by Tara Hill
Ennis laughed, “Sweetie, eat. I’ll help with yur bath and it'll stay warm while you finish this stew.”
I did as I was told and finished the stew. Afterwards, Ennis led me to another room with a steaming tub. She helped pull off my clothes. She handled them gingerly as I am sure they stunk but I had long since lost any aversion to the smell. I stepped into the tub, lay down and sank below the water. Bliss, total and complete bliss. Ennis washed my hair with a bar of lavender soap; I was so happy it was lavender.
“I thought of lavender soap many times those four days Ian and I were traveling from my home,” I shared.
“I bet you did, lassie” Ennis giggled at me.
I washed myself with the same soap. After the water cooled, I stepped out and she wrapped me in a large soft sheet. She directed me to sit by a small fire while she combed out my hair. She told me about her daughter and the antics of her grandchildren. She quickly put my hair up in a simple style but I couldn't see it without a mirror. She then handed me a dress that her daughter had left for her mother to repair. It was a lovely yellow muslin dress with an empire waist and capped sleeves. I finally felt clean and refreshed.
We emerged from the room. In the hall we ran into Ian, also bathed and dressed in clean clothes. He looked startled and stared at me; well actually he looked me over as if I was a side of beef he was about to purchase.
“That's a bit small for her don't you think, Ennis?” Ian eyed me critically.
“I think the lass looks bonny in me Martha's dress.”
“Do you think the fabric is a bit thin? Perhaps she needs a shawl?”
“I think I am standing right here, you big oaf and I am sure Martha's dress looks just fine.” I glared at him while motioning my head toward Ennis. The oaf would surely hurt her feelings if he continued to criticize the dress. He ignored my frantic head nodding so I tried to get more subtle, if kicking him in the shin could be described as subtle. He finally looked me in the face, blushed and turned toward the door. I apologized for his insensitive remarks and thanked Ennis for her kindness during my illness. Ennis chuckled and went outside with the wet towels and my very stinky clothes. I was truly grateful to be finally clean.
~~~~~
Alone in the hallway, I scolded Ian. “You were terrible! This dress may be the finest thing Martha owned and you stand there belittling the gift as if it were below you. And it’s not to you the gift was bestowed, it was to me and I like the dress, I like the color and the way it fits.”
“It just fits too tightly, that's all I'm saying,” Ian responded sheepishly.
“I can ride in this, I just need a cloak,” I looked down at my bare feet, “and stockings and my boots.”
“Boots? Slippers more the like, and delicate at that.”
“Ian, can you really imagine me riding in delicate slippers?”
“I can imagine you in nothing at all.” His voice lowered to a husky sort of whisper and my chest did that thumping thing again followed by that queer feeling in my stomach. I took a step toward him, lifting up my head to gaze into his eyes.
“You mustn't say such things,” my voice shook.
Ian growled a sort of laugh and smirked, “I will continue to say such things just to see your reaction. Your face turns pink and the pink goes down your neck and....” He stopped with an oopmh as I punched him in the stomach.
“You will not treat me as your, your.......,” I sputtered searching for the word, something I had read in a ribald French novel my brothers had smuggled in, “...your concubine!”
“My concubine?” Ian erupted into laughter, huge and loud. I would have kicked him again but for my bare feet. I turned and with some sense of dignity I hope, I left the room. I went to find my stockings and boots so that the next time I kicked him, the large idiot would notice.
