by J. L. Jarvis
Relieved, Mari guessed that Jamie must have leapt down to the lamp jutting out from the building, then dropped to the ground and escaped down the close. But in doing so, he had left her alone with Kilgour. She inched quietly back toward the door as he pulled his head back inside and spun around to face her. She looked about for something to strike him with. Her eyes swept past pillows and quilts to the fireplace poker. It was too far away. She bolted for the door, but he lunged at her. Hooking his arm about her waist, he yanked her against him. No match for his strength, she could not pry herself loose.
“I should use that on you,” he snarled, nodding toward the fireplace poker. He smiled slyly. He was toying with her. He allowed her enough freedom to struggle, and grinned to see her fear mounting.
With a sharp pull, she was flat against him. He took hold of her hair and pulled her face against his. His hot breath in her ear made her shiver. He chuckled.
“Well, now, what will we do now that your brother has left us alone?”
“Who do you mean? No one was here. You saw that for yourself, so now you can leave,” she said, hoping to distract him.
“I’ll just have to come back, for we both know your brother will. Just one thing before I go.” He pulled her into his bruising embrace and pushed her face down onto the bed. Mari screamed and thrashed about, but he pressed her face into the mattress. She fought to breathe. “One more sound, minx, and I’ll leave your face down there, ken?” He pulled her up by the hair.
Mari nodded, frantic for air.
He turned her flushed face, and pressed her ear to the bed while he dug his knee into her back. With his other hand, he pulled her skirts up to her waist.
Mari stared at the wall.
The rough wool of Kilgour’s plaid brushed against her bare skin as he pulled it out of his way. A clamor of footsteps broke through the ringing in her ears. Kilgour was suddenly gone. Mari barely heard the dull pounding of fists and the grunt as a body fell to the floor. She lay trembling. Gently, her skirt was pulled down to cover her. A hand touched her shoulder. “Mari?”
She looked up to find Charlie staring at her. She felt strangely detached until she saw the tender concern in his eyes, but she could not respond with words or emotion.
“Come here, Mari.” He helped her to sit up and put his arms about her. She caught a glimpse of Alex and Hughie dragging a well-pummeled Kilgour through the doorway.
“Shh, dearie. It’s over. He’ll not hurt you again.”
She sat still, content to be numb. When she started to feel more herself, Mari said, “Charlie, please take me out of this room.” She could still smell and taste Kilgour, and the sight of the room made it worse.
“Aye, we’ll go sit by the fire.”
Alex and Hughie had gone, and Kilgour with them.
“Now, Mari, I ken you’re a good Presbyterian lass, but right now you need one of Dr. Charlie’s medicinal draughts.” He rounded the corner from the kitchen with a well-poured glass of whisky, which he then pressed into her hands. Mari took it and sipped without question.
After stoking the fire, Charlie pulled a chair close beside Mari. The two of them stared at the flames.
It was Mari who first broke the silence. “Charlie, I cannae properly thank you.” Tears pooled in her eyes, and she could not continue.
“Whisht.” He gave her that same confident smile that left a trail of melted hearts in his wake, but it faded. He spoke in a quiet voice, thick with emotion: “I’m sorry we were not here sooner.”
“Whisht yourself, Charlie.” Her sad gaze settled on him. “How could you have known?”
“I promise you this, we’ll not leave you alone again.”
For a long while, the two quietly talked. Mari told him about Kilgour. Charlie took it all in without sharing his newly formed fear for her safety. Charlie soon distracted her with stories of Glengarry, and the home she would find there when they left for the Highlands.
Alex and Hughie returned some time later. Alex said proudly, “I had to pull Hugh off before he killed the haggis-brained sack o’ muck. Not that I wouldnae enjoy the sight of his sorry dead arse. But we had the cursed luck to have a constable happen along. We couldnae have our Hugh here in jail for killing a Royal Dragoon.” Alex clapped a firm hand on Hughie’s shoulder.
Hughie shook his head. “You should have left me alone. He deserves to die.”
