“I doubt it,” Adam said. “There’s not been a mad dog around the county for many years.”
Maggie had just finished her visit with Polly when a clatter of wheels and hoof beats brought everyone to the door again.
“Ian, my man! And Henry. What brings you here?”
“Good to see you, Adam.” Ian bowed toward Polly. “Madame, McCall, you look beautiful and bountiful.”
She blushed, and Adam narrowed his eyes at him.
Ian’s eyes lit upon Maggie. “My love. I thought you would be here, and have a most timely gift for you.” He glanced at Polly again. “I ran into Henry on the way, and he could not resist a ride in the new wagon.”
Henry doffed his cap and bowed to the assembled company. His eyes searched the crowd and found Bethan. She nodded, and without further acknowledgment, went to Elunid’s side. He watched her like a thirsty sailor watches the head on a pint of ale.
“Wagon? You brought the wagon here? Could you not have walked?” Ian had brought the wagon just to spite her.
Her husband carried the fresh scent of the outdoors with him, and despite hardly sleeping last night, brightened the room with his vigor. He certainly had the energy to walk about the county all the day long. She could not help but be drawn to his power, for it was like a zephyr after a winter of cold winds.
He kissed her upon the cheek. “If I hadn’t come in the wagon, I could not have brought your gift. It arrived on the docks today.” He stole a sideways glance at Polly, who watched the scene with great interest. “I wagered you might need it here first.” He grabbed her hands. “Come see your gift.”
What did the man have in store for her now?
The boys ran out of doors ahead of Maggie and Ian and were oohing and awing over the gypsy wagon.
“I will supervise the children.” Bethan rose.
Henry followed her as if in a trance.
Katherine looked longingly at the door.
“Go along, miss,” Polly said.
The little girl threw her apron on the table and ran to catch up with her brothers.
Maggie turned to Polly. “Take this time to rest up.”
Ian opened the doors to the wagon with a flourish, arms and legs akimbo, eliciting giggles from one and all. “What you are about to see, ladies and gentlemen, has not been seen in this part of the county, nay, world.” He wore a pinched, sour face, as if he’d just bit into a bad pickle. “Are you ready?”
“Yes! Yes!”
“Feast your eyes, then.” He opened the door to reveal the inside, which Maggie had not yet seen. It was completely covered in red velvet, with ornate gold fixtures on the sides. There was a raised bed at the far end. Upon it two large baskets brimmed with food. He climbed inside and brought out a large object covered in burlap and set it on the ground.
“You brought food.” She smiled up at him.
He shrugged. “Many mouths to feed.” He came to her, caressing her shoulders lightly.
“It will not go amiss.” How could she remain angry at a man who would do such a thing?
He turned to the children. “Care to climb aboard?”
As reverent as little churchgoers, they climbed one by one into the wagon. Ian held his hand out to help Katherine. “Lady Katherine, I do believe you are the fairest eight-year-old in the land.” She giggled, blushing spectacularly from her forehead to her neck.
Soon all the children stood in the wagon, gazing in awe, as if they visited Winchester Cathedral itself.
A spark of warmth kindled within Maggie; as much as she despised the wagon, this would no doubt be the highlight of the children’s month. Ian let the children linger there for a while.
“Would you children be so good as to take the comestibles into the house?”
The two oldest children struggled under the weight of the basket. A loaf of bread fell out, and Bethan bent to retrieve it at the same time Henry did.
“Oof,” Bethan cried, dropping the bread.
This time, Henry placed it squarely in her hands, his large fingers upon her wrists.
“Oho.” Ian stood with his head cocked, eyeing Henry. “She’s quite bewitched old Henry, hasn’t she?”
“She’s a charming girl but will eventually go back to Wales. He should not get attached.”
“Not a concern of his, just now.” He slapped the covered object. “Open it, Maggie.”
She pointed to the ram’s ballocks on the wagon. “Does it have anything to do with those?”
“No. It requires less care.” He grinned, and ceremoniously removed the cloth.
