Even when most everyone in Arbroath knew the type of man Clach was, and how foul and violent he could be, her father had handed her over to him as though she were a simple piece of property – a commodity like a cow or a pail of grain. She retired to her room that night with a heavy heart, unsure of what her next steps would be.
The next morning, after a very restless night, Amelia got up at sunrise. She packed what little belongings she had into her sack, along with the small amount of money she’d managed to save, and headed outside to face her parents.
She told them of how she had overheard their discussion during the night, and in no uncertain terms explained how disappointed and betrayed she felt. Promising never to be a burden to them again, especially to her father, she announced her plans to leave and never return. Distraught, her mother pleaded for her to stay, that her father just needed time and that he would eventually come around and learn to love her. It was too late, though. Amelia’s mind was made up. Yes, she loved her mother, there was no doubt, but it was clear that she must leave. Her father would never truly accept her as he did her brother, and because of that, she’d feared for the safety of her unborn child.
After promising she would send a message to her mother after she’d found someplace to settle and have the child, Amelia solemnly left her parent’s home again, although this time of her own choosing. Heavy with pregnancy, she headed for Dunfermline, the nearest village. Amelia would have gone to Arbroath, but she knew she was not welcome there any longer. And so, it was in Dunfermline where she’d met Gavina, her one true friend.
Chapter 3
Amelia bends to pick the large melon from the basket and glances at the coins in her purse. She puts the melon back and smiles. Aside from the fruit and some fresh vegetables, she would love to purchase many items from the merchants here in the market, perhaps a new hairbrush or a wooden toy for her son. But alas, money is scarce in her household. There will be no wooden toys today.
She looks at the large fruit and feels a bit sad that she’s unable to buy the treat for Owen. Oh, how he loves melons … and grapes and strawberries, and anything expensive it seems. But purchasing the melon would mean going without more necessary food items, especially flour and, of course, fresh milk, which the lad needs to help him grow strong.
Although she’s now able to grow some crops and sell them at harvest time, it was certainly not enough to give her son the perfect life she wished she could provide for the lad. Well, she should be thankful. She now had a little income of her own. What would life have been like had she not had the wee farm or the ability to sell her crop when finally harvested. Life would most surely have been miserable, forcing Owen and her onto the streets of Dunfermline to steal and beg, or worse.
That would be reekbeek! She said to herself, pushing away such thoughts from her mind, and silently giving thanks for having wee little farm business. The last time she had been so desperate as to steal was under incredibly dire circumstances, ending with the death of a man. Well, not just any man, but a laird. She could hardly bear the memory of that day, and couldn’t fathom ever having to be in such a situation again. The encounter with auld Laird Alexander had forever changed her life. Now here in Dumferline, with her reputation to uphold and a son to protect, she prayed that her current luck would hold and knew if she stayed strong, it could.
One day, she thought to herself, she would own more farmlands where she could grow wide varieties of crops and hopefully plant melons … and grapes and strawberries, of course. She would have enough melon for young Owen to fill his belly to his heart’s content, and plenty left over to take to market. If her fortune held, by that point, she would be one of the wealthiest ladies in Dunfermline or even in Arbroath.
Smiling at her thoughts of grandeur, Amelia bent over and picked up her empty basket. For now, she and her son would have to make do with the little they can afford, and hopefully, one day, she’d see her dreams come true. Walking away from the fruit stand, she heard a man calling out to her.
“Ma’am. Would you like to buy some melons?”
“Naw, I’ll pass,” Amelia replied without looking at the man.
“They look like they are quite tasty. Ah'm sure you know, which is why you smiled at it,” chided the man.
Chuckling at this, Amelia turned to face him. How did he know she’d smiled when holding the fruit?
“And just how did ye know I smiled?”
“I have been watching ye since ye picked up the fruits,” he replied.
“Ah, I see. Well, I have nae interest in buying the fruit. Good day.” As she turns to leave, the man continues …
“Can I buy them for ya? I saw the way ye were looking at them.”
Did she speak out loud when she’d held the melon in contemplation? Had she let her guard down, looking at that fruit? Did she lose herself in thought so intently that anyone passing by would have noticed how much she’d wanted it? Even the fruit seller had noticed, too. But wait, why would a fruit seller wish to buy her fruit?
“So you buy melons for every person who stops by to look at them? Is that any way to run a business? How do you make any coin in such a manner?” Amelia asked skeptically.
The young man chuckled, “I deh na sell them. I am not the proprietor of the stall, either.”
Amelia looked at him in confusion. Now, upon paying closer attention, she notices he does look like the other merchants mulling about their stalls, but rather of one who holds some sort of office or importance. Dunfermline is not the type of village that dignifies or forcibly identifies classes or status from those who live in it, however, one can still recognize a highborn from the lowborn. And based upon his appearance, this man’s station in life apparently falls on the highborn.
Seeing the look in her eyes, he quickly adds, “I am just a buyer like you, not a seller.”
“I heard your first words. Ah’m just wondering why you would want to buy them fur me?” Amelia says.
“I like the way you smile at it,” the man replies with a smile.
“Oh, thanks. But you deh need to,” Amelia says.
