by Fiona Faris
This mystery Sassenach was beautiful. Nay, she was stunning. Beautiful was a term reserved for inanimate things, statues, and paintings, but this woman was full of life. There was a strength in her stance despite her fatigue, a will in her teary eyes that he could see would not easily be put out. That she had walked here in the night by herself, navigating her way to the tavern on a day when she had been divested of all her possessions, threatened, and had to see both her servants killed, told Brodie she was not to be underestimated. whoever she was, this woman was a force to be reckoned with.
His good feelings toward her increased tenfold with this realization. He found himself looking even closer at the lass, falling into the intoxicating depths of her blue eyes, their vibrant color still visible through the pooled tears.
Just for a moment, Brodie felt like they were all alone. The room, with its inhabitants and the barman and maids, fell away, and all that was left was Brodie and the Sassenach lass. He wanted to walk toward her and kiss her, to feel those lips on his, to taste and smell her and wrap her up in his arms, safe and warm. But then a throat cleared behind him, and he looked around to realize that all the room was staring at the two of them like they were the evening’s entertainment.
Brodie woke up from his fantasies and was shocked. He hadn’t even looked at a lass in months, and here he was, thinking of kissing one mere moment after meeting her!
And yet, imagining pressing his lips against hers had made him feel warmer and more content inside than he had felt in some time. Since before Gavin’s death, if he was honest with himself.
But ye barely ken th’ lass, he reminded himself. There’s naught reason fer ye tae be feelin’ sae strongly towards her. Tis the exhaustion o’ th’ trip, nae doubt.
Considering this, Brodie decided the best course of action would be to help the lass and get himself off to sleep as soon as possible. It was clear his mind was going barmy from fatigue, and he did not want to disgrace himself or the lass as a result.
Turning back toward the lass, he spoke gently, “Well, I’ll see about a room an’ a meal. Fer now, have a seat. I’ll make sure the maid brings ye somethin’ to drink. I’ve no doubt that walk here made ye a mite thirsty.”
“Indeed it did,” she laughed softly. Sshe let Brodie lead her to the table he had just vacated. He purposefully avoided the searching gazes of the tavern’s patrons as they passed them, weaving in and out of tables full of staring eyes and gobsmacked faces. Brodie couldn’t tell if they were merely shocked to see an English lady in their midst, or if they were shocked that any lady had the gall to step into a tavern full of Scots who were currently aiming the majority of their hatred at the ruling classes—Sassenachs included.
Protectiveness bubbled in him again, and he felt the fiercest urge to fight anyone who said a word to the lass that was anything other than welcoming. This urge was followed by more confusing thoughts. Just what about this lass was making him feel so strongly, when for months, there had been naught strong about him, emotionally or otherwise?
Mayhaps she’s a witch, he thought, though it was in jest. Brodie did not believe in witchcraft or those who practiced it. What he did find in her was the power of this beautiful Sassenach woman to enchant and enthrall him, body and soul. And that was far more frightening than the prospect of being in the presence of someone who knew the magical arts.
Brodie looked over at the lass and saw she was hesitating. Looking down, he realized his hand was on her chair, which was still tucked into the table.
Feeling a mite silly, he quickly pulled the chair out and gestured for her to sit down. She collapsed into it, a groan—whether of the pain or pleasure, he could not be sure—escaping her mouth as she settled into the seat. It was a hard wooden thing with no cushion, but Brodie imagined that after the day she’d had, even a stone floor would feel comfortable. Walking any number of miles without shoes was difficult, but to slip and slide in the mud, unable to see well thanks to the clouded night, would be enough to fatigue even the very hardiest of soldiers.
“Thank you,” she gave Brodie a tired half-smile that was nonetheless devastating.
“My pleasure, lass,” he answered, keeping his eyes purposefully off her beautiful honey-blue ones before turning around and heading to the barman, who he knew was also the owner of the inn.
“Ye heard what the lass wanted, man,” Brodie said, nodding his head back toward the table in the far back where the lady was now ensconced. “A room an’ a meal, as quick as ye can.”
The barman began to argue. “Ye must understand what a position yer puttin’ me in, here. It’s clear the lass needs a bed, but did ye not notice th’ looks ye both were gettin’ as ye led her to the table? Her kind isnae most welcome here. Those clearances hae made things a mite tense between those crofters.” He nodded at the patrons behind Brodie, sipping their beers and whispering amongst themselves. “I’m not sure this is th’ best place fer ye. I can offer ye a room down th’ road. Me brother has a cottage, an’ I’m sure as he’d be able tae offer ye a room fer the night,” the barman said, adding quickly, “at no charge, o’ course,” when he noticed Brodie’s increasing frown.
“Nay, lad, that willnae dae. That lass will be stayin’ here tonight, an’ if there’s anyone who objects, ye can send them me way,” Brodie could barely restrain himself from growling at the man. He bit back his emotions and tried to calm himself with deep breaths as somewhat sternly, he took enough coin for a room, meal, and a stabled horse from his coin pouch, then placed it on the bar between them.
He looked up to find the barman nodding nervously. “Aye, as ye wish,” he stuttered, before turning around and walking toward the kitchen.
“One hot supper, an’ make sure it’s good an’ steamin’, Michael!” he said, yelling to the cook bustling about the kitchen.
Brodie smiled at the man in gratitude, though he worried it was more of a simper than a smile. “Many thanks, lad. Now, if ye’d be so kind as tae pour two pints o’ cider fer meself an’ the lady, I’ll leave ye alone fer a bit.”
