“Emma,” he tried again. “Wake ye up. Ye need somethin’ in that stomach of yers before you go to sleep. I ken yer tired, but going to sleep hungry ain’t gonna do you no good and yer gonna hate yerself in the morning fer it.”
Emma must have already dozed off but William was not going to let her sleep hungry. Considering his options, William remembered how sensitive her neck had been when he had kissed her there, so he parted her cloak to bare her neck to him. He trailed his callused fingertips down the line to her shoulder and she shivered.
Grinning that he had gotten a response, William pulled her cloak away and let his fingers stroke harder down her soft, almost like flower petal skin and smiled when she shuddered, but her eyes did not open. William knew she was somewhat sentient and cruelly dug his hands into her sides and tickled her.
Emma gasped awake and thrashed in his arms. Her hiccupping laugher made William tickle her more. The pale moonlight gave her a rosy skin a light glow. “St-top, please stop, William.”
His hands stopped and braced her as she breathed through her hiccups. “Alright, alright…fine, you’re right. It won’t do me good to not eat.”
William’s eyebrows danced up, “So you were listening to me, ye little minx.”
She huffed, “I wanted to sleep, William, give me leeway here.”
Tugging her into his chest, William opened the tiny satchel and fished out a hunk of bread and the cheese. To his delight, the bread could easily be broken and the cheese did not have the density of a rock. With her cuddled to him, William handed her portion over and ate his portion.
When she brushed the crumbs from her fingers, William did the same, then opened his legs and allowed her to slide between to the covered ground. Emma rested on his chest, sideways, and her eyes were on his face.
Peering down to her, William’s lip twisted, “What? Do I have crumbs on me face or what?
She shook her head but lifted her hand to trace across his jaw. William felt her the tips of her two fingers trace over his stubble and he couldn’t help himself. He opened his mouth and took her fingers into his mouth.
Instantly, desire flared into William’s loins as her nostril flared and her chest rose with her breath. William pulled off her fingers and kissed her deeply. He would never get enough of Emma’s sweet mouth. He coaxed her into tangling her tongue with his and tugging her back onto his lap.
Dropping his hands onto her hips, William framed her hips and curved his hand around to her plump backside. Grabbing her bottom, William hauled her closer, right onto his growing length. Emma had pulled away from his mouth and was nipping at his beard. Groaning under his breath, he wondered how she had found one of the two most sensitive places on his body—his jaw, and his ears.
William felt heat racing through his veins and when her teeth nipped at his jaw, he groaned deeply, a deep throaty delicious sound that nearly covered the growl coming from a mere three feet away.
Snapping to his senses, William held Emma stiffly, dipped his head to her and spoke softly, “Emma, don’t move, a large feral pig is growling at us.”
Chapter 18
Perched on William’s lap, Emma sat still as her ears were not trained on the soft growls she heard behind her. She did not dare move as she did not know what to do when in the limelight of a wild beast.
William’s hands were firm on her hips and her hands were trembling on his shoulders. Emma felt William’s hand softly shift her from his lap, inch-by-inch, until she was beside him on the ground. Emma drew her legs up and watched as William stared at the feral pig.
The two held the look and William spoke strongly to the grunting brute. “Leave us be, critter.”
A low growl came from the feral pig as it shifted from side-to-side, disturbing the fallen leaves there. Its lips lifted and it growled deeper while its snout twitched. William frowned for a moment and then realized; the feral pig was sniffing out the beef from the pack.
“Donna move lass,” William said, while reaching for the pack. The creature’s eyes followed him with every movement, and as his hand touched the pack, its grunt was sharp and Emma jumped.
Rising slowly, William stepped away from Emma, glad when the beast’s huge head followed him. Stepping away, William backed away without moving his eyes from the very dangerous animal. The beast stepped forward, lowering its head and lethal tusks. William backed away and went deeper into the forest while the feral pig followed him.
A good way away from Emma, William dug into the bag and took out the pieces of beef and dropped one. The feral pig pounced on it and William cringed when he heard the teeth snap over the meat. He backed away again, careful to memorize his path while taking a long semi-circle route, then dropped another. The beast pounced on that, too.
With the second to last one, he threw it in the bush as far as he could and waited to see if the feral pig would come back. The wind whistled in his ears as William felt anxious that he had left Emma alone.
To his groaning displeasure, the boar-like creature came back and William threw the last piece of meat over. The feral pig it took inside its jaws but did not chomp over it. With a flick of the tail, the beast leaped into the bush and disappeared.
Mayhap it’s a momma boar with a nest of babies somewhere, William realized as he came to himself and followed his footsteps back to Emma.
Emma was wide-eyed and still showed her fright but she could not help her relief the moment she spotted him. Her head snapped side-to-side and then she scrambled up and grabbed at him. Her mouth opened but nothing came out and William answered her unasked question.
