Lyall was warmed by Ailith’s generosity and Fenella hugged her as if she would never let her go.
“Thank you, Mistress Ailith!" she cried, her voice rapturous.
Ailith laughed as she returned Fenella’s embrace, then she thought of something. “With all the arguing, I forgot to ask her name.”
“We can give her a new one!” Fenella said excitedly. “But she will have to bear it for a long, long time I hope, so I will need to think about it carefully.”
Lyall laughed and gave the horse an apple as a treat for her new mount. The little horse grabbed it and ate it greedily, then began searching Fenella for another one. She giggled, then led the mare away in search of carrots.
“Thank you,” Lyall said warmly, as soon as they were alone. “You have no idea how much it means to her.”
Ailith watched them as they walked away. “She needs someone else to love—apart from her brother, of course.”
“One day she will be married,” Lyall pointed out.
“Yes," she replied, “but marriage and love do not always go hand in hand, as we discussed before.”
Lyall could think of nothing to say to this, so he changed the subject. “Are you hungry?" he asked. “I could eat a horse, if you had not just given it away!”
Ailith giggled. “You are wicked, but food sounds like a very good idea. You just reminded me that my stomach is rumbling.”
“I know a good tavern," he told her. “We can pick up Fenella on the way.”
Ailith nodded, then, after a moment’s thought, she began to look around her as if seeking something or someone.
She looks frightened, Lyall thought. He took her by the shoulders and gazed into her eyes. “Are you looking for someone, Mistress?" he asked, concerned. Ailith looked and felt anxious, he thought. She looked quite unlike the warrior woman he had seen a few moments before, and it worried him.“What is amiss?" he asked, frowning. “You look scared.”
Ailith shook her head impatiently, feeling foolish all of a sudden. “I thought I saw someone I knew, that’s all." She smiled, a little too brightly, he thought, but he let it go.
They walked down the street until they came to a little tavern called John Barleycorn, which was an affectionate name for whisky. Ailith was surprised that so many people greeted Lyall, and even more astonished when he picked up and played with the local children. He laughed, teased, and indulged in bouts of play-fighting with the boys and flirted with the girls, who seemed to adore him—probably, Ailith thought, because he was so tall and strong and they all dreamed of marrying him.
“Those bairns love you!” Ailith said, her eyes wide with amazement.
Lyall smiled at her and shrugged. “My mother used to say that children are made by love and for love. She knew the name of every child in the village and always had time for them, and whenever a new baby was born she would give him or her a shawl that she had made herself. She was always sewing.”
His voice sounded so sad that she put her hand on his arm to comfort him. “We cannot bring her back," she said soothingly, “but we can still make shawls and bake pies.”
He smiled. “Yes," he agreed. “We can do that.”
Fenella joined them as they sat down. She could not seem to stop smiling, and announced that she had found a name for her horse. “I will call her Lucy," she said proudly.
“Why Lucy?” Lyall asked, frowning in puzzlement.
Fenella shrugged. “Because I like it, that’s all.”
“As good a reason as any!” Ailith agreed, laughing.
Lyall got up to bring out the ale and order food, leaving the two women to chat for a while. They made a pretty picture, and drew several admiring glances from passing strangers, but it was not a stranger who was watching them now.
From across the market square, partially hidden behind a tree, was Jock McCauley.
4
Learning to Barter
It was a long time since Ailith had enjoyed a meal so much. The food was simple and plain, but delicious nonetheless. The company was the best part, however. No one had ever told Ailith that she was funny before, but she kept both Fenella and Lyall in stitches with stories about her family, goods she had bought, bargains she had struck, and the subterfuge she often used to get the best price for anything she wanted.
“What method do you use most to get what you want?” Lyall asked curiously. “Surely there is a certain type of man who thinks women are half-wits?”
Ailith’s eyes twinkled. “Ah, but those are the best kind!" she said wickedly, “because they think we are dull and treat us as such, and by the time they have learned their mistake it is too late.”
“So tell us,” Fenella said eagerly, “what is it that you do?”
Ailith thought for a moment. “Let me give you an example," she said, looking at them and smiling. “But first"—she held a finger up in a warning gesture—“these are closely guarded secrets and if you tell anyone, even your dog, I will be obliged to kill you." She glared at them fiercely, and they both burst into fits of laughter.
“But dogs cannot speak!” Fenella pointed out. “Who could they tell?”
“They can speak to other dogs,” Lyall remarked, sipping his ale. Ailith gave him a playful swipe on his arm and he pretended to be injured.
“Ow!" he cried, scowling. “I may need a bandage for this!”
“Pfft!” Ailith flapped a hand at him. “You need a nanny!”
Lyall was loving this; it was just the way they had bantered with their mother, and suddenly he realized that Ailith had many of the same qualities. She had wit, intelligence, beauty, and charm, but she was also infinitely desirable, and he was fascinated by her. He might even fall in love with her.
He choked on his ale as this revelation hit him. Ailith slapped his back, then looked at him innocently. “Was it something I said?" she asked, smiling mischievously.
Lyall wiped his mouth. “You are a madwoman," he told her, grinning. “Now, if we promise to keep our mouths shut, will you tell us your secret?”
