The Highlander’s Passion (Iron 0f The Highlands Series Book 3)

by Emilia Ferguson

She stared into his eyes and he felt as if his whole world came into balance. He looked away, feeling heat rush into his cheeks.

  “Och, lass,” he murmured.

  Her hand stayed where it was. He squeezed her fingers and felt his body contract with longing. He wanted to kiss her hand. He wanted to draw her into his arms, hold her to his chest and kiss her.

  She looked into his eyes and he felt flustered, as if she could see his desires, written in his face. He looked at the stones.

  “We should get back,” he murmured. “It’s getting colder.”

  “Aye.”

  When he looked up, she was still looking into his eyes. He felt his stomach twist and he had to fight the urge to push his lips against hers, plundering her mouth.

  She looked away. “We should go.”

  “Aye.”

  This time, they walked along the stones of the quayside, his hand loose at his side. Her fingers brushed against his, then she moved her hand.

  Sighing, he followed her as they moved down the streets, back towards her home.

  “Take care, lass,” he whispered.

  She frowned up at him. They were outside her home, the street lit palely by the light falling through the chink in the shutters where, another lifetime ago, this morning, he had espied her.

  “Why do you say that?” she frowned.

  He shrugged. “I don’t ken,” he said. “Just…I was worried about you.”

  “Worried?”

  “Never mind,” he blushed. “Just take care. Goodnight, lass.”

  “Goodnight,” she whispered. “Stay well.”

  He watched her turn around and go in through the door and then, as he was about to turn away, she turned, and her blue eyes looked into his. She lifted a hand.

  “Goodnight, lass,” he murmured. He waved to her and then turned away, wondering why there was a strange pressure in his chest.

  He went swiftly to the end of the alley and when he turned away again, the house had been swallowed by the mists.

  The clock had chimed five when she left the inn. He really ought to hurry, if he was to get back to the appointed meeting place by seven of the clock. He rushed through the darkening quay, heading to the gate.

  Getting out proved easier than getting in – the path was filled with people of all descriptions – carters, merchants, tailors. He slipped out in the middle of the crowd without any heed being paid to him.

  In the woodlands again, he found his mind returning to the moment when Miss McCarrick had slipped and he’d gripped her wrist, helping her up. He recalled how slender her arm was, how her skin felt under his touch. He remembered the way she looked up at him, their eyes touching like a caress.

  “Whist, ye scalawag,” he told himself sharply. He had no business getting attached to a lass in the town. Tomorrow or the day after, he’d be far gone. Then he’d have to admit to the fact that he’d probably never return to Leith.

  He was surprised by how upsetting a thought that was. He felt almost pained, and was surprised, when, as he reached the meeting place, he was in low spirits indeed.

  MORNING AT A MARKET

  “Hey, lad,” his friend Camden sat down beside him as they settled down for the evening. “What’s bothering ye? We made progress, and your news was the most important.”

  Everett pulled his cloak about him and turned away. He didn’t want to discuss his feelings with Camden. He felt foolish enough as it was, without having to tell anyone.

  “It’s her?” his friend asked.

  Everett spun around to face him, anger rising inside him like flames. “Who said that’s what it was?”

  Camden just raised one shoulder elaborately. “Nobody said. I guessed.”

  Everett felt his annoyance die down. He was glad of company, despite his deep discomfort at discussing his emotions. “It was,” he admitted. “I don’t want tae leave. Not yet. Not 'afore…” he sighed. What did he want to wait for? He had no idea. All he knew was that he wanted to see her again.

  “Why should we leave?”

  Everett turned to face him. “What do ye mean?”

  Camden looked at him mildly. “Why should we not stay here a while? We’ve not found out half of what we wanted to yet. There’s no reason not to camp here another week.”

  “Besides if somebody sets the guard on us, there’s not.” Everett muttered sourly.

  “Yes. Besides that.”

  They looked at each other. Everett shook his head, wishing he could shake this uncharacteristic dolefulness. He was usually full of life! Where had it gotten to?

