When the hammering of my heart calmed down, I walked into the muir. I took long steps, revelling in the freedom, enjoying the play of light from the sky on the undulations of the landscape. I breathed deeply, trying to forget Mother's intention to marry me off to some unknown man. John Aitken. The name seemed as dull and featureless as one of the boulders that littered this muir. After half an hour of constant walking, I perched on a handy rock to think.
When I smelled the smoke, I knew that all was not as it should be. As there was no house in the area, there were only two possibilities; either some careless person had set the heather on fire, or somebody was operating a whisky distillery. Of the two, the latter was more likely. At that time there was open warfare between the illicit whisky distillers and the Excisemen the length and breadth of the country. The tax on small-scale distilling was so high that only a very few could afford it, leading to hundreds, if not thousands, of illegal distilleries springing up. Most were in the Highlands, but we had our share in the Lowlands as well. Naturally, the government were opposed to this tax evasion, and employed a small army of officials, often backed by regular soldiers, to quell the trade.
I knew that some of these illegal distillers could be a little bit rough, so you will forgive me being cautious as I approached the source of the smoke. Now, you may be wondering why I did not turn away completely from any source of danger. Well, if the truth is told, I am generally not an inquisitive sort of woman, but I do like to know what is happening, especially in my own muir. Lifting the hem of my skirt away from the longest of the heather stems, I slowly approached the smoke, watching for the ankle-trapping peat holes that wait for the unwary.
The distillery was so cleverly hidden that I could not see it. All I could see was the drift of smoke above the heather. If I had not known Lammermuir, I might have believed the smoke was mere mist. Going down on all fours, I crawled closer, feeling for an opening.
'Who the devil are you?' The voice was nearly as unfriendly as the hard hand that grabbed my shoulder and yanked me upright.
I looked around, squirming in the man's grasp. 'I am Mary Hepburn,' I said, more chagrined at having been caught than afraid. 'Who are you?'
The man was of middle height, with an unshaven face and red-rimmed eyes. He was not in the slightest bit handsome. 'Mary Hepburn, are you? What are you doing snooping around here, Mary Hepburn?'
'I live around here.' I twisted in his grasp, trying to escape. I may as well have tried to fly to the clouds. 'You, however, do not.'
'What do you have there, Peter?' A second man joined the first. Younger but every bit as unkempt, he held a stout cudgel in his hand.
'A woman, Simmy.' Peter shook me, much as Gibby, our terrier, would shake a rat. 'I found her snooping around.' His broken-toothed smile was unpleasant.
'A woman?' Simmy came closer, tapping the cudgel in his left hand. 'What shall we do with her?'
'I've got some ideas on that,' Peter leered closer. His grip tightened. 'We could teach her to mind her own business.'
'Aye,' Simmy tucked his cudgel under his arm. 'We could.' I would put him at 28 or 30, a stocky, broad-shouldered man. 'Let me have her, Peter. I'll show her things she won't forget.'
Peter smiled again. 'We can both show her things she won't forget.' He pulled me closer, shaking again. 'Mary Hepburn is it?'
'There's lots of Hepburn's around here,' Simmy said. 'Too many blasted Hepburns.'
'I know a quiet spot where we can deal with this Hepburn,' Peter said. 'Nobody will disturb us there.'
Until that point, I had not been seriously alarmed. Now I had a notion of what they intended. 'Take your hands off me!' I tried to shake myself free. 'Let me go!'
'She's got spirit, this one.' Peter dragged me across the heather, with Simmy at his side, laughing high-pitched. 'I like a woman with spirit.'
'Let me go!' I swung an open-handed slap at Peter, catching him across his mouth.
Rather than obeying my command, Peter shook me again. 'You'll pay for that you little minx. By God, you will!'
'Who'll pay for what?'
My muir seemed crowded that day. I looked up at the new voice. The owner was a gentleman by his voice and appearance; a tall, long-faced man with his hair tied back in a neat queue under a silver-embossed tricorne hat. He stood on a small clump of heather, legs apart and hands on his hips, yet it was his eyes that attracted my immediate attention. You can tell a lot from a man's eyes. This gentleman's eyes were deep brown, fringed by lashes that any young woman would have been proud to own. At that minute they were focussed on me.