“I will," she said at last. “The first tactic I use is flattery. I wear a very pretty dress, and look at the horse in a completely dense way, but as if am trying to pretend that I know what I am seeking, if you understand me. I pretend to try and lift up its feet so I can see if there is anything wrong with them, then of course my feeble woman’s strength cannot manage it, and I fall backwards on my bottom, dirtying my dress.
“About this time, an obliging gentleman will come and help me up, and by this time I am almost in tears, and I tell him what a kind and courteous fellow he is. He lifts up the hoof, but of course I have no idea what I am looking for, so he points it out to me. I can tell immediately if there is an infection, of course, but he does not know that. I then pretend to look in the mouth, because apparently my husband told me that is the right thing to do, then I run my hands down its legs with all the clumsiness of an absolute simpleton. By this time the seller is trying not to rub his hands with glee, because he can see that I am really clueless.
“At this point I apparently give up, and become a little cross, calling myself all the foolish names under the sun. I ask him about the price of the animal, which is usually much more than it is worth. I struggle with myself, then offer him half that price. He pretends to consider, then names a price halfway between the one he suggested and mine. This is the usual form of bargaining, as you know, except this man thinks he is dealing with an idiot.”
Lyall and Fenella leaned forward, enthralled.
“However, now I pretend to have an idea. I will ask my husband to come and look at the animal. He is an expert judge of horseflesh, after all, and has control of the money, so I go to find him.”
“Why did he not do the bargaining then?” Lyall asked, puzzled.
“Because he is drunk," she replied. Lyall grinned, shaking his head. “Anyway, I have to come back and tell the owner that my husband has drunk all his money away, and half price is all I have. I thank him and turn to
walk away. Now, one of two things will happen. He will let me go, or he will pursue me. I may not get the horse, but as you know, that is a risk we all take when we trade, and if I lose, I have wasted nothing more than my time.
“Then again, he may offer to let me take the animal for half price. If he does, wonderful. If he wants to raise the price a little, and it is not more than the price I wanted to pay anyway, I will make up a mythical friend, or make up some other stratagem, and come back with the difference. I never carry more money than I am prepared to pay so I am never tempted to overspend." She emptied her goblet of ale. “That is one strategy, but there are others.”
Lyall looked at her with a mixture of admiration and astonishment. “By God, Ailith...you are a genius!”
She noted that it was the first time he had ever used her name. “No, not a genius, Lyall," she said, “but men can use brute strength and male solidarity. We women have to use our other gifts.”
“I will remember that,” Lyall said ruefully. “There is a lot more to you than meets the eye, Ailith.”
She smiled, and then became serious. “I want to use my skill for good," she said, her voice earnest. “I have very little time to spare, but what I have can be employed usefully.”
“Come and see us,” Fenella begged. “Come for dinner tomorrow night. We have a huge haunch of venison given to us by one of Lyall’s friends, and we have smoked salmon and scallops and—please come!”
Ailith glanced at Lyall, who was smiling at her.
“It all sounds delicious,” Ailith said warmly. “I would be happy to come and dine with you, and you can tell me some more about your enterprise.”
“We also have some very good wine which has just landed from France,” Lyall informed her. “I was waiting for a special occasion and this is the first time we have had guests since Mammy passed, so I think it is worth celebrating.”
Ailith knew about the wine, since she had imported it, but he looked so happy that she said nothing that would spoil it for him.
She stood up. “I must go," she said regretfully. “I have work to do.”
Lyall stood up too, then bowed and kissed her hand. “Until tomorrow," he said softly.
“Tomorrow," she replied.
Fenella came up and gave Ailith a mighty hug. “You are wonderful," she whispered. Ailith kissed her cheek, then, with a little wave, she walked away.
Fenella sighed. “Oh Lyall, I wish she wasn’t marrying Jock McCauley. There is something I do not like about that man. I wish she was marrying you.”
Lyall was watching Ailith’s slim figure disappearing into the distance. So do I, he thought sadly. Aloud, he said, “But she is marrying him, Ella, and there is nothing you or I can do about it.”
“You like her very much, don’t you?" she asked.
“I do," he admitted. “And I like you very much, Ella, but I don’t want to marry you!”
Jock McCauley was beyond furious. He was trembling with rage, and the more he thought about Lyall Stevenson the worse it became. He had gone to the market that day to look for a ram to breed with his sheep, but then he saw Ailith with another young woman, whom he recognized as Fenella Stevenson, sitting outside the tavern. He was about to go over and greet them when Lyall came out carrying three mugs of ale and sat down beside them.
He was astonished to see that when the landlady brought the food Lyall chatted to her for a while, teasing her and making her laugh. When she turned to go Jock saw him putting something into her hand. Her eyes widened as she took it, then she curtsied and thanked him. He obviously tipped generously.
Ailith had looked at Lyall in a way that she had never looked at him, and Jock felt a searing stab of jealousy go through him. If he had a sword in his hand at that moment he would have run it through Lyall Stevenson’s heart without a second thought.