  “I don’t reckon that’s going to happen,” he admitted, breathing out. “Why would it?”

  Camden shrugged. “Better safe than sorry, I reckon. But, if we move about, who could find us? We can change camp tomorrow.”

  Everett nodded. “I reckon so.”

  Camden grinned at him. “Well, then? Why are ye sitting there like somebody shot an arrow through yer foot?”

  Everett made a face. “Don’t joke,” he said. He grinned. “Fine – I am a bit sorry for myself, aren’t I?”

  “Will you two go tae sleep?” Lewes called crossly from where he lay on his side, his cloak pulled around his body.

  Everett and Camden looked at each other. Everett tried not to laugh. Camden grinned. He spread his cloak out over himself and lay down. To his surprise, he feel asleep even faster than usual.

  The next morning, Camden made an announcement. “We’re going to the market.”

  Lewes dropped his spoon in his oats. “Are ye daft?”

  Camden grinned again. “Yes. But my idea is sound, even if I am daft. We need provisions. And it’s easier for us to move undetected in a group. So, I say we all go together.”

  “I agree.”

  Lewes looked from Everett to Camden, clearly annoyed. “You two might include me instead of just talking to each other. You’re not doing this all by yourselves, you know. Whatever you think.”

  Everett shrugged. “We didn’t. I just think it’s a clever plan, and so I said so.”

  “You two think you’re so canny,” Lewes sneered. “You make all the decisions yourselves and leave me out. I reckon I’m a better leader than the both of you put together.”

  “That’s enough of that!” Camden said sharply. “Nobody’s fighting anybody here. We’re all on the same side! Remember that.”

  “Thank you, Camden,” Everett replied.

  Lewes glared at him, but went back to eating his porridge. Everett studied Lewes thoughtfully. Who would have guessed he held so much resentment? He looked up and caught Camden as he also glanced at Lewes. He was evidently thinking much the same thing, but he, too, wasn’t going to speak until he’d gone.

  They ate in strained silence until Lewes, finishing first, went to wash his dishes in the river. He glared at them both and walked off, seeming embarrassed by his earlier outburst.

  “There’s a grand piece of work,” Everett whispered to Camden, as soon as he was out of earshot.

  Camden nodded. “Aye. I would never have guessed he had that much ambition in him.”

  “Nor would I have,” Everett agreed grimly.

  In his mind, a picture was forming. Those men who had attacked him in the alley – might Lewes have a part in it? He didn’t know how to raise the topic with Camden, so he waited for him to add to the topic.

  Camden said nothing, just poked the fire.

  “Why did you suggest that?” he asked Camden. “I mean, visiting the market? The real reason?”

  Camden grinned. “Why not? Markets are a good place to go. And besides, you might find gifts for a particular lass?”

  Everett stared. “Camden! How…what made ye think that I…” He was speechless.

  Camden laughed. “It’s not witchcraft,” he demurred. “Lad, I’m five years older than ye. I know a bit about courting lasses.”

  Everett chuckled. “Alright,” he agreed. “And, as you say, we do need provisions if we’re to be staying here for any
longer.”

  “We do.”

  They went into town after breakfast. For disguises – lest any of them have attracted attention from the authorities – they wore their cloaks, the hoods pulled down. They also swapped cloaks, since they were all different heights and it made it that much less likely they’d be recognized. Everett wore Camden’s cloak. He regretted having loaned his to Lewes – he wouldn’t be surprised if the fellow lost it on purpose, or ruined it just to spite him – but what could he do about it?

  They went in through the gate.

  In Leith, the market was in full swing. A man played drums, another accompanying him on a wooden flute. The music pulsed and swelled through the market stalls. The scent of spices mingled with the smell of ale and the sounds of people haggling.

  “Spices!” a merchant yelled. “Fresh from the Orient!”

  “See my fine cloth!” somebody else shouted.

  It’s not likely to be fresh from the Orient, Everett thought with an amused smile. A voyage to India could take two years, there and back.

