McBain’s Bride

By

Tara Hill

Smashwords Edition

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright 2009 by Terrell Riley

Published by Terrell Riley at Smashwords. All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. copyright act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.

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Cover Illustration by Michael Jensen

I stood under the portico protected from the rain. Two meager lanterns lit our door to guide the traveler to warmth. The portico offered deep shelter but I stood at its edge. It had been built wide enough that two fine carriages could share its space. I stood on a favorite perch, the outside pillar base granting me height above the gravel drive. I looked back at the massive doorway and slate steps leading up, almost a full this storey above the drive. The rain pounded up the stone steps from parts of the portico open to the elements and pooled around the lanterns; droplets danced in the light. My wool cloak pressed against my legs; cold mist blew across my face. I could not see past the steps into the black night. I was expecting the carriage from the castle to arrive before midnight, the carriage carrying my betrothed to me. Something in the wind called to me as I stood under the portico of our old mansion, something stirred in me as it had in my ancestresses for generations. I shivered from the cold or was it anticipation? I thought about it for a while and then did as all my grandmothers for generations and generations had done, I pouted.

My older brothers and sister are all married and producing children at regular intervals. I thought I had escaped that particular fate but a month ago my father announced the great merger of estates, our family wealthy with land and the McBain’s wealthy with gold. The source of the McBain’s wealth was a mystery. I think it has something to do with the lights I see off the coast at midnight on the monthly highest tide. The source of our land was no mystery, all inherited, all fairly fertile, and well watered. That's about all one can say, we weren't a particularly prosperous family just well planted. I was to be merged with the McBain's, the price of my virginity: a new roof. Oh and of course great pride for my family, a place in the national register and if I behaved, an introduction at court. All of these things I could live quite nicely without, especially the husband. I wanted nothing to do with the McBain's, their mysterious lights and their moldy castle called the Doom. What kind of a name is that? Why not something light and festive like McBain's Spring or McBain's Fairy Castle of Drafts and Leaks. I knew these things, I had been there.

Several years ago I had spent a few nights at McBain’s Doom, a large drafty old place on a promontory overlooking the Irish Sea. One part of Doom is a replica of Caerlaverock Castle, our local 13th-century castle with a moat. With its beautiful triangular symmetry we proudly speak of the Maxwells who held off the English army with just sixty men. In Dumfries proper, you would think that the siege ended but a week ago.

The Doom has grown over the years so it has sprawling and eclectic additions to the manor. The family lives in the newer addition, which isn’t drafty, with such modern conveniences of high ceilings, multiple fireplaces and is beautifully decorated to show the family’s wealth. I remember the outside was a Palladian edifice with arches and columns made from the local sandstone. The front door opened into a spacious and modern rococo interior with beautiful gold and floral friezes that set off the exquisitely painted ceilings. When I was seventeen, my sister Alice and I stopped to visit on a journey home from a cousins wedding in Glasgow. Despite the modern opulence of the modern buildings, I loved the Caerlaverock replica; I loved creeping around and pretending I was a great lady of this beautiful ancient and somewhat abandoned castle. The McBain family claims that it was completely abandoned but I know that it is lived in or haunted. Ever a night wanderer, I roamed the castle from top to bottom each night long after the staff and residents had sought their beds. The night I found the body I had been up in the north tower, a crenellated round turret. I had climbed through a once sealed door located behind an ancient tapestry (I was insufferably curious) and found stairs going up and hence, I climbed up.

Climbing the circular stairs, I kept my left hand on the wall; the stairs were solid but worn with time. Although no actual battles were fought here, the architect had replicated the arrow slits of Caerlaverock but also used the more modern invention of glass windows. Over time some of the windows had broken; the wind from the Irish Sea blew in fresh air. My lantern illuminated the mold and cracks on the stairs. Focusing on the moonlit view out the windows, I literally tripped over a body. Not being the hysterical sort, really how could one be with three older brothers constantly laying siege on me with one prank after another: I screamed. A person never ran down slippery winding stairs faster than I ran, straight into the stomach of a giant who steadied me with a “Whoa, lass,” as if I was a horse.

