by Aileen Adams
Alasdair said nothing for several moments. “It also needs some repairs, but I will worry about that.”
His footsteps moved down the hallway back toward the main room. She followed, albeit at a slower pace.
“There’s an upstairs,” he said.
Upstairs? She didn’t recall an upstairs.
“A set of wood steps… rotted in several places, but I looked up there yesterday. There’s a small space with the slanting roof over it. A short wooden railing separates the length of it in half… Looks like it’s been used for storage. Elspeth can stay up there if she wants. If she doesn’t, she can stay at her cottage and ride over here when ye need her.”
She said nothing. Would Elspeth mind sleeping in a small, stuffy nook under the roof? She was used to her own home, her own space, the master of her own actions. Living with her and Alasdair, she wouldn’t have the privacy she enjoyed now…
“I will bring some furniture here from my father’s house,” Alasdair mused. “Same with the farming equipment. Only to make some repairs that yer father or perhaps the previous dweller began…”
She said nothing but nodded, suddenly feeling more self-conscious than she had when standing beside Alasdair in front of the preacher. An awkward silence filled the space until Alasdair cleared his throat.
“Would ye like to take a short walk around the house, down to the lake? Get yer bearings?”
“Yes, thank ye,” Beitris said, pleasantly surprised by the courtesy. She was still surprised that he had let her explore the house on her own, hadn’t taken her elbow and guided her around the moment they stepped over the threshold like her father had that time years ago. Occasionally, Elspeth would gently clutch her elbow, warning her of something in her way, but Beitris knew her own home… her past home, and the yard so well that she navigated it without any trouble. The same for Elspeth’s small cottage and for the most part, the village.
Still, Alasdair didn’t know her, didn’t know that she preferred to be as independent as possible, preferred not to rely on others to guide her around or do things for her. She appreciated his standing back and letting her explore her new home without intrusion, although she doubted that it was simply out of courtesy. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to. Maybe he had wanted to see if she would walk into a wall, stumble over her feet, maybe even fall.
She realized she wasn’t being fair, but she couldn’t help it. She still couldn’t understand why he had agreed to marry her, in spite of the contract between his father and hers. He could have refused. A man like Alasdair wouldna care one whit what people thought of him. Who would want to marry a blind woman? Even if Alasdair was scarred, it couldn’t be that bad, could it? He still had the use of his hands, his feet, his eyes, and yet he was now saddled with her. She tried not to feel sorry for herself, but at times, she did succumb to moments of self-pity. This being one of them.
Once again, Alasdair took her hand and placed it on his forearm. He walked perhaps twenty paces from the front door and paused. She heard his horse blowing impatiently off to the right as he described everything in this direction, turned a quarter turn, and repeated the process for each direction. Finally, facing east, he told her they were heading for the lake and to count her steps. By the time she heard the gentle lapping of water against the shoreline, she realized he had only been off his estimation by fifteen steps. She felt the soft breeze on her face, enjoying the sound of the water, and off in the distance to the left, a squawk of geese. She smiled.
“Ye hear the geese… greylag geese,” he said. “Off to the right and a little farther out is a flock of wigeons, medium-sized ducks. They have small heads. The head and neck of the males are a light brown or chestnut color, but their foreheads are a yellowish color, and their bodies grey. One is taking off now. They have white bellies… probably good fishing here. Ye like fish? Likely plenty of brown trout in that late, maybe some pike, perhaps even greyling, or perch. We shall have to find out, won’t we?”
She turned to him. “Ye’d take me out on the lake fishing?”
“Aye,” he said. “After ye learn how to swim though, and not before. Ye can cook fish?”
She nodded. She had learned how to clean fish and had fried them since she was a child. “I’m a good cook. At least my father thinks so.”
Alasdair said nothing as they continued to stand by the shore. He let go of her arm, and she heard the sound of pebbles shifting near her feet. A few seconds later, movement, fabric brushing against fabric, and then she heard the gentle plop, plop, plop of a stone skipping across the surface of the water.
