through and through,” he said, spooning some of the liquid and meat onto the plates.

  Eilidh nodded but a frown crept over her brow.

  “Perhaps we should try and find her?” Eilidh said eventually.

  “Are you out of your mind?” Duncan said, handing her one of the loaded plates. “The girl tried to kill you.”

  “Aye, Duncan, I know, but that isn’t a reason not to make sure she is alright.”

  “I’d say it’s the best damn reason in the world,” he said, spooning a large mouthful of lamb into his mouth. “By Gods but this meat is good,” he mumbled through his mouthful.

  “It’s very tender,” she said, blowing gently on her spoonful. “I don’t kn
ow how you can do that?”

  “Do what?” he asked, shoveling another laden spoonful into his mouth.

  “That,” she said, nodding at the spoon. “It’s piping hot. Doesn’t it burn your mouth?”

  He laughed, “I’m too hungry to notice.”

  “Duncan?” she whispered.

  “Aye lass?”

  “Please can we look for Shannon?”

  His eyes shot up from his plate to stare at her.

  “You can’t be serious?”

  She nodded slowly. “I’m worried about her. She should have been at the farm.”

  “And had she been, we would probably both be dead by now.”

  “Aye, but that doesn’t change the fact that she might be in trouble.”

  “Would she help you if you were in trouble?” he argued.

  “You know perfectly well she wouldn’t.”

  “Then why on God’s earth would you want to help her?”

  “I don’t know,” Eilidh said quietly, meeting his eyes with a pleading look.

  “Why risk both our lives with this foolishness? The woman could be anywhere,” he snapped. “She might even have died when she was thrown back.”

  “I know all that,” Eilidh said, lowering her eyes to the ground.

  “Then why?”

  “Despite whatever she may have done, Shannon is still a human being - besides which, I promised her parents, before I left the village, that I would help her if she ever needed it.”

  “I won’t stop you from looking for her, but I don’t agree with it. I think you are courting trouble.”

  “Do you think me weak for it?”

  Duncan shook his head and smiled across at her. “Na, lass,” he said, mimicking his father’s accent, “I could never think you weak.”

  In the shadows of the evening light, Eilidh’s eyes betrayed her surprise at his words.

  “What makes you think that?” Duncan asked with genuine curiosity.

  She lowered her head to stare at the ground. “I always assumed that was the opinion everyone had of me.”

  He reached out and tilted her chin with his fingers, turning her face gently, to look up at him. “Hear this, Eilidh, and hear it well. There is no stronger, more courageous act than to risk your own life in an attempt to help another, especially when that other has done nothing to deserve your help.”

  As the moon rose, they lay together, staring up at the stars that shimmered and glistened like a million twinkling lights. Eilidh’s head rested on Duncan’s chest. It was a calm, still night, the only sound being that of the soft crackle of the fire that smoldered at their feet, a nearby stream’s babble and Amber’s content snoring.

  “It’s such a lovely night,” Eilidh whispered.

  “Aye, it is.”

  “Do you suppose the others are alright?” she asked, contemplatively.

  “I hope so…” he replied.

  A few minute’s silence passed as both their minds traced the path they had traveled together and apart. Eventually, their thoughts settled on each other. Eilidh turned to rest her chin on Duncan’s chest. She gazed up and their eyes locked, and in this moment they explored each other’s souls, lost their hearts and surrendered their minds. Eilidh believed that she could never be closer to anyone than she was to Duncan at this moment: This one beautiful, glorious moment when the unspoken vow of true surrender was made. The moment when Duncan lifted his head and their lips softly connected rendered them both still, suspended in time, above reality and beyond complexity, they embraced the moment as if they could remain in it forever.

  “I can’t imagine that there is anyone else who feels like this, right now,” Eilidh whispered.

  “I hope so,” Duncan replied, “If not, there seems little point.”

  “In what?” she asked, solemnly.

  “Life, time, us - everything,” he said, with a wave of his hand.

  She straightened herself so they were now level. For a few seconds they remained silent, their eyes still locked. Eilidh edged her body slowly closer to his as he placed his arm around her waist, their lips moving closer still. At that right moment, their lips connected again. This time he kissed her deeply, his tongue thrusting and urgent.

  “Eilidh,” he moaned, his voice thick and gruff. “Are you absolutely sure this is what you want?”

  “More than I have ever wanted anything,” she breathed, sliding on top of him.

