by Alisa Adams
He smiled at her and she returned it. Not many women could resist Iain Jamieson’s smile.
Eilidh had worn her boots downstairs with the laces undone because she had struggled with them for an age before giving up. Her stomach was rumbling, and when she went back upstairs, fortified with breakfast, she thought that if she persevered she would succeed somehow.
She was still struggling when Iain came upstairs and knocked on her door. “Come in!” she called. “It’s open.”
He entered the room and stood, smiling slightly as she concentrated on lacing up the boots. Everything about her was perfect, from her long, shining reddish hair to her heart-shaped face with its big, long-lashed blue eyes to her generous breasts, tiny waist, and long shapely legs. His longing for her was beginning to affect his weak-willed man’s body exactly the way Nature had intended it to, and he felt himself stiffen as he looked into the bright blue of her eyes.
She went back to tying up her laces. She knew she needed new boots but she would never ask Iain to make them for her in case he had forgotten his promise. He must think I am an idiot, she thought. A woman who cannot tie her own laces. The truth was that Annie always did it for her, and she realized now how ill-prepared she was for life outside the castle.
“Let me dae that,” Iain offered, frowning. “Lass, these boots have seen better days. In fact, I think they havenae long tae live. Ye need a new pair, an’ I will see ye get ane as soon as my workshop is built. These are a disgrace for a lady wi’ pretty feet like yours.”
He took the laces from her fingers and she watched him as he began to thread them expertly through the multitude of lace holes. His hands were big and calloused with hard work, but surprisingly nimble. In a few seconds, he had accomplished what she had been struggling to do for ages.
“Thank you,” she said politely.
Having been close to her and seeing her neat, well-kept feet, he was more convinced than ever that she was the highborn lady that Dugald and his men had been looking for, but her hair was the only thing about her that did not fit. They had said she was dressed nicely but clothes could be changed. The more he thought about it the more suspicious he became. He was not aware that he was staring at her until she turned away and began to put on her cloak.
“Where are ye goin’?” he asked.
“To see Lettie,” Eilidh replied. “She is in a strange place and I do not want her to be anxious.”
Iain stepped forward and opened the door for her. He smiled. “She is a fortunate lady tae have sich a carin’ owner.” She smiled at him briefly and left, then he went back to his room again.
He had begun to lose his patience.
* * *
He decided to ask her about the truth when she got back.
8
His headache was coming back and he needed to think, but as soon as he laid his head on the pillow, he began to doze off. Not for long, however; a moment later he heard Eilidh’s voice outside his door, screaming in panic. He opened the door and took one look at her face then pulled her into his arms.
“Whit’s wrang, hen?” he asked, concerned. “Did somebody harm ye?”
“No.” She shook her head, sobbing. “Lettie is gone! Somebody must have stolen her!”
Iain thought for a moment. The village was very small; whoever had taken the horse must have been seen by someone. They went down to the stables and looked around the pasture behind it, then asked everyone they could find in the street. They were all very kind and as helpful as they could be, but Iain and Eilidh could not find Lettie anywhere.
After a while, Eilidh sat down on the grass. There were slow tears leaking down her face and her eyes were infinitely sad.
“I am sorry, lass,” Iain said angrily, as he sat down next to her. “It wis a bad crowd that wis in last night. Likely ane o’ them did it.”
“I suppose we will never know,” she sighed. “She was a good horse and a good friend. If I am to go on with my journey I must buy another horse.” She shrugged. “What else can I do?”
“Dae ye have the money?” he asked, frowning.
She avoided his eyes. “I will find it somehow. But let us talk about something more cheerful. Are you married, Iain?”
He looked at her, stunned by the abrupt change of subject. “Naw, I am no’ married, but why should you care? For why de ye ask?”
“Making conversation,” she said, sounding sad, but idle chatter was not her aim. She wanted to know if he was free to fall in love with her. He might be the solution to all her problems.
