By Caillech

Caillech2000@yahoo.com

http://www.arkwolf.com/caillechsite/index.html

Mean and moody, the Scottish Highlands are a land of moorland, forests and lochs. Dispersed among its mountains are wild places and silent glens as well as magnificent landscapes. Glowering skies, torrential downpours and windstorms are a harsh fact of life. When the sun does shine, however, it is one of the most beautiful places on earth.

It is a land sparsely populated by rugged clans…fiercely loyal people whose core is comprised of descendents of a common ancestor. The clans, in turn, are accompanied by any number of associated septs that have either sought the protection of a clan or have been tenants of its chief.

Strangers…of whatever sept…who possessed special skills, maintained allegiance and, when required -adopted the clan surname, were also at times gathered into the clans.

Edinburgh, 1742

James Joseph Ellison hurried through the narrow lanes of the over-crowded merchant section of the city. As the eldest son of laird William, a respected sept chieftain, it was James’ duty to make the trek to the capital several times a year to procure supplies for the their tenants, arrange for the sale and shipping of the goods produced on their lands, send and receive communiqués and attend to any other errands deemed necessary.

An imposing figure, he was a fine specimen of a sturdy highland man…tall, broad shouldered and well muscled. A strong jaw, finely chiseled cheekbones and eyes the color of the pale blue sky soon after dawn’s first light, his features reflected the rugged heritage of his highland breeding.

Unlike many of his fellow clansmen, James wore his hair close-cropped…a preference he picked up during his time spent in France years before as a young man under the tutelage of the Jesuits. Many prominent clan leaders insisted that their sons be well educated and James was no exception.

The Ellison sept swore its allegiance to clan MacKenzie whose lands swept across the moors of western Scotland and bordered the shores of the icy North Atlantic. As prominent members of the clan, James, his father and brother all wore the feileadh mor, a large one-piece woolen tartan material worn wrapped around the body and belted at the waist, excess material pulled up over the back, draped across the shoulder and pinned. The clan colors of deep blue and forest green with cross striping of white and red were held fast to James’ linen shirt by a large brooch depicting the mythical cait shee, bordered by an intertwining of thistles and celtic knots. A leather sporran accented by silver buttons hung from his belted waist, which also held a finely made dirk. His skein dbuh, once belonging to his maternal grandfather, was tucked securely in the top of one of his knee-high checkered stockings.

The Highlands had embraced the tenets of Christianity for several hundred years, but the clans still held fast to many of the traditional beliefs and superstitions of the ancient Celts.

It was well known among many of the clans that James, since his childhood, had been blessed by the ancient goddess Caillech with heightened senses…a rare gift bestowed upon those the mother goddess favored.

But it was also known that a clan sentinel should have a helper…a guide to aid in the control and use of his senses. Without a guide a sentinel could focus too intently on one or more of his senses and lose himself in a strange, unconscious state. Or the constant uncontrolled battering of his senses might cause the sentinel to slowly go insane.

James had proven himself a valued member of the clan in his role as sentinel. For years he had been relied upon to forecast imminent storms and warn of impending dangers. His superior tracking skills kept many septs, including his own, well fed and had been used many times to locate and retrieve a lost child or wayward livestock.

As of late, however, his senses had grown more and more uncontrollable…several times sending him close to the feared darkness. No guide had ever been found for James and he vowed to himself that this would be his last trip to Edinburgh if his senses could not be tamed…his obligations as eldest son would be passed to his younger bother, Stephen.

The raucous sounds, garish sights and overwhelming smells of the unsanitary living conditions in the rapidly growing city assaulted his senses as James continued his rapid pace toward the fresh air and open area near the boarding house where he resided during his excursions to Edinburgh.

Nearing his sought after place of refuge, James’ keen hearing picked up a strange drumming sound emanating from one of the cross lanes. The sound drew nearer of its own accord and James was inexplicably drawn to it. As he rounded a corner to investigate, he was nearly bowled over by an unkempt slip of a boy who was obviously fleeing from the agitated shouts that were now being hurled their way.

Cries of "Thief…stop him" reached his ears as James grabbed the boy and held fast.

A struggle immediately ensued with the boy wiggling frantically, trying to extricate himself from the large hands now securing him by the upper arms. Twisting and turning manically, the boy finally resorted to kicking and scratching. The attempted escape came to an abrupt halt as the youngster brought his knee up, poised to land squarely in James’ groin.

"I would not do that were I you." The calm, measured command delivered through gritted teeth brought the boy’s full attention to the face of the man who had spoken. Uncertain deep blue eyes looked up into the determined countenance of James Joseph Ellison and the youngster swallowed audibly, ceasing his struggles.

"Let me go…please." The soft plea tugged at James’ heart…thievery was often punishable by the cutting off of a hand. If any soldiers from the British garrison were anywhere nearby and came to investigate, the boy would no doubt be carted off to one of their dank jails.

James took a moment to have a good look at the boy.

His overall appearance gave the impression of a lad around 15 years of age, but upon closer scrutiny James realized he was probably older, though not by much…perhaps 17.

He was scrawny and underfed, not uncommon among the masses of the underprivileged of the large city. In height he stood no taller than James’ shoulder. His hair hung almost to his waist…a wild mass of unruly russet and brown curls interspersed with random braids and adorned by small trinkets of bone and pewter.

Starting at the boy’s feet James allowed his gaze to travel upward. Torn stockings, one slouched closed to an ankle, rested in mismatched badly worn shoes. A tattered dun-colored kilt hung loosely belted by a length of rope, the plaid in back doubled over and tucked in at the waist. An oversized pale green shirt of homespun material covered the rapidly breathing torso…on one side the shirttail had escaped and was hanging free. A burlap rucksack was slung over one shoulder and across his back secured under his armpit, dangerously close to sliding off.

Hanging by a simple thong of leather, an amulet of some sort encircled the neck and lay at the base of the boy’s throat. James noted, with intense interest, that the charm depicted the same cait shee surrounded by thistles and knots that adorned the brooch at his own shoulder.

The shouts of the irate merchant who had been in pursuit of the lad drew nearer as James completed his inventory of the wild looking creature in his grasp. The handsome young face conveyed a sure intelligence and did not flinch as the cold blue eyes of his captor bore into his own frightened orbs.

James’ eyes darted once again to the amulet then back to the impish face. His hearing once again registered the drumming sound that had drawn him to this spot and he realized with bemusement that it was the sound of the youngster’s heartbeat…his guide calling to him.

"Please…" The desperate whisper was accented by more frantic wiggles as the boy, too, became aware that the shouts were closing in…his chance at escape quickly receding.

James only tightened his hold. "No. It will be all right. Tell me your name."

His breathing began to slow and the lad searched the face of the tall clansman in front of him. This man was obviously of some importance and wealth…his manor of speech, his clothing and accoutrements all confirmed it. Blair could not understand why the man was offering assurance that everything would be all right…or why he suddenly knew for a fact that it was true and that this man would protect him.

Looking again into the blue eyes of the stranger, the young man noted that this time the returned gaze was not cold but rather warm and trusting. The lad closed his eyes for a moment, silently chanting a plea to the mother goddess for reassurance and guidance. He opened his eyes and his sight fell upon the brooch nestled in the folds of the big man’s plaid. An amused smile spread across his face adding to his youthful appearance. He straightened himself and squared his shoulders.

"Blair."

Wheezing and coughing, a rotund little man slowed to a trot pointing in annoyance and anger at Blair before coming to a stop next to James. "That’s him…that’s the little thief."

