by Alisa Adams
She began to eat with a savagery that would never have been acceptable at her own dinner table, stuffing food into her mouth and barely chewing before swallowing. She laughed out loud as she realized that even a passing animal would criticize her deplorable table manners, but she was too hungry to care. There was no one there to see her, and she hoped it would stay that way. She hoped no animal would approach her. At least not a dangerous one. She had to get to a village and she knew it. But there were a couple of things to be done first.
When she had eaten two of the bannocks, half the cheese, and some of the walnuts, she sat back, replete. She felt more energized now, and more able to accomplish the task that was necessary for her survival. If she were to avoid the unthinkable she had to turn herself into someone else, and that meant, amongst other things, changing the color of her hair.
She reasoned that her father would have sent out the guards to look out for her. He would put a reward up, and her description would be: A young lass with blonde hair, dressed nicely, traveling alone on a horse.
She had changed clothes and she would dye her hair. She would also have to let Lettie go at some point. That was the plan.
The only color she knew how to dye her her into was red. Every second person in the Highlands was a redhead anyway, so she would have no trouble blending in.
She took out the dark brown earthenware flask and opened it, then poured the contents of the honey jar and the beetroot juice into it and shook it vigorously to mix them. After that, she deposited all of it onto her hair and massaged it till every strand was covered, then she waited. It felt sticky and disgusting, but she had to endure it.
The night was freezing, and she began to shiver as her wet hair stuck to her scalp and leached all the heat out of her body. She would have wrapped herself up, but she was afraid of wetting her cloak and blanket, and a fire was impossible because of the danger of being seen by either her father’s men or bandits so she stood close to Lettie to take advantage of the heat from the big horse’s body.
She had dyed her hair before, but not since she was a child of seven, and in those days she had no plans for marriage. Indeed she had no plans for anything. Her life had been carefree and playful, and she looked back on it with fondness. If only it could be that way again!
She laughed as she remembered playing with her little friends on the battlements. Maura and Bonnie had dark brown-reddish hair, Kennethina had dark blonde, and her own hair had been so fair as to be almost white. It was still light, although it had darkened a little to a medium blonde shade.
In those days, when the three girls played together, their nannies had to keep a very close watch on them because occasionally one or all of them would get up to the kind of mischief that was dangerous to life and limb—such as the day that Eilidh had wanted a better view of the moat from above and decided to hang over the wall to see it. The lowest point on the crenellated wall was about five feet high, and Eilidh was three and a half, so it was impossible—but not for a very determined Eilidh!
Maura went to distract Annie and the other nanny while Eilidh scrambled up the rest of the wall by pushing her little toes into the holes in the brickwork, then lying on her tummy on the thick wall and letting her head hang over the edge. She had never dreamed that the wall was so high and she was terrified. She felt a wave of dizziness sweep over her and screamed, then Annie came and pulled her down, uttering a few choice curses as she did so, but hugging her to her breast so tightly that she could hardly breathe. That was the day Eilidh began to really love Annie.
However, the worst prank they ever got up to was the day they dyed their hair. The four of them went to the kitchen and Eilidh begged Annie to boil some beetroot for them and keep the juice. The kitchen staff shook their heads, wondering what mischief was afoot. For well-bred young lasses, they behaved like young lads.
The girls sneaked down to the well and Kennethina and Eilidh poured the disgusting liquid on their heads, washed it off, then rinsed it with vinegar before washing it off again and admiring their reflections on the surface of the water. Maura and Bonnie’s hair were reddish already so they used chamomile to make their hair blonde. It did not have a great result but Eilidh’s pale hair was almost scarlet! Kennethina’s hair had also changed to a reddish-brown shade but not as much as Eilidh’s, and her mother was absolutely furious. Eventually, however, she saw the funny side and had to admit that Eilidh had many character flaws; she was impulsive and over-adventurous sometimes but she was never boring!
Eilidh came back to reality.