She frowned in surprise. She had never even considered that Alasdair might have a playful bone in his body. She grinned up at him and held out her hand. He said nothing, but a moment later, she felt a smooth, flat stone placed in her palm. Tilting her head and turning a bit sideways, she listened, oriented herself, and then her arm swung back and then snapped forward. Plop, plop, plop, plop.
Alasdair chuckled. “Impressive.”
She nodded and turned her face toward his voice. “I’ll venture to say that I can do a lot of things that would surprise ye,” she said.
“I dinna know how to be a husband.”
The words were unexpected, once again surprising Beitris. This man with a reputation for being so arrogant, so… well, he kept surprising her.
She offered a slight shrug. “I dinna know how to be a wife, either.”
They said nothing for several moments, just standing side by side, a brief yet shared camaraderie between them.
“I know that Elspeth doesn’t trust me to provide for ye, to care for ye.”
“Elspeth… She can prove slow in trusting people,” Beitris admitted. “But she’s loyal and kind, doesn’t treat me like… like I am less than any other woman.” She turned her face toward the lake, where the shadows and her vision were a bit lighter, wavering a bit more. She felt the sun on her face, the breeze in her hair, the aroma of the water, a cluster of cattails and reeds growing nearby. “I’ll try not to be a burden to ye, Alasdair,” she said simply. She meant it.
He grunted, and then, without a word, clasped her hand and placed it once again on his forearm. Before he took a step, she placed her hand over his and removed it from her arm. “Ye lead the way. I’ll follow ye.”
11
Alasdair loaded the sack of flour and a few household goods into the back of his small wagon, laying the smaller supplies on top of the sacks of grain for his horse and seeds for planting. His new property at the edge of the moor by the lake was coming along nicely, especially after the few hard weeks of labor he’d put into it. He’d replaced the chinking along the interior and exterior of the stone house, replaced some of the wood timbers inside, re-thatched several sections of the roof, and had even cleared a narrow path for Beitris so she could roam from the house down to the edge of the lake without getting lost or hurt.
Thoughts of Beitris gave him pause. As he brought furniture from his father’s house to their new home, Beitris and Elspeth had also been busy turning the structure into a home. He couldn’t deny that the cold, drafty stone house was now a welcoming, warm, and cozy domicile.
Elspeth had stated that, at least for now, she would prefer to remain by Beitris’s side, helping her adapt and adjust to her new home, its surroundings, and her transition into wifehood, whatever that meant. He and Elspeth had come to a truce of sorts, one that involved basically ignoring one another. Alasdair often felt Elspeth’s disapproving glare boring into his back, and he would turn, lift an eyebrow, inviting her to say something, to speak her mind, but when she was around Beitris, she never did.
Alasdair had no doubt that Beitris felt the tension between her best friend and her new husband, as he often found her sitting very still, her head tilted at that unique angle that let him know she could hear everything, sensing everything going on around her. Truth be told, Alasdair was quite impressed with Beitris and her ability to adapt. On numerous occasions when by himself, he had closed his eye
s and tried to navigate the house, the shoreline of the lake, and even out in the fields, but he couldn’t endure the darkness for more than a few moments. Was it the same for her? From what he remembered, Beitris had not been born blind. She had gotten sick as a toddler or very young child. Did she even remember being able to see?
He had asked Elspeth one morning as she gathered eggs from the small lean-to he had devised as a temporary henhouse. Elspeth had brought her small flock of chickens and her rooster to the stone house, and he had accepted them. Alasdair sensed that Elspeth didn’t want to come to the house empty-handed. While at first, he had felt put out, angry and frustrated by Elspeth’s presence, he couldn’t deny the affection between the two women. It was as if they knew each other’s thoughts, Beitris often finishing Elspeth’s sentences, or Elspeth getting something for Beitris before she even asked for it or, perhaps even before she realized she needed it.
