She’d covered her mouth to muffle a scream that escaped her lips and stinging tears streamed down her face as she trembled in the now smoldering house. Leif and Ragnar were nowhere to be seen. They could have been dead for all she knew. She peered out between the slats of wood in the wall and saw them running towards the ships. Once on board, the Vikings had the upper hand and a few managed to escape, but Jain was left behind.
It happened so fast. There wasn’t anything she could do. The longship disappeared across the water as a beam of the roof collapsed. Jain remembered screaming again when it crashed to the ground beside her.
As Jain recalled the memory, her hands began to sweat. It was the darkest and most horrible day of her life. Yet, there had been a ray of sunshine when Eamon and Moira took her in. Even knowing about her past, Eamon loved her just the same.
After the massacre, Jain went looking for her brothers, but she didn’t find their bodies among the slain. In her darkest moments, that was what got her through – hope that they survived. That’s what she was doing when she heard the hoofbeats in the distance and went to go hide. Clan Gordon happened upon the demolished Viking village and assumed it was the beginnings of a new Scottish settlement that was destroyed by Vikings—when in fact it was the opposite.
Jain was a Viking, born of warriors across the sea – those were her true roots. The memories of her past helped to form the woman she’d become, the good and the bad.
If she could survive that, the massacre and destruction of her village and entire family, she could survive just about anything. Like a flower, Jain knew she had to bloom where she was planted. That didn’t make it any easier. That didn’t stop her dreaming. The men who destroyed her village, or Scotsmen as she now understood them to be, had destroyed her world. They took everything away from her. Jain never spoke of it, but she was proud of her northern heritage – it was one of the few things that remained intact and couldn’t be taken away from her. Jain worried that if she married a man from Elign, and bore him children, she really would be Scottish.
In that moment, she decided it was time to let Alan know the truth. She couldn’t keep her secret from him any longer. She loved him, and if they were going to build a life together, it had to start with honesty.
Chapter Fourteen
Alan squinted against the searing heat of the forge as he swung down with his hammer against the molten steel. When it struck the target, the clash of metal against metal sent sparks flying throughout the room. His arms ached from strain of the repetitive movement and rest that would not come till sundown. Most of his shirt was covered in ash and stained beyond ever being clean again. There were rips along the seam and holes where a spark managed to burn through.
It had been a few days since Alan and Rodrick finished working at Eamon’s farm, but he found himself thinking about Jain. After she ran inside the other day, he spent the entire afternoon trying to figure out what happened.
He didn’t like that Conrad was bothering her and couldn’t help but wonder if everything was alright. Still, her bravery in throwing the bucket of soap water in Conrad’s face was something he could cherish always. Jain may have been one of the prettiest girls in the village, but not many men could stand up to her withering gaze. Alan grinned at the memory, coming down on the anvil with his hammer, trying to forget about the ache within his shoulders. The pain only made the work go faster.
It was hard to describe the joy he felt after finishing a project. There was a sense of pride that came along with it that couldn’t be understated, so even though it brought temporary discomfort, Alan knew the end result would be worth it. It was familiar, and he was good at it. Very good in fact, even though he was Bruce’s apprentice, the majority of the work fell onto him.
His master received a series of new orders while they were gone, and Gregor’s horse needed shoeing. On top of that, there was a helm which needed repair and two more blades waiting for completion after that – it was a never-ending cycle. With the time and energy he put into the work, it was no wonder that years had made him strong.
Alan heaved an exhausted sigh and paused to wipe his brow with the sleeve of his shirt. He looked up when he heard the front door open, expecting to find Bruce. Instead was met by a pair of emerald green eyes and shining red hair.
“Good morrow, Jain. I wasn’t expecting to see ye here.”
She smiled back at him, adjusting the basket in her hands as she stepped inside. “Good morrow, Alan. I was hoping we could talk. Mam had me bring some meat pies to thank ye fer helping with the roof.”
He grinned, setting down his tools and resting his hands against the anvil. “Thank ye, Jain, but yer company was thanks enough. Ye dinnae have to do this.”