“Aye,” said Alex. “But not in front of the law, ken?”
Hughie nodded in reluctant agreement. He clenched and released his jaw as he glared at the wall.
“We dragged him into a close before anyone saw us. We’ll finish the job on another day, won’t we, Hugh?”
Charlie watched, understanding. With a sudden shift of mood he said brightly, “Hugh, is it?”
“Aye,” said Alex. “This lad’s too braw a fighter to go by Hughie. He needs a man’s name. It’s Hugh now,” he said proudly.
With a bashful smile, Hugh shook off his lingering anger.
“You should have seen him bouncing that haggis head down four flights of stairs. By the time we reached the street, we had to heave him over Hugh’s horse, arse to the wind, so we could give him a proper disposal.”
“Which was…?” said Charlie.
Hugh said, “He’s having a wee lie down. Across town. In the street.”
“Aye,” said Alex. “I dinnae suppose he heard that woman calling out “Gardyloo!” Alex shook his head and shrugged.
Hugh stroked his chin thoughtfully. “I thought he looked quite good in brown.”
Alex considered for a moment. “Och, he was just showing off what he’s got for brains.”
They all laughed, except Mari.
“He said he’ll come back,” she said softly.
The room was silent as the men exchanged looks.
“If he dares, he’ll be taking a swim in the Nor’loch face down,” said Alex, lifting her chin as he searched her eyes. His fierce protectiveness brought Mari solace. “I can promise you that.”
Charlie gave Mari’s shoulder a comforting squeeze.
Hugh leaned on the wall, his arms folded. A brooding look clouded his usually bright eyes as he studied the street down below.
23
First Footing
After cold days of gray skies, a morning came with warming sunshine. Mari leaned out of the window and shook a quilt in the chill morning air. A floor down and a few windows over, another quilt billowed over the sill and the landlady’s head soon appeared. Mari leaned down and said, “Happy Hogmanay, Mistress Durie.”
“Thank you, Mistress McEwan, and the same to you!”
Mari gathered the quilt back into her arms. “Em, I was wondering, Mistress Durie.” She glanced about, not wanting to be overheard. “About the rent… ”
“Aye?” Mrs. Durie pulled her own quilt back and held it in her arms as she turned to give Mari her full attention.
Mari said, “I’m fearing I dinnae ken what the arrangement was for the rent. What I mean to say is, do I owe you money?”
“Och, no. The gentleman paid it this morning.”
Puzzled, Mari tilted her head. “The gentleman?”
“Mr. MacDonell.”
Mari’s heart caught in her throat for a moment. Her first thought had been Callum, until she realized that, of course, there were four other Mr. MacDonells. “Which Mr. MacDonell?”
“The one who wears trews. The sailor.”
“Duncan?”
“Aye, I believe that’s what they call him.” Mrs. Durie’s face brightened. “Would you please ask him to stop by after midnight?”
“I’m sorry?” Mari could not help revealing her confusion.
Mrs. Durie laughed and said, “For good luck. At first footing.” Still seeing Mari’s confusion, she said, “If the first person to step foot in your house after midnight is a tall dark stranger, you’ll have good luck for the year.” She leaned closer. “A man braw as he is ought to be good for two years’ good luck, at least!” She wi
nked at Mari.
At last understanding, Mari smiled and said, “I’ll tell him.”
They waved and closed their windows. As Mari started to spread the quilt over the bed, she thought of the landlady’s comment. Braw? Aye, she supposed Duncan was that.
* * *
“I’ll be back soon after dark,” Charlie said, as he stood at the threshold looking down the stairway. “Duncan’s on his way up, dearie.”
“Goodbye, Charlie!” Mari called from the bedroom. She smoothed the quilt over the bed, fluffed the pillows, and then spun back toward the door with a gasp.
“You startled me.”
“Charlie told you I was here, did he not?”
She smiled. “Aye, Duncan, he did. I just didnae expect you to be right there. I didnae hear you come in.” She put her hands on his arms. “I’m sorry. I’m a wee bit skittish these days. The lads told you?”
