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

by Emilia Ferguson

She rolled over and stroked his hair. “Breakfast?”

  He laughed. “I suppose. Myself, I could stay in here all day. I suppose we ought to make provision to get you home.”

  At the mention of home, her eyes darkened. He frowned.

  “What, lass?”

  “We should go and get breakfast,” she said and stood up, turning her back to go over to the window.

  He smiled mildly and pushed his worry to one side. After all, this was their first morning together. He was not about to spoil it with trying to coax secrets out of her which she did not wish to give.

  The dining room was full and relatively quiet, and he found a table near the window. She sat down opposite him and there was suddenly nothing in the room, for him, but her face and eyes. He smiled at her and she smiled back, taking his breath.

  The innkeeper’s wife appeared and Everett gestured to her, beaming on her with all his happiness. She gave him an odd look.

  “Breakfast, please?” Everett said warmly.

  “Aye,” she said, and hurried off into the kitchen.

  “At least she’s going tae feed us,” Everett observed mildly.

  As they ate, they discussed their plans. Seonaid mentioned, carefully, that going directly to Leith did not seem a good idea to her.

  “I think we should go to Edinburgh first,” she said carefully. “There’s somebody there whose help we need. We still don’t know who those brigands were.”

  “Aye,” Everett nodded. “Well, if you think this friend of yours can help…” he began hesitatingly.

  “I know he can,” Seonaid said firmly. “Should we go to the docks?”

  He nodded. “Aye.”

  “Any barges running upriver today?” Seonaid approached three sailors out on the docks.

  The sailors stared at her. One of them had a mix of amazement and outright hostility on his face and Everett felt his hands clench into fists.

  “Barge coming through round twelve of the clock,” one of them muttered. “Our Lachlan’s going on it.”

  Seonaid nodded. “Thank you,” she said politely.

  The three men stared at her. Everett felt his need to hit one of them almost like a physical urge. “She said thank ye,” he muttered.

  The three men gave him murderous glances and Seonaid laid a hand on his arm, leading him back towards the quayside.

  “Whist, lad,” she whispered. “We don’t want enemies.”

  “I ken,” he whispered. “I just…I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”

  Seonaid shook her head. “What matters it?” she asked gently. “They won’t be able to do us any harm.”

  “I ken,” he muttered again. He glanced back over at the other men. One of them was looking over at them. He made his arm relax, but his hand was already curling to form a fist. He knew that those men meant trouble.

  Seonaid started to walk back along the docks, and he followed her.

  “We might as well stay inside until this rain clears,” She murmured. “We have until twelve o’ clock before the boat arrives.”

  He nodded. “What shall we do?”

  She grinned. “Do ye ken any games?”

  He felt his lips lift in a smile. “Games? Like, for wee children?”

  She chuckled. “Not just for wee children! Father and I play games sometimes, of an evening. Simple things, with counters on a board.”

  “We don’t have counters, or a board,” he observed.

  She smiled. “Maybe not. But we have pebbles and we can manage well with those.”

  At the table in the parlor, she taught him the rudiments of a game. They laid out the pebbles – six each side – and the object was to cross the table and take as many counters of the other player as you could. She told him the rules – how many moves he could make, where he was allowed to move – and he tried as best he could.

  By eleven o’ clock they were still deeply engrossed. The counters lay mostly on her side, and they had their heads bowed over the table top.

  “Barge coming in,” the innkeeper’s wife observed mildly.

  Everett jumped up, knocking some counters off the board. Seonaid laughed.

  “It’s alright, really,” she chuckled. “We still have time.”

  He nodded. “I had no idea it was so late.”

  “See?” she said warmly. “It’s fun to play things.”

  He grinned. “I always have fun when I’m with you.”

  Her smile lit his heart and together they hurried down, laughing, to the quay.

  “Fare for passage,” the captain said as they went up the gang plank onto the barge. They looked at each other. Everett felt his heart sink into his boots as he saw Seonaid’s distraught face, but he had an idea.

  “I can work my passage,” he said. “My wife and I need to see her father, who is unwell.”

