Well, here it is , just in case you were wondering where it was the latest chapter, real life seems to rear its ugly head at the wrong times. Again thank you for all the comments, and as always a great big thank you to djkauf for the editing.

“Lassie, wake up, Susan wake up” I kept hearing a voice telling me to wake up. Who was Susan? Why, was I being called a lassie, I wanted to ignore the voice, but it was insistent. “Susan, we have to go, the rest of the redcoats will be here soon. I opened my eyes and stared into the deepest blue eyes. Then I remembered Andrew, the redcoats. “Andrew?”

“Yes, lassie now let me help you up we have to get on the horses and ride.” He helped me to my feet and then helped me to mount Sidh. He gathered his pistols, then mounted his horse and we galloped off away from the village and the carnage I helped make, I killed people, and they are there, lying on the ground in puddles of blood, I didn’t even think of what I was doing I just aimed and fired and now they are dead. I have blood on my hands and for what, I don’t even know why. Andrew soon left the road heading in a southerly direction, just slowing down enough so the horses wouldn’t stumble while we crossed the moors. Soon the terrain was too rocky and much too uneven for us continue at any speed without risking a horse breaking a leg, I just followed Andrew staring at his back while he picked his way through the terrain, I tried not to let my mind wander, because when I did all I saw were dead men staring at me, until something would break their spell on me.

We soon found ourselves on a road the followed a rather swift flowing river. It was the Spey, once we were on the road Andrew started galloping southward again. We slowed only to give the horses a breather; as they were laboring on this demanding pace, as I watched the river flow as we moved along the road. I wondered if I stopped and waded out into that swift current. Would it take me away and wash the blood from my hands, and give my haunters my soul as the payment they demanded of me?

We continued following the Spey southward until dark settled in. Andrew reined his horse to a stop and then left the road where about twenty yards or so away, there was a large deep depression surrounded by rocks. He dismounted, then helped me dismount and then led the horses into the depression, as I followed. At the bottom of the depression, the sound of trickling water could be heard. There among the rocks I could barely make out a small pool being fed from a small spring. He let the horses drink their fill, and then staked their reins. “We can’t be seen from the road while in here, but no fire, it will be best to fill yourself with the water and try and sleep.” I just nodded in reply. “You handled yourself well today lassie, unfortunately it will just bring more trouble, but it had to be done. I am glad to know I can depend on you.”

Again, I just nodded and found someplace to sit. I wrapped myself into my cape and tried to sleep. I remember the dream, I was wading in puddles of blood, hands kept reaching up and tried pulling me down, I would shake loose of their grasp, and continue walking. I could see Andrew waving me on telling me to hurry, and then scores of hands reached up and started to pull me down, I started drowning in blood and I screamed. With that I woke up, and woke up Andrew, I just started shaking, Andrew came over “Susan, what is it?” he asked tenderly.

“Oh, Andrew, I killed those men.” I sobbed.

“Oh, lassie it had to be done. It was either that or we would be both dead.” He moved closer to me and placed one arm around me wrapping both of us into the upper part of his Féileadh Má²r. I just turned my head into his chest and cried. “There, there lassie, it is ok, just go ahead and cry.”

Cry I did and eventually I must have fallen asleep because, that is the way I woke wrapped in his arms, head on his chest and surrounded by yards of tartan. I found it a bit strange, it didn’t bother me that a man was holding me. It just felt right. I looked at that sleeping man and wondered what was happening to me? Then one deep blue eye opened, “Feeling better, lassie?” he asked.

“Yes, Andrew I do. I am sorry for waking you last night.” As I pulled away from his arms, and stood up.

“No harm done, lassie, I should have realized that it would not be something you were used to. Are you ready to get moving again?” He then stood up, adjusted the material of his kilt, and re-pinned it at his shoulder. We drank our fill from the spring, took care of some personal needs, watered the horses, led them out of the depression, mounted and continued our journey southward.