She had tried to sleep but she could not close her eyes at all. After a couple of hours, it was time for the worst part. Eilidh plunged her head into the icy cold water and felt the agonizing burn of cold at once. It was so tempting to take her head out of the water but she forced herself to keep it in while she washed off the beetroot and honey mixture. Then she poured vinegar on it and rinsed it again. It is done, she thought, sighing thankfully.
She tied another linen cloth around her head then dried it as best she could. Wrapped in her blanket and cloak, she felt a little warmer, but a chill wind had begun to blow from the sea, and she started to shiver again. She was used to a soft feather bed with downy blankets and a roaring log fire nearby, but here the ground underneath her was hard and stony, and no matter how much she tossed and turned, she could not get comfortable.
She hoped sleep would eventually come, so she tried to think of something pleasant.
However, her thoughts kept returning to the moment when she had got her first—and only, she hoped—sight of her betrothed. The thought of waking up to that ugly, bloated face every morning made her feel sick, but even worse was the thought of those big meaty hands all over her; they were the first thing she had noticed in the few brief seconds she had to look at him. She turned over on her side and felt anger rise inside her. How dare her parents do this to her? She felt an all-consuming rage so strong that she could hardly stand it, and she roared into the night like a wolf to vent her fury.
Suddenly she remembered that she was supposed to be invisible, and she tried to calm down her racing heart and stop herself from shaking. Then she thought of something much more pleasant. Who would she like to marry?
Then a man came into her mind, a very handsome man, and she focused all her attention on him. He was big—a head taller than she was—and looked upon her kindly. Everything about him suggested power, yet she felt she could trust him.
“What is your name?” she asked.
“I have no name,” he whispered. “I am your love—your only love, Eilidh.”
He folded his arms around her very gently and his lips touched her so sensually that it sent a shiver through her whole body. She was beginning to lose herself in him, and felt as though she had no will of her own. All she wanted was for his lips to go on caressing hers and his body to go on pressing against her. What was happening to her? His hands were cupping her face now and her arms went around his waist, pulling him closer. Oh, this was heaven on Earth.
Then he drew away from her. She cried out and reached for him but all she touched was air.
It took her a few moments to realize that it was a dream and that the beautiful man she had been dreaming about was a figment of her imagination. She should have known that he had been too good to be true.
She must have slept for only a few moments, because daylight did not come for a long time, and she did not get another wink of sleep, but she was still thinking about the beautiful man when the first gray light of dawn came. She was cold, but not freezing; however, she ached from the pressure of the hard stony ground against her body and as she stood up she could almost hear her bones creaking. She changed into the old threadbare dress and kirtle that Annie had given her. They were a little too short, but that could be explained by the fact that they were hand-me-downs.
She gazed into the repulsive-looking water for a few moments, then she shuddered and packed up her supplies again. She wanted to leave absolutely no traces that she had
been there since her father’s men were expert trackers. Now her priority was to get away as fast and as far as she could. She felt like turning and running back home, but that was impossible. However, there was one gleam of hope; perhaps Cormac McClure, seeing how much trouble she was, would not want her anymore. It was an encouraging thought, but she dared not pin too much hope on it.
With the first daylight, she began to ride.
* * *
After a few moments the first problem occurred.
4
Iain was riding at his horse’s slowest gait; he was in no hurry to be anywhere. For once no one was depending on him and he had all the time in the world. It was a few moments after the first light and Iain had begun riding a few moments after the night had ended. He had left his home the previous day. He slept a night in the outdoors and today he would reach his destination.
There was no one else on the broad road except for the odd farm cart and in the distance, another horse, obviously ridden by quite an experienced horsewoman. She was not slouching, she did not look nervous, and she was not clinging to the saddle pommel for safety. But it was an old horse and as he drew closer to her he could see that her clothes were the stained and well-worn clothes of a farmworker.