She gasped at the birthing chair. It was made of polished wood and looked much like a regular chair, but with a large hole, u-shaped, where the seat would normally be. It had sturdy arms with ornate carvings for the mother to grip. She had long wanted to have one, for does it not make sense to sit, as the babes must travel downward to emerge?
She embraced him and kissed him on the mouth. “Thank you, husband. I will make good use of this.”
“You said you wanted one.”
“Thank you,” she said again.
“This is what I love about you, my Maggie. You are uncommonly rare. I would gladly buy you jewelry, but you would rather have a gift which helps you serve others.”
They returned to the cottage and received a hearty thank you from Polly and Adam.
The baskets stood on the table. “Please enjoy.” Ian set out a ham and unwrapped a cloth filled with iced cakes.
Bethan grabbed hold of Katherine’s hand and danced her around the room, her long arms and legs and willowy stature accentuating the happy event. “Why, it is like a party, is it not, children?”
Just then, Henry stubbed his toe on the rocking chair.
Ian unloaded a lovely bunch of carrots, some oranges, and three loaves of bread from the overflowing basket. He also unearthed a tin of tea he’d probably picked up on his travels, a bottle of brandy, and some sweetmeats.
Three-year-old Peter pulled on Ian’s breeches. “Me mum has two babies in her.”
He squatted down at the boy’s eye level. “Yes. It is most miraculous, isn’t it?”
The boy nodded.
Polly reddened. “Enough, Peter.”
Ian winked at him and straightened. “Oh! I almost forgot.” He left, and promptly returned with the birthing chair, and proceeded to explain its purpose. Polly eyed it with disbelief.
Adam blanched and retreated outside. “I need to fix something,” he mumbled.
“Please enjoy the food,” Ian said. “I must take my wife home.”
****
“My love, would you like to ride in the back? You could lounge like a queen upon the bed.”
“Not a chance.” Maggie pressed her lips together.
Exasperating man! She had never been so confused in her entire life. How could she be angry with him when he’d been so kind to the McCalls? But why did he have to purchase this horrible wagon?
Oblivious to her confusion, Ian held the reins, clicked his tongue to get the mare going, and hummed a cheery tune, swinging from high notes to low. Without warning, he belted out a few lines, such as “and that’s how maids in sunny France, work their wiles for sweet romance.” His sleeves were rolled up on his linen shirt, revealing long, muscled forearms.
He grinned at her, teeth white in his tanned face. “Is it not good to have a wagon? I could not have hauled the food and birthing chair without it.”
“A simple cart would have sufficed.” She folded her arms and stared straight ahead.
“I do adore it when you’re vexed at me, woman. Your displeasure boils your blood, so when I bed you, it is already heated for my pleasure.” His mouth quirked up at the corners.
She harrumphed. “If you think you’re bedding me tonight, you are mistaken.”
“Who said anything about tonight? There’s a perfectly good bed in the back. All we need do is park our wagon.”
“You must be joking. And it is not our wagon. It is your wagon.�
��
“What’s mine is yours.”
“Indeed, it is not.”
“You won’t know until you try it.”
“I said I…”
“I see you need convincing with a song. It came to me immediately upon seeing the wagon for the first time. Here ’tis:
“My lover, shall we go this morn
To see the world and be reborn.
We’ll travel high, we’ll travel low
Exotic climes where peaches grow.
And peaches I will feed you, slip into your mouth
Lick the juice upon your skin and let it travel south.”
Like always, his voice, rumbling and intimate, peeled layers of clothing and anger from her. The notes slid into her, and she softened for him, her body tingling. Her resolve not to look his way crumbled.
He took a breath, then:
“To-ooo
Your bosom, your breast, your bosom, your breast
A bosom when it is covered
A breast when it is bare
Your bosom, your breast, your bosom, your breast
Your bosom—the best!”
The laughter burst from her body, involuntary as a sneeze, and she laughed until tears rolled down her face. She grasped his forearm. “You are the most ridiculous man. But thank you for bringing food for the McCalls. And the birthing chair, it is wonderful.” She met his gaze. “As I said, no one has ever given me gifts before.”
