Stay With Me

by Ruby Duvall

  Aili flipped back the cloth covering the food Rossalyn had brought. “Ye didna even make this,” she accused, picking up some kind of bread. “Rachel sells these once a week.”

  Rossalyn wore an ugly frown this time as she snatched the bread from Aili’s fingers and threw it back into her basket. “I didna bring this out for ye,” she snapped. “’Tis for Iain.”

  Emma clenched her hands into fists, instantly hating Rossalyn for mistreating Aili, admittedly an odd woman but one who had been exceedingly helpful and generous. Beth was also on the verge of tears and Emma wanted to grab Rossalyn’s basket of food and toss it all on the fire.

  “Where is Iain?” Rossalyn then asked as she flipped her ash blonde hair over her shoulder. “I would like to share a private meal with him.”

  “Here,” Iain said with an edge in his voice. Though it wasn’t quite relief, the new feeling stirring inside Emma came close. Wearing a deep frown and a glare, Iain stood just inside the doorway. Like someone had flipped a switch, Rossalyn turned to him with a saccharine smile on her face.

  “Iain! I’m so happy to see ye,” she tittered, walking up to him and boldly pulling his arm against her chest. “Ye must be hungry, right? I brought a big basket of food for us to share.”

  Iain tried to pull his arm away but she held on tight. “That is…kind of ye but it isna even midday and we ate the morning meal not long ago,” he said. “Perhaps ye might share it with the others when they return later.”

  “But such a big man as ye couldna have been satisfied. I heard, after all, that yer guest dinna know how to run a home.” Rossalyn sent a sly, self-satisfied smile over her shoulder.

  Iain’s steady eyes stayed on Emma. “Her meals are more than sufficient,” he said. His expression seemed to soften a little.

  As though she had done it countless times, Rossalyn gently pulled on Iain’s arm to regain his attention and gave him her pretty frown—to show her disappointment, Emma supposed. Had she been hoping that Emma couldn’t cook at all? Or was she upset that Iain had paid the outsider a compliment, however tenuous?

  “Who is she, Iain? Ye know how jealous I get,” Rossalyn said. Emma suddenly felt sick, her insides clenching into a tight knot. She had been dreading such a question all week, yet she could do nothing but watch and hope.

  Without missing a beat, Iain answered calmly, “She is a distant cousin. Her family is gone and I’m all she has—and what do I care if ye are jealous?” Emma forced herself not to show an outward reaction but the tension in her body eased immeasurably. Thank you, Iain, she thought.

  Rossalyn seemed only slightly appeased. “Dinna be that way, Iain. Ye know how I feel. Should I come again later to eat with ye?”

  “With us, aye,” he allowed. “Kenneth and the boys will return in a couple of hours.”

  “I had thought that we’d eat together, Iain…alone.” Rossalyn none-too-subtly rubbed her ample chest against Iain’s arm, which was still trapped in her clutches. The woman’s tactics, while certainly not that of a child, were still childish in a way and Emma couldn’t help feeling angry—on Iain’s behalf, of course.

  As if fed up, Iain pulled the woman’s hands off him and stepped away. “I’d rather not. As ye can see, the women are busy. Either help them or come again.”

  Rossalyn’s disappointed pout turned to an even prettier one of hurt. “Would ye at least walk me back to the village?”

  Aili scoffed. “Ye came alone, girl. The sun is still high in the sky. Go back by yerself.” Rossalyn threw a hateful glare at the old woman.

  “I’m sorry. I dinna have the time,” Iain said, ignoring Aili’s outburst, “but we’ll see ye again soon.” Stepping clear of the doorway, Iain gestured for the woman to leave. She looked like she might cry, breathing hard and maintaining that pretty frown but then she walked to the table, picked up her basket and stormed out the door.

  Emma was glad that she wasn’t the only one to breathe a sigh of relief the second Rossalyn left. She wiped her hands on her apron, eyes on Iain as he turned away from the open door. “Is she a friend of yours?” she asked.

  “Hardly,” he muttered.

