The Hiring Fair

by Laura Strickland

  “I see.”

  “Do you?” She leaned forward slightly, across the table. “From the women—widows and those no’ yet wed, he demands a different price.”

  It took Tam a moment to grasp the truth. Annie could see when he did by the shock that flooded his clear, gray eyes. “Och, never,” he breathed. “And they pay this?”

  “Some do. Some are that desperate to keep a roof over their bairns’ heads, especially during the winter. Some lasses have paid the price to keep their aging parents safe.” She hesitated. “These women come to me for many reasons—for cures, for advice. One such, a maid before Randleigh interfered wi’ her, now believes she is with child.”

  “Does the laird know this is going on?”

  Annie shrugged helplessly. “He should, for I wrote to him. I do believe he received the first letter, though he did not reply. ’Tis hard to understand, that, for he was a good laird when he lived here, and fast friends wi’ my uncle. I thought he maun act. I fear my second letter fell into Randleigh’s hands, for he came and taunted me wi’ the very words I had written. He told me then I did no’ deserve to stay here, and he set his price. That was in the autumn. He said I maun pay by spring.”

  “So you went to the fair to get yoursel’ a husband.”

  Her hand crept across the table to touch his. “I am sorry. I should ha’ given you better warning that I dropped you into such a muddle. But I was that desperate.”

  “You could ha’ paid him off as you did the bishop. Those rings…”

  Annie’s cheeks grew warm. “He would no’ take any price from me but the one. I fear he has wanted that since he first rode onto this place.” Annie could not imagine why. Perhaps he enjoyed the challenge of breaking her, for to be sure far lovelier women dwelt in the district.

  “Aye, well,” Tam said, “we will ha’ to come up with a way to convince him he maun now stay awa’ from you, will we no’?”

  “ ‘We’?” She leaned still closer. “Dare I hope that means you are with me in this?”

  He searched her face for a moment before he replied, “We are wed, lass, for better or worse. Surely that means I am wi’ you.”

  Annie sagged with relief where she sat. “Thank you.” She closed her hands on both of his. “Thank you, husband.”

  Chapter Ten

  Tam stood in the yard and watched the sun sink into a bank of clouds to the west, marking the end of the day. He knew he should go inside to his supper; he could hear the clatter of plates and kettles from the house behind him. But the tangle of emotions in his heart bade him linger a moment more.

  Aye, and he’d carried such a weight of feelings since the death of his parents—enough at times to turn his stomach. Anger, hate, self-doubt, and recrimination kept him awake nights. He should have done more to protect those who meant more to him than anyone in the world.

  And now here he found himself called upon to protect someone once again—not the dearest in the world to him, granted, but who could fail to care for a woman like Annie, all courage and compassion? Already, with such perilous speed, he had feelings for her and those in her household.

  Like the wee dog even now at his side. Ella quivered where she sat when he looked down at her, the sad remnants of her ears tucked close to her head.

  What manner of person could do such a thing to a mere scrap of a dog, take a blade to its ears and cause it pain? What manner of man could press desperate, hurting widows and frightened maids for favors?

  Nay, he did not blame Annie for the offer she’d made at the hiring fair, or for bringing him here. But his feelings toward Randleigh were prodigious and frighteningly violent.

  He had promised himself he would never care for anyone or anything again—the night his ma had curled up and died, still whispering his da’s name, he had. His injured hand was his constant reminder of that, and of the fact that he’d failed them both.

  How dared he suppose he could make a difference now?

  Upon the thought, the house door opened behind him and Annie came out. He knew her by her step, the lightness with which she moved, and by her scent of mingled herbs and woman.

  She paced to his side and laid her hand on his arm; Tam liked the way she touched him, with gentle warmth, and he remembered how it felt last night when she’d soothed his hand.

  “Why do you tarry out here? It grows cold, and your supper is waiting.”

  His supper and her bed? Did that wait also? Might he expect her to touch him again, dared he hope for more?