“Aye.”
She rolled her eyes at the foolishness of her question. “Of course. That’s why you’re here.”
She made some tea and they sat down together.
Duncan set down his tea and leaned back, but he watched her with dark eyes. “How are you, Mari?”
His gaze unsettled her. Why was it only now that she realized how seldom their eyes met? “I stay busy. I get through the days. I’m never alone. The lads do their best to keep me amused. We go for walks. We play cards—”
“Aye.” He interrupted her prattle. “But how are you?”
She set down her tea and looked at him candidly. “Are you sure you want truly to ken?”
He looked pointedly at her. “I wouldnae have asked otherwise.”
She met his gaze. “I miss him. Each day I busy myself as though that could distract me.”
Duncan’s eyes softened.
As hard a man as he could be, Mari sometimes caught glimpses of a gentler nature. She said, “It’s an ache that that I dinnae want to heal. If it does, I’ll have lost him completely.”
Duncan barely talked. He did not try to cheer her. He just quietly listened.
Mari curled into her chair and spoke frankly. “And now there’s the fear. I awake in the night thinking that Kilgour is there. I ken that you all do your best to protect me, but I feel him out there in the dark, and I ken that he’s there in the daylight. I feel wicked for wishing him dead, but I do. It is wrong. But what he did was wrong, and I cannae forgive it.” Mari forced a faint smile. “So, you see, I’m becoming quite cold and heartless.”
With a soft look and a smile, Duncan said, “You could never be that.”
“And the lads try to help. But they want so much to make me happy again that I feel I must try to be so—just to please them. But I’m not. And I’m weary from pretending that I am. At night, I go into my room just to be alone with my moods where the lads willnae worry. And that’s how I am. I’m sorry, but you asked, and I warned you.”
“I wanted to ken. You dinnae have to pretend with me, Mari.”
She saw in his expression that he meant it. And then the tears came.
Duncan quietly sat beside her. “There, now.” He reached out and almost smoothed her hair from her brow, but thought better of it. He stood and assumed a bright tone of voice. “It’s a bit early, I ken. But I am tall and dark. Now, mind, I’m no stranger, but I’m strange enough to make up for that.” He gave her one of his rare grins that spread into his eyes. “And I’ve brought some whisky. If I promise to step outside long enough to step in for first footing after midnight, will you take a wee dram with me, lassie? For the sake of tradition?”
“I will.” Mari smiled for what seemed like the first time in weeks.
“Easy, lass,” he cautioned a few minutes later, as she poured a second glass of whisky.
“Why, Duncan, I’ve seen you pour more than this.”
He smiled patiently. “But you are not used to strong drink.”
“No, but I think I should like to be. It warms me, and dulls the ache,” she said, taking a drink from her glass.
“Aye, it does that,” he said as lay his hand on her wrist. “But it comes back to bite you.”
Mari slipped her hand free and gave up. As she leaned her head back to rest against the chair, she turned her head to face Duncan. “I just want one night where I dinnae feel sad.”
“I ken how you feel, lass. I do.”
“No, you cannae ken how it feels to love so much that your love turns to agony.”
Her words stopped Duncan short. He let go of the bottle and leaned back in his chair, catching sight through the window of clouds in the moonlight. “Can I not? If you think that I havenae known love, you’d be wrong.”
Mari looked at him, stunned.
With a sad smile, Duncan said, “Aye. I loved someone. She betrayed me.” He paused as though he might say more, but thought better of it.
“I’m sorry, Duncan. You never mentioned it.”
He met her warm gaze for a moment, and with sudden cheer picked up the bottle. “Shall we have another?”
With a guilty grin, Mari said, “Just one before I start cooking supper.”
“There’s no need to cook. The lads are bringing supper to us,” he said.
“Oh, how grand! I’m beginning to like your wild heathen traditions.”
“I can see that,” he said with a wry look.
* * *
Alex, Charlie, and Hugh arrived with bundles of food and drink. They refused to let Mari help. Instead, they laid out the food and set the table. And when it was ready, they brought Mari to sit as though her chair were a throne from which she could reign over them. In truth, they might have let her.
