by Alisa Adams
She giggled again. “Every single word was a lie,” she answered.
As they laughed at each other, something passed between them—an unseen current of attraction that tugged at both of them, although neither acknowledged it. Eilidh blushed and looked away, and Iain glanced up at the sky.
So are you or are you not married?
“Looks like rain,” he observed, although the nearest clouds were miles away.
Eilidh attempted to lighten the mood again. “So tell me, Your Highness, what did you do before you ascended to the shoe throne?”
He laughed, and two deep dimples appeared on his cheeks. Eilidh felt like putting her finger into one to see his reaction.
“Mi faither was a cordwainer and a’,” he began, “an’ I started as his appy at the age o’ nine. He was good at his trade an’ he taught me well, an’ after a while my shoes became better than his. I didnae say that, he did,” he hastened to add, in case she should think he was swollen-headed. “After a while word o’ my shoes spread an’ afore long I had lairds comin’ tae see me tae buy my shoes, then I had tae take on appies o’ my ain.”
“Where did the crest come from?” she asked curiously. “It is unusual.”
“The bull came fae the Hielan’ Cattle, an’ the crown came fae the King himself,” he answered. “My faither aye loved thon funny-lookin’ coos.” He laughed softly, sadly.
“What happened to him?” Eilidh asked.
“The consumption took him,” he replied with a catch in his voice. “I was glad tae see him go in the end, he wis sufferin’ that much. He said he wanted tae die.” His expression was bleak as he looked back into the past.
“And your mother?”
“She lasted a year longer,” he answered. “Jist didnae wake up one morn. Died o’ a broken heart, we think. Couldnae live without him.” He sniffed and wiped his eyes impatiently with the back of his hand.
“I am so sorry,” she whispered. “I did not mean to bring up painful memories.”
“I am behavin’ like a maid,” he laughed, embarrassed. “Why are ye goin’ tae Ardisaig?”
“I was visiting my brother,” she lied. “And now I am traveling back home. My husband has hurt his leg and could not come with me, but we had planned our journey a while ago, so someone had to go.” She sighed. “It has been a tiring journey, so I will spend two nights here before going on.”
“Where are you staying?” he asked.
“The Swan Inn,” she replied. “It is not the fanciest of places but it is cheap and clean, and the food is filling.”
If no’ exactly good, he thought, but he said nothing. So you are married indeed.
“I will tak ye tae the door,” he said. “‘Tis the least I can dae tae make up for frightenin’ the life oot o’ ye!” He was disappointed.
She laughed, and they continued talking for half the day until they arrived at the inn.
She was about to dismount, then Eilidh realized that Iain had moved around the horse to her side. He took her by the waist and lifted her out of the saddle, depositing her gently on the ground. She felt like a child in his arms. His hands were strong and sure, and she was so close to him that she could have reached up and drawn his head down to hers to kiss him.
“Thank you,” she smiled, turning away before she could give into temptation—the same temptation he was feeling. Her face felt hot and she was sure she had blushed.
Iain was so close to her that he could smell the faint musk of her body mixed with a lavender perfume, and he could have stood there all day just breathing it in.
The skin of her face was soft and smooth, and unlike those of girls who worked in the open air all day, it was not weatherbeaten or tanned. Her hair, which was healthy and clean, was a vibrant shade of auburn, flowing in shining waves to her waist. However, when he looked at her hands, it confirmed his suspicions. This beautiful girl with her tattered clothing and worn out shoes was playing a part.
There was no dirt under her fingernails or in the creases of her hands. Her nails were beautifully manicured, and when he had shaken hands with her he had felt no calluses. Moreover, her accent was the perfect, polished Scottish English of the aristocracy.
If she was a peasant then he was an Englishman!
5
Annie buried her nose in a bunch of mountain avens as she hurried back to Eilidh’s bedroom since it was necessary to keep up the pretense that Eilidh was still dressing herself to look her best for her future bridegroom. Malvina, wondering why Eilidh was taking so long to get ready, had sent one of the housemaids up to find her and bring her downstairs. Rosemary had knocked several times on the door, more loudly each time, and called out Eilidh’s name, but to no avail.