  He turned and encountered her eyes, alive as the night sky.

  “I ha’ been standing here thinking. About yon factor, Randleigh.”

  “Why spoil a lovely sunset thinking o’ him?” Annie kept the words light, yet some of the brightness left her eyes. Aye, the man frightened her, and Tam suspected it took a great deal to frighten such a woman as this.

  He drew breath. “When next he comes calling, I mean to set him straight.” Or, Tam thought, lie in wait for him and strike before any more arrogant words poured from the man’s mouth. He found satisfaction in the thought, yet as he well knew it would serve little; another factor would soon be brought in.

  Annie’s fingers tightened on his arm. “Tam, I would not have you take any chances nor risks wi’ your safety. I did no’ bring you here for that.”

  “You wished for a shield, someone to stand between you and that blackguard.”

  “Aye,” she admitted softly. “Mayhap I did. But…”

  “Then you will ha’ to let me stand in that place.”

  She studied him slowly, her gaze slipping from his face downward. Did it linger on his hand? Did she suppose him less than able to defend her as a man should?

  But she said only, “Come awa’ in. You will take a chill.”

  He nodded and turned, and wee Ella jumped up at his knee. When he bent to her, she leaped into his arms.

  Annie laughed softly, the sound like bells in the gathering darkness. “You ha’ a champion there.”

  “Aye, but yon Sonsie is no’ so sure about me. I canno’ tell what Jockie thinks.”

  “’Twill take time for Sonsie to trust you. Jockie is another matter. Speak to him. He can understand you, and if you try you will be able to understand him, as well. That may win his trust.”

  “And his mistress?” Tam stopped her with a touch on her shoulder. “Does she trust me also?” Enough to lie beside him again this night?

  Once more she searched his eyes. For an instant he thought she might lean in and kiss him there in the dusky yard, and he wanted it so much he could barely breathe.

  But she said, “I find I do, even though we are barely acquainted yet. That will mak’ you suppose me as daft as you no doubt supposed when I climbed up on that platform at the fair. Aye, I saw the way you looked at me.” She smiled. “I ha’ an instinct about people, you ken. I am seldom wrong.” She paused. “And I did notice you, from the first.”

  Ah, and what did that signify? What meaning that expression in her eyes? She had looked at him with interest, aye, the way a woman eyed a man.

  Before she noticed his hand.

  But ah, he could not suppose that made a difference to this woman who took in the maimed and the unwanted as a matter of course.

  Ella licked his chin, and Annie laughed again. “Come you awa’ in. We will worry about Ned Randleigh when he returns.”

  ****

  “Tomorrow is market day,” Annie told Tam when both Sonsie and Jockie had gone off to bed and the two of them sat by the fire alone.

  Sol had gone out to hunt, a rare enough thing. Annie tried not to worry about him; she did not like him going—it felt as if a small bit of her heart fluttered out into the night with him. And now, as she sat sewing before bedtime, she kept one ear cocked for his return.

  Before bedtime.

  She raised her gaze to study the man who sat at his ease opposite her, the firelight playing tricks with his features. Did he watch her from narrowed eyes? Did she capture his
interest even as he captured hers? Did he look forward to the moment they would retire to bed together, with any of the anticipation that had haunted her all this day? Aye, she longed for the warmth of his body beside hers, the unexpected delight of his presence when she woke in the night. A woman could right quickly get used to such comfort.

  Ah well, she told herself, pausing her needle, had she not learned that each and every creature craved contact? And love. Should she be any different?

  “Market day,” he echoed when she said no more. “Shall you go?”

  “Nay, but most of the men hereabouts do, and it gives their wives a small measure of freedom while they are awa’. Many of them come here to me.”

  “Oh?”

  “They will begin arriving early—just so you are prepared and no’ caught returning from the wee house wi’out your trousers,” she teased.

  “And why do they come to you?”

  “Och, there are scores of reasons. Some bring their ailing bairns for a remedy. Some just come for advice. I read the cards for them, or the tea leaves.”