Eilidh knew she should have been riding faster, but she had to have some respect for Lettie’s age and condition. Now there was someone coming up behind her, and to her dismay, she saw that it was a man and a very big one at that. She tensed and surreptitiously fingered the dagger in her pocket. She had another weapon, a small knife, tucked into the pouch by her side. She had spent the night awake because she had been so afraid of bandits. It would be ironic if one should approach her now, in broad daylight.
“Lass?” the man asked, in a deep, husky voice. “Is it no’ a wee bit dangerous for ye tae be ridin’ on yer ain?” His handsome face had a look of concern on it.
He looks familiar, Eilidh thought, as his greenish-brown eyes bored into hers. “I am well, thank you,” she replied. “And I can defend myself.”
“Then I hope I havenae disturbed ye,” he replied. “But lassie, there are bandits along this road. Let me ride wi’ ye till we get tae the place ye are goin’ tae.”
She frowned, her bright blue eyes darkening, and he saw a flash of anger cross her face.
“And how do I know you are not one of them?” she asked sharply. She looked at his horse. It was a young lively stallion, and Lettie, although she was willing and gentle, could never hope to outrun it. If this man had evil intentions she could try to fight him off with her weapons but she had little chance of succeeding.
For a moment she thought he looked hurt, then he shrugged. “Aye, hen, I wid probably feel the same in your place,” he conceded, “but know that I have nae thoughts o’ hurtin’ ye, so be at ease. If ye cannae, I have nae power tae make you, but...” Then he paused. She is so beautiful. “I am Iain Jamieson. What is your name, lass?”
Eilidh tried to force herself to calm down. She had prepared a story for every eventuality and gone over them with Annie, and this was the very first thing they had established—a new name.
“I am Maura MacDonald,” she replied, using the name of her old childhood friend.
He extended his hand to her and she felt hers grasped in a firm, warm grip.
“Pleased tae make yer acquaintance Mistress MacDonald,” he said, smiling and showing an even row of sparkling white teeth.
“And I yours,” she replied, with a little smile that barely touched the corners of her lips.
“Where are you goin’?” he asked pleasantly.
“I am bound for Ardisaig.”
“So am I!” He sounded delighted and she wondered why. It never occurred to her that he found her absolutely beautiful and simply wanted to be by her side.
Eilidh felt her mouth go dry. This was the most beautiful man she had ever seen. She did not quite understand why he was making her tremble inside. She felt her heartbeat quicken as she looked at him, and there were some other parts of her that were responding to his nearness in a strange but pleasant way. Then out of the blue came the thought that she wanted him to kiss her, but she silenced her inner voice at once. That was sheer stupidity. All the same, she was acutely aware of his nearness as they made their way along the road.
They rode along in silence for a while, since neither could think of anything to say. Then they both started talking at once and began to laugh.
He smiled. “Ladies first. Let’s stop for a bit and let the horses rest.”
She gave him a gracious nod, still laughing softly, and they both dismounted. “I have heard your name before,” she remarked.
He gave a giant sigh, covered his face with his hands, and gave a rueful laugh. Then he took his foot out of his left stirrup and lifted it up to show her the sturdy, well-made riding boot. On the side was the seal of the bull’s head and the crown, and the legend: By Royal Appointment.
“So you are the Shoe King,” she marveled. “How clever you are!” And how handsome! she thought.
“Thank ye,” he said, pleased.“D’ye have ony o’ my shoes?”
“Not me,” she replied, “but my husband has two pairs. Not as grand as these, though.”
She has a husband, and he must be a wealthy one, he thought sadly, hoping that his disappointment did not show on his face. He felt stupid now. Ya eejit, Iain! Of course she has a man. She is ane o’the loveliest creature on God’s earth.
“That is no’ good enough!” he cried, with pretended indignation. “I will have to remedy that straight away! Show me yer foot, Mistress MacDonald!”
