The Betrayal of Maggie Blair - By Elizabeth Laird Page 0,66

drifting curtains across the hills, coming ever nearer to us. Aunt Blair dug into the pony with her heels, and it broke into a reluctant trot, while the rest of us quickened our pace.

The rain struck as we branched off the lane onto the track for Ladymuir, and Grizel and I began to run, holding our plaids over our heads so that we could hardly see where we were going.

Puddles had already formed in the farmyard, and I was splashing through them, shoes in hand, when a well-known voice behind me called out, "Maidie, Maidie, don't run past your old friends!"

I whipped around and saw two figures standing in the shelter of the barn. Tam was holding his blue bonnet in his hands, his weak mouth open in a toothless smile, his eyes wet and pleading like a dog who is afraid of being kicked. And beside him, her head tilted to one side and a sweetly innocent smile curving her pretty mouth, stood Annie.

Chapter 19

I was so shocked at the sight of Annie and Tam that I thought they were evil spirits come to drag me back to Bute and the gallows. I even looked past and behind them, half expecting to see Mr. Macbean and Donnie Brown and even Granny herself. But then Tam said, "You're surprised, Maidie, and I don't wonder, for I'm amazed to be here myself," and Annie rushed forward and put her arms out as if she was my long-lost best friend and wanted to hug me.

I stepped back, out of her way. The thought of being touched by her made my flesh crawl.

"Who are your friends, Maggie?" Uncle Blair said pleasantly. "They must be in dire need if they have been forced to travel and break the Sabbath day."

Before I could say a word, Annie broke in, "Oh, yes, please, sir, we would never have committed such a sin, only..."

She faltered, looking at Tam. I knew she was casting about for a reason that would please my famously Puritan uncle. I could see that already she was trying to worm herself into his good graces, and my heart sank even further when I saw that he was smiling at her.

"Well, well," he said. "No doubt your reasons are good." And he waited, his eyebrows raised, expecting her to speak. When she didn't, he looked inquiringly at me.

"That's Tam," I said unwillingly. "The piper from Bute. Andshe 'sA nnie, who—who—"

Uncle Blair's brows had snapped together, while Aunt Blair drew in a shocked breath and pulled Martha and Nanny close.

"You are the young woman who gave false witness at my niece's trial?" Uncle Blair said sternly. "Who tried to send her to the scaffold? Who lay with a man in adultery?"

Annie burst into tears.

"Oh, sir, oh, please, it was all a dreadful misunderstanding. I never meant—I honestly believed..."

Aunt Blair stepped forward.

"Where's the child?" she demanded. "The baby you bore in sin? What's happened to the baby?"

Annie looked from her to my uncle, her face a perfect study of innocent bewilderment.

"What child? I don't have a child! How could I, when I'm not yet married, and I'm—I'm a virgin?" She turned to me, shaking her head sorrowfully. "Oh, Maggie, what have you been telling them? I knew you didn't like me, but I would never have thought you'd tell such lies."

I could hardly believe my ears.

"Tam!" I burst out. "Tell them! How can you stand there and listen to this? Tam!"

But Tam was shuffling uneasily from one foot to another.

"Well, now, Maidie, I wouldn't want to—girls' quarrels, you know. Is there any chance, mistress, that you might give us a little water to drink and just a crumb to eat? It's been an awful long road to walk."

I don't believe that anyone, not even the greatest rascal in Scotland, could appeal to my uncle's kindness and hospitality and be turned away. Though he looked grave, he invited Tam and Annie into the house and made Grizel set extra places for them at the table. I was speechless, struck dumb by Annie's impudence.

Tam could hardly wait until the long grace had been said but fell on the cheese and oatcakes with such ravenous hunger that I thought he would choke, and though I could tell he was disappointed that the jug held water and not whiskey, his smile to my uncle was one of simple gratitude.

"I knew little Maidie's good folks would not turn away a starving man," he said, "for starving I am, and so's this