When she saw Annie she breathed a sigh of relief. “Annie, hen!” she cried. “Where is the Mistress? Milady is beelin’ an’ M’laird’s face is purple! An’ that big lump o’ lard that’s visitin’ her an’ his ugly sister look fair scunnered, so they dae! Where is she?”
“I dinnae knaw.” Annie opened the door and looked in, feigning surprise when she saw that Eilidh was not there. She went around looking in every cupboard and even under the bed while Rosemary looked on, exasperated.
“Ye will no find her under there, ya silly wummin!” she shouted.
“Aye, ye’re likely right,” Annie agreed, standing up. “But have ye got a better idea, hen? If ye have then tell me.”
Rosemary opened her mouth then closed it again.
“Naw,” Annie said firmly. “Didnae think so!”
“So whit has she done wi’ hersel?” Rosemary asked, spreading her hands helplessly. “An’ whit are we gaun’ tae dae?” Rosemary asked.
She was beginning to panic, Annie could see. She took the younger woman by the shoulders. “Calm doon, hen,” she said, giving the girl a smile. “Wherever she went, ‘tis no’ your fault or mine. She probably jist went awa’ tae think an’ forget aboot everythin’. She is gey funny that way.”
Rosemary nodded, and that was the moment they heard the footsteps of Malvina Mackie on the stairs. Her footfalls were usually quick and light, but this time it sounded as though she were stamping on them, and taking them two at a time, which indeed she was.
“Where is she?” she demanded as she almost threw herself into Eilidh’s bedroom. “Eilidh! Come here at once!” She looked around for a moment, baffled, then turned to Annie. “Where has Eilidh gone, Annie? Was she not with you?”
“Milady.” Annie curtsied, looking worried. “She asked me tae go an’ pick some flowers for her hair and dress, an’ so I went doon tae the wee patch o’ avens an’ heather doon by the moat. It took a wee bit longer than I expected, but I knew that she wid send me back if I didnae get the right ones—she’s that particular—an’ I came back an’ I found Rosemary but neither o’ us has seen her.”
Malvina stood still for a moment. Her whole body was trembling with rage. Her hands were clenched into fists, and her face was a mask of fury. Neither Rosemary nor Annie had ever seen their normally calm and even-tempered mistress like this before, and it was frightening.
Suddenly Malvina seemed to snap. She stamped her foot and let out a roar between her clenched teeth, making both Rosemary and Annie jump back in fright.
“I knew it!” she growled. “She has run away. Why did I not listen to my instincts? Dugald, we need Dugald. He is the only one who can find her.”
Annie stepped forward and spoke calmly. “Milady, calm doon.” Her voice was gentle. “Ye’re gettin’ ahead o’ yersel’. Ye know how she likes tae wander aff sometimes. She is likely up on the turrets or doon in the stables or suchlike. Let us no’ panic.”
Malvina saw the sense in this. “You are right, Annie,” she said, nodding. “Let us look for her. I will tell Laird McClure what is happening.”
“Beggin’ yer pardon, Milady,” Annie said hastily. She was stalling for time. From Eilidh’s window, she had seen her and the horse she had chosen disappearing into the woods but she wanted to make su
re that Eilidh had a good head start before the guards were called to follow her, so the longer she detained them, the better. “If ye yell M’laird noo an’ we find her right away ‘twill be gey embarrassin’. Should ye no’ do a wee bit lookin’ around first?”
Malvina stood, indecisive for a moment, then she nodded her head. “You are right, Annie. Will you both begin to look around this part of the castle? I will tell my husband to collect the guards. If she has indeed left we will send Dugald to find her.”
She rushed downstairs again, leaving Annie and Rosemary to begin their search. Annie was relieved and quite pleased with herself; the more time that was wasted the more she was helping Eilidh.
But Annie knew that if Dugald was indeed ordered to go after her, Eilidh stood little chance of getting away.