“What a shame, for you are worthy of the finest gifts a man could give.”
“You need not say such lofty things. There’s no need to court me, for we are already married.”
He laughed. “Maggie, all the more reason to court you, for every day you grow more precious to me. You and the child.”
What did it serve to stay angry at him?
After they passed under the Landgate, they saw the dark clouds over the water, churning the sea into whitecaps. People were out in abundance, their day of work ending, and refreshments in mind. And of course, the wagon served as entertainment.
“What have you there, apothecary? Are you leaving town and going on the road?” Old Widow Jenkins sat in the shade of a linden tree and cackled.
“See,” Maggie muttered under her breath. “We are the laughingstock of the town.”
Mrs. Stowe milled about the crowd with papers in her hand, handing them out, while Pete slouched beside her. She pointed at the wagon. “Look at them putting on airs. It is fortunate you possess a more humble nature, dear boy.” They made their way down the street.
Maggie wondered what Margaret Stowe was about, but she had other concerns at the moment.
“How do you expect the town to take you seriously, Ian? They come to you for your doctoring as well as herbs.”
“Don’t fret so much, Maggie. They will grow accustomed to it.”
Her face burned crimson, and she lifted her chin. The town had just gotten back to normal after the traumatic events of last year, where superstition and the greed of an evil doctor had split the town apart.
“I can be both performer and doctor, Maggie. If I entertain, they merely get more for their money.”
“Well, there’s the big difference between you and me, husband. I need to be taken seriously, in my work.”
No, he didn’t mind being the entertainment. In fact, he thrived on it, having travelled all over the world, performing for kings, selling his herbs, and gathering new ones to help him with his affliction.
He probably missed his performing days, when he travelled to procure herbs for his brother, and made his way through the countryside of England, Europe, and even the deserts of Arabia, singing for his supper and plying his wares.
“Do you miss performing?”
“The only performing I want to do is in our bed, my love.”
Despite her irritation, she could not stop the feeling of pride swelling within her. She eyed his neck, sinewy with muscle, and the length of his tanned broad shoulders, visible through his linen shirt. His buckskin breeches fit snugly on the banded muscles of his thighs. There was an air of increased vitality about him since he came home. All she need do was partake of it and be refreshed. He was hers.
He hummed, the slightly hoarse voice raising the tiny hairs on her arms, and waved to Ed the butcher and his wife.
“What’s inside your wagon, Pierce?” Ed hollered.
“New supplies for my shoppe, friend. Cures and treatments, too.” He paused for dramatic effect. “And aphrodisiacs to make your wife smile for days.”
Ed’s wife turned red but giggled just the same.
Ian laughed with abandon. His happiness made her feel all was well, and all would be well, and the life force surging through him flowed through her.
They passed by the Siren Inn. Pete Stowe leaned against the old brick, his mother at his side, mouth twisted with disdain.
“Ahoy, Pete.”
Pete scowled in response to Ian’s greeting.
“See how he is holding his hand. It is paining him. If only he would come see me, I could probably treat it. He will lose it otherwise.”
Mrs. Stowe whispered in Pete’s ear.
“What are you looking at?” Pete said. “I see you bought a travelling brothel, Pierce.”
The crowd buzzed with amusement and anticipation.
Maggie flushed. Pete puffed up as his comment gathered favor. His mother patted his arm encouragingly.
Ed stood in front of him. “If it was, you’d be the first one to pay, Stowe.”
The crowd roared.
“Yes, only a man who’d been in league with a murderer and whore-master would say such a thing.” Ed cast a look at the shepherdess. “I happen to like it. Time this town had some color, aye? And I’ll wager whatever he decides to do with it, will be for the good of the town.”
“Hear, hear!”
Pete broke away from his mother’s grasp and skulked down the road.
“Where are you going?” his mother cried. “Why can you not stand up to the impudent wastrel? We used to be prominent in this town, and you have made us nothing.”