“But I insist. I would be most happy if I do,” he persists. “Please,” he adds as if the words will make Amelia change her mind.
“If I accept it, I can’t carry them hame. Ma hands are full.” She shows him the items in her hands. Now this will make him change his mind, Amelia thinks and turns to take her leave.
“I will be delighted to help ya take them hame.”
Oh, what has she done? She should have known he would offer to come along. So it was that after much convincing, Amelia relinquished and agreed to accept the stranger’s generous offer to buy her some fruit, telling herself she was doing it for Owen.
“Okay, but not much,” said Amelia reluctantly.
“Aye, ma’am,” said the man in a spritely manner as he quickly turned to face the stall, asking the keeper to place a selection of fresh fruit in a bag. The merchant did as he was asked and, in turn, received payment from the gentlemen.
While this is happening, Amelia looks at him closely, now able to take stock of the many features she hadn’t noticed while they were talking. He is quite a handsome young man with clean English. Even though this man dresses well, his good looks do not come from his clothes' cleanliness or texture. Still, his face was pleasant, possessing a gentle look whenever he talked or smiled.
“All done,” he says, “Lead the way lass.”
“I said it shouldn’t be much. This is too much,” Amelia says, indicating the bag of fruits in his hand.
“Naw, it will last you till the evening of the next Saturday when you will be going to market again,” he says, beginning the walk.
This statement catches Amelia's off guard. How did he know that she goes to the market every Saturday evening? Has he been secretly watching her? If so, why? Where could he possibly know her from? Alarmed, she stops him immediately; he has some questions to answer.
“Do you ken me? How do ye ken I go to the
market every Saturday evening?”
“I noticed and have seen ya there a couple of times,” he says without hesitation.
“So, ya have been stalking me?” Amelia asks, looking intently into his deep blue eyes.
“Naw!” he says sharply. “That’s a mingin thing to do. I wouldn’t do that,” he adds with a calm smile.
Amelia stares at him in silence, assessing the mysterious gentlemen before her. She’s not convinced.
Noticing her stern expression, he adds, “I have seen you whenever you come to the market. At first, it was a coincidence. Then I noticed you do come every Saturday evening to buy and sell scran sometimes.”
“Coincidence?” questions Amelia.
“Aye,” “I ran into you one day. You were carrying a basket of potatoes and kale. T’was a few weeks ago. I guess you have forgotten.”
“Oh!” Yes, now it was coming back to her. She’d run into a man by accident one evening while at the market to sell some of her extra cabbage to stall owners before the market closed. She’d shouted at the man for not being mindful of where he was going, even as he helped her pick up the rolling heads of cabbage from off the ground. But as it was dark and she had been frazzled by the collision, she’d not had a good opportunity to look at the gentleman’s face before he’d faded back into the crowded market.
She began walking to the dirt path that leads to her house, with the man in tow. “I never ken you would remember me. It has been a long time, and it was dark,” she says sheepishly, remembering how rudely she had spoken to him that evening.
“Let’s say I have eyes for good things. You are such a bonnie quine with a remarkable face; one can’t forget easily,” said the man with a smile.
Amelia smiled. This strange fellow who crashes into you in the dark and later buys you fruit is very flattering. And quite bonnie.
Chapter 4
When Amelia and the mysterious stranger finally arrive at her cottage, she stops at the front door and turns to face him. A man as well-dressed and well-spoken like he will inevitably be accustomed to a far more luxurious lifestyle than she. Amelia is hesitant to proceed inside, embarrassed by the simplicity of her humble home. Moreover, they’ve just met, and it’d be much too foreword and inappropriate to allow a strange man into her home without first knowing more about his intentions. And as always, she had to ensure the safety of her son, she told herself.
During their small talk on the walk to her home, she had learned a few things about this man. His name was Thomas Grant. As it turned out, it was a very familiar-sounding name. With good reason, as Thomas Grant was quite well known locally as a merchant in estate and lands.
When Amelia had first arrived in Dunfermline and in desperate need of any affordable lodgings, many people had suggested she seek out the services of one Mr. Thomas Grant, as he was considered locally to be among the best estate traders in the area. However, arriving in a state of pregnancy and of little money, sh ‘d not been in any position to afford the services of an estate trader, especially one as successful as Thomas Grant (luckily she’d met Gavina). But now meeting him in person, he didn’t come across as proud or condescending, as she’d imagined he might be. No, he was much different than that.
“I guess I will bid my farewell here as I am not welcomed in for a cuppa tea,” said Thomas with a wink and a slight smile, handing Amelia the bag of fruit.
“Thank you so much for this,” said Amelia raising the bag. “Though I suggest you should take some from it.”
“Naw, they are yours. But if you want, you can invite me for a cup of tea next time,” Thomas says, hoping this time, his words will make her say aye.
Without giving him an answer, Amelia smiles and says, “Bye.” Thomas waits while she enters the cottage and closes the door behind her. After a few seconds, he turns and walks away. As she glances out of the window, Amelia is confident she sees a smile at the corner of his lips.