  Beth clambored off the bench and ran to wrap her arms around Emma’s leg, her tiny fingers clutching at Emma’s skirt. “I dinna like her,” the little girl said.

  “I believe we’re all in accord on that,” Aili declared. “Why then is she coming back?” She slapped her hand on the table.

  The man sighed, tiredly rubbing his bearded chin. “I dinna know but the other three can woo her and get her off my back…and arm.”

  “You don’t like the way she looks?” Emma asked. Though it was unfair to think that men only cared about a woman’s beauty, she had met a fair share of guys who were more interested in intercourse of the physical kind rather than the verbal kind.

  Iain’s expression was carefully guarded. “She is vain, covetous and cruel. Such traits ruin any beauty she might have.”

  Aili’s chuckle came out raspy. “Ye have good taste in women, Iain, and that’s the only compliment I may ever give ye.”

  It was difficult to tell but Emma thought she saw Iain’s lips curl up a little as he turned away. “I have work to do.” He was out the door and gone in the space of a single breath. He certainly wasn’t one for conversation.

  Emma made a thoughtful noise. “Aili, this might not be any of my business—”

  “Dear, I’m too old to be polite. What’s yer question?”

  “Why is Iain unmarried?” she asked.

  “We all thought he might marry a couple o’ years ago. Beth may not remember but Iain was sweet on a stonemason’s daughter from the village. She helped Father James with the sick that came to the church, back when the poor man was alive,” Aili said. “She was one of the first to die when the Black Death came.”

  “He lost her as well as his mother and sister? What about his father?”

  “Died at Halidon back when Iain was a young boy. Iain’s older brother, only eighteen I remember, went with Iain’s father to battle. Neither came back.”

  Emma pulled Beth closer, her heart heavy with sympathy. She knew already what it felt like to lose a loved one. To lose so many… Pressing her hand to her chest, she had a sudden realization.

  “And all aim for his heart with blackened arrows. Thrice pierced, he dies, all around him is harrow’d,” she whispered to herself. Black arrows. The Black Death? It had taken three loved ones from him.

  “What was that, lass?” Aili asked, cupping one hand around her ear.

  Then there was the last line, What once was light, now buried in sorrow. Despite his heartache, Iain worked hard every day. He had opened his home to her, had even lied for her.

  “I don’t know that I could have endured as much as Iain has,” Emma admitted.

  “The man is still an ass, I say,” Aili said.

  “Beth, you shouldn’t say ass,” Emma whispered to the little girl. A wide-eyed Beth nodded. “Aili, I’d like to make something that’ll tempt the boys.”

  The old woman cackled, slapping the table. “That’s the spirit!”

  —

  An hour later, Emma was sitting at the table, carefully cutting a large omelet into several portions. Only onions and a few cloves of garlic were on hand to flavor it but she was merely glad that it had come out in one piece. She really missed Teflon. She cut the last portion and covered the dish with a clean bowl to keep it warm.

  “Is that a fairy song?” Beth asked, her feet playfully swinging. “Will ye sing it for me?” Not even realizing that she had been humming anything, Emma grimaced. She had been trying to get Blackbird out of her head for a week but the song was haunting her.

  “I don’t sing very well,” she stalled. Beth’s shoulders fell.

  “Dinna be shy, child,” Aili said. “I have nae heard a song out of anyone for a great long while.”

  “Well…all right but only one verse.”

  “Yea!” Beth cheered. Clearing her throat, Emma sat up s
traighter. She began to sing, taking it slower than the original tempo since the lyrics were a little shaky in her head, but the words came without any problems. Though she had an audience of only two, her cheeks were burning. However, the song was easy enough that she was able to hit all the notes…well, mostly. She was about to reluctantly begin the second verse when Beth interrupted.

  “Dada!” she squealed. Emma’s lips snapped shut and her stomach flipped over. The little girl scrambled over the bench and ran toward the door. Peeking over her shoulder, Emma verified that Kenneth had once again managed to sneak up on her. Even worse was that Iain and both farmhands were standing behind him.

  Aili’s laugh was almost wicked. “Boys, ye’re just in time!” she called. Mortified, Emma grabbed the old woman’s hand.

