The Scotsman Who Swept Me Away

by Hannah Howell

  Geordie watched her walk out the door, grabbing a couple baskets to hook onto her belt as she went, one of which held a small spade. “May I come along? I have no idea what ye are going to do, but I do want to see.” He glanced at Robbie to see if his brother was also interested.

  “Well, I am staying inside,” said Robbie. “Maybe Abel will feel like playing checkers with me. I admit to a touch of curiosity about clamming, but then I remember the smell of the flats when the tide goes out and it is nay a fond memory.” He turned and walked to the social room as Geordie hurried out the door to catch up to Belle.

  “Did you never dig clams when you were here years ago?” Belle asked when Geordie joined her.

  “Nay. Cannae say we were ever tempted by that food. We were just passing through, anyway, looking for a place to live. My parents couldnae agree on any of the places we saw and couldnae afford the ones they did, both fancy. Then my da heard all the talk of going west and how that land was cheap, even free in some places, but, sadly, he didnae get there. He was killed, along with my mither, about half the way there. The wagons were attacked. The attackers clearly intended to kill everyone, but we had Iain.” He grinned. “He got us all to safety, hid us. That seems to be his gift, keeping people safe. Oh, and convincing adults we can do for ourselves, which we did by taking the wagon and continuing on.”

  “Oh, I am sorry.”

  “Long time ago, but thank ye. But, as I said, my brother Iain stepped up and took us all. And there were days when the rest of us would have happily banded together and beat him senseless. Then we got to the Ozarks and as we made our way through them, Iain decided to see if he could get some land there. He said it had the look of home. He got as much land as he could and, over the years, has added some to it. The first acres we got were from a mon headed to California, thinking he would get rich; we never heard from him again. Then we built our house and the stockade.”

  “A stockade? You were just boys and you built a house plus a stockade?”

  “Aye. Iain wanted us safe. That is how he looks at everything. Is it safe or will it keep us safe? Can we make it safe? Every time we stopped the wagons to set up camp, he went and found a good place for us to hide if we needed to. He even thoroughly checked the house Matthew built for his family, then tested how long it would take him to gather up his family and get behind the stockade. Same with our shepherds and their families. Over the years it certainly proved it was worth the work, though we often cursed him heartily as we worked on it.”

  She laughed softly as they went down the steps to the beach and walked over to some mudflats. She took a rolled-up mat that hung from her belt and laid it out on the ground. Next she took the baskets off her wide belt, which, he realized, had a lot of ties, loops, and hooks that carried the tools she needed for her job. She kilted up her skirts and knelt on the mat to gather her clams.

  “Do ye have a spare digger on your magic belt?” He grinned when she laughed.

  “No, but I will be certain to carry one next time I am ready to harvest.”

  “Is this worth the trouble and mess?”

  “It is, but I always wait until I get a few orders for them first. If I have got to go and dig in the mud, I want it to be for a good reason.”

  “Tried one when we wandered through the area.” He shuddered. “Couldnae understand why anyone ate them.”

  “Ever had chowder made with them?”

  “Nay. What is it?”

  “A creamy soup made with clams.”

  “Cooked ones might be better.”

  Belle laughed. “You don’t sound all that sure.” She noticed one of her baskets was full, and asked Geordie, “Could you take this basket down to the water and dip it in and out so the clams are cleaned off?”

  “Aye.” He took off his shoes and socks and folded up the legs of his trousers. Then he studied the water. “The tide is coming in.”

  “Yup. That is why I have to get to the next bed.”

  Geordie stood up, picked up the basket, and began walking toward the water. He did not really like the feel of the mud under his feet, not like he had as a child. When he reached the water, he dunked the basket and swished it around several times. He then reached into the basket to turn the clams and swished it in the water again.

  He headed back to Belle and smiled as she stood up and stretched, rubbing her back and smearing mud on the back of her dress. She was a bit of a mess. Pulling up her skirts had not saved them from getting a lot of mud on them. Despite having a tool to dig out the clams, she had mud covering her arms up to the elbow. As he got closer, he saw that she also had streaks of mud on her face. He reached her and took the other basket, now full of clams, while handing her the one he had dunked in the water.

  “Maybe ye should come down to the water, too. Wash some of the mud off.” When she stared at him with narrowed eyes he shrugged and headed for the water. A moment later she was walking by his side. They walked to the water in silence and Geordie fought the urge to chuckle. He suspected that would truly annoy her.

  “This is the one thing I hate about digging clams. We have a shower on the back porch, but by the time I get to it and get everything all set up and running, the mud has dried on me and that always feels horrible.”

  “Ye have one of those shower baths?”

  She sighed as she cleaned off her arms. “Yes. We also use it to rinse off after a swim. My father studied one, then made one. It took him a while because he had to get the water to it, but he did it. It is on the back porch because that’s where the water comes into the house, and he fixed it so it drains into the kitchen garden. Which leads us to the only drawback—no soap. You cannot use soap in the shower because it would harm the plants in the garden.”

  “Test some soaps. There are ones made of stuff that isnae harmful.”