I found my boots next to a door and took them outside to clean off the dried mud. They were small for boots made especially for me, made from soft deerskin, not great hunks of leather such as Ian's. What would I do with delicate lady's slippers; they'd be ruined in a heartbeat. I brushed the deerskin vigorously thinking of the oaf. What is this strange effect he has on me and what is he going to do to me when Ennis tells him I am actually a Garnet? She saw the necklace the first night I arrived and again today in the bath. Thankfully, with a long chain, the medallion hangs low between my breasts, hidden from view. I looked down to insure the medallion remained hidden and realized that the bodice is rather low cut. Martha must be shorter than even I. Actually, I remembered Martha is the youngest child in the family and is probably only fourteen or so. I was wearing a child's dress! A slow smile crept over my face as I realized in the way a woman realizes, that Ian had no objection to the dress, and he was admiring my previously hidden attributes. A sense of wonder came over me accompanied by a little sense of power. This may be quite interesting. At that moment, Ian cleared his throat; he must have been leaning against the porch for a bit.
“What are you smiling about, lass?”
“Oh, this and that,” I leaned over to tug on my boot and deliberately leaned in his direction. Ian coughed again and straightened, and suddenly found the window fascinating. I smirked a bit myself. I could learn to play this game and I am very good at games, ask my brothers.
“Could I hold your arm while I put on the other boot?”
Ian grunted and walked over to me grabbing my upper arm while I used the other hand to tug on the second boot. I smiled up at him, to see an angry oaf. He grabbed my other arm and pulled me roughly to his chest.
“What game are you playing at, lass?” His breathe hot against my cheek.
“One I am learning from you, sir. Now, let go so we can move on.”
He stared at my lips for a moment and I sucked on my lower lip thinking hard about what was going on here. He crushed me to him and lowered his lips. Hot pleasure roared through my loins as his mouth devoured mine. His tongue thrust its way in to twine with mine, causing a myriad of sensations all the way to my toes. I stood on tiptoe to grant him more access. My mouth opened to him, my heart also. We stopped for breath and I pushed him away. Oh my word! What was that? I must be a sinner. I wanted him to kiss me again and again. I was doomed. I looked at him as I brushed my fingers across my swollen lips.
“I am sorry, lass.” Ian whispered as he stared at my lips for a full minute and then he turned away from me.
What was wrong? He was sorry? He didn't feel it? Feel that eruption of passion in my breast? He was sorry? I hated him. I kicked a bucket and sent it flying across the porch.
“Sorry?” I screamed at his back at he entered the stables. I kicked the wall and screamed some more. Ennis appeared at the door and motioned me back inside the house.
“Here, have a cuppa tea. Ian does that to people sometimes.”
“Does what? Make them want to murder him?”
“Yes, that among other things.” she bustled about and handed me a biscuit to go with my tea. “Our Ian has a way about him; he seems heavy handed and is a bit driven at times. What happened lassy?”
“He kissed me; he grabbed my arms and kissed me.”
“Is that all?”
“I kissed him back.”
“Ah,” said Ennis.
“And then he said he was sorry.”
“Ah, now that's the way of it, is it?”
“No, that is not the way of it, it can't be, I have to...to do something, and Ian isn't part of that. Why would he be sorry? Why shouldn't I be sorry?” I paced the room, “I could be sorry. I could be sorry about the way he looked at me and made my heart leap, I could be sorry about that.”
“This sounds serious.” Ennis looked suspiciously unserious.
“That's it! I will be more sorry than he is...for whatever he thinks he is sorry for. I'll show him sorry.” Ennis laughed and left the room. I looked about for my cloak and strode out to the stables to find Thor. The giant oaf was speaking to another giant.
I overheard them speaking of the French in
the area. I joined them keeping the new giant between Ian and myself. I didn't want to feel the heat radiating from his body; I didn't want him to sense mine. The stable was warm and well swept. I assumed the stable hand was the man I'd seen briefly during my illness. I interrupted and thanked him for his hospitality.
“You’re quite welcome young lassy. Our Ian brings us the occasional lassy but you'd be the first that was so sickly.”
“Would he now? Bring home so many lassies? Here?” I was learning so much about our Ian this morning. I turned to glare at the oaf in question, “Now how many lassies have you brought here and how many do you claim to be sorry to, after having brought them here?”
Ian coughed a bit and tried to change the subject, “As I was saying, Fergus, we read a dispatch, in French.”