Malvina got to the bottom of the stairs and took a deep breath. This was not going to be easy. She did not look at Cormac McClure and his sister when she went into the parlor but went straight to her husband, smiling at him brightly.
“Sorry to interrupt, darling,” she said pleasantly, “but we have a tradesman here who insists on seeing you urgently. I think he is drunk, so please see him off before I set the guards on him.”
“Why do you not do it?” Fearchar asked, frowning.
At this, Malvina gave him the tiniest warning glance of anger from under lowered brows. “Because he needs you, my love,” she replied sweetly. “Excuse us M’laird.” She looked over at Cormac and Assumpta. “We will only be a moment.”
Malvina steered Fearchar out of the room and towards the main entrance. He tried to speak several times but she only told him to be quiet again and again. Finally, they were standing at the entrance looking across at the stable block.
“What is this about, Malvina?” Fearchar demanded, glowering. “And where is our daughter?”
“She has disappeared, Fearchar,” Malvina replied. “I had two maids search around her room but I fear it is too late. I think she has run away.”
At that moment a shout went up from the stables.
“Ane o’ the horses is gone, M’laird!” Mick came running up to Fearchar and stopped in front of him. “Old Lettie.” He looked scared as he saw Fearchar frown. “We was havin’ a bite tae eat, M’laird, I’m sorry.”
Fearchar looked at the man for a moment, then nodded. “Give yourself peace, Mick,” he said. “I have a feeling I know what happened.”
Mick sagged with relief and went back to work.
“Dammit!” Fearchar swore. “Wait till I see that little madam again. I will take a riding crop to her!”
“No, Fearchar.” Malvina was shaking her head. “She may be in danger. She has hardly been out of this castle, and it is an unkind world out there. The road to Inverness is often plagued by bandits, and she is an innocent girl with no defenses. She knows little of the outside world. Oh Fearchar, I would die if anything happened to my girl!”
Fearchar put his arms around her. That was true. In his anger he did not realize the danger Eilidh had put herself into. And that was more important than the wedding or anything else. “Nothing will happen,” he whispered. “Because I will not allow it.”
“How can you stop it?” Malvina asked tearfully.
“I am putting my best and most trusted men on it,” he replied. Eilidh and Malvina were the most precious things in the world to him, and he would move heaven and Earth to protect them. He was desperately worried; he would go out looking himself later but he had to move as fast as he could.
“Dugald will lead them,” he said. Dugald MacFarlane was the man he needed.
Dugald, a tall redheaded man, was the most savage man he had in his employment. He was known to deploy devious tactics from time to time but he always brought the result Fearchar wanted. Always. He had not failed, not even once. And he was loyal to Fearchar even if he had betrayed other people. Fearchar had defended him in these situations because he needed him. He needed him for times like this.
He kissed Malvina briefly then went inside to come back a moment later with a tall intimidating red-haired man with deep brown eyes set under deep overhanging brows. Behind him were two others, all dressed in the chain mail and leather of the castle guards.
“I have explained everything to Dugald and his men. As you know he is an excellent tracker and a fine soldier. The reward for whoever helps in finding her will be one hundred...no, two hundred! Two hundred pounds.” The amount was huge. One could buy several animals and land enough to make him wealthy and employ people so that he can stop working. Fearchar gave him half the amount. One hundred pounds. The rest would be given to the man or the woman that would help them after Eilidh was home.
“I will find Mistress Eilidh. Milady,” Dugald said, in a deep, gruff voice, “dinnae worry.”
Before Malvina could reply Dugald had turned on his heel, run to his mount, and was away. Malvina had never seen anyone move so quickly. For a moment she was reassured, but it did not last long.
“I wonder where she is now?” she said aloud as she saw the six guards’ horses disappearing into the trees at a furious gallop. “What will we tell Cormac?”
Fearchar groaned as he remembered Laird Cormac McClure. “I think we owe him the truth, Malvina,” he replied softly. She nodded and they went in to face the music.
Cormac was incandescent with rage. “What do you mean, not here?” he blustered. “I have been waiting! I am a busy man and do not have the luxury of wasting my time waiting for some silly maid who cannot be bothered to come and greet me.”