  Seonaid shot him a look, but nodded. He waited, feeling as if his heart was beating fit to bust his chest.

  “Very well,” the captain said.

  Everett nodded. “Thanks, sir.”

  “Mind ye can get on with the rest of the crew,” he said pointedly. “I’ll not have fighting sailors.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  He held out a hand to help Seonaid onto the plank, but she walked up with little need of help. As he went to join the rest of the sailors, he felt a strange sensation down his shoulders. A shiver as if somebody was watching him. He caught sight of Lachlan, the man from the docks. He was looking at him bitterly from across the deck.

  “You think you can take whatever you want,” he hissed as Everett passed.

  Everett frowned at him. “I think I’m a free man,” he said, shrugging. “Why shouldn’t I?”

  The man’s posture stiffened and Everett felt his own fists rise. Another sailor stepped between them sternly.

  “You heard the captain! No fights.”

  The other man, Lachlan, spat on the deck angrily. Everett made himself walk away, though he quickly turned back, keeping an eye on the big man.

  Why is he so set for a fight?

  He searched his brain, trying to figure out where he knew the man from. Suddenly, a memory came to him of the dark rain-soaked alley. Men kicking and punching him, and one man, with rounded, rippling shoulders, striking him in the kidneys as he fell.

  He was one of them!

  He went immediately back along the deck to find Seonaid. She was leaning against the side of the barge, looking up at the clouds.

  “Lass?” he whispered.

  She looked slightly vexed at him for disrupting her. “What is it?”

  “That man,” he whispered, pointing across the deck. “Lachlan. I know where we know him from.”

  “Yes?”

  “He was one of those men in the alley. The ones who attacked us. What should we do?”

  “Oh.” She glanced across at Lachlan, studying him carefully. Then she frowned. “Alone, I doubt he’ll attack anybody. But we should avoid him. Especially you. I’m quite safe where I am.”

  He frowned. “Take care, lass.”

  She smiled. “I was perfectly capable before I met you,” she said softly. “I trust I can keep out of the way of a bully for a few hours.”

  “Aye. Sorry,” he whispered, feeling silly.

  “Eh, landlubber!” the big sailor who’d interspersed himself between Everett and his opponent called. “Haul that tack.”

  Everett glanced overhead, where a rope was swinging loose from the sail. “You want to angle it, aye?” he called back. “Get it pointing into the wind?”

  The sailor grinned. “Aye. The landlubber knows sommat about sails, aye?” he sounded surprised. “Well, then. Off you go.”

  Everett nodded and, feeling sick, performed the duty he hated most and scrabbled up the mast to secure the loose rope. Seonaid was leaning on the rail. The captain was nearby, and, in the corner of the deck, mop in hand, Lachlan stood, watching her. His face was dark with hate.

  He half-fell the last six feet and stumbled to
regain his footing, then hurried over to where the others were cleaning the deck.

  “Can I help?”

  Three pairs of eyes looked at him. Lachlan looked at him with open hostility. One of them wordlessly passed him a brush. He bent down and started scrubbing.

  “Hey!” The voice of the captain cut through his focused trance as he hauled the scrubbing brush over the boards, scrubbing for hours. “Hey! You! The lad bound for Edinburgh?”

  Everett dropped the brush and squinted at him, wiping sweat-soaked hair back from one eye. “Aye?”

  “We’re making landfall,” the captain murmured. “You need to get off.”

  “Thanks.” He stood, wincing as his back cracked. As he walked away, Lachlan, still busy with the mop, hissed a comment.

  “You’ll no’ get away next time.”

  Everett whirled around to face him, but Seonaid was walking over to join him, a hesitant and lovely expression on her face, and suddenly all he cared about was her.

  “Are we going?”

  “Aye,” he nodded.

  They walked off the gang plank together.

  A PLACE TO STAY

  “I think I know where we should go,” she whispered.

  “Oh?” Everett frowned. The town was desperately foreign to him and, even here on the quay, he felt terribly out of place.