“Well, I wanted to.”
Alan’s grin widened. He cleaned his hands off on a rag and came to accept the meal. Jain handed him the basket and he lifted the cloth to peek underneath and smell the delicious blend of herbs and spiced meat. Alan breathed in the aroma hungrily and looked up at her. “Aye, that’ll be a treat,” he muttered. “I’m surprised yer cousin dinnae come along herself to make moony eyes at Rodrick.”
Jain’s smile faltered at the mention of Aileen. “I’m sure she would, but I’m afraid she’s fallen ill and wasn’t able to come this time.”
Alan’s expression softened when he heard the news, instantly regretting the subtle jibe. “Nothing serious, I hope.”
“Not at all. Her mam is headed back from Inverness and should be arriving within a day or two. She’ll be back to herself by the weekend.”
Alan took the basket and set it on the workbench. “That’s good. I wish her well and hope she makes a swift recovery.”
“I also wanted to think ye fer everything that happened yesterday. I cannae begin to tell ye how much it meant to me.”
“Jain, please. It was nothing,” he assured her. “Beside ye’ve already paid me back a thousand times over.”
“How?”
Alan smiled, taking a step towards her and said, “Ye kissed me back.”
Jain’s cheeks flushed instantly, and they stood there for a moment not knowing what to say. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came.
Alan sensed her hesitation and raised an eyebrow quizzically. “Was there something else?”
Jain let out a nervous laugh and looked up at him through full lashes, causing Alan’s heart to skip a beat. “Aye. There’s something I need to tell ye, but I’m afraid.”
“Of what? Jain, ye can tell me anything.”
Alan brought his hand up to her cheek and brushed his thumb across her lip while he cradled it adoringly. A secret voice in the back of his mind wondered what it would taste like to capture it in his. “My little bird,” he cooed. “How I long to see ye fly.”
When she stepped away from him, Alan frowned and looked at her confused.
“What is it?” he asked. “Did I do something wrong?”
Jain laughed quietly and said, “Nae, ye’re perfect. Too perfect in fact – it’s distracting me. But this is important and ye need to understand. I just dinnae think ye’ll like me very much once that happens.”
He smiled, reaching out to take her by the hand and weaving their fingers together. “That’s impossible. Ye’re the most interesting lass I’ve ever met. The more I see ye, the more I want to ken.”
Alan would have kissed her if she had let him, but Jain held a piece of metal in her palm and offered it to him.
“What is this?” he asked.
“Ye ken that Eamon and Moira are not my birth parents. They adopted me,” she reminded him.
Alan nodded, taking the brooch from her and glanced down at the curious craftsmanship.
“Ye spend all day working metal,” she stated calmly. “Tell me what ye make of this.”
Alan brushed his finger across the pinnacular clasp to the dragonhead pattern on the end. His eyes narrowed as he examined the design, realizing it could not have come from anywhere in Scotland. “Tis beautifu
l,” he told her. “I’ve never seen anything like it. Where did it come from?”
“It belonged to my birth father before he died.”
His eyes widened in understanding and looked up at her in surprise. “Yer da?”
Jain nodded.
“Where did yer family come from? I thought Eamon found ye in a village on the northern coast.” Understanding struck him like a bolt of lightning when Alan realized what she was saying. “Ye’re parents weren’t Scottish, were they?”
Jain stared at the ground for a while, appearing nervous, and didn’t speak. Alan sighed, taking her gently by the hand and pressing the brooch back into her palm.
“It matters not,” he told her.
Jain looked up at him with her eyes wide and said, “What?”
He brushed his hand against her cheek and smiled. “I dinnae care who yer parents are. To me ye will always be Jain – my Jain.”
“Alan, ye cannae tell anyone,” she pleaded. “Keenan doesn’t ken. If anyone found out that I wasn’t Scottish born, they would run me from the village.”
“I’ll keep yer secret,” he assured her. “Ye deserve to have everything yer heart desires.”