  Everett looked for Camden, but his friend had already gone. They’d agreed to go back through the gate after midday, so he wasn’t particularly concerned. He strolled past the stalls, aware of the silver coin in his hand and looking for items a lass would fancy. He noticed Lewes at the stall of an ironmonger, checking a knife for sharpness.

  There’s a piece of work, he thought. He meant Lewes. He watched him a moment, the fellow’s sullen words coming back to him as he looked up and, seeing Everett, shot him a sour glance.

  Everett raised a brow, then turned away, heading to another stall. He couldn’t stop thinking about Lewes’ comment about the leadership. Was it just possible that he hated Everett enough to try and kill him? Was that the explanation for the thugs who had attacked him?

  “That’s daft, lad,” he told himself. He headed on to the next stall.

  “Ribbons!” a stallholder called. “Pure silk ribbons.”

  Everett found his eye drawn to the stall. It looked like all the colors he could imagine, brightened and brought together. Scarlet vied with blue, clashing cheerfully with gold. All the ribbons swayed in dizzying unison as the wind blew through the stand.

  “How much is the blue?”

  “This one?” the woman asked, grinning at him. “That’s not blue.”

  “What color is it, then?” Everett asked rudely.

  She chuckled. “It’s lavender.”

  He sighed. “If you say so. I like it. How much?”

  She grinned. “Sixpence.”

  Everett went pale. That was half the money he had with him! Could he really afford to spend it on a single gift? He suddenly had a flash of Miss McCarrick’s face in front of him and held out the silver coin.

  “I’ll want sixpence back,” he said.

  The woman laughed as if the most amusing thing anyone had said was suggesting she’d keep their change, then handed him the ribbon and a coin.

  “Come back soon,” she said. “I’m getting more stock.”

  “Thanks,” Everett said, feeling silly. He put the little package – she’d wrapped the ribbon in a cloth scrap for safekeeping – into his money bag and returned it to where it hung at his waist. Then, keeping a careful eye on it, he headed on through the crowded marketplace.

  His stomach rumbled as he walked past a stall of baked goods. He felt in his pocket for the sixpence and bought a few loaves, which he wrapped in a square of cloth and strapped to the staff he carried. He didn’t want his friends to starve, for all that he’d spent half his cash on a silly ribbon.

  He was at the other side of the market soon enough. A thought occurred to him, as he looked around. This place seemed familiar. He wondered if he would have time to swiftly pass by Miss McCarrick’s home and give her his present?

  He slipped away down the street he recognized.

  As he neared the end, he felt suddenly awkward. He couldn’t have said what it was, exactly, but something felt badly wrong, as if he was being followed. He had a peculiar sensation, like eyes boring into his back. He turned around, heart thumping.

  The street seemed empty. The mist was starting to come in off the sea, making it difficult to see the end of the alley, but as far as he could tell, he was alone here. He shrugged off the discomfort.

  “You’re imagining things.”

  He cast a last look around the alley, then headed toward the far end. As he did he heard the distinct sound of a booted foot, crunching on pebbles. He turned around swiftly.

  “Who’s there?”

  The street was silent. He narrowed his eyes, looking into the shadows, but he couldn’t see anybody hiding. He quickened his pace, heading to the other end of the street as fast as possible.

  “That’s enough,” a voice shouted. Something – a stick of some sort – hit him hard on the back of the head and he whirled round, instinct making him strike out at the cloaked figure who stood there.

  The man shouted and then a fist slammed into his chest, making him gasp. Somebody else kicked him and his one leg bent awkwardly, making him grab onto the man before him. He felt the man stumble, and used the advantage to strike a blow at his head, whirling to keep his own balance. In his shock, he’d dropped his parcel and the stick on which he’d fastened it. That left him armed with nothing. A man kicked him and he stumbled to his knees.

  Soon, he was being kicked and struck as three men attacked him from all sides. Struggling upright, he gritted his teeth and sucked in a breath and curled his arm about his head to protect himself. He grabbed a man’s ankle and twisted, making him crash down onto the stone. Then, howling, he launched himself forward.