He sighed, suddenly feeling depressed, then he said briskly, “There is nothin’ we can dae noo, lass. Let us go an’ see my friend aboot the lease on that shop. Remember, a’ ye have tae dae is look pretty, an’ ye can dae that withoot even tryin’!”
“Thank you,” she laughed, standing. “We are becoming partners, are we not?”
He laughed and put a friendly arm around her shoulders. Once, she would have shrugged it off, but not anymore. This was Iain Jamieson, the King of Shoes, and he was the kindest, most handsome, and most desirable man she had ever seen, and she was proud to be walking beside him.
For his part, Iain was feeling a trifle dazed. This woman had almost fallen into his life, and he knew that when it was time to let her go, as it surely would be soon, he would miss her sorely. But he had to know what was going on.
“Are you married, Maura?” he asked suddenly.
There was a long pause, during which she gazed at him, trying to hide the desire in her eyes.
“No,” she replied, shaking her head. “No, I am not, Iain.” She looked down at her hands which she was twisting nervously.
“Then why did ye say ye were?” he demanded angrily. “Were ye just doing it ‘cause ye are ane o’ these women that likes triflin’ with men?”
“No, it was nothing like that! I was...I was afraid.”
“Of what?” he asked more gently. He looked mystified.
Eilidh hesitated, wondering if she should trust him, then she looked up into his eyes and she was lost.
“I am afraid of men,” she replied, so softly that he could hardly hear her. “I was betrothed to a man I did not love, and I ran away. I needed to become someone else.”
“I know who ye are,” he told her softly, stroking her shining hair.
She backed away from him at once. “How could you know that? I am a nobody, a crofter’s daughter. Look at my hair, and my shoes.”
“If you are a peasant then I am King Robert!” he retorted. “Aye, a peasant wi’ soft skin an’ nice nails who talks like a lady! Who cannae tie her ain shoelaces because a maidservant has done it for ye a’ yer life.” His voice was loaded with irony. “Three guards fae the castle ye live in came tae look for ye hen, an’ ane o’ them was gettin’ blind drunk. That is how I got this.” He pointed to his black eye. “He was throwin’ his weight about, an’ his sword, an’ he was gonna hurt somebody, so I decked him, but he caught me here.” He pointed to his face. “They said they were lookin’ for a beautiful fair-haired lassie on a brown horse. She had very blue eyes, they said.”
“What was his name?” Eilidh asked fearfully.
“Dugald,” he replied. “Big, red-headed fellow. A bully he was.”
Eilidh’s heart leapt into her throat at the sound of Dugald’s name, then she frowned. “But my hair is not fair,” she pointed out. “It is red.”
Yes, the hair. Maybe she had done something to her hair.
“Then how come yer brows an’ lashes are fair?” he challenged her. “I dinnae knaw how ye did it, lass, but underneath that red hair is hair that is nearly the same color as my ain.” He pointed to his starch-colored locks.
She was not Maura MacDonald, a poor crofter’s wife, but Eilidh Mackie, a rich woman, groomed for high society and completely out of place in the real world where ordinary people lived.
She stared at him, her eyes wide with shock. “How did you work all this out?” she asked desperately.
He s
ighed. “Maybe I am no’ as stupid as I look.”
They sat in silence for a moment. “It is beetroot juice,” she said at last. “It will wash off after I clean my hair with water a few times. Don’t tell anyone please—”
“An’ where will ye go?” he asked. “Whit about yer horse?”
“As I said, I will have to get another one.” She shrugged. “Please Iain do not give me up. I beg you!”
“I would never do that.” He resisted the urge to kiss her. He felt like she wanted that too.
“Do you know of anyone who is selling them?”
“I am no’ fae around these parts, hen,” he replied, his voice sympathetic. “But maybe we can go together and’ try tae find ane. Sometimes these tradesmen take advantage o’ a young woman.”
Eilidh knew that to be true. She had seen it when she went out with her mother, but Malvina was too shrewd to be defrauded. She smiled at the thought, and Iain smiled too as he watched her.
After some time, they arrived at the workshop.