“A body, up there,” I pointed up and bent over to throw up over his shiny Hessians.

“Auch, now Lassy,” the giant cooed and tossed me over his shoulder and finished the descent. I had a unique view of his backside as I jostled up and down with the cadence of his steps. Upside down, I was, and rather confused; I guess ‘auch now’ were some secret Scottish words that was supposed to be reassuring or perhaps translates to ‘you are a crazy wench’. After several minutes of bouncing around upside down through doors and downstairs, I was promptly and rather forcefully returned to my sister who had been peacefully sleeping in a mammoth four-poster. The giant dumped me next to her sleeping form.

“I found her in a locked tower,” He told my sister as she shot awake at finding a giant at the foot of her bed. Alice glared at me until I felt like heaving again on the bed clothes. Refraining from further humiliation, I climbed up the bed and under the blankets, cowering away from the giant.

“I saw a body.”

“Nonsense,” said the giant.

“It was a body of a woman with long white hair. She had funny clothes on.”

“No, you saw a pile of clothes moldering in a decrepit tower that should be destroyed before it kills someone as it collapses.” He turned his glare from me to focus on Alice, his countenance softening as men’s always did when viewing Alice.

“Miss Alice, please keep your sister under your control while in the Doom.”

“Yes milord,” Alice stammered.

“Milord?” I whispered to her as he stomped out. I climbed from the bed and ran to the window to point out to Alice the tower I had climbed. I could see the dark silhouette reaching towards the stars. I also saw lights glimmering in the arrow slits. Moldering clothes? HA. I wisely kept my own counsel and returned to bed with Alice.

“He put his hand on my bum as he carried me.” I told her.

“He mostly likely thought it was as tough as an old steer.”

“He sort of held his hand steady.”

“I am sure milord meant no disrespect to you, child, he surely would have preferred my bum which is ever so much softer than yours.”

“Rounder.” I offered, “And larger.” I avoided the feather pillow she threw at me. I laughed as I snuggled under the covers to the sounds of Alice’s laughter. With the quiet, Alice quickly fell asleep and amused me with her not so dainty snores. She has become so much more proper and less fun since becoming a wife and a mother. I couldn’t wait to tell tales on her to her children as a proper aunt should do.

We left a few days later. I never saw the Lord Giant again and no one ever mentioned a body.

