The Rogue

by Allison Butler

  What was happening? What had they done? She looked across at Moira but her friend’s expression hadn’t changed. Keila’s mind scrambled for answers, for reasons, but all she found were previous concerns. Their usual room hadn’t been available, then they hadn’t sold a drop of ale to the inn and now, despite having found a prime spot to sell their goods, it was as if they weren’t even there. They’d travelled the same path to Mortlach, she’d even worn the same gown she’d worn last market day due to their good sales. They’d done nothing different, everything was the same. Except …

  Except. They hadn’t made the trip alone. Mac had been with them the entire journey until they’d reached the edge of town. The man who’d been battered so brutally that he couldn’t remember his name, and likely looked unrecognisable to anyone who did know him had made the journey with them all the way from Drummin. Had someone seen them? Why should it matter? What had he done to deserve such a beating? Was she now to suffer because she’d tended his wounds and given him shelter?

  Was he here? She searched for a head of shoulder-length fair hair flecked with strands of cinnamon that would stand taller than the most of the crowd, but never found him. Had he concluded his business and simply gone as she’d told him to do, as he said he would? Anger sparked and started to melt the icy confusion that had crept into her veins, but then her gaze fell on a familiar, masculine face coming toward her.

  Leith of Drummin was a formidable-looking man, but his shoulders weren’t quite as broad as Mac’s, and even though his body was a collection of muscles, he didn’t appear as powerful as Mac either, likely due to him standing half a head shorter.

  Annoyed that she was comparing Leith to the man she’d helped and then had been abandoned by, she quickly cast Mac from her thoughts and prepared to greet the man who had at one time come to Drummin House every day to visit and then had asked her to marry him.

  He stopped an arm’s length before her, his onyx eyes, larger than Mac’s in his more rounded face, wandered down to her chest then over her features and then finally met her gaze.

  ‘Mistress Fearn,’ he said with a half bow, but his eyes never strayed from hers. ‘It is a pleasure to see you.’

  ‘And you, Leith of Drummin,’ she said, returning his formal greeting with a slow nod as she felt Moira move to her side.

  ‘Mistress Denune,’ Leith said, minus the bow or pleasure part, which was acceptable since Moira didn’t bother speaking at all and only imparted the barest of nods. Moira didn’t like, or rather didn’t trust any man, but she held a greater aversion for Leith than any other. Likely due to Leith asking Keila to wed.

  ‘’Tis a fine turn out for market this day,’ Keila said to fill the void.

  ‘Aye and a grand day for it, too,’ Leith replied. ‘The sun is high and will nae doubt increase many a man’s thirst for the finest ale this market has to offer.’

  Keila’s stomach clamped at the mention of her ale. Word had spread from the first day they’d sold their ale here in Mortlach and they’d always returned home with none to spare.

  She swallowed past the lump of concern that suddenly rose in her throat. ‘Aye, would you care for a cup?’ Leith was well known in Mortlach, Drummin and around. If others witnessed him conversing with her while sipping her ale, then surely others would follow suit and purchase something from them.

  ‘My thanks, but I’ve just come from the inn.’ He rested one hand on the hilt of the sword strapped to his waist. ‘I wanted to ensure you arrived safely and to see how you were faring, before I head north.’

  Keila forced her mouth to remain closed for the next few moments, lest she plead with him to buy a cup of ale. ‘I … we are well, and thank you for your concern.’ She even managed a false smile to go along with her lie. They were well but they hadn’t sold a thing. Something was wrong, but Leith was the last person Keila wanted to admit she had any concerns to.

  Leith’s dark eyes remained fixed on hers for several breaths, as if he questioned her words and was giving her time to speak the truth. But Moira’s years of teaching her to show only strength had worked well, and she held his stare until he blinked and looked away.

  ‘Very well. I will look in on you at Drummin House when I return home.’ He stepped back and offered a farewell bow.

  ‘Until then,’ Keila said, as he turned and walked away.

  ‘And good riddance,’ Moira whispered.

