by Ruby Duvall
“We’re going to celebrate tonight,” Kenneth said once their caravan arrived. “The sheep are shorn, the MacGregors are thwarted and the laird’s finest ale awaits us!” Malcolm and Thomas cheered.
“Dada?” Beth called, eyes blinking sleepily as she emerged from the house.
Kenneth held out his arms and his daughter ran to him. Thomas and Malcolm began to unload the cart. Iain, though, walked straight toward her, his stride confident, the heel of one hand resting on the hilt of his sword. She took a deep breath and her cheeks warmed from the memory of being held by him in the inky darkness, of the kiss he had pressed to the top of her head.
Iain reached out, gently taking her chin in his hand. “Ye look tired,” he observed, brushing his thumb across her cheek.
The feeling behind the gesture was unmistakable and she knew that her red cheeks were betraying her. She felt so awkward, much more so than any other time she had flirted with a man. She wasn’t even sure if “flirt” was the right word. Flirting was for carefree singles mingling in a bar. With Iain, it was something more serious and far more powerful. As her fingers impulsively brushed the back of his hand, she thought her heart was going to explode.
“Did ye sleep at all last night?” he asked in a quiet tone.
“I couldn’t,” she admitted, knowing that she couldn’t lie to him. “And then the MacGregors came.”
“Ye can rest easy tonight.” His fingers slid to the back of her neck as if he would pull her close and kiss her. His hand inadvertently brushed the clasp of her necklace. She tensed and began to pull his hand away but he seemed to notice her uneasiness and abruptly stepped back. He looked confused.
“Wasna I brave?” Kenneth asked his daughter with a smile.
Beth pressed a loud kiss to his cheek. “Dada is the bravest man ever!” Her giggle floated in the air as Iain turned his back to Emma and walked away.
Emma struggled for words, for something to say to explain herself, for something that would take away the confusion and pain she had seen in his eyes. Nothing came.
Iain climbed up to the bed of the cart and laid a large sealed barrel onto its side. He then rolled it to the edge of the cart, where Thomas and Malcolm waited to grab both ends and carry the heavy load into the house. One barrel alone looked like enough ale to last for at least a couple of weeks.
“Half for Iain’s house and half for mine,” Kenneth explained, gesturing at a second large barrel on the cart. “But I eat most meals over here, so they’ll both go inside. The laird gifted us with a few fur pelts for winter, some foodstuffs, such as fruit to satisfy Iain’s sweet tooth—” He grinned, briefly looking back at Iain’s disgruntled expression as the man laid the second barrel on its side. “And even a new dress for my little lamb.” Emma and Aili stepped aside to make way for the farmhands as they carried the first barrel of ale into the house.
“I get a new dress?” Beth asked. Kenneth nodded.
“And me?” Emma finally brought herself to ask. “Did the laird ask about me?” Kenneth’s expression sobered then and Emma thought she might have a heart attack. “H-he isn’t angry, is he? He won’t burn me at the stake or something, right?”
“Let’s hope it dinna come to that,” he said quietly.
“Y-you can’t be serious!” she gasped.
“Kenneth!” Iain barked. “That isna something to tease her about.” Thomas and Malcolm ran back outside to get the second barrel of ale. “The laird has no ill intent toward ye,” he said to Emma. “Ye have no need to worry.”
Her mouth dropped open. Kenneth had the common sense to look contrite. “I’m sorry, Emma. Ye just looked so distraught.”
“Sorry, indeed!” Aili chastened, jabbing the ground with her cane for emphasis. “Ye’re teaching yer daughter some very cruel behavior.” Overwhelmed with relief, Emma closed her eyes as the old woman continued scolding Kenneth. He laughingly apologized to Aili, who paid his suave charm no attention. “Ye should be ashamed!”
When she opened her eyes again, Iain was approaching her with a wrapped bundle in his broad hands. “The laird was rather pleased to hear of ye.” He then lowered his voice. “He’s a man who…believes in such things.” Iain held out the bundle. “This dress is a gift from his household to ye. It has never been worn, something ye can call yer own.”