Always on the lookout for military patrols, we continued southward for another two full days, we had nothing but water to drink and nothing to eat since what porridge we had, which seemed years ago. We avoided towns and villages, always moving only stopping for the night. On what I counted as the fifth night from when we left Pittodrie House. Andrew started talking about heading west in the morning. “We will have to be very careful now, lassie, as we will be passing near Fort William. There is a garrison there and there will be more patrols, we have been very lucky so far since our wee run in with the redcoats.”

“Where are we heading to now, Andrew?”

“In the morning we start heading to Ardsheal House. It looks out over Kentallen Bay. In order to avoid the patrols we are going to have to have to go up over the Grampians until till we pass Fort William, then down through Glen Coe to the coast. We have another four days yet.”

“Andrew, I am very hungry.”

“I know lassie, I am quite famished myself, I know a few crofters along the way, and we will find food there.” I could see the Grampian Mountains in the distance they seemed close, but I was sure it was a bit of an illusion, while they aren’t the highest of mountains; they are the highest on the British Isles. We gradually traveled in a southwesterly direction towards the mountains leaving the River Spey behind us. Andrew, I could see, was being very cautious, while we crossed open areas, straining to look for soldiers. By nightfall, we had reached the foothills of the Grampians and could relax slightly from looking for soldiers as we could easily hide in the wooded hillsides and small glens. Andrew led us into a small glen where there was a small cottage sitting, where light streamed through small windows, and smoke curled up into the night sky from the chimney.

As we got close to the cottage, Andrew motioned for me to stay where I was, as he got off his horse and walked up to the door. I could hear him call out something as he reached the door, as the door opened, pouring light out into the night a large man stood in the doorway, with a sword in his hand. I could tell that there was a conversation between them by the nodding of heads and gestures, but I couldn’t tell exactly what, all I could hear was laughter now and then. I saw Andrew motion me forward, I reached for the reins of his horse and rode forward. I got off Sidh and Andrew took the reins from me and tied the horses off where they could eat and drink. “Susan, I want you to meet an old friend of mine a fellow clansman. This Is Iain MacLeay.” “Iain, this is Lady Susan Gordon of Aberdeen.”

This giant of man, who reminded me of Robbie Coltrane, stepped forward “It’s a pleasure my lady.” Taking my hand that all of a sudden seemed quite small into a very large rough hand, he bowed quite gracefully.

“It is my pleasure, Sir Iain.” I replied

“I am not a Sir, my lady, only Sir here is Andrew, and welcome to my home, it isn’t much but it keeps me and my dogs warm.” With that, he led Andrew and me inside the little cottage. Iain’s cottage was warm and full of roughhewn furniture, a fire roared in the fireplace. What empty spaces that wasn’t taken up by furniture was taken up by dogs, I knew the breed; they would be known as Scottish Deerhounds in my time, long and lean like a greyhound but tall and covered by a wiry grey fur like an Irish Wolfhound.

Moving the dogs out of the way, he had us sitting a table with benches. Where the dogs just crowded around us like an audience, Iain went over to a cupboard, and pulled out what appeared to be a shank of cooked meat. Placing it on the platter that was on the table. “Andrew says you haven’t eaten in a while; help yourself.” Then he shoved a large knife into the meat. “I have some ale I made myself, somewhere in here.” Lifting up small barrels and giving them a shake. “Oh here it is” he pulled out a plug on the barrel, sloshed ale into tankards, and placed them and the little barrel on the table. “Go on eat, don’t wait for me, and if you don’t do it quick, the dogs will be after it.” He then sat a large earthenware jug on the table. “That’s for later.” He said with a large smile.

Andrew sliced off some of the meat and started, eating away, I had to pull the platter closer to me and did the same. I took a swallow of the offered ale, it was strong, and heavy with a definite sweetness to it, and gasped a bit. Iain looked over at me. “If you want I can head down to the burn and get some water for you, if that would be more to your pleasing; can’t say I have much use for it myself other than to make the ale.”