  “I think my father did that with the soaps we use. But, it is a thought. Plant something and water it with the slightly soapy water and see what happens.” She picked up one of the full baskets. “Well, best to get these up to the house and sort out who gets what.”

  “Who do you sell them to?” he asked as he fell into step beside her.

  “Mostly just folk who want some to serve guests and a few people who need some for the foods they sell in their small cafés or at the market.”

  “Do ye get a lot of visitors up here as the weather warms?”

  “Enough that my rooms to let make a nice profit, as do others around here. And they come mostly from the bordering states. Bennet thinks that business is going to grow. Not sure I look forward to that. And I am not sure I understand why people from bordering states come. They have their own beaches and hills and all.”

  “It is a change of scene, and some may come because they dinnae have the funds to go far and stay fancy.”

  “Still don’t see the why of it, but it makes me enough money to stay here, so I guess I welcome the madness.”

  He laughed as they reached the stairs and started up them. Although he would not say so, he rather agreed with her. After all, he had traveled a long way just to see the ocean, but there was nothing like it near his home.

  When they reached the house, Geordie decided he had to try the shower. While Belle went into the kitchen to tend to the clams they had dug, he went out on the porch and prepared the shower. He drew the curtains draped around it and closely inspected it as he cleaned up. He had a passing thought that he could make one of these. It would take a lot of work, and a lot of cursing, but he was sure he could do it. When he finished washing, he reminded himself to make a few sketches of it to take home with him. Getting out and drying off, he wondered what they did with it when the weather turned cold. Then he quickly dressed and went inside to let Belle know it was free.

  “Did you like it?” she asked as she collected up towels and her clothes in preparation for taking her own shower, then set them aside as she remembered something else she should do that would add to the dirt she wanted to rinse off.

  �
��Immensely. I am going to make some drawings of it and all its works so I can show it to my brothers. Thinking we might be able to set one up. Maybe even inside the house. I can definitely see my brothers loving it.”

  “Father would have been so happy about that. He really loved it when people liked the things he made. He was always tinkering.”

  “Everyone likes approval for their efforts.”

  “My father was always careful to let people know it wasn’t his idea, that he had just made something he had seen elsewhere.”

  Geordie followed her as she went back outside and started walking toward the trees on the land where Bennet dreamed of putting a fancy hotel. “What are ye doing now?”

  “Time to check on the fruit trees.”

  “Too early for there to be fruit.”

  “I know, but one needs to keep a watch on them. They get attacked and chewed up by a lot of things.”

  “True. Robbie often complains about things eating his apples.”

  “Well, we have apple trees, pear trees, and peach trees, plus a lot of beach plum bushes. Also some quince bushes to the left. And wild blueberries in the woods there. A true buffet for the deer and other creatures. I throw netting over them and it may be getting near the time to do that. Have already got it over the grapevines on the back porch. I sell a lot of the fruit, and the things I can make with it, on market day, but when it is hot and I am climbing a ladder to drag a net over the top of one of the trees, I find myself doing the math to remind myself it is worth it.”

  “Robbie finally put up a fence to protect his trees. Took several tries until he got it to the height where they couldnae just leap over it.” He grinned when she laughed softly.

  “I doubt I will go that far, although we put up a fence of sorts between the orchard and the other trees so the deer could not sneak up from the far side where we would not spot them.

  “Oh, hell,” she muttered and tied up her skirts again. “Can you give me a boost up?”

  “Ye have to climb the tree?”

  “I do. I hope I am wrong, but I think I see something that needs to be dealt with soon. I can go get the ladder. It is just tucked in the barn.”

  Geordie shrugged, then lifted her up until she could grab a branch. She appeared completely unconcerned by the fact that she was showing her legs and giving him the opportunity to have a look up her skirts. He crossed his arms over his chest and watched her scramble up the tree with true skill. Even he could not climb a tree with such ease and grace. Then she studied a number of apples, putting several in her pocket, and he was pretty sure that muttering she was doing included a lot of swearing.

  She started to climb back down and when she got within his reach he grabbed her by the waist and helped her the rest of the way down. Then she put her hands on his shoulders to steady herself, so he tugged her close against him and held her there. She tensed slightly and narrowed her eyes. He just grinned.

  “You can let me go now.”

  He smiled. She sounded so prim and proper, a bit like his brother’s wife, Emily, when she got cross with one of them, but actually a bit primmer. Belle sounded much like a queen ordering her subject, despite the fact that she had just been climbing a tree with her skirts hiked up to her knees. He was just going to have to show her he was neither a subject nor very obedient.

  “Why? I think I deserve a reward. I did all the heavy lifting.”

  “Heavy?”

  He had never heard a woman growl like that, he thought, fighting not to laugh. She felt good in his arms, and fit perfectly. Leaning his face a little closer to hers, he brushed a kiss over her mouth. She did not jerk away and she tasted sweet. Her kiss also stirred his manly appetites in a way none had before. Then she sagged a little in his arms and he went down with her as he deepened the kiss.