He peered maliciously at Blair then turned his gaze to the boy’s captor and a look of surprised recognition crossed his face. "Master Ellison! Many thanks to you, sir! This rapscallion has absconded with an expensive piece of merchandise."

"Blaaaaiiirrr?" A hard stern look was tossed at Blair who started to shrink ashamedly, wondering if he had misplaced his trust. A playful wink, unseen by the merchant, allayed Blair’s fears and signaled that he should play along. "What have you done this time?"

"Me, master, sir? Me? I’ve done nothing." Innocent wide eyes looked up through the halo of curls at his ‘master’ and blinked nervously. He dropped his gaze to the cobblestone and allowed his shoulders to droop forward…the perfect impersonation of a contrite servant.

"Nothing?" The merchant snorted derisively. "He’s stolen a microscope from my apothecary, Master Ellison, one of the new models from Culpeper…quite the rage among amateur scientists." He pointed accusingly at Blair’s rucksack. "Look for yourself if you do not believe me, sir."

James yanked the rucksack off the youngster’s shoulder and began rummaging through it. Easily finding the object in question, he pulled it from the pack. Showing it to the merchant, as if asking for confirmation that this was indeed the stolen item, James held it in front of Blair’s face and demanded that the boy look at him.

"Can I not trust you to do anything, lad? Is it so hard, then, to identify to the good merchants of Edinburgh that you are in my employ? Can you not remember so simple a thing as to show them the letter with the clan markings explaining whose service you are in?" James sternly lectured the boy to the satisfied look of the offended merchant.

"My apologies to you, good sir. Please forgive the lad. He is simple-minded and much to my dismay not quite ready, as I had thought, to help with my tasks. One of the healers in our employ had inquired about the acquisition of a microscope and the boy was supposed to survey the area and convey his findings, not the actual item, to me." James directed an exasperated sigh and shake of his head toward the young miscreant.

Seeing the opportunity for a tidy sale, the merchant was quick to seize upon the chance. "No harm done, sir. No harm done. The boy has a good eye, if not common sense. As I said, this item is of the latest design and reasonably priced. You will not find a better bargain any where in Edinburgh."

Not wishing to prolong the charade, James allowed the merchant to talk him into the purchase of the microscope, grateful that the man’s desire for a sale outweighed his need to question James’ story more closely.

Blair stood reasonably still during the entire exchange, head still bowed, nervously shuffling his feet periodically, trying with all his might not to laugh out loud at James’ outlandish improvised tale. He had assumed, up to this moment, that he was a master of misdirection and obfuscation.

After affixing his signature to a hastily scribbled bill of sale, James re-tucked the microscope into Blair’s pack and placed a firm hand in the small of the boy’s back, giving a slight shove to get him moving.

No words were spoken between the two on the short trek to James’ boarding house, allowing the illusion of an angry master and chastised servant to continue as James roughly towed the boy along by a firm grip on his upper arm.

"Are you hungry?" James inquired as he led Blair into the eating area of the small establishment. He favored this place because it had reasonably clean rooms, palatable food and was somewhat removed from the more crowded, dirty, noisy environs of the city. He motioned for the youngster to sit as he waved the barmaid over to their table.

Blair eyed him suspiciously. "Ah, no, thank you…I do not have enough money to pay for a meal in an establishment such as this. I thank you for your assistance earlier…I am in your debt, sir…but I really should be on my way." Blair took a few hesitant steps backward, ready to bolt for the door.

"Sit." James pulled out a chair and indicated by a sharp nod of his head that Blair would take a seat. "We have a few things to discuss." Blair looked at the door, then at the tall man and decided that it would be in his best interest, for now, to hear what the man had to say.

James took a seat opposite his young ‘servant’, placing himself between Blair and the door, effectively cutting off any avenue of departure for the young man. After ordering food and drinks for both of them, James turned his full attention to the nervous looking lad across from him.

"It would seem that you are now in my employ. The little trinket that you stole cost me a pretty penny. Do you mind telling me just what you planned on doing with such an item? Do you even know its use?" James arched his eyebrows inquiringly at Blair.

A burst of indignation was served along with Blair’s retort to what he considered an insult to his intelligence. "Just because you told that man that I am simple minded does not make it true! Of course I know the usefulness of a microscope! I was not going to keep it. I merely wished to borrow it for a time to see how it works. I would have returned it, unharmed, after a few hours. He would never even have missed it if the clumsy woman next to me had not dropped a jar of herbs causing the shop keeper to look my way just as I was placing it in my pack." Blair finished his explanation with a triumphant look, satisfied that James would see the logic. He was mistaken.

"So that makes stealing all right? Has no one ever explained the difference between borrowing and stealing to you, you little urchin? Where are your parents? I should like nothing more than to watch as your father blisters your backside for you." James crossed his arms over his chest and pinned Blair with a stare that could easily be interpreted to mean that James would like nothing better than to be the one doing the blistering.

"I do indeed know the difference, you silly oaf. Do you think that man or anyone else would lend anything to the likes of me? Just because I am penniless does not make it right that I should be deprived of the chance to learn. As for my parents…it is really none of your concern but if you must know, my mother died of the fever several years ago and I never knew my father. And I dare anyone to try blistering my backside!" The defiant challenge did not go unanswered.

James pounced with cat-like grace and speed. The words had barely left his mouth when Blair found himself up-ended and deftly laid across the older man’s knees. James casually flipped the tattered kilt up with a flick, revealing a white squirming bottom ready for the sentinel’s undivided attention.

"I have always enjoyed a good challenge." James’ hand came down in swift sharp smacks and slaps quickly turning the white cheeks a rosy pink.

James paused for a moment as the barmaid approached the table. He let his hand rest on the warm bottom as he directed the woman to place the food on the table and, after telling her that they would require nothing more at the moment, he resumed spanking the wiggling butt with renewed vigor.

Blair’s resolve to remain quiet and not give James the satisfaction of hearing him cry or plead gave out as it became obvious that the big man could easily keep up the tempo he had set for some time.

James realized, with some degree of satisfaction, that he was not only an authority figure doling out some long overdue punishment to an unruly brat, he was also a sentinel…establishing some boundaries to his newly found guide.

The punishment continued for several more minutes, Blair’s cries and pleading noted by James who continued merrily spanking the now red backside.

The spanking stopped for a moment as James spoke to the back of the curly head. "You will not even think of stealing or ‘borrowing’, as you call it, anything ever again. You are now in my employ. As much as I might enjoy taking the total cost of the microscope out of your hide, young man, to do so would no doubt result in your inability to sit comfortably for the rest of the week."

Ten more hard spanks were dealt to the center of Blair’s butt and the spanking was over. Blair was allowed off James’ lap and began a frantic jig rubbing furiously at his backside in a futile attempt to remove some of the painful sting.

Blair was at a total loss concerning how to deal with this unexpected turn of events. Since his mother’s death no one had taken enough notice of him to bother with so personal a punishment. He had been thrown out of places…cuffed upside the head offhandedly…spat upon…ridiculed…treated no differently than the hundreds of other orphans and ner-do-wells who tried to eke out an existence in the overcrowded streets of Edinburgh. The sound thrashing he had just received along with the statement of being in James’ employ confounded him.

He glanced nervously from James to the door, trying to judge the prudence of making an attempt to flee. The big highlander was observing Blair closely…a decidedly smug look on his face. Flight would not be an option. Not yet.

James waved a hand across the expanse of the table. "Now we will eat. I would invite you to take a seat, but if you were able to do so I should think that the licking I delivered just now was not sufficient." James’ eyes crinkled in amusement at Blair’s incredulous look.