Wide-eyed and struck once again by the generosity of the people around her, Emma accepted the dress. The laird hadn’t even met her yet but he was giving her a gift.
“The four of us,” Iain said, gesturing in Kenneth and the farmhands’ general direction, “will be delivering the sheared wool to the steward. Today is a good day for ye to go to the village.”
Clutching the dress to her chest, Emma couldn’t shake her head fast enough. “I can’t.” She took a step back from him. “I’m not ready.”
Iain stepped toward her and took hold of her elbow. “Everyone is in good spirits today. They’ll be happy to meet ye.”
After meeting Rossalyn though, Emma wasn’t so sure that the curvy blonde hadn’t spread terrible lies about her.
She tugged against Iain’s hold on her elbow. “But I’m not one of you. I don’t know how to act in public. I don’t even sound Scottish!”
“Ye’re part of the Campbells now. The laird wishes to welcome ye into the clan,” Iain said. The news made Beth cheer. Emma looked over at the little girl and her smiling father. Iain stepped even closer, wrapping his other hand around her upper arm. “We willna put ye on display and demand a performance. Ye’ll simply come with us to the steward and back. Whoever we meet along the way will be a good start.”
“Can I come, Dada?” Beth asked.
Kenneth ruffled the girl’s hair. “Of course, sweeting.”
“Dinna worry yerself, child,” Aili said. “Most of them are good people. Just stay away from my bastard neighbors and that Rossalyn. I’ll stay here to prepare supper.”
Iain sighed, shooting a wry look toward the old woman. “Ye are nae helping.”
Aili bristled at his comment. “How am I nae helping? I wash yer clothing. I cook yer food. I am good company.”
“Good at giving me headaches,” Iain grumbled.
Aili came close enough to jab Iain’s side with the head of her cane. “What was that?” Emma felt his hands flex around her arms a second before her let her go. He frowned at Aili, rubbing his sore side. He then looked back at Emma.
“Once the wool is loaded, we’ll come for ye. Make yerself ready.” With that, he turned away to lead the horse back down the path. Emma’s shoulders drooped in defeat.
“Come on, lass! We need to get ye into that new dress,” Aili said. The old woman curled an arm around Emma’s waist and steered her into the house.
—
As their small caravan crested the hill over which the path ran between the village and the glen, Emma followed closer and closer behind Iain. After pulling on the new yellow kirtle, she had brushed her hair and applied some lip balm, thinking that if she looked somewhat well groomed, it would help her confidence, but it didn’t, so she found herself sticking close to Iain.
“Dinna step on his heels, Emma,” Kenneth teased. He and his daughter both sat astride the mare pulling the cart. The horse snorted, eliciting an excited squeal from Beth.
Iain glanced over his shoulder and caught her cowering behind him. Before she could retreat, he reached back and grabbed her wrist.
“Come now, where’s the backbone I saw last night?” he asked as he pulled her to walk beside him. He released her wrist only to clasp her hand in his. “They’ll be curious—that’s a certainty—but no one will harm ye.”
She looked down at their joined hands and saw how completely his hand engulfed hers. Strangely, the sight made her feel better. His thumb stroked the back of her fingers.
“If only I’d been there,” Thomas bemoaned. “I’d ha’ caught the other MacGregors!” Emma glanced back at the two boys walking a distance behind the cart.
Malcolm playfully shoved
Thomas. “Ye’d have wet yerself and cried for yer mother!” Thomas shoved back but Malcolm easily put the younger boy in a headlock.
“’Tis just as well that neither of ye were there,” Kenneth said. “Ye’d only have been confused for more sheep running about in terror.”
Iain squeezed her fingers. “Stand straight and nod to those looking at ye,” he said as Kenneth and the farmhands continued teasing each other. “We’ll pass near to where Rachel sells her breads and ale. Ye’ll enjoy meeting her. She’s verra kind.” Emma was surprised to hear Iain speak so warmly of someone.
“I’ve heard her name several times,” she said as she straightened her posture. “Is she married?”
“Widowed last summer but she has a very young son. He is not yet a year.”
“Oh.” She could guess how the husband had died. “You’ve known her for a long time?”