Once the ladies had put the household together, arranged furniture, kitchen supplies, and bedding where Beitris wanted it, Beitris had explored the house for hours, touching this, feeling the contours of that, memorizing where everything was situated. Even though she hadn’t needed to, Elspeth cautioned Alasdair against moving things without letting Beitris know. He had grumbled back at her, stating that he didn’t need her to tell him that. He was no simpleton. She had merely smiled, lifted her chin, and turned away.
He’d been so busy making repairs and getting the farm ready for planting that he hadn’t had much time to spend alone with Beitris. For now, they slept in separate bedrooms, Alasdair taking the larger one, Beitris the smaller one. Maybe it was for the best. For his part, he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. He knew that their marriage wouldna be considered legally binding until it was consummated, but the thought of… No, he didn’t want to think that way.
He couldna deny that Beitris was a lovely woman with a figure that often had him watching her, reflective, wondering what it would be like to bed her, but their relationship was tenuous enough as it was. He didn’t want her frightened of him. He wanted her to feel more comfortable around him, and so far, she seemed perfectly content to keep a distance. When he did touch her hand, or she brushed up against him, he’d feel her stiffen, as if she abhorred him. He saw no reason for it, especially since she couldn’t gaze upon his disfigured face. He had sworn to himself that until she made the first move, hinted that she wanted more of their marriage, he would keep his distance. He was no novice when it came to courting women, although he’d never courted one seriously. He’d dallied with several women over the years, but none quite like Beitris.
He had learned a few things over the past couple of weeks about his new wife, not nearly as much as he wanted to know, but again, he strove for patience. She wasn’t exactly shy, but she rarely broached conversation. Most of the time, she and Elspeth sat quietly in front of the fireplace at night, Elspeth reading to her while Beitris would either sit quietly or work on sewing, mainly mending holes in shirts and socks, which his clothes had many. He found it fascinating to watch her as she used her fingers and a heightened sense of touch to feel along the holes or tears with care, judging the placement of her needle, making her stitches, checking with her fingers again, frowning in concentration. Of course, she couldn’t thread the needle, and left that for Elspeth. And when Elspeth left, when he and Beitris lived alone, as he knew that someday they would, who would thread the needles for his wife then? He figured that was another thing he would have to learn—in secret, of course.
Alasdair had never thought about a blind woman being able to sew, but she was quite adept at it. He’d learned other things about her too. She could cook. As long as she knew where the supplies were, used the same instruments for measuring, mixing, and cutting, one would never know she was blind.
The first time she had used a knife to slice carrots, he had stared in dismay, cringing every time the knife blade slashed downward. Elspeth had seen him, grinned, then nodded, reaffirming that her friend was perfectly capable. He watched as she touched the side of the blade to the end of whatever she was cutting, using her fingers to measure depth or thickness. Chop, chop, chop. Again, her sense of touch was exquisite, her fingers somehow connecting with her brain and whatever it was she saw in her mind or imagination as she cooked.
So, while he gradually grew to admire her capabilities, he also hesitated in trying to get more personal with her. Was it mere curiosity that drew him to her? What did he feel for her? That was the crux of the matter, and one that he didn’t want to delve into too deeply at this time. He needed—
“Alasdair!”
He turned and eyed the sheriff of the county, Colin Ramsey, as he approached. He frowned as the former Highland clan warrior originally from the northwest of the county walked closer, eyeing his face, barely bothering to hide his grimace. He rarely had dealings with the sheriff, had actually steered clear of the law for years, even before he joined the Jacobite movement and left home, trading his plow for his swords and mace. He offered a nod of greeting.
“Word is that ye married Beitris Boyd a few weeks back.”
Alasdair nodded again. He had wondered how long it would take for the news to make its way through town. Longer than he thought. He felt sure Elspeth or Beitris’s father would be announcing the news far and wide. Apparently not. He wondered about that. A purposely kept secret or nobody’s business?
The sheriff looked around, then eyed the supplies in the back of his wagon. “Can I talk to ye for a moment, Alasdair?”