The bemused sentinel was inordinately pleased with his actions and the good fortune that had plowed into him head-on in the form of the bedraggled, lost looking guide beside him. It would, no doubt, not be an easy task to tame and befriend the youngster. But James was determined to do so. The boy’s mere presence…the sight of him, his scent, the sound of his heartbeat…had immediately calmed and focused the sentinel’s erratic senses. He would provide and care for his guide as if he were a son. At James’ bidding his family and his clan would welcome Blair as one of their own.

Still absently rubbing his tender bottom, Blair resigned himself to the fact that, for the time being, fate had decided to play a cruel joke on him. He had offered a silent prayer to the goddess and the sight of the cait shee on James’ shoulder had seemed to him to be a sign. Although for the life him he could not fathom exactly what sign the goddess was giving.

His gaze followed the wave of James’ hand and he took in the sight of the feast in front of him. There was more food spread out on the table than he had eaten in the past week. Apparently more people would be joining them soon and Blair was suddenly embarrassed to realize that someone other than the disinterested barmaid might easily have witnessed the spanking. Noting with relief that the small inn was deserted save for them, Blair hesitantly reached out and tore a piece of bread from one of the loaves and grabbed a wedge of cheese. He took several steps back, warily eyeing his new employer and folded himself into the corner. He took small bites, savoring what he considered to be a generous allotment of the bounty set before him. One hand continued the futile attempt to remove the sting from his posterior.

James studied the movements of the scrawny youngster and softened his voice. "No one is going to take the food away, Blair. Please…eat your fill. You could use a bit of fattening up."

Blair began shaking his head, causing the trinkets entwined in the wild curls to jangle softly, delighting the sentinel’s newly honed hearing. His earlier bravado, dissipated as a result of the unexpected chastisement, now began to once again show itself. The back of the fisted hand holding the bread began wiping at the dried tear tracks that streaked his cheeks. He pulled himself up straighter and met James’ gaze.

"I know my place, sir. It would not be fitting if those you are expecting were to find that I had glutted myself on their meal."

"Glutted? A heel of bread and a morsel of cheese? This meal is for us. My men, when they return from their errands, will arrange their own meal." James filled a plate with an assortment of meats, cheese and fruit and pushed it toward Blair. "I expect you to empty this plate while we finish our discussion."

Allowing no time for Blair to debate his edict, James resumed the discussion that had been interrupted by Blair’s trip across his knees. "As I stated earlier you are now in my employ…my personal employ. I am James Joseph Ellison, of the clan MacKenzie. My father is William Ellison, chieftain of our sept and laird of Cascade Moor…our ancestral home. Your duties and responsibilities will be decided by me, but I expect proper respect and fealty be shown to my family, members of the clan, the foremen of our estate and our tenants. Until such time as the price of the microscope you ‘borrowed’ has been repaid, your will receive no wage save room and board. Please stop shoving the food around your plate and eat it." Exasperation evident in his voice, James eyed Blair sternly.

Making no attempt to hide the sarcasm in his voice, Blair hastily popped a chunk of mutton into his mouth and began speaking rapidly around it. "I mean no disrespect, Master Ellison, but I do not wish to be in your employ, no matter how appealing you have made it sound." Blair took but a moment to swallow a portion of the meat in his mouth and continued. "I have plans to travel to London, France and perhaps even the colonies. There is much to be seen and learned in this wide world and I have no intention of dallying in the godforsaken reaches of the highlands. You own a fine microscope which you could easily have returned to that pompous shop owner." Rubbing pointedly at his rump for emphasis, Blair concluded his view of his newly acquired employment. "If you feel that I owe you more than what you have already ‘taken out of my hide’, then I shall gladly make arrangements to send you any additional recompense upon my gainful employment in one of the aforementioned destinations." Blair swallowed the remaining mouthful of mutton and reached for a tankard of ale with which to wash it down.

A large hand closed around the small wrist before the drink could be secured in the young man’s grasp. James gently tugged the small figure closer to him across the table. His guide certainly did present a challenge to the bemused older man. A feral grin settled on his face as he calmly reiterated the terms of their relationship.

"The choice is not yours, young sir. The sooner you reconcile yourself to that fact, the better. It is my belief that we were fated to meet…I know in my heart that in time you will believe it also." James picked up a large flattened wooden spoon from the table and held it front of the disbelieving young face. "Resign yourself, then, to a dalliance in my beloved highlands, lad. And the next time you find yourself hanging draped over my knees, it will be the flat of this spoon and not the flat of my hand that will be warming your bum." He released the wrist and removed the tankard of ale from the youngster’s reach, replacing it with a cup of buttermilk.

Blair gulped.

He looked into the blue eyes of his new master, trying to gauge the veracity of the statements just spoken.

He gulped again.

His innocent youthful looks and glib tongue had served well in the past to extricate him from similar situations.

He gulped yet again.

The cool blue eyes staring back at him assured him that his fate had been sealed.

Blair casually accepted the proffered drink as if the sweet milk, and not the stout ale, had been his intended choice all along. He mustered as much determination as he could and in a shaky voice made one last bid to assert a small measure of imagined control over the direction that his life had now taken.

"Very well, sir. For the time being my services, such as they are, are at your disposal. But be assured, I do know the value of the item which has rendered me indebted to you and I shall not tarry in your employ for one second longer than necessary."

Blair took a long slow swallow from the wooden cup that had been foisted on him, retreating once again into the corner. A less certain voice warily tested, but did not challenge, a boundary that James had set. "And I am old enough to drink ale if I so choose."

James’ entire body shook with unrestrained laughter as he allowed his scrappy little guide this one small victory…at least for the present.

"James…James." A persistent knocking accompanied the soft entreaty, pulling James from his slumber. "James!"

Rolling out of bed, James nearly tripped over the bundle of blankets containing Blair’s softly snoring figure curled on the floor at the side of the bed.

The matter of sleeping arrangements had been a bone of contention the night before. Blair had petulantly insisted that the small woodshed behind the inn would suffice for him to bed down in. James, not willing to allow the devious youngster outside of arm’s reach much less outside the reach of his senses, had explained ever so patiently to Blair that he would sleep when and where he was told or he would, indeed, be visiting the woodshed, but not for the purpose of sleeping.

Compared to others who lived in the unsanitary conditions of Edinburgh, Blair…though unkempt and disheveled, was reasonably clean. To his dismay, however, Blair was not clean enough to suit his new employer. He had stared daggers at the older man as he was made to sit, bottom still sore, in a tub of tepid water and scrub at the accumulated grime until James was satisfied.

Upon exiting the bath, Blair was further dismayed to learn that James had disposed of his tattered garments and had confiscated his rucksack…the depository of all his worldly possessions. He hastily dried himself and wrapped the towel around his mid-section. "What have you done with my clothes, then?" Blair scanned the room, irritated to find no sign of his belongings. "Everything I own…anything of value to me…save this…" Blair protectively clutched the amulet at his throat. "Is in that pack. I demand you return it to me." Angry blue eyes, on the verge of pooling with tears, pinned the older man with an accusatory look.

James’ heart softened at the sight before him. Blair stood shivering from the slight chill in the room. Tiny drops of water pooled around his feet… fugitives from the long wet curls plastered against his small frame. Half naked, penniless, alone and scared he nonetheless held his ground.

James smiled at Blair, extremely pleased at the courage and dignity being displayed by his guide. He had waited a long time for this gift from the goddess and he could not have wished for a more courageous lad. That fact that the boy was also lacking in manners, defiant, unruly to no end, dishonest and rude served to fuel James’ determination to provide a proper home, lessons in conduct and some much needed discipline.