“Say nothing,” Iain whispered as they went into the workshop. As Iain had told her, all she had to do was stand and look pretty.
* * *
At that moment she realised she totally trusted Iain.
The owner, Jimmy—a big, florid man—was so smitten with her that Iain managed to achieve a substantial reduction on the rent.
“It is the blue eyes!” Iain said rapturously. “He was doomed the minute he saw ye, lass!”
They had been walking towards the inn, and now they entered, and Iain got two pints of ale for them which they went to drink in her room.
There was one chair, which Eilidh sat on, while he sat on the bed. He frowned as he took his first sip. “I will buy ye a horse,” he said firmly.
“Indeed you will not!” she protested. “I will pay my own way, thank you! I need no favors from you!”
“It is no’ a favor,” he pointed out. “Ye helped me. I owe it tae ye!”
“You are making my shoes,” she said stubbornly. “That is enough payment!”
“Then I will give ye my horse. I am stayin’ here onyway.”
“No!” She thumped her hand on the table and glowered at him angrily.
However, Iain was equally angry and much bigger. He stood up and hauled her to her feet. “Noo listen tae me, Milady!” he growled. “I am buyin’ ye a horse an ye might as well make up yer mind aboot it!”
She said nothing, for in the face of his anger she had no answer. She gazed into his angry eyes while he glowered down at her, then he looked longingly at her lips, and could not hold back.
He reached out his arms and folded them around her, drawing her into his body for a sweet, soft kiss. He was surprised to find that she was trembling, and thinking that he was hurting her he began to pull away, but she held onto him by clutching the sleeves of his shirt.
It was Eilidh’s first-ever kiss, and she had never felt anything like it before. Iain’s lips were surprisingly soft and caressed her so gently that she felt as though she could stand in his arms forever enjoying the tender pressure of his mouth on hers.
She was even more astonished when he pushed his tongue inside her mouth and caressed hers, ran it along the roof of her mouth and around her teeth before stroking hers again. She made a soft, involuntary moan and clung to him more tightly, feeling his arousal against her stomach as she pressed closer, and closer still. It was glorious, but all too soon he drew away from her.
“I am sorry,” he murmured. “I had nae idea that was gaun’ tae happen.” He ran his hand back through his thick red-blond hair in a now-familiar gesture of agitation.
“Do not be sorry,” she murmured, smiling as she cupped his face in her hands. “It was wonderful.”
He folded his arms around her and leaned his cheek on her hair.
“Eilidh, when I was a boy I aye dreamed o’ meetin’ a bonnie woman who looked just like you,” he said huskily. “An’ here ye are. But I need tae knaw where ye are goin’ and who will protect ye?”
“I am heading towards Inverness,” she replied. “I may stay there, I may not. I may go on further or stop somewhere before. I have no idea.”
Iain kissed her hair. “I am that glad I am no’ a nobleman,” he said thankfully.
“I am glad too,” Eilidh murmured. “Then I would have never met you.” She looked down at his hands then took them in hers and turned them over. The palms and thumb pads were covered in calluses and tiny little scars. “Iain, I have one thing to ask you.” Suddenly her voice faded and disappeared as she blinked and wiped tears from her eyes, then she collected herself, but her voice was husky as the spoke. “Promise me, please, please, please that you will never tell anyone that I have been here.”
“I swear on my life I willnae, hen,” he murmured and kissed her.
At the moment his lips touched hers, she burst into tears, and he held her against him protectively. He wanted to know where she was going so that he could go there too, for he longed to be by her side, even though he knew it would be difficult. But there must be a way, he reasoned, then dismissed the thought. A laird’s daughter and a cordwainer? The thought was ludicrous.
Presently she stopped weeping and wiped her eyes with her fingertips. “I am too soft.”
He laughed quietly. “Ye’re meant tae be soft, lass,” he murmured. “Else why wid we men protect ye?”
“Maybe the day will come when we women can protect ourselves,” she replied. “A day when women will be as strong as men.”