“She and my sister were close ever since they were bairns. She is like a second sister to me.” Ah, that explained it. “And she has loved Kenneth for many years,” he whispered. Emma gasped, briefly glancing back at Kenneth, who was disentangling his daughter’s fingers from the horse’s mane.
“Her husband?” Emma whispered back.
“I dinna believe she mourned his death for long,” Iain said. “He wasna the best of men.”
“Why didn’t she tell Kenneth her feelings?”
“Because he loved her dearest friend.” He released her hand when the village came into view. “I tell ye now so that ye willna be surprised when we speak to her. She isna very subtle.” Iain then gave an angry sort of snort. “And he calls me unfeeling.”
Beth cheered upon seeing the break in the trees and the village beyond, which looked much the same as when Emma had passed it over a week ago. Many men and women were out and about on errands. She could hear the clangs of a blacksmith’s shop. Smoke rose from the many thatched roofs. In the distance on the shore of the loch, she saw quite a lot of men constructing what looked to be a large boat.
“They’re well along with the galley,” Kenneth noted.
“Aye, they are,” Iain agreed. In an irrational corner of her mind, Emma somehow expected all the villagers to drop what they were doing and rush her, either gasping with shock or crying out with rage while carrying torches and an arsenal of sharp rocks. No one looked in their direction, though at least not until they crossed the small stone bridge that straddled the river.
Two middle-aged women were standing in front of a home close to the bridge and were talking to each other. One noticed her and pointed her out to the other woman, who wheeled around as if hoping to catch sight of a unicorn. They stared at her, mouths ajar, but didn’t run into the house or pick up the nearest rock. Emma did as Iain suggested and nodded at them, even smiled a little. They looked appalled.
Maybe not a unicorn—maybe “leper” was the right word.
They passed by more homes—a couple of which looked empty—and nearby people either waved at Iain and Kenneth or generally ignored their party. As they approached a more crowded area of the village, Emma noticed a grouping of stands where people were selling various goods, such as vegetables and even live poultry. The odor of unwashed bodies grew stronger and Emma tried subtly to breathe through her mouth.
Looking around, she noticed half a dozen people staring at her from the tiny market ahead and those half dozen were poking others to get them to stare at her too. How was she supposed to nod and smile at all of them without looking like she had some nervous tic? She grasped for Iain’s hand and he closed his fingers around hers.
“Can we go see Rachel?” Beth asked.
“An excellent plan,” Kenneth said, stopping the horse and easily dismounting. He plucked his daughter from the mare’s back. Iain tugged Emma forward and they followed Kenneth and Beth into the crowd of people. Emma did her best to make eye contact with a few of the gawkers and acknowledge them.
“Iain, I heard what ye did this morning,” a man called. “Come by and I’ll give ye the best cut!” Emma looked over at the older, bearded man and saw immediately on the table in front of him what his profession was—butcher. She looked away, a little green in the face.
“Why only a cut?” Iain shouted back. “Have we nae earned the whole cow?” The older man guffawed loudly.
“Fine work, Kenneth, fine work,” another man said. Emma looked ahead and saw Kenneth with a very old man. The man was so bent over that it was a wonder he could see anything but the ground. “Who’s the young doe standing beside our Iain?”
“That’s Emma, come from the eastern coast,” Kenneth answered. Emma’s eyebrows twitched. Eastern coast? The old man nodded slowly as though the reply was both illuminating and confusing.
“Oh Kenneth!” a woman called. “I’m so happy to see ye! Are ye hungry? I’ve just finished some pies.” Kenneth continued on before they could catch up to him. Emma stood on tiptoe to see over others’ heads and get a glimpse of what could only be Rachel. Brown hair and a blue sleeve.
Iain led her past the unabashed gawkers and they arrived at a food stand covered with breads, cheeses, pies, bowls of ingredients and a couple of open ale barrels. Beth sat on the edge of the stand, eating a small meat pie with obvious bliss.
Rachel was all smiles, a woman as cheerful as Iain was grumpy. Her teeth were rather large and her skin a little blemished but even though her looks were nothing like Rossalyn’s, she was very beautiful. Emma could even say that the woman glowed.