"Aye…indeed." James moved next to Blair and he wrapped an arm around the trembling boy, coaxing him with a soft voice and gentle nudge toward the warmth of the banked coals in the brazier near the door. "I sent the garments to be washed and was informed by the innkeeper that they did not survive his daughter’s diligent efforts. I instructed the good man to send one of my men in search of more sturdy attire, come morning." As Blair began to warm himself, James grabbed another towel from the small table nearby and began drying the wet strands of hair that were beginning to spring free of the damp body, displaying a mind of their own.

"I know the pack is of value to you, Blair. ‘Tis why I have secured it elsewhere…I am of a mind that you would not likely make off without it. I had thought to bind your hands and feet and tether you to yon bed, but I think the removal of your possessions as well as your present state of… um…undress, will serve to keep you from running off."

Blair prepared to renew his protest, but seeing the twinkle in the eye of the older man, he realized that in a battle fought at this hour of the night and in his present state, the victory would go to James. It had been a long, eventful day and the lad concurred silently with James that any attempt to flee would be futile. After a good night’s rest he was certain that a workable plan to disengage himself from this man’s ‘employ’ would present itself.

He shrugged his hair loose from James’ hold and sullenly completed the task of drying his small frame. Silently trudging over to the chest at the foot of the bed, he removed several blankets and fashioned a nest for himself on the floor. With his back to James, he dropped the towel and quickly slid into his ‘bed’. Within minutes he had given in to his tiredness and was sound asleep.

The knocking came again, more insistently. The entreaty grew in volume. "James? James!"

Heaving a tired sigh, James swung the door open just as the man on the other side was about to land another hard rap. Poised to deliver a harder blow to the obstinate door, the man was taken unawares when it suddenly opened and he half fell into the room.

"Graceful as ever, I see. All the lasses will be lining up, come the next social, for the pleasure of a dance with you." Absently scratching his torso as he stretched the sleep from his body, James eyed the befuddled man with an amused look on his face. He nodded toward the gently heaving heap on the floor, at the same time raising one forefinger to his closed lips in a shushing motion. "Shhhhh…I want the lad to sleep a little longer. I need the rest."

Simon chortled along with his employer. "Aye, James. From what you told me of your meeting yesterday it would seem the boy is indeed a handful." He looked at James more seriously, eyebrows arched inquiringly. "You are sure that he is who you think?"

Simon Banks had been in the employ of laird William for many years. His standing was that of a foreman at Cascade Moor, overseeing the daily routines of the household and manor grounds. But more than that, he was a dear friend to James, having served as the younger man’s travel companion, bodyguard and trusted warrior…fighting alongside the clan sentinel both against the elements and other clans when called upon. He proudly wore the colors that denoted his high rank within the clan …several shades of blue, two of green…no accents of white or red, those colors reserved only for those of the highest standing within the clan…the chiefs and chieftains and their families.

After Blair fell asleep James had sent for his friend and explained in great detail the events of the day. After going over clan business James had instructed Simon to set off first thing in the morning to purchase needed items for the boy.

"Aye, Simon…I am quite sure. My senses have never been more alive, more focused. It was as I had been told by the elders years ago…when the goddess sees fit to send me a guide, I will know. His heartbeat called to me, Simon." He looked fondly at the heap on floor, which was now beginning to stir. "The old buggers dinnae mention that he would near drive me to drink in so short a time."

Thrusting a small bundle into his friend’s hands, Simon rolled his eyes and laughed heartily. "Verra well, James. I will leave you to it then. Rest assured you have no shortage of drinking companions should it truly come to that." A sly wink was tossed at James as Simon turned to leave. "I trust the items I procured will be suitable for the lad. Indeed, from what I was told of the state of his attire these could be no worse. I will see to it that all is ready for our departure. Will you and the boy be joining us soon?"

"Aye…I will roust him shortly. Tell Henry and Rafe to be so kind as to leave some porridge and scones for us. The boy is sore in need of a few hearty meals."

Clad only in his mid-thigh length linen shirt, which also served as his sleeping garment, James turned back toward the bed, reaching for his kilt. He spread the length of tartan out and rolled himself into it. Standing, he grabbed his belt, secured the garment and pulled the free hanging plaid up and over his shoulder. "And see to it that there is room in the back of one of the wagons for him. I do not think he will be ready to sit a horse yet today." Simon laughed knowingly along with James as he left the room.

Waking to the sound of a strange voice, Blair curled into a tight ball under his mound of blankets at the sound of the two men’s laughter, realizing that he was the object of their amusement. A single tear escaped his sleepy eyes. Furiously wiping it away he pulled himself upright, quickly springing to his feet as his bottom protested the seated position on the hard floor. He snatched a blanket and covered himself.

James took in the sight of the half-awake youngster and smiled. "Ah, good morning to you Blair. I trust you slept well? Dress quickly now…breakfast is waiting and if we tarry I fear Henry and Rafe will leave little for us."

Blair caught the bundle of clothes that was tossed to him and looked suspiciously at it then at James. He watched silently as James finished dressing, eyes widening in disbelief as James tucked the large wooden spoon from the previous evening into his belt alongside his dirk. He turned away from the older man and laid the clothes out on the bed, silently estimating the value of the items and adding it to the debt he already owed.

He slipped the blue linen shirt over his head, snaking his arms through the sleeves, careful not to catch the material on his amulet. The fabric was soft, clean and of good quality, though not as fine a quality as James’ shirt. He smoothed the deep brown kilt fabric across the bed and idly wondered if his own faded kilt from the day before had once been this same shade. He carefully pleated the material and proceeded to roll himself into it, securing it with a narrow leather belt. As he reached for the trailing plaid to fold and tuck it as he had always done, James’ large hands stopped him.

"I would prefer you wear it like this." James snagged the trailing material and pulled it up over Blair’s left shoulder and down across the lad’s chest, tucking it into the belt in the front. He then showed Blair a small pewter brooch. The design was of a single thistle on a blank background. "This belonged to my mother, a gift from me to her on the birthday before she died." He pinned it at Blair’s shoulder, fiddling with it until it rested exactly as he wanted. "There…verra nice. It suits you." James looked into the intelligent blue eyes that had been watching him curiously the whole time and he smiled…a warm broad smile, eyes crinkling. Tapping the youthful cheeks playfully with his fingertips, James urged Blair to hurry. "Get along now and finish dressing. We’ve a long day ahead of us and I was not teasing when I told you that my two men would think nothing of devouring every last morsel set out with nary a second thought to either yours or the laird’s son’s empty stomachs."

Blair hastily donned his stockings and shoes and hurried out the door behind James, the uncertainty about his future temporarily abandoned at the memory of the hope and trust conveyed to him by the simple gestures of the last few moments.

James strode purposefully into the dining area, his young charge in tow. They headed toward a table occupied by three very animated highlanders…the two younger men seemingly in the process of ravenously devouring every morsel of food in sight.

James critically eyed the food on the table as well as what remained on the nearby sideboard. "I see we’ve arrived none too soon, Blair." He waved his hand toward the table and made swift introductions, pointing to each of the three men in turn and stating their names. "Simon, Henry and Rafe…this is Blair."

The three men took only a moment to gauge their assessment of the timid looking lad with James. All three immediately noted the protective stance that their friend had assumed at the boy’s side as well as the presence of James’ mother’s treasured brooch.

"So this is the stray that Simon told us you had found." Henry smiled mischievously at James, and then eyed Blair appraisingly…running his eyes up and down the slim frame in a scrutinizing fashion. "He is a might on the scrawny side, is he not? I thought you were going to find us someone who could wrestle Angus MacGregor at the next gathering? This boy is no bigger than Angus’s arm."