  “Aye. A friend of my father’s lives in the merchant’s quarters.”

  “Oh?” Everett swallowed hard. The merchants were well-established, wealthy folk, completely unlike his own background. He was going to feel desperately uncomfortable he knew.

  “His name’s Murray Langton. He’s a grand person. You’ll be very welcome.”

  “Thanks,” Everett almost whispered.

  Seonaid looked up at him, grinning as she laced her arm through his. “It’s alright,” she said gently. “You’re the finest lad I ever saw. Murray will like you as much as I do.”

  “Thanks,” Everett whispered, touched that she at least guessed at his worry. They headed down the fine-looking street, past people clad in all manner of fine fabrics. Everett, a youth from a Highland croft, had never seen anything as expansive as this place.

  They were on a wide cobbled road, lined with stone houses that were, all of them, more than one floor in height. The road was wide enough for carts to pass, and yet there were no carts, only a constant stream of people passing the booths that were set up with wares. A lady in a cloth-of-gold dress drifted past, clutching a nosegay – a small posy of fragrant herbs to keep out the smell of the street. She was flanked by guards in liveried tunics. A man rode up the street, a flat cap on his head, embellished with a feather.

  “Fine silver!” somebody called out from a stall.

  “Ribbons! All colors, all finely woven!”

  Everett felt his head starting to spin. He looked across at Seonaid, who had a massive grin on her face and was looking around, bright-eyed. He made himself calm down. If she was enjoying it, it couldn’t be dangerous.

  They progressed steadily up the street towards the merchant’s quarter. Here, they stopped outside a vast stone house. A guard stood near the door. Everett drew in a shaky breath.

  Seonaid, undaunted, knocked at the door. Everett felt sweat prick down the line of his spine as they waited. A small door in the vast studded oak door opened.

  “What’s your business at the home of Mr. Langton?”

  “I’m Seonaid, daughter of Captain Alexander McCarrick.” Seonaid said lightly. “If you would tell Murray of our arrival? I think he will admit us.”

  The servant squinted at them both through the opening in the door and disappeared. Two minutes later he came back. He opened the door and stepped aside grandly. His manner could not have been more different. All the challenging air had gone, and he was welcoming and charming.

  “If it please you, the master is waiting for you in the anteroom.”

  “Thank you, Seonaid murmured.

  Everett looked around him, trying not to let his jaw hang open. He had never been in a place that spoke so loudly of wealth. The stone walls were thick and soared above his head to half his height again, before reaching the vaulted ceiling. The place was dark, but lit at regular intervals with tapers that burned in sconces on the walls, the tallow so fine that their flames gave off no smoke. The walls were embellished here and there with colorful tapestries, worked in scarlet and blue silks laid down in all manner of exotic patterns. He looked at Seonaid with awe, and wondered that she knew such people.

  “Murray!” Seonaid greeted as she entered a darkened room.

  Everett blinked, letting his eyes adjust. He saw a big, bulky figure by the rear wall. The man might not have been particularly large, but he wore a swathing coat of black velvet, hanging over his broad shoulders and down to below his knees. His legs were covered with black hose and his shoes had pointed toes. He had a broad face with a long nose, but it was his eyes he noticed most. They were brown and sparkled with joy.

  “Buttercup!” he greeted Seonaid. “How’s my lass?”

  Everett felt a bit jealous as Seonaid let the older man embrace her, but then, as he ruffled her hair playfully, he realized that this man was more like a sort of grandfather or uncle.

  “Murray, we simply had to come and call now we are in Edinburgh. May I introduce Everett McDowell?”

  Murray Langton took his hand and shook it without even inquiring as to whom he might be. The palm against his felt like dry parchment. Everett squeezed his fingers, surprised by the strong grip of the older man.

  “Pleased to meet you, fine fellow. Now, my sweetling. What are your plans, here in this fair town?”

  Everett stood back as Murray turned his full attention on Seonaid. She put her head on one side.

  “We had to come here rather suddenly. So we have no plans. I need to reach my father as soon as possible.”