“Hmmm,” he murmured. “I dinnae think I like that idea.”
She laughed. “I am sure you do not!” Her voice sounded amused but slightly grim. “Men like us soft and submissive, and that is something I, for one, will never be.” The soft blue of her eyes had darkened and hardened with anger.
This girl had gotten him completely out of his way. If he did not have his sisters he would marry her right then and there.
9
“Will you get me a horse in the morning?” Eilidh asked. “I insist on paying for it myself, and I assure you I can afford it!”
He sighed. “Are ye sure ye willnae tak’ mine?” he asked doubtfully.
She shook her head firmly. “No, Iain. Thank you for your generosity, but no.” She went to her saddlebag and pulled out a little leather pouch that jingled as she lifted it. She looked inside then pulled out a handful of coins.
“Take them,” she instructed, pulling his hand up so that it was outstretched to receive the money. “If it is not enough I will give you more.”
As the coins tumbled into his palm he looked at her in disbelief. “How much is here, lass?” he asked.
“I have no idea, but there were at least a hundred pounds before I left,” she said casually as if it meant nothing. She was tossing the coins around in the pouch as she spoke. “Do you know if that is enough?” She nodded towards the money in his hands.
Iain had been counting the coins. “One hundred?,” he marveled. “Eilidh, this is enough tae buy ten ridin’ horses or’ five destrier.” A destrier was a heavy, spirited war horse, and was used by the highest ranks of the army.
Eilidh’s eyes widened in surprise. “I had no idea!” she gasped. “So ten pounds is enough for an ordinary horse like old Lettie?”
He nodded. “Mair than enough,” he replied. He was still incredulous. “Pit that money away, for God’s sake, Eilidh. Ye will hae every kind o’ outlaw fae here tae Glesca roon here...an’ a pretty lass like yersel’ hen, they willnae stop at robbery. Hide it!”
Eilidh was astonished. She put the pouch under her mattress and sat on it again. “I really did not guess I was carrying so much,” she murmured. “I feel dreadful, Iain. There are so many hungry people out there and I have so much!”
Iain shook his head. “Tis no’ your fault,” he said tenderly, then he sighed and made to stand up, but she pulled at his sleeve. He sat down again.
“Just one more kiss,” she pleaded, smiling. “Just one more.”
>
He caressed her face, stroking his thumb along her cheek. She was so close to him that he could smell the natural musk of her skin.
“It might start wi’ just one mair,” he said huskily, “then jist two mair, then three, then four, an’ afore ye knaw it, it will be dark an’ we will hae wasted a hale day.”
“Would that be so bad?” She sounded mischievous. “We could—”
“We could nothin’!” Iain said firmly. “Remember I have a horse tae buy.”
“Shut up, Iain,” she ordered and pulled his head to hers. He was so surprised that he froze for a moment, then he moaned and ravaged her lips with his until they were both dizzy and breathless. He was so aroused that he could hardly bear to drag himself away from her, but somehow, he did.
“Stay here an’ dinnae answer the door tae anybody!” he instructed sternly. “‘Tis tae keep ye safe, lass.”
She nodded, then with one last fond look he was gone, and she was left to while the day away. She had no sewing or drawing or books to pass the time away, so she dreamed about Iain.
What would it be like to be his wife, to live in a little house instead of a big castle, and do the things that ordinary people did? She had never been to a market or milked a cow, or planted vegetables. She had always wanted to spin and weave her own cloth, though, and if she got the chance it would be the first thing she would learn to do.
Her other ambition had been to buy a little piece of land of her own, but she would have no idea what to do with it, but Iain would. Iain would be able to do anything...and give her babies.
Iain’s babies. The thought made her tingle with delight, and she smiled as she imagined what they would look like. Fair, of course, since they were both very fair. Her father had red hair though and Iain had a red beard so someone in his family must have been red-headed. Would they have blue or hazel eyes, or green, or gray? Boys or girls? Boys, she hoped—strong, healthy, handsome boys like Iain. He did not need any more girls around him!