James pulled himself to his full height, squaring his shoulders, fists set on his hips in a mock-stern stance. "And I thought it was you, Henry, on whom I would place my wager against Angus. By the quantity of food you’ve consumed this trip I was of a mind that you were fattening yourself up to meet the challenge." At this statement Simon and Rafe jostled and nudged Henry with their elbows and shoulders amid muffled guffaws and snorts of laughter.

Responding to a silent glance passed his way from James, Simon stood and offered Blair a seat between himself and Henry…welcoming him into their midst without question.

Blair cringed at the thought of his tender bottom sitting on the hard surface and his cheeks pinked in embarrassment. He looked to James for guidance, hopeful that the big man would allow him to somehow decline. James merely inclined his head slightly, pursed his lips, arched his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders…indicating to Blair that the young man needed to handle his own predicament.

Looking back at the three other men, his embarrassment grew as he realized that the men had been told about the spanking he had endured.

"Come have a seat, lad. No one I know has ever suffered permanent damage from a tanned backside. There’s not one of us, including the laird’s son, who has not found himself in your situation." Simon nodded to the chair again in invitation.

Blair smiled shyly, his embarrassment somewhat abated, and accepted the offer…noting with a measure of relief that Simon had cushioned the chair with a folded blanket.

James smiled in satisfaction at the entire exchange, knowing full well that his men would have no qualms about accepting the young man as one of their own. It was the way of the clan. Their loyalty and kinship rested within the folds of the Ellison sept. Blair would need to learn the way of the clan, prove himself worthy of their trust and friendship. But for now it was enough for them that James had accepted him.

By the time James returned to the table, plates laden with food for Blair and himself, the lad had come to life, regaling his new friends with far-fetched tales…his whole body bouncing along with the telling. Hearing Blair question Simon concerning the remark about the laird’s son and tanned backsides, James uttered a low groan and pinned Simon with a look that said ‘You had better not!’

James settled himself comfortably across the table after plunking a plate in front of Blair, conveying to his guide by looks alone that the food had better be consumed and not toyed with.

The impudent youth rolled his eyes as if to say ‘make me’…a playful twinkle in the blue orbs… a mock challenge in the brilliant smile.

Grateful to the powers that be that the long wait for his guide was finally over, James idly noted that Blair would present a unique challenge. He hung his head, shaking it slightly. He would have to pick his battles carefully with the headstrong youth. There was a keen intelligence in the young face as well as a deep need for independence and an unspoken longing for acceptance.

Knowing full well that Blair’s sore backside would serve as a reminder to the youth for at least the remainder of this day, James threw the lighthearted challenge back at the youngster by arching one eyebrow and pointedly caressing the makeshift paddle that was tucked in his belt.

Having observed the interplay between sentinel and guide, the three other clansmen joined in the laughter being shared by the two. The meal was finished amid pleasant conversation aimed at familiarizing Blair with the affairs of Cascade Moor and the route that would be taken on the journey home.

If Blair had been confused by his circumstances before, he was even more befuddled now. He found himself genuinely enjoying the company of the good-natured highlanders in his company. Instead of planning his escape, he discovered that he might perhaps enjoy some time spent in the rugged country that these men called home. He had plans to travel the world and the highlands, after all, were part of the world. His curious nature, coupled with the acceptance and fondness James had shown him, hinted that perhaps he should view his term of servitude as a chance to learn new things and perhaps secure a lasting friendship with James.

James and Simon rode horseback alongside the two wagons which were laden with supplies for the upcoming season…sacks of seeds, sugar, salt and spices, medicinary supplies, replacement tools, farm implements and harnesses, nails, bolts of linen and other materials…most notably yards of the clan tartan in variations of the clan colors, specially woven by the master weavers in Edinburgh. Blair was given a spot in the back of the first wagon, driven by Henry. There was enough room to stand, braced against the back of the driver’s seat, when sitting on the piled woolens became too uncomfortable.

One of the two horsemen was always abreast of him, engaging him in idle chatter, pointing out notable landmarks and such. James explained that barring extremely harsh weather, for the highlands were often awash in a downpour or windstorm, the small caravan should reach its destination in three days’ time. In times past such a journey would often also be plagued by clashes with other clans along the way, depending on the state of clan politics and intrigues. These days it was more likely that they would be stopped or harassed by one of the British troops that patrolled the highlands.

James warned Blair sternly that if that should happen, the boy was to hold his tongue and mind his manners...no matter how provoked. The presence of the bloody British was a thorn in the side of all the highlands.

They stayed on the move, stopping only to rest or water the horses periodically or to answer the call of nature. Hunger was kept at bay by a supply of sandwiches, fruits and cheeses sent along by the innkeeper.

As evening approached Blair noticed a change in James. Not much escaped the big man’s notice, but as the sun neared the horizon James came fully alert…senses cast out, focused and grounded by the presence of his unwitting guide. He brought the small caravan to a halt near a small stream. He silently surveyed the chosen campsite, walking the perimeter of the area…sniffing the air, head cocked to one side listening intently for any out of place sound. Satisfied that the site would do, he instructed the men to set camp.

A catch of fresh fish from the stream, along with bread and cheese that had eluded Henry and Rafe’s notice made a quick supper. Animated storytelling accompanied the meal as the highlanders and the lad fell into easy camaraderie.

All the men except Blair were assigned turns to keep watch during the night. Sleeping arrangements were once more debated. Blair pointed out a nearby fir tree under which he intended to slumber…alone. James promptly vetoed the idea. Blair stamped his foot petulantly and turned to stomp off but was brought up short when James reached out and snagged the only part of the retreating figure that he could…the long hair. Gently tugging it, James used it to lead the incensed youngster over to the wagon…propelled by a healthy swat to the lad’s backside. Improvised lean-tos had been set against the wagons and James indicated where the youngster would sleep. Before it could be suggested, Blair informed the older man that he would not surrender his clothes. Agreeing that it would not be necessary, James watched as the boy slid under the blankets and tucked himself in.

James made one more circuit of the camp and hunkered down near the fire to take the first watch. He listened to Blair’s slowing heartbeat and measured breathing until he was sure the boy was asleep. He released the brooch holding his plaid in place and dropped it into his sporran. He then pulled the trailing material up over his shoulders, blanketing himself in its warm folds.

Several hours passed. Simon stirred and rose. He shook the sleep from his large frame, took a few moments to relieve himself downstream from the camp and then took up a position next to James, mirroring his friends huddled crouch, wrapped in his own plaid.

He nodded toward Blair’s sleeping figure. "I like him James. He has a sharp wit and a keen intellect." Simon peered at James, his friend’s face illimuninated by the soft orange glow of the campfire. "When are you going to tell him?"

James heaved a worried sigh. "I will have to explain it to him before we arrive home, Simon. Everyone will know, will they not? It would be best that I explain matters to him fully by then." He returned Simon’s measured gaze. "Aye…I like the wee monster too."

With that, James stood and made his way over to the wagon. He crawled into the makeshift tent and settled himself next to his guide. He reached over and grabbed a handful of the braids and curls, wrapping the strands around his fist…anchoring the boy to him. He made one last circuit of the camp with his senses and then allowed himself to drift off to sleep, lulled by the soft cadence of Blair’s heartbeat.

Blair awoke slowly, fighting against the sounds of the awakening camp. He curled himself tighter inside his cocoon of blankets, warding off the morning’s damp chill. When the urgency to relieve himself finally overcame his desire to stay warm he threw off the blankets and tried to ease himself up. He made it to his knees but when he attempted to rise to his feet, he was unceremoniously pulled back down, landing firmly on his bottom. Twisting and turning in an effort to see what hindered his ability to move, Blair eventually realized that it was his own hair, knotted securely in James’ grasp that prevented it.