He turned around, strode to his horse, and rode back to Inverlieth Castle at a punishing speed. Once there, he stormed up to his study and tossed down three glasses of whisky in quick succession. The fiery spirit calmed him down enough to take the edge off his fury, and he sat down heavily in a chair and began to think. He sat for a long time before calling for a trusted servant to come and see him.
“Ah, there you are,” Jock smiled as the door opened silently and a man crept over to his desk. “I need your help, old pal. I have a nasty problem.”
“I will do what I can, M'Laird,” the man said in a deep sepulchral voice.
Fergus Brown was as tall as Lyall Stevenson, but he was spindly with a swarthy, cadaverous face and deep-set dark eyes. All his clothes were well-made, but they hung on his skeletal frame like rags on a scarecrow. Officially he was Jock’s butler, but the Laird had recognized a kindred spirit when he saw one, and they had become friends and confederates.
Spying was a natural fit for Fergus. He had a talent for all things devious, and his previous duties for Jock had included blackmail and bribery. He enjoyed his work, both the legitimate and illegitimate, because he liked seeing people jump when he commanded them to, enjoying their fear.
Jock stood up and poured both of them more whisky. On his fifth glass, he was beginning to feel the effects now, and he was an aggressive drunk. “I want you to follow someone," he told Fergus. “Everywhere.”
“Who, M'Laird?” Fergus’s eyes glinted maliciously at the thought of the task. It was just the kind of job he loved to do.
“Mistress Galloway,” Jock replied.
“Your betrothed?” Fergus asked, frowning. “But why?”
“You do not need to know why,” Jock growled. “Follow her everywhere she goes and tell me everything she does. Is that clear?”
“Yes, M'Laird," he replied. His tone was deferential now, since he was always paid well for his services, and did not want to do anything to upset the Laird.
“I will give you proper instructions in the morning,” Jock said irritably. “Get out of my sight.”
5
First Kiss
Dinner that night was almost as riotous as lunch had been the day before. Fenella had insisted on poached salmon for the first course with roast venison and assorted vegetables for the main. They finished off with a selection of local cheeses and fruits, both dried and fresh, and the Bordeaux wine that Lyall had been so proud of.
Ailith was glad she had brought it into the country, since it was absolutely delicious. It gave her a warm feeling to look at him and realize how much he was enjoying it.
Lyall was trying desperately not to look at Ailith because every time he did, he found it difficult to tear his gaze away again.
“So what kind of charity did Lady May provide? Is it feeding? Clothing?” Ailith asked, sipping her wine. “Mmmm...this wine is wonderful, Lyall.”
“Both of those," he replied, “but she loved to tell stories to the children as well. She had a wonderful imagination, and she could make them up as she went along. I have never heard anything like them.”
“I cannot do that,” Fenella said sadly. “I have no imagination." She sighed, and Ailith put her hand over hers on the table.
“Stop feeling sorry for yourself," she instructed, smiling. “I will think of some and write them down for you. There is always a way.”
“Tell us one now!” Fenella shouted excitedly. “Something romantic.”
“Well...” Ailith thought for a while. “You must remember that you are not a child, so this may sound a little babyish to you.”
“I understand.” Fenella’s blue eyes were twinkling with excitement.
“Do you know what a dragon is?” Ailith asked. Fenella shook her head. “It is a big fearsome monster who breathes fire. It has scales all over it like fish but they are bright green and hard as iron, and giant spiky ridges as sharp as swords down its back. Its pointed teeth are three feet long and its eyes are huge and yellow and have tiny slits for pupils. When they breathe fire into a loch it can dry the whole loch up; it turns it to steam and it blows away." She went on to tell them about the only good dragon who h
ad been exiled from his tribe because he was kind and did not like to do harm to people and animals. He wandered the countryside looking for food, but he would not eat the cattle and sheep in case the crofters went hungry, so he lived on rabbits and fish.
One day he saw a little boy out of his depth in the waters of Loch Leith and he saved his life. The villagers took him in, and he guarded their village for the rest of his life. Everyone loved him.
By this time even the two adults were enthralled, since Ailith had spiced up the story with growls, screams, and facial contortions. Lyall was amazed, since he had seen May doing exactly the same thing.
“How did you do that?” Fenella asked, astonished. “Did you just make it up?”
“I had a lot of stories told to me when I was small,” Ailith replied, smiling. “I stick bits of them together. Now, tell me more. I need to know what I can do to help.”
Fenella explained about the special kitchen garden that they had set aside for villagers and crofters who were in need. They had also engaged a seamstress who made and mended clothes, since the children grew out of them so quickly.
“Her next project was going to be a wee school,” Lyall said sadly, “but she never achieved that dream.”
“Perhaps I can achieve it in her memory,” Ailith said thoughtfully.
Lyall looked down at her red-blonde hair and big green eyes and wondered what it would feel like to cuddle up against her, to hold her, go to sleep and wake up to her eyes looking into his. He would not even have to make love to her, just be with her. He gave himself a mental shake, realizing that it was impossible. She was betrothed and he could not steal the bride of another man without causing an enormous amount of trouble for both of them.
Highlander’s Devious Ally (Scottish Medieval Historical Romance) Page 3