  “Of course, my buttercup. But, since you come here so rarely, I put my house at your disposal. Feel free to stay as long as you wish. We are having a party this evening – just a small gathering, nothing too crowded. Of course, you are welcome. And, um, Mr. McDowell there.”

  Everett bit back a grin, but nodded. “Thanks,” he said.

  Seonaid smiled up at him, then turned back to her friend, beaming. “Thank you. We’d be glad to attend.”

  Murray frowned. “And, of course, since you appear to be traveling light, please avail yourself of the gowns in the chest upstairs. I am certain there will be something there to your liking.”

  Seonaid blushed. “Thank you, Murray.”

  Everett followed their host wordlessly to a courtyard, where he clapped and called for refreshments. Over spiced cakes and ale, Seonaid related the story of their arrival in Edinburgh. At the mention of the thugs, Murray’s face darkened. He said nothing until she was finished.

  “So, there was no indication of these fellow’s origin? No crest, no colors, on their tunics?”

  “No. Nothing. They were all dressed in ordinary clothes.”

  “This is strange,” the merchant muttered. Everett, his mouth full of cake, nodded.

  “We didn’t wish to return directly to Leith, lest the brigands still be prowling the docks, looking for us.”

  “I understand,” Murray nodded. “Of course, you must take my guard with you. And your father?” he asked. “Does he know of this?”

  “I did not wish to worry him. He sails in a few days’ time.”

  “I see. Of course. Well, then. Leave it to me. I will make inquiries.”

  “Thank you!” Seonaid said softly. “That is truly kind of you.”

  Murray blushed. He patted her hand warmly. “Now, then, lass. “I suppose you two must be weary, and I should be overseeing the preparation for this ball I’m hosting.”

  “Yes. I suppose so,” Seonaid giggled. “Thank you.”

  When they left the courtyard, Everett followed Seonaid up a wide staircase to an upper gallery. It was lit with long open windows, and the walls were again decorated wi
th brightly colored tapestries. He followed her up the hallway, feeling surprisingly nervous. This place was as foreign to him as the world of the Highlands would have been to a merchant like Murray.

  “What are we doing now?” he asked.

  Seonaid chuckled. “The guest quarters are up here. We’re finding a place to rest for an hour or two. Then we’re going to make preparations for the ball.”

  “A rest?”

  Seonaid must have caught sight of the brightness in his eye, because she glanced up at him with shining eyes. “Well, then,” she said. “I suppose we have time for a long rest?”

  “A very long one,” he murmured, pressing her against the doorway as his lips pressed to hers.

  She giggled and opened the door. They half-fell into the most luxurious room Everett could have imagined.

  The bed was covered in silk cloths, a vast and pillow-soft thing piled with cushions. There was a washstand of some sort of rare wood, and on it stood a clay washbasin, painted with designs and glazed. The windows were squares of semitransparent glass, and they looked out onto a courtyard far below.

  “Well,” Seonaid murmured. “I reckon this is a good place to spend time.”

  Everett chuckled. “Anywhere I am with you is good, lass,” he whispered. He reached for her, and tugged her down onto the bed with him, his lips pressed to hers.

  Laughing, she collapsed beside him.

  Afterwards, they lay side by side, looking up at the whitewashed boards. Everett felt more fulfilled than he ever had. He could smell the sweet scent of lavender burning and the fire sent gentle light around them. He lay with Seonaid in his arms and he could smell the warmth of her skin. His body was renewed and sleepy.

  “I’m very happy,” he whispered, kissing her forehead.

  She smiled, looking up at him. “And me, too,” she said.

  They kissed and they must have drifted off to sleep again, because the next thing Everett knew was the sound of a servant tapping on the door.

  “Miss Seonaid? Would you care for a bath?” A voice came in through the wood.

  “Oh!” Seonaid sprang to her feet, tiptoeing nude across the wooden boards and opening the door just enough to stick her head around into the hallway. Everett, feeling terribly vulnerable, drew a cloth over his nakedness. He listened to a hushed conversation and then, when Seonaid came back, she grinned at him.