James came fully awake instantly at the first hint of his guide’s distress. Taking in the sight of the young man feverishly trying to disentangle his wild tresses from the older man’s tight hold caused James to start his day with a bout of raucous laughter.

"Hold still, hold still…let me…"

"If you would just let go your hold…"

"No…the braid is twisted between…"

"I need to get up…let go!"

"And this wee trinket is stuck…"

"Oww…stop pulling…"

"’Tis not me that is pulling…"

The desperate struggle by the young man to free himself from James’ hold soon degenerated into a tumbled mess of tartan, blankets, hair and limbs all askew…the harder the two tried to undo the knotted tether, the more tangled it became.

The boisterous din coming from under the tarp affixed to the smaller of the two wagons soon drew the attention of the other occupants of the camp. Releasing the covering and throwing it back, Simon and his two companions were treated to the sight of their laird’s son and his young scalawag lying side by side in an exhausted heap, giggling uncontrollably.

"Simon! Good morning dear friend. I would rise to greet you, but as you can well see I am tied up at the moment." James continued to laugh merrily as Blair elbowed him hard to the ribs, his own giggling fit unabated.

The overseer of Cascade Moor rolled his eyes at the feeble play on words and shooed the chuckling Henry and Rafe back to their chores. "Off with you two now. I will see what can be done to sort out this…this…" At a loss for words to describe the sight before him, Simon merely waved his hands about in a frustrated manner. Pulling his dirk from his belt, Simon stepped forward, his intention clear.

"Nooooo!" The panicked shout came in unison, four hands immediately shooting up into the air, one still hopelessly tangled in the unruly mane of braids, curls and trinkets.

"Ouch, ouch, ouch! Stop waving your hand about!" Tears of laughter and discomfort trickled down Blair’s cheeks as he once again began the futile task of trying to pull free of James’ hold.

"Will you not hold still then? How am I to free you from this sorry mess if you will not both hold still?" Simon knelt between the two and lifted the entrapped hand to his face for closer inspection. He spent the next five minutes patiently unknotting, unbraiding and unlacing the strands as if playing a game of cat’s cradle that had run amok.

As soon as the last wisp of hair was free, Blair jumped up and made a mad dash for the tree line. James collapsed back to the ground, still chuckling. Simon merely shook his head and held out his hand. Reaching up, James clasped hands with his friend and was levered awkwardly to his feet.

Simon arched his eyebrows at James and nodded his head in the direction Blair had fled. "You best be after him, then. ‘Tis good a time as any to explain to him who he is. The boys and I will strike the camp and make ready to leave." Simon winked at his friend." I will see to it that there is a good measure of porridge saved for you both."

The sentinel homed in on his guide unerringly. Seated on a flat rock jutting out over the lazily swirling stream, Blair trailed one bare foot in the cool water as he fingered the ends of his hair. He spent a few moments re-braiding several of the plaits and securing the odd little adornments. Hearing James’ approach, he flung the mass over a shoulder and looked up, squinting his eyes against the glare of the sun on the water.

"It is beautiful here…are all the highlands as beautiful? You said at times the rains and wind are harsh. I have no great liking for rain. I have heard wild stories told of the clans in the highlands…do you paint your face blue and go into battle half naked? Do you play the pipes, then, and eat the intestines of sheep? And your lands are near the North Atlantic, no? I used to listen to the sailors in the port at Edinburgh speak of its icy waters. They told stories of ceasgs…are they true? Have you ever seen one? I should very much like to see a creature half fish, half woman." Blair waggled his eyebrows at the older man.

James held his hands at chest level, palms out, making jerky halting motions, chuckling at the mischievous look on the lad’s face, marveling at the barrage of questions.

"Aye…well…slow down and take a breath. We’ve time enough to answer all your questions." His tone became more serious. "For now, I have need to speak with you on a matter of great importance."

Forehead creased, eyebrows furrowed, Blair peered at James. "Importance?" Blair’s frown deepened and he turned his gaze from James, choosing to study a crack in the rock, tracing it with a fingertip. The sentinel almost missed the next softly whispered question. "What have I to do with anything of importance?"

James pulled the boy to his feet and swept him into a crushing embrace. "You’ve no idea, do you little one?" He loosened his hold and steered Blair to a seat on a fallen log. Seating himself opposite the boy on another log, James leaned forward, forearms on top of his thighs, hands clasped as if in prayer. Blair opened his mouth but the cool blue eyes of the sentinel locked on to the deep blue eyes of his young guide and held his gaze. "Wheesht…I’ve a story to tell you."

James calmly and intently explained what a sentinel and guide were and the unique relationship between the two. Blair sat, mesmerized, as James revealed that he was a sentinel and that Blair, much to the boy’s chagrin, was his guide. Blair’s fascination grew as James gave example after example of how his senses worked. "I am able to count the feathers on a bird when he is but a speck against the sky. Every spice, each separate flavor of a stew I can distinguish and savor. I heard your very heartbeat, Blair, before I so much as laid an eye on you." He continued, explaining the dangers that could befall a sentinel without a guide, and how James knew with certainty that Blair was his guide. The tale drew to a close as James explained that Blair was now a part…the most important part…of James’ life, family and clan.

The sentinel leaned back, breaking the spell that had been cast over his young guide. He studied Blair carefully, as one emotion after another played across the boy’s face…disbelief, amusement, fascination, trepidation and curiosity…each vying for the chance to remain.

Curiosity won out.

Blair jumped to his feet and began pacing excitedly. "How do they work, then…your senses? Have you always been like this?" Blair looked at James as if he had suddenly grown a second head. "Have you ever tested yourself to find your limits…made note of them? Have you ever fallen prey to the strange darkness?"

He stopped suddenly…curiosity slowly taking its leave of his expressive face, replaced by a mixture of annoyance and anger. He looked at James and questioned how he fit into the scheme of things. "Is that what I am for?"

"Aye, it ‘tis." The simple statement was uttered with both affection and authority. "It is a lot to take in all at once." James pulled the boy to him in a quick hug. " We’ve a long way to travel today. We best get back to camp."

Blair spent the remainder of the day in a quiet, sullen state. Upon returning to camp he ate just barely enough to meet James’ approval, then took his seat in the wagon behind Henry, staring off into space. With every mile they traveled, he felt his life slipping away from him…dreams of travel and adventure taken from him by all that being a guide for a sentinel implied…seemingly having no choice in the matter.

The normally rowdy highlanders were equally subdued. They had all quickly taken a liking to the energetic lad and his sour temper bothered them. Hoping to re-ignite the spark that had been evident the previous day, each man had a go at drawing the boy into conversation. Each attempt was quietly rebuffed by a noncommittal shrug or a disinterested ‘aye’.

James rode alongside Simon…ahead of the wagons. Before leaving camp he had taken Simon aside and told him of the conversation with Blair and the boy’s reaction to it. He pinned his friend with a measured gaze, at a loss on how to deal with the churlish youth. "How long do you suppose he will continue to sulk and pout? Is it such a verra horrible thing then, to be my guide?"

Laughing loudly, Simon reached over and slapped James heartily on the back. "I suppose he will pout for as long as you allow it." Seeing that James did not seem to find the situation humorous, Simon heaved a sigh and became more serious. "Give him a wee bit longer to mull it over. He is a bright lad…he will see that it is not the end of the world." The words did little to mollify his troubled friend. "What sort of life awaited him in Edinburgh? If you had not found him when you did, he would no doubt now be a guest of the King…wallowing in a filthy cell. You are offering him much, James…friendship…a family, a clan…a home." At this, James perked up. His resolve to provide all these things for Blair strengthened as Simon offered one more piece of advice. "It is you, James, who must make sure that the boy understands."