  “You saw them coming and didn’t warn me?” she whispered. Behind her, she heard everyone entering the house.

  “I’m half blind, lass! Of course, I didna see them coming.” The elderly lady patted her hand and Emma looked over her shoulder again.

  “Did ye hear her, Dada?” Beth asked, sitting against her father’s hip.

  “I did. A very nice voice,” he said with a smile. Emma looked away, covering up her burning cheeks. Needing to retreat for a moment, she stood up from the table and grabbed the water jug. It was still half full but refilling it was as good an excuse as any.

  “Something smells good,” Kenneth commented.

  “Emma made an ah-muh-let,” his daughter said.

  “It’s mostly just eggs. I’m going to get more water.” Emma made her way toward the door, weaving her way through Kenneth, Malcolm and Thomas but Iain blocked her at the door. He looked at her with a strange kind of intense confusion. “Help yourself…t-to the omelet, I mean. Excuse me.”

  Pushing past him, she successfully made it outside and hurried down the path toward the river, the jug clutched tightly to her chest. The day’s high winds sent her hair and the skirt of her dress flapping wildly but the sun was warm and the air incredibly fresh. She tried to enjoy the short trip, holding her hair away from her face the best she could. Halfway to her destination, she spotted Rossalyn returning from the village with her basket of food.

  Great. The day was certainly shaping up well.

  —

  “Are ye enjoying my food, Iain?” Rossalyn purred. Emma barely suppressed the deep frown that Rossalyn’s voice induced. The woman had insisted on sitting next to Iain. Emma sat on his other side, leaving Aili just enough room on the end. Kenneth sat opposite Aili with his daughter on his lap and the farmhands took up the rest of the opposite bench. Rossalyn repeatedly pressed her breasts against Iain’s arm and therefore pushed Iain into Emma. Emma had to lean back every time so that she didn’t end up shoving Aili off the other end of the bench.

  So far, Rossalyn had hardly drawn a breath. She flirted shamelessly with the men and for some reason the farmhands were delighted by her attention. They couldn’t stop smiling and staring at her. Emma disdainfully noticed that their eyes were usually aimed either at their plates or at Rossalyn’s chest, which the woman was only too happy to show them by leaning over the table. Peeking down at her own diminutive breasts, Emma regretfully realized that no matter the century, men would always prefer a bustier woman.

  “The ah-muh-let was interesting and Rachel’s sweet bread is as good as ever,” Iain answered. Rossalyn huffed overdramatically.

  “Ye’re so mean, Iain,” she said. “I brought this food just for ye.” She quickly added, “For all of ye! How hard ye labor every day. It amazes me.” Emma wanted to roll her eyes as Malcolm and Thomas shyly smiled down at their plates.

  “Ye had better eat yer fill, boys. We still need to get that hay into the barn but then ye’re free to head home. Ye’ve earned it,” Iain announced.

  “But what about the watch tonight?” Malcolm asked.

  “’Tis been a week and the MacGregors have nae been seen. We shear the sheep tomorrow, so rest at home with yer parents tonight.” Malcolm smiled but said nothing and continued stuffing himself with as much of Rossalyn’s food as he could.

  Emma was thankful when the meal was over. Surprisingly enough, Rossalyn didn’t stay long once the food had been consumed and left with her empty basket, saying that she had work to do. Yeah right.

  The farmhands went ahead to the barn to start moving the freshly cut hay and Aili left for the day, very agitated about something—or someone, Emma guessed. Kenneth picked up his sleepy daughter to take her home for her afternoon nap, promising Iain he’d meet up with him at the barn.

  “I’ll see ye soon,” the redhead said, nodding to Iain and Emma before turning from the house. She and Iain stood silently outside the door, both enjoying the calm after a meal with Rossalyn. Emma snuck a peek at Iain, hoping to thank him for lying earlier for her benefit, but the look on his face cut her off before she could even open her mouth.

  Iain stared at his brother-in-law and niece with sadness. She spotted a small frown on his face, though it was difficult to see behind his bushy beard. His eyes were very still, as if he were looking beyond his farm and beyond the glen, watching something with his mind’s eye. He was imagining something.