  Mehitabel held on tight as she savored his kiss. She had been kissed a couple of times and, ignoring the youthful ones that had been awkward and were never repeated, there had been one or two that were unwanted and forced on her until she struck back. Yet she had heard enough women rhapsodize over a man’s kiss that she had remained willing to try. This man made her understand why people kissed. She finally glimpsed why it could make a woman sigh.

  The way he was stroking her as he kissed her only added to the strong mix of emotions she was experiencing. Her father had firmly believed that women should not be kept ignorant of things that concerned them, and freely told her whatever she wanted to know, as well as things he felt she really needed to know as she grew. Belle knew what her body was becoming interested in, but could not fully understand why she should feel that way. He was handsome and pleasant, but that alone did not seem like enough to stir anything wanton in her.

  Yet she was feeling a bit wanton and increasingly so, she thought as she tightened her hold on him. For some reason this man was making her think of learning if what her father had told her was actually right. Then she decided that was a dangerous, perhaps even foolish thought, as he was her guest, a paying customer. The very last thing she needed was him talking and spreading the idea that she came with the rooms she let. He did not strike her as a man who boasted and bragged to any who would listen, but she did not need that trouble. Being a lone woman renting out rooms had always caused her enough trouble without her adding to it with her own thoughtless actions.

  Then he moved his mouth down and kissed the side of her neck. She shivered and he kissed her again, even as he lay down and pulled her firmly into his arms. She felt good there, he thought, and held her a little tighter. He was just sliding his hand around to touch one of the full breasts pressed into his chest, tempting him, when a sound ripped through the air. It sounded like a scream caused by pain, a lot of pain.

  He kept a hold on her as he listened for the sound to come again. Geordie had the odd feeling that he should recognize that voice, despite how the voice was changed and twisted in a scream of pain. Then he decided that no matter who it was, they should go have a look. Someone had been hurt. By the look on Belle’s face, she thought the same.

  Chapter Nine

  Belle pulled away and stood up to stare in the direction the sound had come from. Geordie sat up and looked as well. He was still wondering who or what could have made such a sound. It had definitely sounded like a scream of pain, but he could see no sign of a fight or anything else as he also stood up and looked around. Then he saw a small figure appear at the top of the steps leading down to the beach.

  “Abel,” Belle gasped, then waved her arms. “Abel! Abel, what has happened?”

  The boy stopped, then turned and began running toward her. Belle brushed off her skirts and began to run to meet him. Geordie did up his shirt, idly wondered just when it had become undone, and hurriedly walked over to the two of them.

  “What has happened?” Belle asked when she reached Abel. “Was it you who screamed?” She patted him on his arms and back, then reached down to pat at his legs.

  “Not me,” the boy gasped as he struggled to catch his breath and tried to wriggle out of her grasp. “Not me. Robbie fell on the steps. You have to come, Belle! I think he broke his leg, the bad one. There is a bone sticking out! I think it is more than one, so it is a bad, bad break,” he added in a soft, panicked voice. “It is bleeding a lot. You have to come now.”

  Belle grabbed Geordie’s arm as he started to move. “I need you to get my bag. I will need to tend him some, if only to stop the bleeding, so we can move him. My bag is just inside the front door, on the right, on a small table. The bag is black leather with blue trim.”

  Geordie ran for the house. He looked back to see Mehitabel and Abel racing toward the stairs. Once inside, he found the bag easily. It was a large, well-used bag and had probably been her father’s. The blue trim was something lacy that had been knitted or tatted.

  Picking up the bag, which was surprisingly heavy, he headed out the door only to nearly walk into a tall, black-haired woman. It took only one good look to guess that she was probably relate
d to Mehitabel and Abel.

  “Ye must be Auntie,” he said.

  She smiled, transforming her stern face into something beautiful. Geordie saw the future Belle in her sparkling silver eyes and finely drawn features. The woman’s long black hair was only lightly streaked with gray. She was much taller than her niece as well, plus had a lusher figure.

  “Yes, I am Mary Magdalene Ampleford-Murphy, hyphenated name like the rich.” She grinned when Geordie couldn’t stop his eyes from widening slightly at her name. She then nodded at the bag. “Is someone hurt?”

  “Aye. My brother. It appears he fell and may have opened an old wound.”

  “Best get going then. I will follow with the body cart.”

  “The what? Robbie is still alive.”

  “Not that kind of body. It is for ones who should not be up and walking around.”

  “Oh, all right then.”

  He waited as she dashed into the house. He could hear her moving things around in the infirmary. Thinking he should get down there to Belle, he took a step just as she came out the door pulling a large cart. He helped her get it off the porch, then turned to make his way down to the beach.

  As they started on their way, moving at a brisk pace, Mary said, “My brother Noah put this together so he could move his patients around more easily. He needed it, as he was not some big, strapping fellow like you. My brother was constantly putting things together to make life easier.” She shook her head. “Then he is taken from us because his heart fails.” She shook her head and sighed, a sound weighted heavily with sorrow.

  “I am sorry for both you and Belle. From what little she has told me about him, he sounded like a verra good mon.”

  “He was. And he was too young to collapse like that. Where do you come from? I have been trying to place the accent since I met you at the door.”