“Do you just put away a fine young man like Thomas Grant with a ‘Bye?’” Gavina says as Amelia walks into the cottage.
“Don’t tell me you have been watching us,” Amelia chuckles as she places the bags on the kitchen table. Of course, Gavina would know the man’s name was Thomas Grant. After all, Dunfermline has always been her home, and the locals knew everyone.
“I look through the windae immediately when I heard voices. You cannae blame me; you have never brought a man to your hame,” Gavina says, walking towards her.
Amelia chuckles and nods without saying a word as she continues to empty the contents of the bag onto the table.
“You bought strawberries and grapes … and a melon?”
Gavina says, surprised at the sight of the colorful fruit.
“And a lot of them, fur that matter! Whit happened? You have always said it fair too expensive fur you?”
“I dinnae buy them.”
“Who …. Thomas?” Gavina asks in awe.
“Aye. He insisted. He is quite a persistent young man,” Amelia says.
“I can imagine. Wait till Owen sees this, he will be thrilled.”
“Where is he?”
“He is on a kip. He started just after he ate launch.”
“Thank you, Gav, I don’t know what I would do without you,” Amelia says with a smile.
“You can thank me by telling me about Thomas and how you both met,” Gavina says, giggling, which is her telltale sign she’s is eager to hear gossip or a story.
Amelia laughs softly. “There is nothing to tell.”
‘Oft, there is always something to tell, especially when a man comes bearing fruits,” Gavina says as she waves her hand at the items on the stone table. Amelia laughs at this.
Just then, Owen enters the little kitchen, “Ma,” he says, walking sleepily towards his mother and Gavina. Then, upon seeing the fruits on the table, his eyes lighten up.
“Berries and melon!” he shouts in excitement and runs towards it. Gavina glances toward Amelia with a look of ‘I told you so’ on her face, and Amelia smiles. She, too, had expected the same reaction from the boy.
Owen grabs some berries in his little hands and walks over to where his mother has finally taken a seat. With a brilliant, bold smile, he thanks his mother for the fruit, and Amelia kisses his forehead, hugging him close. This is the type of smile she always wishes to see on the face of her son. ; the kind that melts a mother’s heart.
“Wash them before eating them,” Amelia instructs him.
“Aye, ma,” He says and leaves.
“With the joy I see in this lad's eyes; I am more curious to know how you made Thomas buy these for your son. You told him your son likes them?”
“Naw. He didn’t know I have a barra.”
“You didn’t tell him?”
“He never asked. Moreover, we just met. I feel that information is too much for a starter.”
“Hmm,” Gavina looks at Amelia inquisitively
“Starter? Meaning there will be something in the future?”
“Naw! There will not be. I mean starter as friends,”
“But there is nothing wrong in having him as more …” Gavina smiles.
“I don’t think I want to be in any love affairs now nor anytime soon.”
“Why? Because of your past affairs?”
Amelia nods, “Aye,” she adds.
“It’s okay. You know what’s right for you. I have to go; Sam will be waiting for me. He wants to take me for a pint and gobble,” Gavina says, smiling feverishly, and Amelia understands the look.
Whenever Gavina talks about Sam, her face always lights up, which is how Amelia can tell that Gav genuinely loves him. She’s so happy for Gav.
“Have a good time,” she says and hugs her, which her friend reciprocates with a smile. They bid their farewell, and Gavina leaves.
What would she ever do without Gavina’s friendship?
Gavina is more than a friend, she’s family, and Amelia would do anything to make sure Gav never had to go through the same as
she. The pain of experiencing true love, only to have it ripped away from you. Having a constant reminder of the love you’ve lost while watching the very product of that love blossom in front of your eyes as your beautiful child grows. The double-edged sword of a love lost.
The love she shared with Oliver hurt more than the abuse and pain she’d endured at the hands of Clach. Oliver had been her one true love. She remembered his touch, his smell, his warm breath on her neck as they made love; his kindness. But in the end, it was his actions that had utterly devastated her.
After revealing to Oliver the truth about her abusive marriage to Laird Clach, Amelia had devised a plan. She would leave the Castle Arboath and travel back to Clach, demanding to be granted a divorce, failing which she would expose Clach indiscretions for all to witness. In the end, Clach begrudgingly agreed, and upon finalizing the divorce, Amelia set forth to return to Oliver and win back his heart. Praying he would take her back, and, most importantly, telling him of her pregnant with his child.
It wasn’t until after her arduous journey back to Arbroath Castle that she’d heard word of Oliver and Sophie expecting a child together. She at first thought it mere gossip, but upon seeing them had confirmed the news. Heartbroken.
Amelia had not let Oliver know of her return to Arbroath and did not visit the castle, instead choosing to stay at a modest inn under an assumed identity, not alerting Oliver of her return to the village.
For the first few days she would venture into the wooded areas close to the castle where she would hide and watch for any sign of Oliver, making sure to stay far enough away as not to raise any alarms with the castle sentries. It was on the third day when she finally caught a glimpse of them both as they emerged from the castle to board a waiting carriage.
Highlander's Lost Love: A Highlander Steamy Romance Short Read (Highland Lover Series Book 4) Page 2