“Here, try this. ’Tis my new recipe,” she said, holding out a large hunk of pie for Kenneth. She was all too happy to feed it to him.
Kenneth chewed with relish, his eyes smiling. “Delicious.” Rachel clapped with delight and cut out another sample for him.
While the redhead chewed, Iain caught the brunette’s attention. “If anyone should be given free food, it should be me.”
“Iain! I was wondering when ye’d…come by,” she said, her words faltering when she noticed Emma. She looked at Iain expectedly.
“This is Emma, come from upcountry,” Iain said. Upcountry? What happened to the eastern coast? “Emma, this is Rachel.”
“Aye, I had heard that a—that someone had come to stay with ye,” Rachel said. She stared at Emma’s locket for a long couple of seconds.
“She’s bonny,” Beth said from around a mouthful of food.
Her father chuckled. “My little lamb is verra taken with Emma. We all are.” Kenneth slid a coy smile in Iain’s direction and his meaning was not lost on Emma as Iain’s fingers squeezed hers again in the pregnant pause that followed.
However, his meaning was definitely lost on Rachel, who glanced between Kenneth and Emma as though fate had just stabbed her in the back. Emma scrambled for something to say or do to correct the misunderstanding. Nothing that came to mind seemed at all tactful.
“Ah, Emma should try one of yer breads.” Iain stepped back and pulled Emma in front of him. Her heart leapt when he pressed his chest to her back.
“I’d be happy to gift ye a loaf,” Rachel said coolly.
“Hey, ye never give us food for nowt,” Thomas complained as he and Malcolm walked up. Emma felt Iain turn—he was standing that close.
“Ye didna stay with the cart?” he asked. She could hear his temper flaring up.
“We’re in the village,” Malcolm said.
“Aye and wool is expensive. Ye’ll go back and stand by the cart until it gets to the steward.”
“But we’re hungry and standing in the middle of the market,” Thomas said.
“Why dinna we make the delivery now?” Kenneth suggested. “We’ll be back to fetch Emma by the time she’s chosen the loaf she likes best.”
“Ye’ll be all right?” Iain asked her in a low voice. She nodded, a little flushed. “Then we’ll be by again shortly.”
Kenneth scooped up his daughter, whose cheeks were stuffed with the last of her pie. “Give Rachel yer thanks, sweeting.”
“Fank yew!” Beth said as she waved. The me
n and farmhands wandered off toward the cart even as the boys made a show of rubbing their stomachs and complaining of bellyaches.
“I hope to see ye again soon!” Rachel called. Emma furtively glanced around at the many people staring in her direction. It was truly unsettling, especially when she saw how many of them were gesturing at their own necks while speaking to others. They were curious about her locket.
Doing her best to arrange her hair to bring less attention to it, she turned to Rachel, who regarded her with tight lips.
“Which would ye like to try first?” the brunette asked, sweeping her hand over the many loaves of bread arranged on the table.
“There’s nothing between Kenneth and me,” Emma confided. “He didn’t mean what he said the way you thought he did.”
Rachel twitched as though little thorns were poking her sides. “I dinna have any idea what ye’re talking about. Why would ye think I care about that?” Emma’s eyebrows went up. Wow, she really was transparent.
“That is…what did he mean?” Rachel asked, her eyes looking at her askance. Emma would’ve smiled at the other woman’s question but the answer was complicated—really complicated. It was Emma’s turn to fidget.
“Well, I kind of hope…that is, I would like to think that Kenneth was talking about Iain.” Rachel’s eyebrows shot up. “It’s just that I really admire Iain and, you know, it’s difficult sometimes to tell what he’s thinking. He’s very h-honorable and I never realized how rare that is. I mean, he’s my knight in shining armor but not the kind from stories—the real kind. Then again, we don’t get along all the time, so…I could be wrong…” Emma trailed off, unable to think of something to say that would make her seem even dumber.
Rachel’s expression had softened considerably, her smile just a little sad. They stood there for a few seconds without saying a word. Emma’s ears caught the words “good folk” from someone standing nearby.
The brunette then reached for a loaf of light-colored bread. “I think ye might like this one but hide it from Iain. It’s his favorite.”