That initial image will be with me always.
'We found this woman snooping around, Captain Ferintosh.' Peter's suddenly humble voice reinforced my belief that the newcomer was a man of importance.
Captain Ferintosh? This man was either a ship's captain or an officer in the army. How romantic!
'Did you indeed?' Captain Ferintosh stepped down from his heather. He tapped Peter's arm with the cane he carried. 'Release her.'
Peter obeyed at once.
'Do you have a name, my Lady of Lammermuir?'
'I have, Captain Ferintosh.' I dropped into a passable curtsey, given the circumstances. 'I am Mary Hepburn.' I said no more, for I did not think it altogether wise to release my address when rough men such as Peter and Simmy were within hearing. The less they knew of me, the better.
'Miss Mary Hepburn.' My gallant captain met my curtsey with an elegant bow. 'I am glad to make your acquaintance, Miss Hepburn, although I would wish that the circumstances and company were somewhat better.' His smile revealed even white teeth.
'I think your arrival was extremely fortuitous, sir,' I said.
'You two.' Captain Ferintosh snapped at Peter and Simmy. 'Leave us!'
Simmy and Peter stepped back at once. I swear that Peter looked nervous.
I did not expect what happened next. Captain Ferintosh swung his cane, catching Peter a sound stroke across the shoulders. As Peter gasped, Captain Ferintosh pushed him backwards onto the heather. Simmy dodged the captain's next blow, unbalanced and fell face forward onto the ground. At once, Captain Ferintosh stepped forward, flicked up the tails of Simmy's coat and landed a smarting blow across Simmy's posterior.
'That's what you deserve for maltreating a lady,' Captain Ferintosh said, adding another in the same place as Simmy yelped and tried to wriggle away.
I could not describe my feelings as my gallant captain dealt so decisively with my erstwhile attackers. Surprise, undoubtedly, but also a measure of satisfaction as Captain Ferintosh landed a third stroke across Simmy's tight breeches before turning his attention to Peter. The two rogues retreated across the muir at some speed, with Captain Ferintosh administering his own brand of justice to help them on their way.
'I am sorry you had to witness that,' Captain Ferintosh returned with his cane under his arm and his eyes alight. 'I was not the most edifying sight for a lady to see, and I can see that you are undoubtedly a lady of breeding.' His wink was as unexpected as his boyish grin. 'Although, Miss Hepburn, I must admit to some perverse pleasure in dealing so with such rogues.'
'I shared your feelings, sir,' I tried to keep the laughter from my voice. I am sure Captain Ferintosh read it in my eyes. 'Thank you for rescuing me, Captain Ferintosh. It was worth my few moments of anxiety to witness such an entertaining sequel.'
'The pleasure was entirely my own,' Captain Ferintosh said. 'It is not often that one comes across a damsel in distress, especially not such a beautiful damsel as you.'
'I am anything but beautiful, sir,' I denied his words while simultaneously savouring them. Compliments were not frequent in the Hepburn household.
'You are misinformed, Miss Hepburn,' Captain Ferintosh hesitated slightly. 'It is Miss Hepburn is it not? Or has some fortunate gentleman already captured your heart and you are a Mrs?'
'It is Miss Hepburn,' I said. 'There is no gentleman, fortunate or otherwise.'
'In that case,' Captain Ferint
osh said, 'the gentlemen of East Lothian are sorely lacking in taste to allow such a charming lady as you to run free.' He bowed again.
'Their laxity is my good fortune, for if you had already been married; your husband would undoubtedly keep you secure in your boudoir, thus denying me the pleasure of your company.'
I stifled my smile and shook my head, quite enjoying this verbal exchange with such an eloquent gentleman. 'Sir, you have all the charm of a Frenchman, coupled with the boldness of a Crusading knight. The married lady's lack of freedom of which you speak persuades me not to seek a gentleman of my own.'
Captain Ferintosh's eyes sparkled as he heard my response. 'For shame, Miss Hepburn. You surely would not deny a gentleman your company for such a small matter.'
'Freedom is a noble thing, sir,' I tested the scholarship of this fascinating man.
'So said John Barbour,' Captain Ferintosh passed my little examination, proving himself to be more than a charming smile. 'Do you value your noble freedom, Lady Mary?'