The mood of the small band of men remained somber the rest of the day, fueled by the persistent surliness of their newest companion. A simple, filling meal of roast rabbit, wild onions and berries was prepared and Blair wordlessly accepted the plate handed to him. He shuffled off to sit alone, his back to the fire. Subdued conversations regarding clan gossip and the upcoming growing season were passed around the campfire, a stark contrast to the previous evening’s lively talk. Without prompting or argument, Blair crawled into the lean-to and slid under a blanket.

The low flames crackled and hissed softly as the sentinel once again took first watch of the camp. A heavy sigh escaped as James stared into the fire, his chest aching for the lost-looking lad that had replaced the ‘wee monster’ he had grown fond of.

As he continued to gaze at the flames, James’ hearing picked up the steady cadence and measured breathing of the sleeping boy. All other sounds receded as he latched onto the comforting sounds. The gentle thrumming combined with the mesmerizing glow of the fire soon sent the sentinel into a dark haze.

Simon woke several hours later to take up the watch and found James sitting motionless by the fire, eyes fixed…body rigid.

"Damn! Blair!" He ran to where the boy lay and began shaking and tugging the sleeping figure. "Blair! Wake up…wake up!" He cast a worried look back at his friend. "Wake up! James needs you!"

Rolling onto his back, Blair pushed a faceful of curls out of the way as one eye forced itself open. Annoyance at being rousted from his slumber quickly turned to concern as Blair heard Simon’s plea. All the fears and misgivings about his future disappeared as the guide came to life, ready to assist his sentinel.

"What is it, Simon? What’s wrong? Where is he?" Blair half-crawled, was half-pulled, out from under the lean-to. Following Simon, he hurried over to the still figure. He immediately realized what must have happened. He looked frantically from James to Simon and back at James, not sure what to do.

He knelt next to James and began rubbing a hand gently up and down the big man’s arm. "Master Ellison, sir…please, you need to wake up. Master Ellison?" He stationed himself in front of James, now rubbing up and down both arms. "Sir! Please? Can you not hear me? You need to come back." The soft litany continued until, at last, James began to stir.

Shaking his head, a confused James came back to the present and the frightened face of his guide. He looked up at Simon. "How long?"

"I cannot be sure. I awoke a few minutes ago to take the watch and found you. Blair brought you out of it verra quickly." Simon gave James a knowing look and nodded at Blair…a proud, appreciative smile on his face. "Now, you best both get some sleep."

James stood and helped Blair to his feet. "Aye…good night, Simon. The watch is yours, then." Sentinel and guide made their way over to the small wagon and crawled into their blankets.

"I would like it if you would call me James." Blair opened his mouth to protest, thinking it not appropriate that he should address his employer in so familiar a manner, but James stopped him. "No one in my family, no one I hold dear…calls me Master Ellison."

Blair snapped his mouth shut and thought about what James said for several moments. "Aye…verra well then…James." A smile once again lit up the young face, clearly visible to James in the darkness.

Blair fingered the amulet at his throat and thought back to day the old fortuneteller had given it to him, thinking at the time that he was indulging the crazy ramblings of a kind old woman. The amulet, she had said, would one day lead him to a great treasure…a personal fortune. Blair had dismissed her words at the time, snickering at the thought of one day being rich. He wore the charm at Naomi’s insistence because she had believed the woman.

Knowing that he still had much to learn and that he was under the authoritative supervision of the highlander didn’t alter the feeling that his fortune had been attained.

His smile widened…a personal fortune indeed.

Seeing that James was beginning to nod off, Blair elbowed him in the ribs, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Will you be needing to entangle yourself in my locks once again, James? Or may I fall off to sleep safe in the knowledge that my tresses will not be accosted?"

A satisfied grin plastered itself across James’ face at hearing the cheeky remark of the wee monster. "It is not your tresses that I would worry about were I you. Now go to sleep, Blair." A half-hearted swat missed the impudent youth’s backside as Blair hastily rolled away.

When Blair woke the next morning, James was already up and about. Stretching lazily before rising, Blair’s feet bumped up against something. Hauling himself up he kicked off his blankets and saw, to his astonishment and joy, the tattered rucksack that had been confiscated a few days before. After hugging it to his chest for a few moments, he lovingly rummaged through the meager contents. He looked out across the camp to find James intently watching him, a happy grin on his face.

Blair started the day by offering sincere apologies to everyone for his childish behavior of the previous day. Not slowing to wait for acceptance of his atonements, Blair continued talking almost non-stop for most of the morning. He found no end of subjects to either ask questions on or make observations about.

The somber mood of the day before dissipated…not only because the ill-humored youth had magically disappeared but also because they were nearing home.

Toward mid afternoon they stopped to water the horses. James and Simon stood to one side as the other men led the horses to the water’s edge…allowing Blair, who was eager to help, attend to James’ mount.

Simon was wistfully going on about how good it was going to be to arrive back at their beloved Cascade Moor and enjoy the warmth of hearth and home…to say nothing of a good home-cooked meal. Nodding in agreement, James suddenly became still…his head cocked to one side as he heard the approach of several horses. Listening more intently, he identified the accents of the riders and signaled his men to come to him.

The men quickly obeyed, towing Blair along. The young guide went at once to his sentinel’s side as he instinctively realized the need for him to be near the older man. He stood next to James, his right hand immediately reaching up and latching onto the sentinel’s shoulder. The mood once again shifted, this time to one of apprehension, as a British patrol came into view.

The four highlanders came together, to stand shoulder to shoulder. James pinned Blair with a look warning him to remain quiet before pulling the boy behind him in a protective move, holding him there with one hand wrapped snuggly around the boy’s forearm. The sentinel immediately sensed the change in his guide’s breathing and heart rate. He felt a tremble run through the boy…not from fear, but from anger.

James recognized the man leading the patrol and relaxed slightly. Sergeant Major Willis was a man who went about his duties in the highlands with a quiet determination. Unlike many of the British who were garrisoned in the highlands and delighted in harassing the occupants, Willis wanted nothing more to than to complete his tour of duty and take his leave of the inhospitable region with as little trouble as possible.

James nodded a curt greeting to the mounted officer. Willis inclined his head slightly, returning the greeting. The mousy looking man was visibly relieved at the sight of this small band of men. Having dealt with the Ellisons many times, he knew he had no reason to fear a clash with them. "Good day to you, Ellison. You are returning from Edinburgh." It was more a disinterested statement than a question. "We are headed to Inverness." The statement was delivered as a politeness…the British were, as a rule, not inclined to engage in small talk with the inhabitants of the land they occupied.

Before either man could say anything more, Blair twisted free of James’ hold and burst out from behind his back. "What right have you to travel anywhere in this country? You should be hauling your sorry arses back to bloody England." The incensed youth stared defiantly at the British officer, oblivious to the incredulous looks bestowed on him by Simon, Henry and Rafe and the slowly simmering man directly behind him.

Simon stepped up and clamped a large hand over the boy’s mouth, at the same time wrapping an arm around the small waist, as he pulled the squirming body back into the protective knot of highlanders.

The men in Willis’s patrol were clearly agitated by the insults hurled at them by the angry lad. And it went against all that was in the makeup of a highlander to back down from a confrontation with the British. The next few moments passed in tense silence as the leaders of the two groups assessed each other’s reaction to the surprise verbal attack that had been launched.