  Tam’s eyebrows flew up. “Are you a seer, then?”

  Annie stilled her needle once more. “I am no’ the seer my mother was. She had the true Sight. I inherited just a part of her ability, but I would never withhold help from anyone.”

  He said nothing, and she eyed him still more closely, wondering what he thought. Most Highland towns and villages harbored at least one person recognized as a seer—the malevolent ones were called witches.

  “They maun ha’ faith in your cures,” he said at last, “if they keep coming.”

  “They have few choices. And they trusted my mother so have transferred that trust to me.”

  “What sort of advice do you give them?”

  “The best I can. ’Tis none of it truly mine, you understand. The cards do speak, as do the leaves.” She smiled slightly. “As for those who ask me to read the tea leaves, I am not at all certain whether they truly seek knowledge or just a few minutes’ peace to enjoy the brew.”

  “And,” he challenged, “what do the leaves say?”

  “Many things.” She hesitated. “They spoke of you.”

  “Did they!”

  “Och, aye—whilst still I contemplated this mad undertaking. Though as so often happens, I did no’ take their full meaning at the time.”

  “What said they of me?”

  “Only enough to reassure me now.” Her lips twitched. “I saw a hat right up near the rim of my cup—or, to be more exact, a tam.”

  He laughed softly, and it sounded fine and warm in the quiet room. Annie laid aside her mending and leaned toward him. “How is the hand? Let me see.”

  He extended it to her without question, and she laid it, palm upward, on her knee. As she had last night, and listening hard to the wisdom inside her, she stroked from the palm outward along the twisted fingers, gently attempting to straighten them one by one.

  “Think you can mend that, do you?” he asked even as he had before.

  “Nay; just make it easier to bear.”

  Something flared in his eyes, a look she had never seen from any man. “Come to bed wi’ me, Annie.” He nodded at their joined hands. “You can work your magic there.”

  Annie’s heart leaped into her throat, where it began beating a fast tattoo. What did he mean? That they should lie together side by side as they had last night, keeping one another warm? That she should soothe his hand and bring him comfort? Something more?

  But that had not been part of the bargain struck at the hiring fair.

  Bargains may be changed, she heard her mother speak in her mind. Altered for the benefit of both. Daughter, do not shortchange yourself.

  She stumbled to her feet, both her hands still clutching his, and he came with her. They stared into one another’s eyes an instant before he drew her toward him and into his arms. Annie found herself suddenly cradled against the hard strength of his shoulder, where she promptly melted.

  “I had no notion I was wedding mysel’ to a woman possessing magic,” he said softly. “Though I should have, given all these creatures and the feel of the place. Do you mean to beguile me, Annie?”

  That had not been her intention; she’d merely meant to hire a husband, straightforward and plain. But she’d not figured on Tam Sutherland, and now, with his heart beating so strong beneath her cheek and the warmth of his arms around her, she almost wished she could. She would enchant him, make him see her as beautiful, make him wish to stay with her.

  Forever.

  She tipped her face up to his. “I do no’ possess that kind of magic.”

  “Aye, Mistress Annie, but you do.”

  And like the answer to her prayer, his lips descended on hers.

  Chapter Eleven

  For much of his life, Tam Sutherland had endured a close acquaintance with hunger. Food had seldom been plentiful on the croft, especially by the end of winter. And these last months as he made his way about the Highlands looking for work and a place to lay his head, his belly had been empty far more often than full.

  But the hunger he felt now, with Annie caught fast in his arms, outdistanced all of it. Sharp and avid, it reached up from a well of need he’d not known he possessed, threatening to consume him—and her.

  Aye, he had already kissed her—once in the kirk and that other time in the yard. But not like this, nothing like this.

  A ravaging beast would be easier to restrain than this sudden storm of passion, especially because he could taste Annie’s hunger as well, leaping up to meet his own. Her desire touched and tangled with his even as their tongues tangled, hot and vital as the blood in his veins.