“And what of love?” she asked him.
Alan paused. “Aye, ye deserve that too. Not just a marriage and family, but a passionate, soul-crushing need to bind yerself to another person. The kind of love that would change yer life forever.”
Their bodies touched, and he placed his open hand on the small of her back. For a moment, Alan forgot himself and was hypnotized by the burning fire of her clear green eyes.
Her hands and arms pressed against his linen shirt. Slowly, he eased his mouth close to hers. As they were about to touch, the door to the smithy swung open. Jain and Alan pulled away from one another, afraid of being caught, and she stepped back towards the doorway.
Conrad and his men came in looking furious and sauntered over to where she stood. Alan saw Jain stiffen at the sight of him but stood her ground with a scowl.
“Jain, I thought I might find ye here,” Conrad sneered. “Ye owe me an apology about what happened the other day.”
“Nae,” she told him bitterly. “I only wish I’d thrown the bucket at ye as well.”
“Is that so?” Conrad responded with a huff. “Perhaps I should take it up with Laird Gordon. He wouldn’t be too happy hearing about how ye humiliated one of his best fighters.”
Alan stepped in front of her. “Can I help ye lads with something? Otherwise, I’m going to ask ye to leave.”
Conrad scowled, turning toward him. “Stay out of it, blacksmith. This doesn’t concern ye. This is between me and Jain.”
Alan chuckled, angling himself even more directly so that he was standing in between them. Scott and Murray stepped back when he approached, their eyes growing wide with fright. Alan was larger and stronger than all of them combined. “On the contrary, I’m afraid it does,” he told them. “I was there the other day and saw the way ye were speaking to her. Ye dinnae come here and threaten patrons, especially Jain. Now I’ll ask ye again before throwing ye out into the square. What do ye want?”
Conrad’s lip turned back into a sneer. “Alright, Alan. Let’s get one thing straight – ye can make the weapons, but I’m the one who knows how to use them. Ye dinnae want to get in a fight with me.”
“Ye’re still in my shop,” Alan reminded him. “Tell me what ye’re doing here, or I’m well within my rights to kick ye out.”
The warrior stiffened. “Not that it’s any of yer business, but Jain has been offered my hand in marriage. She repaid that kindness by throwing a bucket of water in my face, now I expect an apology.”
Alan’s anger flared when he remembered his conversation with Jain on the rocky shore. Conrad didn’t see Jain for the beauty that she was, he didn’t see her at all.
He didn’t appreciate her fire.
Alan suspected this may have been what spurred their argument yesterday when Conrad claimed she “needed to be broken”. An impulse overcame him in that moment, and before Alan realized what was happening, the words were already coming out of his mouth, “I’m afraid that’s impossible, Conrad. Because ye see Jain here is engaged to me.”
Alan glanced over at her and grinned as her jaw fell open in shock. To his relief, she didn’t refute the claim. She didn’t say anything in fact.
Conrad’s face went red. His eyes nearly bulged out of his head when he heard the news. “What is this lie ye’re spewing? Since when?”
Alan took Jain’s hand in his and grinned. “Since Tuesday last at the festival, when her da gave me his permission. We plan to make our intentions known to her Uncle Keenan presently. Now, I’m going to have to ask ye lads to leave. This is a reputable establishment and I cannae have ye making a scene.”
“I’ll only leave when I hear it come from Jain herself.”
Conrad’s men remained behind him and took an aggressive stance. In an instant, Jain whirled around and grabbed one of the swords off the rack, preparing to defend herself. The way she held the blade and brandished it in front of her was beyond what he expected, and Alan was impressed. She not only appeared to know what she was doing, but had the courage to follow through. Conrad stared at her his mouth open. Like Alan, his shock probably wasn’t because she’d drawn a blade on him, but because of the skill with which she wielded it. Alan smiled watching her and retrieved an iron pick from the fire. “Ye might want to reconsider that.”
“That still doesn’t excuse the offense she brought on me. Jain—”
“Is not interested. She’s made that clear,” Alan growled. “Now this is my final warning.”