“Did ya now?” Fergus responded while I continued to fume, “Where did ya get such a dispatch? I understand them to be highly guarded in this area of the country.”
“I took it from a dead soldier, a sergeant I believe.”
“How did he get to be a dead soldier? We would have heard about any skirmishes with highwaymen, though it would explain the troops moving through here with such great frequency right now.”
“Robin shot him,” Ian gestured at me.
“No! The wee lassy shot a fellow?”
“Yes indeed she did. It was a sweet sight to be sure. The soldier had rather unpleasant plans for the lass and she took it upon herself to shoot him through the eye with the daintiest bow you have ever seen. A finely carved one at that.”
“The lass in question is right here, gentleman and if I shot the man, it was in self defense.” I poked Fergus in the chest to emphasize my point of view. “He wanted to do unnatural things to my person and I had no choice.”
“Ian did nothing to help you, lassy?” Fergus asked incredulously.
“He would have gotten around to doing something eventually but time was of the essence. I recall that a pistol was trained on our Ian and Ian was somewhat frozen at that moment.” I smiled sweetly up at Ian.
“I would have saved you.” Ian looked back with a blank expression, “The soldier thought she was a he at the time.”
“He did not!” I said.
“Yes, he did, you had your finer attributes disguised, quite well at the time.”
“You keep saying that but I don't see how that is possible.”
Fergus interjected, “You mean to tell me a king's soldier had Ian under a pistol and you managed to shoot him through the eye with a slip of a lady’s bow and arrow and then stole the king's dispatches and managed to come here dragging me and my family into treason against the crown?” Fergus' voice tended to rise a bit as he rather accurately encapsulated our accomplishments.
Ian smiled at him, “Yes, that’s exactly right.”
Fergus grinned back at the idiot, “Well as long as I understand. Ian, there's only one lass in these parts who has that kind of skill.”
I interjected before Fergus had a chance to continue. I knew he'd name me as Bridget Garnet as I was rather well known in these parts at least by reputation. “Fergus, we could show you the dispatches, they are in French. Ian and I thought it was rather odd. They claim a group of French families, minor nobility are living up here on the coast. They have been waiting for word to go to Normandy to await the signal to return to their estates. It indicated an assassin is on his way here to murder these families, children and all, to eradicate the nobility for fear of the nobility arising again in France.”
Ian looked at me with a strange face, “That wasn't exactly what was on the dispatch.”
“Yes it was. You mistranslated.”
“I did what?” I should have read disaster in his eyes but I missed it.
“Certainly, you read it as if they were already returning to their estates not as if they were waiting to return.”
“I did what?” I should have heard the frustration in his voice but I missed it.
“Yes, and the part about gathering somewhere together to hear word, you thought it referred to our soldiers gathering to attack them.”
He grabbed both my shoulders and turned me to face him. His eyes bored into mine and he demanded, “You are no house maid, you shoot too well, you read French and know about concubines. Who the hell are you?” His face was enraged; his anger obvious and I didn’t miss that.
I quailed, “You're hurting me, Ian,” as he brought me up on my toes.
Fergus placed a hand on Ian's arm, “Quit scaring the child.”
He slowly let me go.
“We'll speak of this again, be sure about it.” Ian turned to Fergus, “I must put in an appearance elsewhere. Let's set Robin up in your tavern with a room. I will come and get her as soon as I can disentangle myself from other commitments.”
~~~~~
I guess we were leaving. Ian led me to the horses, Fergus trailed behind us. Ian tossed me up on Thor; the two men mounted their horses and together we turned toward a road that led to a small village. The men greeted all of the people we passed. The road was well populated by the time we reached Dumfries. We rode straight to the Barrel Ale Inn. Lads met us and took the leads from our horses. One handed me down to a soft landing. I smiled my thanks.
“I am parched.” I said to no one in particular.