I just shook my head and bravely took another swallow. Between Andrew, Iain and I we stripped that shank bare. Iain pulled some bread out of the cupboard and set that on the table. I tore off some the bread and wolfed that down, as well. I was full, I ate more than I should have, but I had been hungry. Andrew gave me a look, grinned and said, “I must say lassie, for a Lady, you don’t eat like one.”

Iain pulled a cork out of the earthenware jug, and exclaimed, “Now, for the Uisge-beatha.” Checking to see if the tankards were empty, he poured a good measure into each. Raising his tankard, Iain said. “To new friends, and to old friends, and to the King that’s over the water.” Andrew and I followed suit “To the King that’s over the water.” We replied. I took a sip of the whiskey and felt the warmth spread down my throat and light a fire in my overly full stomach, realizing it was the finest malt whiskey I had ever tasted. I looked around the room, by this time the dogs had realized they weren’t getting anything and were sleeping all around the room. Andrew and Iain were having an animated conversation about something in the past. In the corner I saw a small harp made of wood and carved with Celtic knot work, I couldn’t help but wonder what it was doing here.

I must have been staring at it when Iain said. “Would you like some music lassie?”

“Do you play the harp, Iain?”

“Well not so much anymore, not since my wife died, fact is you’re the first woman in this house since then, but I can give it try.” He went over to the harp and brushed dust off it, picked it up, then sat on the bench with the base of the harp between his knees and upper back resting on his shoulder. He strummed it a few times, adjusted some tuning pegs and started plucking at the strings. The music was sad, slow and melodic, I watched Iain while he played and his eyes seemed to be focused on something far away as he played and I was amazed at such a large man could play so delicately. He then changed the tempo to something quick and lively and I found myself keeping time with my foot, then Andrew was tapping the table with his hand. Iain played for hours, and the ale and Uisge-Beatha flowed and for a while, the world seemed fine to me.

I awoke in the morning curled up in a corner near the fireplace; with four dogs that were doing their best imitations of pillows and blankets, and a head that was pounding. “You’re up, good, porridge will be ready soon.” Said Iain who it seemed was feeling no ill effects from last night. “Andrew is outside seeing to the horses, he wants you on your way shortly.” I just sat there on the floor amongst the dogs, nursing a very sore head. Suddenly I was wishing for coffee, something that I hadn’t missed until now. I heard things placed on the table and struggled to my feet.

Andrew came in from outside. “Oh our dancer is awake is she?” he said with this large grin. I just looked at him through half closed eyes. “You surprised me lassie, not many women, would be trying to match Iain drink for drink, even I won’t try and do that. Of course, you surprised us both with the dancing on the table.” Not even wanting to find out more, I just turned to the bowl of porridge that was set in front of me and ate. He continued to say as he sat at the table. “I do have to say Lassie, you have bonnie ankles.” Iain was grinning just as wide as Andrew was, and poured tea for us both.

After eating and the tea, my pounding head was now just an annoying throb. We said our goodbyes to Iain and I thanked him for his hospitality. “Think nothing of it, Lassie. It was good to hear the laughter of a woman under the roof again.” As Andrew and I rode off, I looked back at Iain standing outside his cottage surrounded by his dogs, not knowing the next time I saw him, it would be far from here and under much different circumstances.

We rode higher and higher into the mountains, and eventually it was too steep to ride; we continued up the mountains circumventing the steeper areas and eventually by sunset had reached the uppermost elevation of our route. Andrew pointed out Glen Coe and we started downward. We stopped and made a cold camp when it became too dark to descend safely. Huddled in my woolen cape, out of the wind, I struggled for sleep.

By early afternoon, we had made our descent and traveled the glens of the foothills. Nightfall found us at the eastern opening of Glen Coe, and in the cottage of Seamus and Maggie MacIain. Seamus was a relative of Alastair MacIain, who had been murdered during the infamous Massacre of Glencoe some 50 years prior. A staunch Jacobite and he made no qualms about letting you know that fact. Maggie was a warm and friendly woman who seemed rather excited that another woman was in the house, and kept me close the whole night going on about things I should have probably known but didn’t, while the men drank and talked.