Some looks were exchanged as they saw Mari’s unnatural ebullience. All it took was a defiant glare from Duncan to shut down any discussion.
After supper, out came the fiddle, pipes, and bodhrán. Mari shook her head as Charlie tried to coax her away from the wall, but he had a firm grasp of her hand. The whisky had loosened her resolve, so as Alex rolled up the rug, Mari followed Charlie to the center of the room. He taught her a few basic steps and said, “Follow me, lassie!” And they were off. Around the room they whirled. When she stepped on his foot he seemed not to notice. Mari laughed and the music was lively. Alex took a turn, and then Hugh.
Before long, Alex, Charlie, and Hugh stood at the door.
“Come with us, Mari. We’ll show you a Hogmanay you will never forget,” Alex said, kissing her cheek as he held her hands.
“I can only imagine, which is why I’m not going,” she said with a laugh.
“Och, Mari, you wound us,” said Charlie with a sigh. “Well, as you are the bonniest lass in all of Edinburgh, we shall have to settle for the second, third and fourth bonniest lassies. Well, I myself shall settle for second. These louts may fend for themselves.”
Alex laughed as he grabbed Charlie’s right arm and twisted it upward behind his back. “‘Tis a pity about your arm—not to mention your face,” he said, adding a sharp twist at the end.
Hugh chimed in. “The laugh is on you, old men. Have you not noticed the pretty ones like their men unspoilt by wrinkles?”
Alex and Charlie ceased their struggles and gaped at Hugh. A few moments passed as Mari watched, smiling. Alex looked at Charlie. Unspoken words seemed to pass between them. They both turned on Hugh, who took off running down the stairs with the other two close at his heels.
“Goodbye, dearie!” Charlie called out.
“We’ll bring breakfast,” said Alex.
“It may not get here ’til supper, though,” Charlie added.
Shaking her head, Mari closed the door behind them. She turned back toward Duncan. “I’m fearing you drew the short straw.”
“Not so,” Duncan said, smiling.
Duncan brought the last dish to Mari. The supper dishes were clean, dried and dispensed with. “You ken,” Mari said with a twinkle, “this could destroy your reputation.”
“For you, Mari McEwan, I would risk that and more.” His smile li
ngered.
“It’s your good fortune, then, that I am no risk to you.”
A half smile formed as he averted his gaze.
“Shall we go sit by the fire?”
Duncan added a log, and they pulled their chairs closer. “’Tis a cold night.”
“Aye,” answered Mari. The silence between them grew awkward. “Duncan, what troubles you? You look like you carry a burden.”
Duncan looked suddenly at her. “No, it’s no burden.”
Mari studied him. “Then what is it?”
“We’ll not speak of it now.”
“But we must. Duncan, I consider you a dear friend. If there is something that stands between us—”
“No, Mari.” His voice sounded harsh as he leapt to his feet and walked to the window. More calmly, he said, “You need not worry.”
But everything in his stance told her otherwise. “Have I done something, Duncan?” She went to stand by the window beside him. He would not look at her.
One heartbeat later, he bounded out of the door. “Bolt the door, Mari!” Down the stairs he bounded, and across the road to the wynd, where he disappeared into the shadows.
Minutes later there was a knock at the door. “Mari, it’s Duncan.”
He came in and secured the door lock. “What is it? Duncan, you’re scaring me.”
“It was nothing.”
From the look on his face, Mari knew this was far from the truth.
“I thought I saw something. I was wrong.” He turned back and smiled. “Let’s warm ourselves by the fire.”
There they sat for an hour or so, until the chimes of St. Giles began ringing in the new year. They went to the window and looked down at the street below, full of people. On the twelfth chime, people stopped and embraced.
“There’s a good deal of kissing down there,” Mari said.
“Another tradition,” Duncan said, standing beside her.
“We knew nothing of this growing up,” she said as she looked down below with a wistful expression. An unexpected silence filled the air between them.