“Aye, lass, here's where you are served the best ale and the best pub grub around.” Fergus took my hand and we walked into the pub with Ian stomping behind us. My guess was that he was still angry over the translation issue. Honestly, some men had such abominable pride. I wasn't sure what he had against concubines but it seemed to be a sticking point.
The pub was warm and inviting, a long mahogany bar travelled along the inner wall. Low tables and chairs were scattered about the great room with more low chairs arranged in a semi circle about the fireplace. Several chairs were occupied with locals, their legs stretched toward the fire. They all looked extremely comfortable; one was snoring softly under a wide brimmed hat. Another reached for his ale well resting on the floor, the chairs so low to the ground. I could see stairs curling up to a second story with a short landing half way up, a dark hallway headed off toward the rear, probably rooms for let. Ian stayed back near the door and signaled Fergus to stay with him. Fergus was standing still listening to Ian. Ian was waving his arms, speaking rapidly and pointing repeatedly at me. Finally, his diatribe complete, he stared at me for a moment and left, the door slamming behind him. Fergus returned to my side and took my hand again and led me towards the stairs. Several locals looked up as I marched up the stairs behind Fergus. I was sure they had decided I was the new disreputable lady. I blushed and hoped Fergus didn't notice. He opened the last door on the left and ushered me inside.
“Here's where you'll stay until Ian returns.”
“Returns? Where did Ian go?” My voice squeaked embarrassingly, how could he leave me?
“He had some business to take care of before he can look into those dispatches you stumbled across.”
“I wasn't stumbling, I was aiming.”
“I gather.” Fergus said softly and sat down near the window, “You are quite the young woman, aren't you?”
“More than he knows.”
“Apparently,” Fergus agreed with a sardonic grin.
“Fergus, I can't just sit in my room or sit at a table and wait for Ian. Monday I need to be somewhere. Until then, can I help you at the bar, wipe tables or something?”
“That would be grand, lass. Ennis will give you an apron and you can start whenever you want.”
“Ennis? Ennis from the farm?”
“Aye lass. She took a likin' to you; you remind her of our daughter who has moved up to Edinburgh with her husband.”
“Now is as good as any time. Show me the way to the kitchen.”
Fergus gave me a bear hug and kissed the top of my head. Then he wrapped his arm around my shoulder and walked me down the back stairs into a lovely large country kitchen with beautiful wooden countertops and a la
rge wooden table in the middle. In the corner a bowl covered with a tea towel foretold of a crusty bread for the evening stew. The walls were a bright white. A large pot simmering on the range filled the room with a delicious aroma. Some smoked meats were hanging from hooks on the ceiling. I walked across the room to another small door, opened it and peered down into a cellar where the walls were lined with bottles of wine and kegs of ale.
“You have a very modern kitchen here, Fergus.”
“We brew the best ale in the lowlands, lass as well as bake the best bread.”
“I can see that or shall I say, I can smell that, hmmmm.” I smiled at him, grabbed an apron to wrap around my waist and walked back out into the public area with Fergus in tow. Fergus stepped behind his new mahogany bar, wiped away an invisible ring on the countertop and nodded me over to a family that just walked in for an early evening supper.
I walked toward the family. They were rapidly speaking French in low undertones. When I approached they became quiet and wary. I was new and they didn't recognize me. “Hello,” I said, “What would you like to eat?”
“Lamb stew, ale and tea for the children,” The mother replied.
I started back to the kitchen when I heard them say in French, “The message said to meet here but I don't see any others.”
“Wait, mère, we may be early. We'll eat slowly and wait for the others.”
“I am not sure we are safe here. That girl was English.”
“I saw Fergus hug her, she must be a friend of the family.” I walked into the kitchen and was greeted with another hug and a kiss from Ennis.
“Robin, love! What a wonderful surprise to see you. I send you off with Ian in the morning thinking I will never see you again and here you are walking into my kitchen! Sit, love, have a cuppa with me. I have some scones here.”