  “You want children, don’t you?” she said quietly. He blinked, coming out of his daydream to look at her. “Children of your own.” He cleared his throat but said nothing and averted his eyes. “You’re…hesitant to bring them into this world.” She avoided the word “afraid”. She didn’t think he would appreciate it.

  “One week and ye think ye know me?” he grumbled with an angry undertone. She might have been cowed by his ire but truthfully, Iain was never in a good mood. Emma was becoming used to his caustic personality.

  “You want a family but both of your parents and both of your siblings were taken from you. I would be hesitant too.” He looked at her with surprise. “You may not believe me but I can understand what you’ve been through.”

  “How did ye know about my father and brother?” he asked.

  “Aili told me. Sorry.”

  Iain sighed with frustration, looking out across the glen again.

  “If you want children, you need to find a wife first.”

  She could see him rolling his eyes from where she stood. “I didna expect to grow them out of the ground.”

  “If talking to women is difficult for you, I could help,” she offered. He clenched his jaw, probably losing his temper, but she pressed on. “I’ll help you find a kind woman to marry—not Rossalyn,” she tacked on. “For starters, women might warm up to you more if you shaved your beard.” He turned to her, mouth hanging open.

  “What is wrong with my beard? A man is less of a man without one.”

  “I would think a man doesn’t need a beard to feel like a man,” she countered. “Besides, you look a little…beastly with that beard. Women will think you’re more approachable without one.”

  “Do ye no’ like beards?”

  “No, not really,” she admitted. He became quiet, his hands clenching and unclenching by his sides. He was fidgeting.

  “Where ye came from…is someone waiting for ye?”

  Emma found it jarring to suddenly think of her life before she died. To think of her short-lived relationships, only a couple of which ever went to intimacy. After only a week, she was losing touch with her old life. She recalled her crush on the boy who was supposed to have been at the Halloween party. Thinking on it now, she wasn’t quite sure what it was she had liked about him. She hadn’t even thought of him since her accident.

  Realizing that she hadn’t answered yet, she looked at Iain, who was watching her carefully. “No. I-I suppose I didn’t really know what I wanted.”

  “Do ye ken now?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “I actually haven’t given it much thought and it’s only been a week. I’m still trying to figure things out.” Iain’s eyebrows twitched, as if confused or disquieted. He faced the glen once more.

  “I’ll have the extra bed ready for ye t
onight.” The sudden change of topic was abrupt and Emma almost couldn’t follow. Ah, the extra hay for the mattress.

  Oddly enough, the news wasn’t very relieving. “Thank you,” she said. Nodding, Iain mumbled something about her omelet and then set off for the barn. She watched him for a few seconds, noticing with some surprise that he walked with a slight limp.

  He had lived in only one area his entire life but he had experienced so much. For him, just surviving was a challenge. If he knew about her old life, would he think it was any easier? More difficult? More exciting? Scary? As scary as she thought his life was?

  She couldn’t help but feel impressed by him. Iain was a very strong person. One of the strongest people she had ever met.

  —

  Guided by patches of weak moonlight, Rossalyn walked with determination up a wooded slope and pulled her wrap tighter around her shoulders. She wasn’t cold though. She was livid. The material clutched within her fists threatened to tear as she recalled her terrible afternoon for the hundredth time. Just like a fairy out of the mounds, this woman had appeared out of nowhere, almost as if to ruin Rossalyn’s plans. He had said the woman was some distant relative but she was no Highlander, of that Rossalyn was certain. She had seen the way he looked at the fairy. And what did the fairy have that she didn’t? Nothing!

  She was skinny, spotted with freckles and had no curves for a man to grasp. As for the woman’s breasts, Rossalyn had smugly noted that she herself was far better endowed. What Iain saw in the fairy, Rossalyn didn’t know, which was especially vexing when he could have had her anytime during the last year. Her fists began to shake when she remembered trying to get Iain’s attention and only succeeding for a second before his eyes returned to the other woman, who wasn’t even looking at him!