The crowd was too busy admiring the inside of the wagon to hear her, but Maggie stood aside, watching them walk down the road.
“You’ve done nothing but bring me shame, these long years. God must despise me indeed to deprive me of a worthy son.” Mrs. Stowe paused to shake his arm, eliciting a moan.
“Mother! My hand.”
“Only you,” she hissed. “Every time I walk by the inn, I am reminded of what we lost, and you with no will to do anything about it, except to latch on to those smugglers.”
“You enjoyed the fruits of my labor well enough.”
She grabbed hold of his ear and pulled it.
“Mother! You know I am unwell.”
“Mind over matter, son. We must save ourselves and the town as well.”
Maggie wondered what she meant.
Ian touched her cheek with his callused fingertip. “What is it?”
“Oh, nothing we can do anything about.”
He nodded. “What a pair. Are you hungry, my sweeting?”
“Very,” she said. “When the babe wants to eat, the babe must eat.”
They travelled down a narrow close.
“Are we going to fit?” Mayhap he would accidentally damage the paint on this travelling travesty. But it did fit, with nary an inch on either side to spare. They turned toward the docks, to Sarah and Samuel’s house.
“I promise I will feed you at the Siren, my dear, as soon as I tuck the horse and carriage in.”
After they disposed of the horse and carriage, they walked toward the harbor on the way to the Siren Inn.
“Why is the Stowe family so hostile toward us? Surely they cannot still blame us for what happened to Pete last year. We had nothing to do with Edward Carter’s cruelty toward him.”
“Greed was his downfall, like so many men,” Ian said. “And most times, where there is hate, there is no logic.”
“I
have the most peculiar sense of unease.”
He wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Let us gaze at the sea like a couple of carefree lovers.”
Chapter Fourteen
As they passed the docks, waves hurtled against the pilings, and in the distance, storm clouds gathered, dark with malevolence. The wind had picked up, carrying the smell of rotten fish from a boat caught in a storm in the middle of the channel, and not able to return before the fish rotted. A crowd of people lingered by the boat, commiserating with the newly arrived fisherman.
“Gawd help me, yar never know what she’s going to do. Looked fine when I went out, then it started churning and churning like hell’s fury.”
“Sorry for your misfortune,” Ian called.
Josiah Marmont looked up and grinned, displaying a mouth full of rotten teeth resembling tombstones. He reached into his pocket for his snuff box. The fact he had the remains of rotten fish on his hands did not stop him from sticking a bit of snuff into his mouth.
“Wicked storms out there, but good fishing. We’d just netted a mass of cod and headed home, but we could not move toward land, such were the currents. I’m glad to have made it out alive, rotten fish or no.”
He tipped his cap respectfully to Maggie as they turned to leave.
Ian said, “I wish you better luck the next time, my friend.”
The fisherman grinned. “If I’d wanted a lack-a-day life, I would’ve been an apothecary.”
The wind had picked up as they walked to the Siren Inn, whipping Maggie’s cloak around her.
Ian’s arm tightened about her waist, and he nestled his nose into her neck. “Oh, Maggie, I missed your scent. Many nights I regretted my leaving, but knew I must.”
She could not help leaning into him, stopping for a minute in the greyness of dusk to grasp and kiss him. Who cared if anyone saw? He was home and safe, and could buy anything he liked, even a ridiculous wagon, as long as he was by her side.
The wind pushed at their backs, as if urging them to shelter.
“How quickly the weather—and life—can turn on you,” Ian murmured, and ran his hand up and down her back to warm her.
The inn burst with people. Ian held the door for her as they entered the warm and noisy inn. The smell of fish cooking, onions, and ale made Maggie’s stomach growl. They made their way through the customers standing around, holding mugs of ale, and talking. Ian received a cheery welcome and no end of ribbing about his wagon. The massive fireplace roared, and the warmth of the room prompted Maggie to take off her cloak. Ian rushed to assist her, his hands lingered on the nape of her neck. Her cold chills in response contrasted with the warm fug of the inn, momentarily making her feel they were alone in the bustling room.
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