  The inside of her mouth, a cavern of sweet warmth, welcomed him without reserve. Her arms slid luxuriantly about his neck, and her fingers dove into his hair to draw him closer. Her body pressed trembling against his, such a perfect fit it had his pulse pounding in his ears.

  His mind screamed at him for caution even as his manhood, lower down, demanded daring. His ears listened to the soft sounds Annie made as he ravaged her mouth, alive for a hint of her willingness.

  Instead she broke the kiss and drew away from him, not far. Her eyes sought his in the dim light. “Tam…”

  “Let me carry you to the bed.” Was that him speaking? It did not sound like his voice, all rough with desire.

  She hesitated, her hands cradling his face, her gaze holding his as if she memorized what she saw there. “I do no’ think—”

  “There is naught wrong in it,” he told her. “We are wed.”

  “Aye, so,” she acknowledged in reply.

  He dove for her mouth again, sure he could never get enough of such delight. He drank of her deeply before releasing her lips to say, “I am able.”

  “I do no’ doubt it.”

  “Let me show you.”

  “But, but—Tam, I never intended it to be that sort o’ marriage. And there is no going back from such a thing.”

  “Are we no’ meant to bring one another comfort? What better comfort, on a cold night?” He’d had no idea he could be so persistent. He whispered into her ear, “Tell me aye, or nay.”

  He caught the shiver his words coaxed from her and chased up her spine. “Aye,” she breathed. “But I never—I ha’ never…”

  “I will do naught you do no’ wish. You may halt me anytime. Only let us gang to the bed.”

  When she made no further protest, he swung her up in his arms. A few strides took them to the bed, where he laid her down with tender care.

  “Take down your hair for me,” he bade. “You ha’ such bonny hair.”

  She froze for a moment, like a woman struck, before sitting up and feeling for the pins that confined her tresses. They fell one by one, thick and glossy, and Tam watched them swirl about her shoulders even as he began to unbutton his shirt.

  A growl from behind arrested him. Ruff stood there with ears back and teeth bared.

  “Hush now.” Annie slid to the edge of
the bed and addressed the dog. “I want this.” Her gaze moved to Tam. “With my whole heart, I do.”

  ****

  And who would ever have thought, Annie asked herself a bit wildly, I would be lying in my uncle’s big bed while a man undressed me slowly, as if time had ceased to exist and the night stretched before us unending? Especially a man such as Tam Sutherland, whose quiet strength spoke to her on a level so deep it shook her, whose lips wooed her like an irresistible song, who had deemed her bonny.

  Cursed if he did not make her feel that way.

  He’d finished removing his shirt after Ruff went to lie down. He still wore his trousers and, no doubt, his trews beneath, but his chest and shoulders lay bare, outlined in firelight.

  Mangled Tam Sutherland’s hand might be; the rest of him attained perfection in Annie’s eyes. Indeed, had the powers she worshipped created a man for her liking, he might be just like this, with a lean torso well-endowed with muscle, no doubt earned in the typical labor of a croft, and just enough hair to make her fingers itch to touch. His strong arms lent a feeling of safety such as she’d never known, and he tasted like heaven.

  But did she truly mean to go through with this?

  And why not? As he said, they were duly wed. She’d meant to go to her grave untried, had in truth never expected any man—save, perhaps, the vile Randleigh—to desire her this way. Now she lay like an offering atop the blankets while the fingers of Tam’s good hand—nimble enough for the task—dealt with her clothing. He removed her clogs; she heard them hit the floor one by one. He felt his way up each of her legs and rolled her stockings down one after the other. He bent his head and kissed her knee, a shocking caress.

  A wild thrill swept through her body, from her curled toes through the depths of her belly and clear to her lips, which promptly yearned to feel his again. What would he do next? She could barely breathe for wanting to know.

  Ah, another intoxicating kiss, during which his hand moved to her bodice. But the tiny buttons there defeated him. He broke the kiss and gazed into her eyes.

  “Perhaps fate is against this after all.”