Alex shrugged and lifted a red eyebrow. “Ou, I’ve no doubt at all that she can look after herself,” he observed dryly. “But I’ve no objection; only, Ian avic, let us not be trusting her as far as tomorrow, for there is no loyalty in her.”
The lazy mockery of his voice had a whiplash in it, and Kelpie flinched, unexpectedly hurt by it. She lashed back, remembering the scene in Loch nan Eilean.
“You!” she fumed. “You, to be talking of loyalty, who would strike down a friend from behind!”
Alex gaped. It was the first time she had ever caught him out of countenance, and it gave her great satisfaction. Ian looked distressed. “Och, now!” he protested hastily. “Let you both be saving your fighting for the Covenant armies. Come away back to the camp, now, and we’ll talk as we go.”
They started back, out of Pitlochry and over the narrow road lined with tall blooming thistles. The heather, just preparing to bloom, glowed rustily under the patchy sunlight. Alex strode along frowning, still smarting and dumfounded over the outrageous flank attack. What could she have meant by it, the wee witch? She had seemed genuinely indignant, too. For once she was not acting; Alex had been matching wits with her long enough to be sure of that. Then what under the great heavens could he have done to draw such a denunciation, such withering scorn from an unprincipled gypsy lass who would doubtless betray her own grandmother for a bit of copper? It made no sense whatever. And although Alex reminded himself that the opinion of a wee witch could scarcely matter, he found that it rankled. “Dhiaoul!” he muttered under his breath and knit his brows in annoyance, leaving most of the conversation to Ian.
“And why is it you’re so concerned over Mac Cailein Mor, Kelpie?” Ian asked. “Have you been studying more politics since you left Glenfern?”
Kelpie hedged. “Is it likely I’d be wanting to run into the head of the Covenant army, and him death on gypsies and all who do not belong to the Kirk? No, now”—she shifted the subject—“tell me what has been happening, and why Colkitto has his army at Blair Atholl.”
“Well, so.” Ian thought for a minute, his sensitive profile clear and grave against the mauve and russet and olive of the August hills. Kelpie tilted her own face to look at him as she kept easy pace while Alex walked, brooding silently, behind.
“Did you know,” began Ian, “that Colkitto brought over his whole clan to fight for the King against Argyll and the Covenant, and perhaps take back some of the MacDonald land from the Campbells?”