  They both knew this moment was going to be special. No matter what happened after this night, their hearts would forever be one; distances would feel like inches, time would evaporate like a snowflake on a flame. The heaviness of their breathing and the pounding of their hearts penetrated the silence of nature’s night, drowning out everything that didn’t matter. Their attention resolute, dedicated wholly to each other, as the warmth of the need in their bodies intensified. Eilidh’s flushed face was soft against his rough stubble, both glowing in the light of the fire. Duncan slid his hands to her skirts, Eilidh pulled the tie of his shirt and ran the tip of her nail down his chest, to the small of his waist and then lower still. The gentle shadow of her body fell over Duncan and disappeared as she bent closer to him. His eyes burned with unveiled passion. She met his look as she drew closer, pressing her lips against his and relaxing against him as he drew her hard against him. Her breast crushed against the solid wall of his chest and a choked moan escaped him as her tongue traced the line where their lips met. His hand slid to the small of her back, forcing her tighter still against him. He rose against her and she shuddered with suppressed need. He pushed her back, his eyes dropping to the swell of her breast. She gripped the muscles of his arms as his hands slid gently over her hips and cupped them with his palms. She swallowed hard and melted against him. Duncan buried his head in the fall of her hair which hung from her shoulders like a curtain of golden thread. He brushed her cheeks with his lips, his breath warm and comforting on her face. Slowly she began to move her hips against him, each movement creating a wild new and exciting sensation deep within her. She clung to him, desperately, as he held her on the brink of release until their bodies and hearts entwined. Eilidh collapsed on top of Duncan. They lay there, silently content in the stillness of the night. Exhausted, they closed their eyes and let their dreams interpret the intimacy of what they had experienced. So far away from everyone who mattered to them, everyone they loved and everyone that loved them, but at that moment, they had each other. They had the moment, they were the moment and what mattered was that their hearts beat as one, in that moment of time.

  ******

  CHAPTER 33

  North West Highlands of Scotland - 21st December, Modern Day

  “What time is it?” Graham shouted. “My bloody watch has stopped working.” He shook his wrist in the hope of jolting the mechanism back to life.

  “Half eleven,” Rose replied.

  “How is she doctor?”

  “Not good, Grace.”

  “Can’t you do anything?” Jenny asked, coming to sit beside Rose.

  Graham shook his head. “Nothing more than I already have.”

  “Why is this happening? Ladies have babies all the time and they are fine.” Jenny said, touching Corran lightly on the arm.

  “There were complications, Jenny, things that should have been treated in a hospital, not in a pub and the back of a lorry. There’s hardly enough oxygen in here to keep us alive, let alone a woman who’s just undergone major surgery.”

  “Is all this because of my father?”

  Grace put her arm around her daughter, lowering her head gently against her shoulder.

  “Jen, your father is a bad man and he has done many things he shouldn’t have - but what has happened to Corran isn’t all his fault.”

  “Will he find us?”

  “No, darling, I don’t think he will now.”

  “Rose, did I see you with a beanie earlier?” Grace asked, drawing her daughter closer to her.

  “Yeah, it’s in my bag. Why?”
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  “It’s getting really cold in here. I think we should cover the baby’s head.”

  “Yeah, I’ve had him covered with my jacket but you’re right. His head needs something on it.”

  “Can I get it out for you?” Grace offered, reaching for the green barrel bag.

  “Please,” Rose nodded. “It’s in the right hand pouch.”

  Grace slid her hand into the bag and easily located the soft woolen hat.

  “It’s going to be ridiculously big for him,” she said, looking at the tiny head nestled against Rose’s breast.

  “It’s not going to work, is it?” Grace said, holding the hat up.

  “No, mate, I don’t think it is.”

  “I’ve an idea,” Jenny said, drawing herself away from her mother’s embrace and rising to make her way across the lorry.

  “Go on then?” Grace said.

  “Mum, I’ve got these,” she said, sliding her hand inside the pocket of her jeans and pulling out a chain of safety pins.

  “What are you doing with those?” Grace asked, in surprise.

  “They were on dad’s desk, at home. I picked them up and made a bracelet out of them. I guess I was bored,” she said, undoing the pins from the chain. “We can use them to resize the hat.”

  “Can someone please find out how much further we have to go?” Graham shouted with frustrated impatience.

  “Not far. I’ve just spoken to Robert and he said that Simon doesn’t think we’ve too much further to go now,” Rose replied, retrieving a bottle from the warmer. She tipped the teat to drip the milk onto the back of her hand.

  “It’s coming, little one,” she said, shaking the drop of milk off her hand.

  “He looks silly in that hat,” Grace said, with a chuckle.

  “Yeah, but thanks to Jenny he’s warm,” Rose replied, guiding the teat into the baby’s mouth.

  Grace fixed her eyes on Corran. “She doesn’t look good.”

  “She’s unconscious,” Graham replied.

  “You look shattered yourself,” Grace said to Graham.

  “Yeah, well it’s been a long day.”

  “It’s very stuffy in here too. We could do with some fresh air and heating.”

  “In an ideal world, Corran would be in a hospital. Nothing about this is set up is good, Grace,” Graham said, regretting his harshness the moment the words had left his mouth. The simple fact was that, Grace was right. The lack of oxygen in the back of the lorry and the bitterly cold air was doing little to aid Corran’s recovery. Graham was becoming increasingly concerned for his patient and desperately frustrated with the lack of facilities at his disposal. He was under no illusion. Corran was dying and there was very little he could do to prevent it.