“It’s a momma boar, bòidheach’, she’s gone,” William said as he sat them back down. Ideally, he would have moved them away from the spot but there was no more beef to draw the local wildlife and he was decidedly tired.
Taking her close, William wrapped her even closer, brushing over her arms with his hands to comfort. “Sleep, lass, we have a long day tomorrow.”
Emma did not look sure at first but the trust in her eyes humbled William. He felt she marveled at him and he swore to protect her with all he had. Softly pushing her head into the crook of his neck, William rocked her softly as she went to sleep.
* * *
The cabin in Galashiels was one Emma could easily adopt as a home away from home; albeit a rustic and more humble one. As they neared, the evening sun was disappearing around the edges of the trees far off. The cabin was hemmed in by the nearby forest. The thick dark wooden posts formed a low-roofed accommodation. Three wide brick steps led to the entranceway and then the door.
Emma slowed the horse down to a walk and William did the same until they came right in front of the house. William swung off his horse. He climbed the stairs and tried the door. The door barely moved but William fixed his jaw and pushed. Inch-by-inch the door opened and Emma wondered how long this cabin had been out of use for the door to be that stuck. The door opened fully and William stepped inside. She heard him back out with a laugh.
Curious about what William was seeing, Emma, stuck her head inside to see him moving a tin tub that, from its proximity to the door, must have been what had been shoved against it. Emma did not hide her appreciation when the muscles in William’s arms tensed and even a vein stood out. Her eyes traced over the stiff set of his jaw and the knitted brows as he pushed the tub over to a spot under a window, perhaps where it had been before. William stood and dusted his hands off while smiling smugly.
“Come in,” William gestured to her.
Warily, Emma stepped in and looked around. The cabin was bigger than she had assumed but there were no doors or partition. It was really one large room with scrubbed wooden floors. Right next to the front door was a tin bath. The only furniture was a table in the center of the room, a bed pushed to the back, and two cupboards on the left side of the room. On the left of the bed there was a back door. Right next to the cupboard, a fire pit worked as a kitchen hollow. The room had three windows in total, the largest over the bed, one near t
he fire pit, and the last on the left side where one could see the bushes grew tightly against the wall outside.
It was plain in an enchanting way and Emma realized that she did not need any of the fineries she was used to, in order to be comfortable. There were no chairs, though, and Emma thought that was peculiar. Emma realized that might be for the best.
“There’s nowhere to sit,” she said idly.
“There’s a bed,” William grinned, with his eyebrows lowered over glimmer silver eyes. “I am not complaining.”
A strong flush rendered Emma’s face brilliant red at his underlying meaning and she jerked her head away from looking at him. She was still not brave enough to openly acknowledge her newly awakened sense of sexual desire, and though William’s words made her flush and heat pool in her stomach, she might not be ready until she had more experience. Emma took her cloak off and rested it on the edge of the bed as she began to look around.
“Seek out any linen, bòidheach,” William said, while going to the door. “I’m going to secure the horses an’ scout out the area. See if we have any neighbors or anythin’ around.”
“Alright…” Emma said, as she walked through the cabin. She went over to a cupboard and opened it. There she spotted a folded sheet and thick blanket, a rough towel, and a few square washcloths. Opening another cupboard her eyes widened a little. A cask of amber liquor was there with a tin, that when she opened it, was found to be strong coffee.
Another tin held tea leaves and another one had sugar cubes. Crouching, Emma rifled through the tins and saw flour, yeast, oil, some millet, and spices like pepper, cinnamon, and salt. There were pots, too, a round one, a skillet, and a square one that might have been used for baking, all made of cast iron and heavy to lift. There was even a bucket. For water, she supposed.
She looked up when William’s boots knocked on the doorsill and she stood and took out the linen. “Your friend forgot to mention that he left this place packed with supplies. There is coffee, tea, and spices. We have almost everything except bread, meat, and milk.”
“Ach, that doesnae surprise me,” William snorted. “Goraidh is a secretive lad. There are few people around, only those with farms and they are a way off. I found a spring, too, so water willnea be a problem for us. We can wash and get water for cooking.”
“Well, we have tea and bread left, that should do us until morning, I suppose,” Emma answered.
“I’ll hit the game trails early next mornin’,” William squinted. “Are ye sure yer gonna be alright till then?”
“Yes,” Emma said as she placed the sheets on the bed. “The fruits you picked served me very well; thank God it’s spring.”
William chuckled and Emma eyed him while folding a corner. “What’s amusing?”
“Just that yer womanly body’s constitution an’ mine are worlds apart,” William grinned. “I need meat in me body, lass, a meal of fruit feels like nothing, an’ is nae guid ta’ me.”
Head down, Emma worried her lip. The fact that she did not know how to cook shouldn’t be bothering her so much but it did. Looking quickly at the cupboard with the supplies, food that needed to be cooked and knowing her ignorance, she felt half of a woman.
