Free God's Highlander by E. V. Thompson Page A

‘Bless you for the kind thought. Mairi sacrificed her dress to make a rope with which to rescue young Kirstie Munro and her sister. I’m sure the good Lord will understand.’
    â€˜Perhaps. But it will be a while before she meets with Him. In the meantime she has to live with the folk of Eskaig. She’d never have dared flaunt herself so in front of Preacher Gunn – God rest his saintly soul.’
    Biting back the retort that Minister Gunn had probably never been confronted with a similar situation, Wyatt said mildly: ‘I’m sure you’re right – and bless you once again for your kind thought. It’s something I shall remember.’
    When the woman departed her expression left no one in any doubt that ensuring Mairi was ‘decently’ attired was of more importance to her than the approbation of Eskaig’s newly appointed minister.

    Settling the Munro family in the manse for the night was no easy matter. There were only two bedrooms in the small house, and Wyatt turned them both over to the large family.
    The children were given the largest bedroom, and in spite of his protests Lachlan Munro was put to bed in the other. The ex-soldier was swaying with fatigue but was reluctant to give in to his weakness until Wyatt forcibly led him from the room.
    Returning to the living-room, Wyatt saw Mairi running a finger along the polished-wood sideboard that had probably been donated by a previous landowner.
    â€˜It’s time you started for home, Mairi; it will be dark soon. Or would you prefer to stay and share a room with the girls?’
    â€˜I’ll go home when I’m ready.’ Mairi looked up and saw that Wyatt’s concern for her was genuine. ‘It’s all right. I’ve been out after dark before.’
    She looked down again at the polished sideboard beneath her finger. ‘I’ve never seen such a piece of furniture as this. It’s beautiful. Is it yours?’
    Remembering the simple earthen-floored cot on the high land above Eskaig, Wyatt shoot his head. ‘I’ve rarely stayed anywhere for long enough to accumulate possessions.’
    â€˜Is that why you’ve never married?’
    Had the same question come from any other woman – from Evangeline Garrett – Wyatt would have expected it to be accompanied by a degree of coyness. But there was nothing coy about Mairi Ross. It was a perfectly straightforward question.
    â€˜I suppose it is. A soldier’s life was not one to share with a wife.’
    Mairi’s chin came up immediately. ‘Neither my father nor my mother would agree with you. They met in Spain. Pa was a Guardsman.’
    The information that Eneas Ross had been a soldier did not surprise Wyatt. There were few true Highland men of his age who had not served in the British army, and Eneas Ross had both the build and proud bearing of a Guardsman.
    â€˜Your mother is Spanish?’ It explained Mairi’s dark, almost swarthy complexion, and the haughtiness that did not accord with the status of a barefoot mountain girl.
    â€˜My mother is a good woman. As good as any around these parts.’ Mairi spoke with a fierce aggressiveness, as though it was a defence she had put forward on many occasions.

    â€˜I don’t doubt it for one minute. I fought under a brave commanding officer in South Africa. He met his wife in Spain. She went with him wherever he fought and as well as being extremely brave was also one of the most charming women I’ve ever met.’
    Much of Mairi’s aggression left her. ‘Minister Gunn never felt that way. He always spoke of Ma as “Eneas Ross’s foreign woman”. I overheard him once.’ The defensiveness returned again. ‘Pa says she was as brave as any man on the battlefield. More than one wounded soldier owed his life to her tending.’
    â€˜She can be proud of what you’ve done today, Mairi. You saved the lives of the Munro