  Keila sighed and gazed about the busy kirk grounds. ‘At least he didn’t treat us like lepers, Moira.’

  ‘I’d prefer that he did. The man only acts for personal gain.’

  ‘Are we all not guilty of doing the same?’ Keila asked and turned to her friend.

  ‘Aye,’ Moira agreed, her amber eyes settling on her. ‘But those like us are only guilty of surviving, while men like Leith suffer from greed and power. Men like Leith always want more.’

  Keila’s heart clenched for Moira. Bitterness hardened her friend’s words and her expression. She reached for Moira’s hand. ‘My hope is that Leith’s attention will draw others to us for conversation and to buy our goods.’ She squeezed her friend’s fingers and forced a smile, but Moira’s lips remained flattened and her narrowed gaze stayed fixed on Leith’s retreating figure.

  Shadows lengthened into midafternoon, but even after Leith’s brief visit, not one person had exchanged a look or a word with either of them. Keila’s emotions had been on a wild ride since Leith left. She’d struggled to stand in one place even for a short time and then she’d held her ground, chin high waiting for someone to draw near, until her stomach hardened to that of a rock and finally she’d set her jaw telling herself everything would be fine. But naught was fine and a coldness that had nothing to do with the sinking of sun settled deep inside her and fed her fears.

  The next instalment of protection money was almost due. How would they pay Leith when they hadn’t sold a thing?

  Keila turned and looked along the path Leith had taken when he’d left, but he was long gone. Her gaze darted across the trees to the outcroppings that formed the rise above Saint Morluag’s Well and found the tall fair-haired man she’d unwillingly hoped to see earlier.

  ***

  The weight of Keila’s stare fell on Adair like a physical thing that called and beckoned and he suffered its loss when she turned away, spine straighter than the sword he carried. She folded her arms across her chest and levered her chin up high, all signs she wasn’t happy to see him walking toward her. Despite knowing she wanted him to keep his distance, he’d been waging an inner battle to stay away since he’d discovered they were spending the night in the stable instead of the inn. All the more since he knew firsthand there were rooms available.

  He’d managed to uphold her wishes while watching over the stable from beneath the lone pine he and Demon had claimed as theirs for the night, knowing his horse would alert him to any noise or pending dangers. But concern for how they were faring overruled his need for sleep and he’d walked the perimeter about the stable and the inn thrice, but saw nothing and no one untoward. Until the stable doors had opened and the moon’s last light washed over the two women walking beside their horses to where they’d set up their cart ready for market.

  The urge to join Keila as she strolled about the kirk and graveyard had been strong, but he’d let her be and instead witnessed her inner struggles through her movements. She’d lifted her face to the breeze in a silent moment, then quickened her steps when her thoughts had settled on something that displeased. The sinking of her shoulders and one hand coming to rest on her stomach as she’d searched the gravestones sent her sadness stretching across the distance to find him within the nearby cluster of trees. He’d almost given in then but her self-determination saved him and her, and she’d marched back to her waiting friend.

  And then, seeing her watching people pass them by, most without a glance, and her fight to appear untouched when he could almost feel her quaking inside, had ignited his protective instincts, along with somethin
g else, something new and deep inside him he’d never experienced before. He’d pushed away from the stone he’d been leaning against and had taken two strides down the slope and stopped when another man reached her first.

  The same man he’d seen her speaking with out the front of Drummin House. The same man who’d leaned too close and ogled her while he spoke. The same man Adair had taken an instant dislike to.

  The man had greeted Keila with a half bow, as if that was all she deserved and they exchanged a few words, all spoken through forced smiles. Moira glared at the man throughout the brief encounter and Adair’s liking of the dragon climbed several notches.

  Adair had watched him leave, and then turned back to the woman who stole his attention without his permission.

  Keila’s slender form stood taller, her gaze searching to connect with others, exuding renewed hope, for a short while. But soon the lowering of her delicate chin and her downcast emerald eyes called upon whatever had awakened deep inside him earlier and he was marching down the incline toward her.