Alasdair frowned and instinctively cast his gaze around also, following the lead of the sheriff. “Why?” he asked suspiciously.
The sheriff lowered his voice and stepped closer to Alasdair. “Ye and I have known each other since we were young, haven’t we, Alasdair?”
“Aye.” That much was true. While Alasdair and Colin had not exactly been what ye would call friends, they were acquaintances. When Colin had arrived in the village at seventeen years of age, the two of them had occasionally clashed and even engaged in fisticuffs a time or two. Since adulthood, however, both he and Colin had gone their own ways. Still, he had not changed much. The rounder planes of his face had slimmed and hardened over the years, his short and closely trimmed beard a deeper color than his hair, his dark green eyes still the same, though the wrinkles at the corners of them spoke of years of squinting into the sun as well as, perhaps, laughter. Colin had always had a good sense of humor when they were young, a prankster. As the sheriff now, Alasdair doubted he had much time for shenanigans.
It was only after he’d returned that he’d learned that Colin had become the sheriff of the county, that he too had been away for a few years fighting with clan relatives up north, that he also was a warrior, but this was before the time of the Jacobite rebellion. Alasdair didn’t want people asking him questions about his past, and he didn’t ask about Colin’s.
“Thought ye’d like to know that the English government has condoned the infiltration of agents throughout Scotland, and even into my county, looking for those who fought with Bonnie Prince Charlie. Just warning ye, Alasdair. If a few coins pass into the wrong person’s hands…”
Alasdair sighed with frustration. Would someone in the village give him away? Betray him to the English? Hadn’t he sacrificed enough already? He wanted to be left alone. His thoughts returned to the battlefield at Culloden and how the English soldiers had searched among the wounded, killing the rebels with apparent glee. He glanced at Colin. “How do ye know they’re in yer county?”
“Just rumors.” He shrugged. “But if they’re not here now, they may be here soon, passing through, asking questions. I just wanted to warn ye, Alasdair, to be on guard. Ye might want to avoid coming into town for a while, send someone else for supplies.”
Why was Colin warning him? He was an officer of the law. Then again, the law was often a questionable thing these days, with wavering loyalties, differing beliefs, both religious and political.
Alasdair nodded, thanked C
olin for the warning, and then finished loading his supplies and rode out of town. This might prove problematic. For now, he would do as Colin suggested with that thinly veiled warning of his.
By the time he reached the stone house on the edge of the moors, the sun had faded, casting the surface of the lake a glistening dark blue, the ducks and geese paddling to shore, some already nestled in the reeds and along the grassy banks of the shoreline, heads tucked under their feathers for the night. As he pulled the wagon into the yard, he saw Elspeth coming from the lake, carrying a bucket of sloshing water. She glanced at him and proceeded toward the front door until Alasdair stopped her.
“Elspeth, wait.”
Elspeth turned toward him with a frown. Alasdair gestured, and she placed the bucket on the ground and then approached the wagon.
“What is it?” she asked, searching his face.
She didn’t cringe at the sight of his scars, didn’t stare at them anymore. Her curiosity had been assuaged the day that she’d spent at the new house helping Beitris put it into some semblance of order as Alasdair carted furniture, bedding, and personal items from his father’s farm up here. If she saw the ugliness of the now healed—yet still puckered—scar tissue, she didn’t remark on it. Never had.
“Beitris needs the water,” she said, waiting impatiently, arms crossed over her chest.
Alasdair couldn’t help but shake his head at the implied belligerence, the open dislike she had toward him. He didn’t know why. Maybe because he had taken Beitris away from her? But he hadn’t, not really. She was here, wasn’t she?
“Elspeth, ye keep a close watch on Beitris for the next few days. Dinna let her go into the woods. Try not to stay out in the open more than necessary either.”
“Why?” Elspeth queried. “We need to gather herbs and flowers, not only for cooking, but for the medicine box. We have to prepare the garden for planting.” She stared up at Alasdair, searching his eyes. “What happened?”