For once, Emma cursed her privileged upbringing. How could she not know one of those basic skills? Every woman needed to know how to cook. Wasn’t it something they were all born with? Was William going to look down on her now? Could she survive it if he did?
“William…er…I don’t know how to cook,” her voice was laden with worry and shame. After her frank admission, Emma held in her breath.
“Ach,” he snorted and waved negligently, “That’s won’t bother me none, we’ll cook together. I ken a lady of yer station would not be versed in how to man the kitchen.”
Disbelief nearly undid the surety of his words but she caught herself and smiled. “How do you know what to cook?”
William crouched down at the cupboard and took out a tin. “Hunting trips, lass. There were times when we had to roam far an’ wide from home to hunt and fish animals we didnae have at home. Noted though, salting a fish before ramming a stick through it ain’t exactly alike a home-cooked meal, but me Ma, before she passed, showed me a few tricks.”
“That’s…” Emma blinked. “That’s wonderful. I don’t think my Mother knows much, either.” She laughed despairingly, “Oh God, I’m just realizing how incapable we English women are. I guess your Scotswomen know how to cook from childhood days.”
“Some,” William added, while taking out tins of tea, coffee, and sugar. “We do have some women who are born in high stations an’ have never seen a kitchen in their lives.”
Emma wanted to believe he was speaking the truth but still somehow felt he was placating her. She went to sit on the edge of the bed. “I suppose I can boil water.”
“We’ll see about that,” William gave her a half smile. “Speaking of…” he grabbed the bucket, proving her right that it was for water. “I’ll go get the water for oor tea. Be back in coig mionaidean…er five minutes, lass.”
Before he left, Emma asked, “Will you… perhaps teach me some Gaelic while we’re here?”
Her answer was a toothy grin, “Me pleasure, bòidheach.”
* * *
There was something about Emma’s frank admission regarding her culinary skills that felt refreshing to William. Many women would have pretended to know everything domestic, but Emma’s vulnerability and honestly felt sweet.
I dunno care if Emma could cook or not. No one was born with the ability to work magic with seasonings an’ exotic meats. I can see me huntin’ rabbits and deer. I could work with either. Eh, I can see me and the lass preparin’ a wonderful meal together…
Reaching the spring, William stepped carefully through the tall grass and dug the heels of his boots into the muddy banks, as he lowered the pot into the water. The croaks of frogs and the chirping of crickets were beginning to sound in the growing dusk and William felt a soft reminiscence of the Scottish forest in the MacNair lands.
He got back to the cabin to see Emma at the window looking out on the grazing horses and the look on her face was solemn. It did not seem she had heard him approaching and William took the moment to admire her. Her hair was down and tumbled wildly across her back, and her skin, white as snow, was getting a hint of a soft tan.
He could imagine her, standing at the edge of a loch, dressed in a loose Scottish dress with the wind blowing her hair and billowing her sleeves and the trail of her dress behind her. God, Emma would shine in Scotland.
Setting the filled bucket down softly, William went to her. He wrapped his arms around her from behind and it felt wonderful when she did not startle at his touch. Emma rested her head on his chest and sighed. Her eyes fluttered closed and she rested her hand on his arm.
“He will kill you if he finds you…” Emma murmured. “And I’d hate him for the rest of my life.”
“If that bastard was going to send you to an asylum, he already hates ye,” William replied, as anger for the Marston began to bubble in his chest. “You don’t owe him anything, lass.”
“He might be difficult but…he’s still my brother,” Emma replied with a pained grimace. “My father was hard on him and my mother did not dare intervene because he would tell her that it was his job to discipline Thomas, her task was to train me.”
“Was she hard on you at all?”
“No,” Emma said. “Mother was never as harsh with me, actually, she was not harsh with me at all. Thomas saw how lax she was with me while our father was a taskmaster…and that’s probably why he hates me. I suppose that is why he wants to marry me off…not for any alliance with France or Scotland or business or anything…he wants to get rid of me.”
By the end of her words, William could hear the sobs threatening to break out in her words and William wrapped her tighter into him. He could feel the small trembles under her clothes and knew she was holding her pain in.
“Let it out, Emma,” Wil
liam coaxed. “Ye can cry, lass, no one would blame you.”
Her body still trembled in his arms but she did not cry and William felt both proud of her self-control and was deeply concerned about the pain she was clearly feeling. He was not going to press her to do whatever she did not want to do.
“Are ye gonna be alright?” William asked.
She shuddered, but nodded, “Yes.”
Heeding to his decision to not press her, he went to search near the fire pit and found a grate the he could place on the blocks surrounding the pit. Satisfied, he went to make the fire up in the pit, and placed the pot on the iron grate over the coals. For hanging pots, like the kettle and saucepans, there was a long spit of iron over the pit, made there for them to dangle. He carefully filled the pot with water from the bucket.
While stoking the embers into a blaze, William stole glances to Emma as she had not moved from the window. The night was beginning to get darker and William wondered if there were any candles or a lamp somewhere and asked her the same.
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