  He had no idea why no one was buying their wares, when he was a witness to how good they were. But he could no longer stand by and watch her being passed by and ignored. He slowed his steps a fraction as he drew closer and stopped before them offering both women a deep bow he regretted momentarily, as his right side pinched when he straightened.

  ‘I was told when I find two bonny ladies together at market, I’d find the finest ale in Mortlach.’ He smiled, knowing his words could be heard by others and opened his hand to reveal his coin.

  ‘Take the man’s money, Keila,’ Moira said quietly and briefly met his gaze. ‘I’ll fetch him some ale.’

  Keila reached forward and plucked a coin from his palm.

  ‘Is all well?’ Adair whispered, then gently took her hand and turning it over, poured the rest of the coin he held into hers. ‘I’m nae done yet, lass. I have both a thirst and a hunger,’ he said loudly. He didn’t want to let go of her hand.

  Her beautiful green eyes met his and held. ‘Of course all is well,’ she said softly with a brittle smile. ‘My thanks, good sir.’ She pulled her hand from his grasp.

  ‘Here’s your ale.’ Moira thrust a wooden cup filled to the brim between them.

  Dair drank deeply and sighed his pleasure at the taste when he paused for a breath. ‘I’d also like two loaves and a carrot for my gentle steed.’ He directed his words at Moira, who scoffed at his description of Demon and went to fetch his goods.

  ‘I thought you’d gone,’ Keila said quietly turning to watch Moira. ‘We don’t need your money.’

  ‘Soon,’ he said lifting the cup to his lips. ‘From what I’ve seen today, I believe you do.’

  ‘I don’t need your pity,’ she said through clenched teeth, as Moira approached carrying his loaves and a carrot.

  ‘Is there anything I can do?’

  ‘Just stay away,’ she whispered and then gave him a false smile. ‘We appreciate your custom. I bid you good day.’ Keila walked around to the side of the cart and started moving loaves from one basket to another.

  Adair drank the last of the ale and handed the empty cup to Moira before accepting the goods. ‘Something is wrong. Can I help?’

  ‘We’ll survive, we always do,’ Moira whispered and then said, ‘Good day. Safe travels,’ before joining Keila.

  Adair turned, and noticing the eyes following him, he smiled as if pleased with his purchases and started back up the incline. He stopped near the stone outcropping he’d stood by earlier, and tucking the carrot into his waistband to give to Demon later, he settled to watch and see if his purchases inspired others to buy from Keila and Moira.

  Afternoon shadows lengthened and stretched to the east as the sun sank in the west. The half loaf he’d consumed while he watched and waited now sat like a rock in his stomach. They might not want his help, but he could no longer watch Keila wilt and then grow as she battled her fears. Not a single person had bought from them and not a soul had stopped to bid them hello.

  With a last glance, he turned and headed to the pine tree where he’d again left Demon untethered. But a heavy weight, borne of his failure to help Keila, pressed down upon his heart.

  ***

  ‘Moira, we’re returning home.’

  Her friend looked at her for a moment before she gave her a nod. ‘Very well.’ Moira walked to one side of the cart and began sliding the baskets of vegetables back so they fit firmly together with the others. Keila pulled the baskets of bread to the rear of the cart and finished distributing the remaining loaves from the third basket into the other two, keeping four loaves to share between them and Rory. Netti’s baskets were of good strong quality and Keila would keep as many as possible to sell next market day. She was desperately relieved Netti and Rory hadn’t requested her to buy anything for them this time. How would they feel when they learned she and Moira hadn’t sold a single thing? Well, to someone other than Mac.

  Together, she and Moira slid the full barrels of ale into place and fastened the coarse length of rope about the lot, excluding the two wickers full of loaves. Once she’d decided to return home, the quicker she wanted to be gone.

  Keila’s thoughts returned to Mac and to where he might now be. Not that she had a right to know. He’d only been trying to help them, but as much as he’d tried to make light of the situation, she’d glimpsed the pity in his blue eyes and loathed seeing it there.