By this time she was fighting the urge to giggle, but she raised her foot. She was wearing an old pair of Annie’s boots, and on one the sole was hanging off. They were literally falling to pieces; the surface of the original leather had worn away and even disintegrated into holes in some places, and the lace holes had turned into slits. Iain was appalled, but he did not wish to embarrass her, so he merely smiled and decided to make light of it. “I think that I wid like tae mak Mistress MacDonald the gift o’ a new pair o’ boots. Made by my ain hands, o’ course.”
“That is very kind of you, Your Highness,” she replied, joining in the fun, “but I do not think Mister MacDonald would approve of his wife accepting gifts from other men, not even royalty.”
“What a pity,” he said, his eyes glinting with mischief. “I thought a wee pair o’ dancin’ shoes wid look nice on ye.”
She laughed heartily at that. “Do I look like I do much dancing, Your Highness?”
“Naw, Mistress, but ye look as if ye should!” he said, eyebrows raised in a comical manner which had just a hint of suggestiveness in it.
He is flirting with me! she realized with amazement.
Then his face grew serious again. “But, a’ jestin’ aside, these boots are worn out.” He sighed, frowning. “They look like they arenae long for this world.”
“I am not accepting a gift and I cannot afford to pay you.” Her voice sounded firm. “Thank you for the offer, but my husband would likely beat me for accepting.”
Iain despised men who hit women, even though it was common practice. He knew that if he had the chance he would beg her to go with him so that he could protect her, then, given half a chance, he would pummel her bully of a husband to a pulp.
At this moment he felt like dragging her from her horse, pulling her against him, and kissing her. He imagined her soft breasts pressing against his chest, and the little moans she would make as she felt his tongue running along her lips. His body tightened at the thought.
“You can pay me another way,” he suggested. His voice was innocent and held no hint of an ulterior motive, but then it would not. He was clever; he had made her let her guard down.
She felt her heart skip a beat. This was what she had been afraid of: that he would take her against her will here on this lonely road in the middle of nowhere.
Iain turned to smile at her, then he caught sight of the terror in
her eyes and realized that she had jumped to entirely the wrong conclusion. “Naw! Naw, lass! That is no’ whit I meant at a’!” he cried. He watched her closely as she took the dagger from her skirt pocket and held it out in front of her. He could have batted it out of her hand in the wink of an eye, but he had no intention of scaring her anymore. He wanted her to keep the illusion that she had some form of defense. “Naw, Mistress. I meant that ye could help me tae do a deal wi’ the man I want tae buy the shop from. Ye might say ‘hello’ but ye will no have tae do anything else except stand about an’ look bonny. I am gey sorry tae have frightened ye, lass.”
She looked into his strikingly handsome face and saw the kindness in it. He was genuinely concerned for her; she had never been in a relationship with a man, and was not sure if this was how she was supposed to feel, but although she was still unsure of him, it felt wonderful.
“Forgive me,” he said again, and this time his voice was quieter. Eilidh nodded and he sighed with relief.
“I misunderstood,” she said regretfully.
He felt desperately sorry for her, this poor young woman totally alone on this dangerous journey. “I will look efter ye,” he assured her. Then in a lighter tone: “I think ye will agree, hen, that I am no a totie wee man!” He spread out his arms and she laughed. He was indeed a magnificent specimen of manhood and she felt again a twinge of desire. Then she wondered what it would be like to be held in those strong, protective arms against his broad chest.
“That is what scared me!” she said, managing a slight, hesitant laugh.
“So will ye take the shoes?” he asked.
“Yes,” she replied.
Then he remembered something and frowned. “Whit about yer man?” he asked anxiously. “Will he no’ hit ye?”
Eilidh chuckled. “Did I not mention that I hit him too?” Her eyes were full of mischief. “Mostly with a poker. In his sleep.”
He looked at her in disbelief for a moment, then he threw back his head and laughed heartily. “Ye made a’ that up, did ye no’?”