I curtseyed in acknowledgement of this rapid promotion from Miss Hepburn to Lady Mary. 'I do, sir. I do like to walk abroad on the muir.'
Captain Ferintosh swished his cane. 'I am sure that an understanding husband would allow such freedoms,' he said. 'But he might advise you to carry a pistol.'
The suggestion was so unusual that for a moment I could not bring clever words to my mouth. 'Do women have such weapons, sir?'
Captain Ferintosh's smile vanished. 'If you were my lady, Miss Hepburn, I would ensure you carried such a weapon. I would not wish you to walk abroad in such a dangerous place as this stretch of moorland.' His eyes crinkled at the corner. 'However, I can only dream of having that gratification.'
I curtsied, not sure what to say although my mind was in a whirl. 'I have walked Lammermuir all my life, Captain, without danger until today.'
'There, then,' Captain Ferintosh said. 'I am being overly cautious for your safety.'
'I thank you for your concern, Captain.' I could not resist looking into his eyes. Those dark lashes were nearly feminine, yet he had already proved himself more than a match for two of the most disagreeable men I had ever met.
'Do you wish to continue your walk on the moor?' Captain Ferintosh did not use the local pronunciation. 'If you have no objections to my company I will happily accompany you wherever you wish to go.' He swished his cane. 'I can assure you that these two unpleasant gentlemen will not bother you when I am here.'
'I have no fears of my safety when I am in your company, Captain,' I said truthfully. I hesitated, torn between my desire to find out more about this man, and a realisation that it was growing late. Darkness fell early on the muir. I looked at Captain Ferintosh, wondering.
'You are asking yourself if you are safe with a strange man up here in the heather,' Captain Ferintosh may have read my mind.
'Am I safe?' I asked the direct question.
'Your reputation may not be safe,' Captain Ferintosh said gently. 'If you are seen with me, tongues may wag and inferences made.' He shook his head. 'We both know how minds work; people will see us together and make up stories to fuel their imaginations. Before we know where we are, what begins as a rumour will be accepted as a fact and there!' He swung his cane again. 'In the popular mind your reputation is in tatters, and no decent gentleman will be seen near you.' He smiled. 'The loss is entirely theirs.'
I laughed at his manner of speaking although I knew his observations were accurate. Or most of them. 'I am not sure if the gentlemen would rue the loss of my company.'
'Then more fool them,' Captain Ferintosh said. 'Any man who would not seek your company does not deserve the title of man.'
'You are too kind, sir.'
'You do not allow yourself sufficient credit, Miss Hepburn.' Captain Ferintosh said. 'Now, have you decided? Shall I escort you across the heather? Or have you had sufficient excitement for one day.'
I could not tell the captain that I wished more, much more, of his company. That would have been a most unladylike statement, however true. Instead, I sighed and looked upwards, where a wind dragged grey clouds across the sky like a servant drawing the curtains on the day.
'I fear I must return home,' I said.
'Then home is where you will return,' Captain Ferintosh bowed again. 'I shall escort you to a juncture that we both agree is safe.' His smile was as ready as ever. 'Do not fear, Miss Hepburn, 'I shall not allow anybody to see us together. Your reputation is as secure as your chastity.'
I did not say that at that moment I did not give a tinker's cuss for my reputation. Indeed, if people did begin to talk, then dull John Aitken would have no interest in me. I would be free to pursue my own pursuits… I looked sideways at Captain Ferintosh. Now I had a new quest, once I gathered my thoughts into some logical sequence.
'Thank you, Captain.' It felt strange to drop into a formal curtsey among knee-high heather, but everything about this meeting seemed queer. 'I live at Cauldneb, a few miles to the north on the fringe of the muir.'
Captain Ferintosh lifted his eyebrows as if in surprise. 'Cauldneb?' He shook his head. 'You must be Mr Andrew Hepburn's daughter.'
'I am all of that,' I agreed. 'Do you know my father, Captain? I feel sure he would have spoken of you.'
'I know of your father, Miss Hepburn. We have never met.'