  She’d told him to stay away and bid him a good day, but she hadn’t said goodbye. Now, not voicing the words left her feeling as if something vital was missing. But it was too late. She forced all thoughts of Mac from her mind and finished securing their goods. It was pointless to think of him. Thanks to her, Mac was gone. She’d never see him again.

  Ignoring the feeling of heaviness in her chest, Keila hitched Mist and Nettle to the cart and climbed up onto the wooden bench to join Moira.

  ‘Are you certain this is what you want to do?’

  Keila turned and looked into the amber eyes watching her. ‘I believe returning home is for the best.’ She didn’t want to stay a moment more. ‘But first we’ll deliver the baskets of bread to the kirk.’

  Moira continued to watch her and finally said, ‘Very well. To the kirk, then Drummin House.’ With a snap of the reins, Moira gave the horses leave to move forward.

  As Moira steered them out from their spot by the stand of trees and down toward the kirk, Keila scanned the crowd. A few curious eyes lifted in their direction as they drove by. Her stomach churned, but she refused to lower her gaze and as the people had done all day, they quickly turned away when they saw her watching them. Most people didn’t show any interest, or did they force themselves not to?

  Moira drew the cart to a halt before the kirk’s steps and Keila laid her hand on her friend’s arm. ‘Wait here. I can do this.’

  She stepped down from the cart and retrieved one basket of loaves, deposited it on the step and did the same with the second. Keila climbed back onto the seat beside Moira, and with one last look up the slope by the well, she swallowed hard and ignored the tightening in her chest as they drove out of the kirk’s yard and turned onto the same track they’d taken to journey here.

  Soon after, when the town’s folk could no longer see them, Keila drew and released a full breath and relaxed her back and shoulders from their spine-straining position. They would return to market. They had no choice. Not if they wanted to keep Drummin House without seeking assistance from anyone else. Somehow she would find out what had caused the change in the people’s attitude toward them and the lack of sales.

  ‘The salve will keep until next market day,’ Moira said, her mind obviously following Keila’s thoughts as to how they would survive and put their goods to use to save waste. ‘And we have vegetables aplenty to make stews and broth.’

  Keila smiled but the threat of tears stung her nose. She refused to let them form. ‘We will stop by Rory’s cottage and give them two of the loaves I kept.’
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br />   ‘’Tis good to know none will be wasted and it’s a simple task to make more,’ Moira said, with a pat to Keila’s knee. She knew how much Keila loathed waste. ‘The fish in the river and the rotten birds that steal from our vegetable garden will make short work of whatever we can’t eat.’

  ‘Perhaps we should give the ale to the fish and the birds, too,’ Keila said.

  ‘Not until we’ve drunk our fill, lass,’ Moira said with a rare grin.

  They rode over a bump and the coins in Keila’s purse strapped to her thigh jingled.

  ‘Aye, all will be well,’ Keila said. Now she just needed to make herself believe it.

  ‘We’ll aim to reach our usual resting spot and spend the night there,’ Moira said.’

  Keila wished they were already home.

  Chapter 11

  They travelled in silence for some time, the uneven track jostling them around on the hard wooden bench. With every rut that bounced Keila from her seat, her chain of thought changed. But her mind settled more often on Mac’s troubles rather than her own.

  Had he discovered answers at the inn? If he had, where had they taken him? He’d been aware of how important market day was to her and had come to offer his aid when he’d believed something was wrong. And he’d been right. But she’d rejected his pity along with his concerns, and caught up in her own troubles, she hadn’t even bothered to ask if he’d discovered anything about his attack.

  What would Mac think of her if he knew the coins in her purse strapped to her thigh beneath her skirts were to be used to pay Leith the next lot of protection money? Coins she’d use to keep Drummin House. Coins given to her by the man she’d told to stay away.

  Tired of the same shameful thoughts replaying in her mind, she relieved Moira of the reins and concentrated on keeping the horses and cart on track. She searched their surroundings and surmised they’d easily reach the rowans by the burn before nightfall. Where was Mac spending the coming—