Willis made the first move, clearly unwilling to allow this minor distraction to spoil what had been, to this point, a pleasantly uneventful journey. Noting with amusement that the look being directed at the outspoken youth by his counterpart indicated that the matter would be dealt with, Willis dismissed the event as nothing more than an annoyance.

"Ah…indeed. I will gladly take my leave of this godforsaken region someday…but it will be at His Majesty’s pleasure, not yours." With that, Willis again inclined his head toward James, this time in farewell, and the patrol continued on its way.

James followed the patrol with his sight and hearing until they were well away.

Simon released Blair and all eyes turned to a deceptively calm James. The tall highlander pinned his disobedient charge with a commanding look, crooking his left forefinger at the youth in a beckoning fashion while drawing the large wooden spoon from his belt with his right hand.

Blair took one look at the object being idly tapped against James’ thigh and bolted.

Simon took off after him, his long strides easily overtaking the fleeing youth. He swooped the boy up off his feet by the waist and pinned the wiggling body against his own waist, much like a sack of grain. Blair’s head and arms dangled next to Simon’s rear while his own defenseless backside pointed outward. Not able to resist the target presented to him, Simon landed several hard spanks to the kilt-covered butt.

James waited patiently for their return, having seated himself comfortably on a large tree stump. He smiled appreciatively at Simon as his friend deposited Blair across James’ knees. Simon took several steps back to stand next to Henry and Rafe. All three men assumed a stance, arms crossed over their chests, which stated they were not going anywhere until they witnessed the coming punishment.

James secured the squirming, kicking boy up against his side with a firm hold and a healthy swat. The flat of the spoon rested on the now stilled backside as James counted off the transgressions that would momentarily be dealt with.

"’Twas a foolish thing you did, Blair. We were fortunate, indeed, that it was Willis and not some other pompous Sassenach. You endangered all of us by your thoughtless, rash actions. Running from me in an attempt to escape or delay punishment will only add to the time spent in the position you now find yourself. Simon is not so young as he once was and I feared for his very health when I saw him take off after you." James laughed at the small joke aimed at his friend and smiled wickedly at Simon who rolled his eyes in response. "You also disobeyed me. I warned you more than once to hold your tongue were we to encounter a patrol."

Having finished his lecture, James proceeded with the punishment by flipping Blair’s kilt up over his back and bringing the flat of the spoon down across the small white cheeks in rapid hard spanks.

"No! Owwww! Ow,ow,ow! Augh! Please…don’t!"

The wiggling butt quickly turned pink as James ignored the frantic pleas.

Blair brought a hand up in a futile attempt to protect his rump from the spanks that were methodically raining down. James laid the spoon aside, removed the hand…allowing it to drop helplessly as he re-secured his hold on the writhing boy, picked up the spoon and resumed the spanking.

The pink cheeks turned a rosy hue as James continued the sound paddling, once again satisfied in the knowledge that it was his responsibility as guardian and sentinel to provide much needed discipline to his impetuous charge.

Blair’s pleas soon melted into uncontrolled sobs as he accepted that the spanking would continue despite his attempts to sway the big man from his task. Sitting would be impossible for the near future and uncomfortable for several more days.

James shifted his left leg higher by resting his foot on a small rock, tipping the small backside up to expose the white, untouched underside of the butt cheeks. Concentrating his final efforts on the ‘sit’ spot, James peppered the wiggling bottom with fifteen well-placed smacks. He did not immediately allow the boy off his lap.

The cheeks on Blair’s face blushed the same rosy red as his little butt cheeks when James invited the three witnesses to inspect his handiwork. "Have a look, lads. Can I give a guid skelpit leatherin’ or no? I am quite sure our bonnie wee laddie here thinks so, but what dae you a’think?"

The three men nodded their assent amid smatterings of ‘Aye, well done, James’, ‘Indeed’ and ‘Could not have done a better job myself’. To Blair’s immense relief, each of the three men declined James’ offer of the proffered spoon with which to delivered added spanks to the rosy bottom.

James finally allowed Blair off his lap and pulled the youth to him in a tight embrace. The boy sobbed out his regret and embarrassment against the broad chest. When the hitched breaths and hiccups finally subsided, Blair chanced a look at James through tangled curls.

James was smiling at Blair, not a smug grin as might be expected, but a warm grin that held no censure, only a paternal look of love and a small measure of regret at having found it necessary to deliver such a sound spanking.

"I am verra sorry, James. I should have listened to you. I dinnae realize…I never meant…" Blair fumbled over his attempt to apologize to the older man.

"Aye…shush now. You’ve been punished and ‘tis over and done. But know that I will not hesitate to put you over my knees anytime I feel it is warranted. Understood?" He pinned Blair with a look that the youngster was becoming all too familiar with.

Blair could not fault the older man for the action he had taken. He had been duly warned and had known what consequences to expect. He realized with a small amount of surprise that, while he certainly did not like the spanking, it was the thought of James’ disappointment in him and not the fiery stinging in his rump that bothered him most.

"Understood." He rubbed his tender bottom for added emphasis. "Understood."

James sent the other men, anxious to return home, on with the wagons to Cascade Moor. He chose to walk the few remaining miles with his guide…sitting on either a wagon bench or horse being quite out of the question for the young man.

They spent the time telling each other stories of their upbringing, families and dreams. James relished this small amount of time alone with his guide, knowing that the whirlwind of activity that would surround them upon their arrival at his family’s home would allow no such luxury for a time.

Nearing a familiar hillcrest, James sent Blair ahead under the pretense of removing a pebble from his shoe. He wished to watch Blair’s reaction to the view that awaited him.

The boy crested the small hill and stopped, his breath taken from him for a moment by the vista that greeted him. The vast moor stretched out before him meeting a series of cascading waterfalls tumbling into a crystal clear river that snaked around and through the farmland and fields of the Ellison family homestead. Water collected in a smooth millpond, the surface interrupted only by the lazy splashing of the waterwheel connected to a gristmill. Sheep, cattle and horses grazed in a meadow that stretched from the pond outward to the fields that lay plowed in neat rows, awaiting the seeds that would arrive with the returning clansmen. The fields ended at the outbuildings and barns of the farmyard. A modest, two-story whitewashed house buzzed with daily activities as well as the welcoming excitement surrounding the parked wagons.

James was not disappointed by the brilliant smile and incredulous look tossed at him by Blair. As James approached the lad he allowed his senses to drink in the essence of his guide…the russet, gold and brown of the wild curls and braids…the soft tinkling of the curious adornments…the slightly fast, measured heartbeat of the excited boy…the smell that was uniquely Blair.

Arriving next to the bouncing body, James wrapped a large warm arm around the small, sturdy shoulders, squeezing affectionately.

"Welcome home."

The End

Loch – Lake

Sept – Family

Thistle - The national flower of Scotland

Cait Shee - The Highland fairy cat…as large as a dog, black with a white spot on its breast, with an arched back and erect bristles.

Sporran – A pouch, made of leather or an animal skin, used to hold small items…a kilt has no pockets.

Dirk – A fighting knife, about 18 inches long, worn centrally located in the waistbelt; also used as an eating utensil.

Skein Dbuh – An 8 inch blade, carried under the armpit as a weapon of last resort in battle or in the stocking or boot in plain sight when not in battle.

Ceasg – A mermaid.

Skelpit Leatherin’ – Term used for a sound spanking.

Wheesht – Be quiet.

Sassenach – A term used for anyone who isn’t a highlander.

The following websites were used to gather information for my story:

http://www.aboutscotland.com/edin/history.html

http://www.infokey.com/hon/tartans.html

http://www.jbutler.org.uk/Scotland/index.shtml

http://www.fife.50megs.com/scottish-weapons.html