Conrad and the others looked back between himself and Jain holding her sword aloft to threaten them. Conrad sneered at the sight of Alan and Jain together and said, “Ye’ll regret this later. Soon ye’ll see how much better life could have been with me instead of with a lowly blacksmith.”
Conrad snapped his fingers and walked out the door with the others following right behind him.
It wasn’t until they left the premises that Alan heard a loud exhale and saw her lower the sword. Alan wrapped his arms around her and said, “It’s alright, love. They’re gone.”
When he looked down at her, Jain’s eyes were wide and confused as if seeking an explanation. “Why did ye say that?” she demanded.
Alan grinned, running his fingers through Jain’s hair with a sheepish smile. “I couldn’t listen to him treating ye that way.”
“But… he’s dangerous,” Jain argued feebly. “Ye even said so the other day. Why would ye tell him we’re getting married?”
Alan sighed. “In part to make him leave, but the words came out of me before I could stop them. I promise ye, Jain, the sentiment was sincere. If ye would have me, I would marry ye in a heartbeat.”
“Alan…”
“All that matters is that Conrad will leave ye in peace, at least for a time. Ye dinnae have to answer now,” he told her. “I’ll protect ye whether or not ye agree to be my bride, but know this: I will love ye until my heart stops beating.”
He kissed her on the hand and turned away with a thousand things running through his head. Alan placed his hands upon the workbench and took a calming breath when he heard Jain speak behind him. “I have to go,” she told him.
Alan walked past her out onto the dirt path to beckon Rodrick from across the field. He was tending to some foals in the grass, but jogged over when he saw Alan signal him. “Aye, ye should tell yer da what happened,” he told her.
“Alan, what can I do?” Rodrick asked.
Alan put his hand on Rodrick’s shoulder and looked him in the eyes. “I need ye to make sure Jain makes it home alright. Conrad and his lads have been giving her folly. I dinnae trust him not to follow her.”
Rodrick nodded solemnly and turned his attention to Jain. “Shall I walk ye back to the farm, Jain?”
She nodded stiffly before giving Alan a timid smile. “Will ye come by the house later?
”
The edge of Alan’s mouth turned up into a smile. “I’m afraid I cannae today, lass. I have to go shoe a horse. Perhaps tomorrow would be better.”
She nodded in response, watching him pick up the hammer once again. The pit of her stomach began to ache as she opened the door, hating to leave Alan.
Chapter Fifteen
Alan swore under his breath, fussing over the liquefied silver inside an iron cup. His fourth attempt that day and he’d burnt the temperamental ore again. It was a delicate and time-consuming process that required his full attention, brushing away the impurities as they separated and floated to the surface. No matter how many times he tried, Alan couldn’t seem to get it right – the heat would be too low, or too hot, and the entire project had to be scrapped.
Alan glanced across the room and once again locked eyes with Bruce who watched his progress while picking at the remains of the meat pie. The smell of its spices and rich aroma drifted across the shop to where Alan was working. Alan set down the iron cup and stepped away, throwing his hands up in frustration. He placed his hand on his hip and gestured to the cup. “I’m sorry, Bruce. I burnt another one.”
His master took another bite and said, “It’s because ye’re too impatient. Ye have to give it time. The delicate process cannae be rushed. Clean it up and we’ll try another one tomorrow.”
Alan sighed, collecting his tools and returning them to the workspace where they belonged.
“Working with silver is not an easy job,” Bruce reminded him. “It requires a steady hand. Not everyone can become a master of this trade.”
“I can do it,” Alan told him. “I ken I can.”
Bruce frowned, his silver hair falling down across his forehead. He took another bite, saying, “Need I remind ye that silver isn’t cheap? I cannae afford to let ye ruin another batch. Ye’ll focus and get it right next time, or yer training there will end. Do we have an agreement?”
He nodded. “Aye.”
“Ye're distracted today,” Bruce observed. “Do ye need to clear yer mind?”
The Highlander's Secret Page 10