We left the MacIain’s in the early hours of the morning following the River Coe as it made its way through the wide glen. By nightfall, we had reached the western end of the glen, and in the house of a clansman of Seamus MacIain. “Well Lassie, we should be at Ardsheal by tomorrow, night.” Andrew said when we had a minute to ourselves. “I have to tell you, something you probably don’t wish to hear. I heard this from Seamus and I was trying to find the right moment to tell you, but it appears there isn’t going to be a good time. It seems a price has been put on your head, for killing those soldiers; seems some geordie gave your description to the army when they came looking for their patrol. Seems that if we are captured, we will both hang together, as I am wanted for murder too, as well as treason. When we get to Ardsheal I will see if Charles can find us passage to France, we won’t be safe in Scotland for some time.”

I didn’t sleep well that night after the news Andrew gave me. As I lay in bed, I kept wondering about everything that has happened. I was sent back in time to 18th century Scotland sometime before the 1745 rebellion, for some reason by persons unknown called the Old Ones, in the body of a young noble woman. I can’t find out why until the full moon, and I have to find a ring of standing stones in order to do that. I have killed British soldiers, and now have a price on my head for doing that, and find I am going to have to flee to France now in order to save my life. I was beginning to think Alice falling down that rabbit hole didn’t have anything on me. To top it all off I am finding myself being attracted to Andrew, and that scared me the most of all.

After a sleepless night, that next morning found me back on Sidh heading south along the western coast of Scotland. We stayed off the road in order to avoid any military patrols, as from what I gathered from Andrew, this area was patrolled heavily due to the coastline, and proximity of Fort William. As we made our way through the coastal forests and in the middle of a glen, we came upon a large solid rock formation that arose out of the middle of the glen to a height that was slightly higher the hills on either side of the glen. I could see a well-worn path that made its way to the top of it. “What is this place Andrew?” I asked.

“Cnoc an Tursachan Dubh Hill of the Dark Stone Circle is the old name but the villagers call it Cnoc an Buidseach Witch’s Hill because mysterious things have happened there. The last woman they found around here had gone utterly mad, dressed in strange clothes and speaking in a tongue that no one knew. She was burned at the stake for being a witch; I was just a wee lad when that happened. You can see the top of it from either of the hills that form the glen, I have seen the top, and it has large standing stones, some of which are put together to look like arches or doorways. Best stay away from it lassie, I don’t need you being burned at the stake.”

He navigated us around the rock hill and up to the top of one of the glens hills. “If you look back you can see the top.” I turned to look and was surprised; it had all the appearance of Stonehenge, just smaller. “We aren’t too far from Ardsheal, let’s keep moving, lassie.” I looked back again at the standing stones, and realized I had found a place to speak to the Old Ones, providing doing so wouldn’t get me branded as a witch.

We made our way down the hill and right to the coast, we travelled along the rocky shore, until we could see a small village, and beyond that in the distance a large tower house. Andrew pulled up and stopped. “We will wait for nightfall, before going further. That village is Kentallen, and the tower you see beyond that is Ardsheal House.” I dismounted and walked over to the shoreline and watched the small waves lap the shore I could see Islands in the distance, knowing them to be the Hebrides. I felt alone, and scared, not knowing why I was here. Now the fear of knowing if I weren’t careful, I could be hung as a murderer, weighed on me. I heard Andrew come up behind me. “Beautiful, isn’t it.” He asked.

“Yes, it is, Andrew” I stood there watching the sun setting behind the Hebrides lighting up the sky and water with the color of molten gold, I felt a hand placed on my shoulder, and felt myself turned around. “Susan, if I don’t do this now, I will never get the courage to do so.” With those words, Andrew pulled me into his arms and kissed me, and I allowed myself to surrender to the embrace and the kiss and returned both with equal passion.

My apologies to the gaelic speakers if I got the context wrong on when naming the hill which in case you are wondering doesn't exist. Uisge-beatha translates to "water of life" it is also where we get the word whisky from.
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