'Then you must come home with me, Captain.' Suddenly I was wild to have my father meet this most interesting man. 'I will introduce you to each other. My father is the kindest man who ever lived, sir. You must like him. I will tell him that you saved me from these two…' I stopped, not sure if a lady should use the words that rushed to my lips.
'These two?' Captain Hepburn was teasing me, I am sure. 'These two what, Miss Hepburn? These two scoundrels perhaps? Blackguards? Rogues? Sorners?'
'Pick any of these terms sir,' I did not confess that I had a somewhat sterner name in mind. I was suddenly glad I had not spoken it.
'I will pick scoundrel,' Captain Ferintosh said. 'It is a word that a lady can safely use. Even the daughter of Mr Andrew Hepburn of Cauldneb.'
'I will tell Father that you saved me from these two scoundrels.' I swung my arm, imitating the captain's movements with his cane.
Captain Ferintosh smiled. 'I am sure you would introduce me splendidly. However, I will leave you at the edge of your father's policies.'
'I would like to introduce you,' I said. 'You did save me.'
'Not today, Miss Hepburn.' Captain Ferintosh shook his head. 'I may meet your father some time.'
I could not shake that man. I rather liked his stubbornness. I did not want a man who would bend to my every whim. A man should be strong as well as kind.
What was I thinking? I had only met Captain Ferintosh once, in unique circumstances. He was not my man and never would be.
We parted company at a five-barred gate at the dry-stane dyke that marked the southern boundary of father's policies. Within the dyke, all was farmed and secure. Without was the heather of the muir. I hesitated on the border, unsure on which side of the dyke I belonged; was I a Muir-woman or was I settled and secure?
'Fare ye well,' Captain Ferintosh said.
I faced him, looking directly into those marvellous eyes. I wanted to say, 'until we meet again,' but that would have been tempting fate. Not sure what to say, I curtseyed.
'Thank you, Captain,' I managed at last.
He nodded, turned and walked away. I watched him stride up the slope into the muir, hoping he would turn. Not until he was little more than a speck did he do so, raised his hand in salute and disappeared.
Chapter Two
Only when I lay in bed did I realise that Simmy and Peter had immediately known Captain Ferintosh. That must mean the captain was famous in certain circles, if certainly not my own. I had not asked anything about the captain; I had not even asked which ship he commanded or which regiment he served in. Nor did I know why he happened to be on Lammermuir that day. There was so much about Captain Ferintosh that I did
not know.
I hugged myself as I remembered his dark eyes and the manner in which his mouth curled as he smiled. I recalled my feelings of satisfaction as Captain Ferintosh's cane curled around Simmy's rump; I had not known that side of me. It stirred something dark I knew I must explore, albeit within the private corners of my mind. There were other feelings too, which will keep to myself. I resolved to find out more about the mysterious Captain Ferintosh, such as why he had been so reluctant to meet my father.
I knew the two of them would soon be the most amiable of companions, once I introduced them. I smiled as I thought of them discussing the latest developments in farming, or shooting pheasants or partridge in the fields. I had not asked Captain Ferintosh if he was a sportsman. I was sure he was; he had that rugged, outside look about him, yet without the heavy lumpishness that so many farmers have.
Life had opened a new door for me, one that exposed a bright, exciting room into which I fully intended to step. I sighed as Mother's mention of John Aitken returned to the forefront of my mind. No, I told myself. I was not interested in staid John Aitken. I had another, much more interesting man in my life now, a dark, mysterious, romantic man who had already demonstrated his chivalry. I smiled, pulled my pillow close and allowed myself the most delicious thoughts that I certainly will not share on the pages of this journal.
'Well, Mary,' Mother spoke across the width of the breakfast table next morning. Father did not speak. Father was alternately reading the newspaper and studying details of the court cases he would be dealing with today. I have not yet told you that my father was the local Justice of the Peace, dealing with the petty cases that crop up in every rural community.
'Well, Mother,' I was not sure what else to say.
'You are one day closer to meeting Mr John Aitken.' Mother never missed an opportunity to press her case. You will know the expression 'like a dog with a bone.' Mother was like that; if she had something in her mind she would speak about it endlessly until her victim; usually me or Father was too worn down by the constant verbal and emotional barrage to put up any more resistance.
The Name Of Love (Lowland Romance Book 4) Page 2