  “Stop!” a voice cried out. “Leave him be.”

  Everett struggled onto one knee, whirling around as a watchman shouted at the group.

  “That’s enough!” the watchman shouted. “Off with ye. Leave a beggar man tae his misery.”

  Everett coughed. His ribs felt as if at least one of them might be broken, and he couldn’t feel his left foot. He rolled over and sat up. The guard shrugged.

  “Best get on your way,” the man said firmly. “Bunch o’ scoundrels. They’ll not go far.”

  “Thanks,” Everett choked, then spat out a gobbet of phlegm. He struggled onto his feet, leaning on the wall as the world throbbed and wavered.

  “Best get on your way,” the guard urged. “I can take ye as far as the end of the street.”

  “Thanks,” Everett wheezed. He leaned on the guard’s arm and they went to the end of the road. His right knee was swollen and aching, his whole weight having crashed it down into the paving stones when he fell. He had no idea if anything was cracked. He limped to the end of the street, then turned around.

  “Thanks,” he said. “I might be dead, if ye had nae called those scoundrels off.”

  The guard shrugged. “It’s my job. But, if you’re sensible, you’ll get out of town fast.”

  Everett frowned. “Why?”

  “That lot aren’t thugs,” he advised. “They work for…let me say…a prominent member of the community.”

  Everett frowned at him. “You mean, a laird?”

  The guard just looked awkward. “Best stay out of town,” he repeated.

  Everett wanted to ask him more, but he was already going back into the darkening alley.

  He winced and limped to the end of the road, then stopped, trying to gather his racing thoughts. What was going on?

  “Bollocks. Did I offend somebody?”

  He frowned. He could have offended anybody that day he started a riot. However, if it was because of his treachery, why hadn’t whoever it was simply turned him in? It would have suited them better to see him executed as a traitor than have him attacked in a dark alley, and it would have kept whoever it was out of illicit dealings.

  “It wasn’t then, clearly.”

  He closed his eyes. He felt bruised all over. His vision blurred and he still found it hard to breathe. He didn’t think they had bro
ken any ribs, but they had certainly caused enough other damage. He heaved in a breath and made himself walk out of the street and back toward the marketplace.

  He met up with Camden outside the town wall.

  “Good day?” Camden asked.

  Everett scowled. “Look at me.”

  Camden leaned towards him, a hesitant grin on his face. He stared.

  “What happened, lad? You’re a mess.”

  Everett nodded. “I got set upon.”

  “Thugs?” Camden sounded horrified. “But why? And where?”

  Everett shook his head. “In an alley. And I don’t ken why. I did not have anything worth stealing.”

  Camden frowned. “That’s strange.”

  “It is,” Everett agreed.

  They were joined a moment later by Lewes, who was carrying a bag of milled oats. “Blast you lot,” he grumbled. “Why do I get the heaviest goods?”

  “Because we got sense,” Camden said cheerfully. “That’s why you bought the porridge.”

  They all laughed, and Lewes had to join in, though his smile soon slipped from his face again.

  “Did ye get a look at the thugs?”

  Everett shook his head. “It was dark. One of them was tall. I thought one of them had a badge on his tunic, but I couldn’t really see.”

  “A badge?”

  “Aye. Like a mark of some sort. Like they worked for a rich man.”

  His friend whistled. “You have fine enemies!”

  Everett laughed sourly. “Well, that’s one good thing, I suppose.”

  Camden grinned. “I’m not the sort of person a noble would even notice…congratulations.”

  “I’m glad you’re here.”

  Camden laughed. “So am I. It takes all my brain to keep up with ye. It’s a grand distraction from my own worries.”

  Everett chuckled. “Well, I am glad you’re using your brain, at least. I’m not sure as I’ve been using mine.”

  “I noticed.”

  Everett pushed him playfully and Camden pushed him back. They were laughing as they entered the tree line.

  “Hey! Lewes!” Camden yelled. “I’ll carry that bag, if you’ll fix my boots?”

  Lewes turned around and shot them a murderous look, and Camden laughed.