The barman looked somewhat cheered at this prospect, no doubt eager to get rid of Brodie, and quickly set to pulling the pints, filling them with sweet cider. Brodie figured the lass would prefer it to the strong, bitter ale that he usually favored. Beer was not the drink of fine ladies like this lass.
But she is extraordinary, he reminded himself. Ale might just be her drink o’ choice, fer all ye ken.
The true extent of her extraordinary nature was proved a moment later as Brodie made his way back to the table, where he saw the barmaid who had propositioned him earlier leaning over the lass. Walking closer, Brodie could hear the woman’s whispered words, which were so acrid, they practically left a bitter taste in his mouth just hearing them.
“Did ye not think tae bring an escort with ye, lass? Surely no woman o’ sense travels without a man tae protect her. Hae ye nae Sassenach husband, nae lover, tae keep ye safe? I thought ladies like yerself never traveled without a whole army behind ye. Ye’d dae well to protect yerself in these parts. Yer kind isn’t much welcome here at th’ moment.”
The maid was talking about the clearances, just like the barman. Though the relationship between England and Scotland had improved dramatically since becoming a union nearly a century ago, the clearances reignited long-held prejudices against the Scots’ neighbors down South. As farmers became crofters who were then sent abroad due to overcrowding, parts of Scotland dredged up previous prejudices, particularly towards the wealthiest of the English, who were lumped in with Scottish landowners as being “the enemy.”
This was why Brodie had kept his true identity a secret, paying for his room under the name “Brodie Campbell” and giving his finery a miss, to better blend in as one of the common men. The last thing he needed was a bunch of locals battering him for his title, a factor in his life over which he had absolutely no control.
And it was the same with this lass. No doubt she had been born into the ton; it was not her f
ault that she was automatically a part of the same group the enemy occupied. And from the sounds of it, she did not seem remotely like those terrible landowners that had caused such problems for the Scottish people. If she was so distraught over the death of her servants, she was already setting herself apart from the devils who had sent the crofters to Australia and all over.
Brodie knew he needed to calm the maid down before further insults were thrown. She looked like a lass who was begging for a fight, whereas the Sassenach looked so tired Brodie wouldn’t be surprised if she fell asleep right there and then. After the day she’d had, a prejudiced tirade was the last thing she needed.
Brodie stepped forward and was about to open his mouth to defend the lass when the maid continued her insults. “Perhaps it’s not that ye forgot yer man, but rather that ye hae none. I’d imagine it’s a mite hard tae find a long-term lover, lookin’ as ye dae,” she said, pointedly glancing up and down at the Sassenach’s dress as though she must always be covered in muck and mire.
The Sassenach’s face lit up at this insult. Before Brodie could move or speak, she stood up with such speed that her chair rocked on its legs. Stepping toward the barmaid with her finger posed to poke at the maid’s chest, she growled, “No, I do not have a husband or lover to keep me safe! He died some years ago, and I thank you for the reminder on this most wretched day.”
The maid looked slightly appalled and started to back away, but the Sassenach followed her, her index finger still pointing straight at the barmaid’s chest. “And though I have no man and, as you so charmingly noted, am not likely to find another, I was living alone and traveled with loyal, capable staff who would risk their lives to protect me. Two of them did so today, and are dead now because of me. Now, you might think that my due, since I am highborn and therefore must be a monster, but it is a hardship nonetheless, and not one I feel particularly equipped to bear. So please do leave me alone. I have suffered enough already without having to listen to your rude words.”
Brodie watched as the barmaid backed away, her shoulders slumped, and her head hung low as she walked toward the bar, looking suitably cowed. Turning back, he saw the lass was breathing hard, and still glaring at the maid like she needed to see the woman disappear before she could truly relax.
Extraordinary, indeed.
But while it warmed him to know the lass could take care of herself, it saddened him because tonight of all nights, she should not have to.
She ought tae be taken care o’ right now, not be fightin’ verbal battles against a such a fool as that lass. That was the very last thing she needed.
Again, his protective instincts were taking over, and he had the fiercest urge to put the pints down and take her into his arms, whispering calming platitudes in her ear until her breathing slowed and she stopped looking like an animal preparing to fight its predator. Instead, he resisted, putting the drinks down and calmly, turning toward the lass as though he had not just imagined what her body might feel like held tight against his. No, he would banish those thoughts from his mind, forget he had ever had them in the first place. It was not right, not for either of them.
“Well, I was about tae speak fer ye, but it’s quite clear yer more than able tae defend yerself, lass,” he held out her chair.
“Yes, well. Needs must,” she muttered, turning toward him with a wan smile and taking a seat.
“Have a cider. Ye’ve more than deserved it,” he said, sliding a glass over to her and taking his own chair. She deserved far more than a cider, but with a room full of people surrounding them, that was all he could properly offer.
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About the Author
Fiona Faris is an American author of authentic historical Medieval & Scottish romance books. She started writing historical highlander romance after she visited the Scottish Highlands years ago with her husband.
Her books have received startling reviews about the humor, the darkness and the romance they have.
She lives in Dallas, Texas with her husband and their two sons. Before she started writing romance, she experienced the various occupations: translator, dog-training, and a substitute English teacher for the most part of her life... However, nothing could ever compare to writing stories depicting the majestic and mysterious Scottish Highlands!
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