“M’laird.” Malvina’s voice was quiet, but throbbing with anger. “You acknowledged that you came a whole day early—”
“But she knows I am here now!” he bellowed. His bloated face had flushed purple with fury. “Where has she gone?”
“If we knew that,” Fearchar said, with an edge of anger in his voice, “we would tell you.”
“She does not want to meet me,” Cormac said. “Perhaps she thinks I am not good enough for her?”
“My brother is a very sought-after man,” Assumpta put in. She reminded Malvina of a mouse with her small mouth and slightly protruding teeth. “If Eilidh does not marry him there are plenty of other ladies who will. Let us know now!” And just like a mouse she had a little squeaky voice which irritated Malvina beyond measure. She accompanied her words with an annoying little smirk.
This was a complete lie. Cormac McClure had proposed to many young ladies, and all had begged their fathers not to force them into marrying this big, fat, ugly man with his unattractive, irritating sister.
Malvina was tempted to tell Cormac to go away and wed another admirer, but she forced herself to keep her mouth shut, although it took every shred of her self-control.
Cormac stared at Fearchar with his tiny, button-brown eyes. His expression was malicious, and his voice was a grating rumble as he spoke. “I was married to a wonderful woman for twelve years before God took her.” He sniffed and blinked as though to clear away tears, but his eyes were dry. “Your daughter cannot hold a candle to her, but I need a woman to give me sons, and because I am a passionate man, I need her to give me comfort, if you take my meaning.
I will treat her well and she will have the best of everything. And Assumpta will be happy to help her too. She can be a sister to her. But if Eilidh cannot fulfil her duties as a wife, she is as much use to me as a legless horse!”
Malvina could hold herself back no longer. “How dare you?” she screamed. “You are not worthy of my daughter! I cannot imagine why I ever thought you were. Get out of our home, you monster!”
Cormac glowered at her, then gave her an ironic bow and left.
“Good riddance!” Malvina shouted after Cormac. She could hardly stand still, and was shaking with uncontrollable rage. She felt as though she was going to explode with anger. “Still, at least he will not be back!”
Fearchar frowned. “I would not be too sure of that,” he replied doubtfully. “I think that somewhere in there lies a goo
d man, albeit not a pretty one. Come.” He put a comforting arm around her shoulders. “Have a drink with me to calm down. Then I will go and do my own searching.”
“No!” She clung to him fearfully. “I do not want both of you out there!”
Fearchar looked down into her lovely blue eyes and kissed her, then she put her arms around his waist and leaned her head on his chest. He too was going out of his mind with anxiety, but he had to be strong for Malvina and Eilidh.
6
The Swan Inn proved to be as cheap and clean as Annie had told Eilidh that it was, and since Iain had been a customer before, the landlady, Jean McBain, remembered him well. Indeed, it was hard not to remember Iain. When he had stayed the last time, many of her friends and their daughters had come to drink a glass of ale there just so that they could look at him, so he was good for business. She reminded herself to spread the word that he was back.
Jean McBain was a tall dark woman in early middle age whose black hair was just beginning to turn gray, and her light gray eyes had laugh lines at the corners because she was almost always cheerful and good-humored. She had no man, as he had died, and her daughter was married and away from her.
“Iain Jamieson!” she cried, as soon as she saw him. “It has been ower lang, Yer Majesty!”
Iain laughed, and the sound was a deep rumble, like distant thunder. It was even more attractive than his deep voice, which was seductive enough in itself.
“How are ye, Jean?” he asked, leaning his elbows on the bar and looking deeply into her eyes.
“I am well! De ye want a room for the night?”
“Two rooms for two nights,” he replied. “Ane for me an’ ane for Maura here. But you two have met already have ye no? Maura has been here afore.”
Jean narrowed her eyes and scrutinized Eilidh. “Cannae say I remember,” she said doubtfully, then shrugged. “But different people are in an’ oot all the time.” She smiled. “Welcome.”