Now I am betrothed to a McBain, probably the Lord Giant.

~~~~~

My brother came out front and stood below me in the rain. “We will invite the McBain in; you don’t need to stand out here.”

“Oh, Robert,” I looked down at my oldest brother, “I really just thought I could travel between homes and play spinster aunt to all my nieces and nephews. You know, teach them to hunt and fish. What was Father thinking?”

“He was thinking we need a new roof, Bridget, so you will do your duty to this family and our tenants and marry the McBain.”

“They murder old ladies,” I muttered but Robert had already gone into the house.

I am not married because my father had a difficult time finding a husband who wanted a wife that was too short, too boney, too opinionated and could outshoot most men. He had already given me the roof lecture. I still didn’t understand why Lord Michael McBain didn’t want to meet me first.

The wedding was next week. The bans had been read, the papers signed and the dowry agreed upon, all without my say, my opinions or my dreams. I dreamed of love, of romance, of adventure, all of which would have been squashed out of me by Alice had she but known. I stood alone outside under the portico for another half hour waiting for my betrothed, watching the rain. I guess he was as excited about the betrothal as me. He did not arrive. Perhaps he had changed his mind; perhaps highwaymen had killed him, one could only hope. At midnight I gave up and sought my bed for my last night at home. By next week I would be no better than chattel sold to the highest bidder and living at McBain’s Doom. My sleep was haunted by bad dreams, the first of many strange nights and days to come.

Morning dawned on an empty stable, no fine carriage for the bride and groom. My family gathered for breakfast overlooking the five terraced gardens. One didn’t notice the declining tidiness through the bullioned glass. All the adults were present. Everyone had gathered here to see me off to the Doom and to see me get married. Maryse sat across from Robert, their son not at her side as he was still recovering from a bad cold. My sister Alice and her husband Marcus were giggling over the eggs at the sideboard as ridiculous as when they were newlyweds. James and Charles had already heaped most of the sausages on their plates leaving little for me. I walked in and crossed over to the sideboard and grabbed a plate.

“No McBain?” James greeted me. “Oh well, you are too skinny to marry anyway.”

I answered by throwing a roll at his head.

“You can’t be throwing rolls once you are the Lady of a castle” Maryse laughed.

I tossed a roll at her too. Robert caught it and tossed it right back. The roll smacked the back of my head. Pickles, our wolfhound gobbled up a roll to supplement his breakfast. The ceiling needed paint. A dry stain hovered over the sideboard; another problem for my virginity to fix. The buzz of conversation in the morning room threatened to bring down the already dubious roof. Where was the McBain? Why had his outriders not arrived? With a dearth of answers, my brothers decided to send out a search party. Perhaps the carriage had overturned. We intended to look.

We all changed into riding clothes, theirs rather fine, and mine a seedy old set of clothes Charles had long outgrown. The baggy britches, vest and shirt hid my more remarkable attributes and my hair was braided into a crown well hid by an oversized hat of Robert’s. I saddled my large gelding, Thor, long beloved by my brothers and myself. I rode astride as I had for years ceasing to shock Alice and Maryse. We gathered in the yard equipped with supplies for an extended search, aid for injuries as well as our bows and arrows for a quick hunt. Robert laid out our search plans when we heard the sound of a single horse galloping up the drive.

The horse and rider emerged from the side of the house and came to a halt, kicking up a hail of gravel. The rider was greeted by seven shocked faces.

“Good day, sir,” Robert ventured.

“Good day to you all.” The rider sat up straighter in the saddle. “I have been charged with saying some words to your family, sir. Please listen.”

“Could we offer some refreshment?” my sister Alice offered. Few men could resist anything Alice offered.

“No thank you, madam, I must repeat the words charged to me for your hearing.”

He was made of sterner stuff than my brother-in-law if he could resist Alice. I was interested in this tall one.

“The McBain could not make this journey.” He began in a booming voice that echoed off the walls in our courtyard. “He has requested I return to his home with Lord Robert Garnet’s son as a guest pending Lady Bridget’s arrival later this week. Which of you is Sir Robert?”

I heard Alice gasp and watched my brothers bristle and shift their horses to face this threat.

“Lady Bridget may arrive at any time to be prepared to wed Lord McBain in exactly one week in the Lord's Chapel. Her family is encouraged to attend her. Do not send her alone.”

Maryse, Robert’s wife ran to his side and placed her hands on his leg as he sat atop his steed. “No, you can’t let him go. My boy is…” she wept.

Robert dismounted, stood at his wife’s side, wrapping his arm around her to calm her.

“Mother, I’m right here, ready to go,” I improvised madly, “I am old enough to travel alone and I can do this for Bridget and for my family.” My brothers watched me in stony silence as they contemplated whether or not to go along with my duplicity. I trained at their hands; they were not shocked.

“Please take some refreshment, sir, while I say goodbye to my son,” my brother extemporized while yanking my reins and removing us both from prying ears.

“What are you thinking? You can’t go unescorted with some servant to a castle that is at best three days ride from here.”

“He thinks I am a boy. I am wearing Charles’ clothes” I smirked, “Robert, you know me, I can ride, I can shoot and I can sleep out under the stars. Let me have this one last adventure before I marry the giant of Castle Doom.”

“Alone with a servant Bridge. I don’t think this is a good idea. Father and Mother would not allow this.”

“They are far away in some villa in Italy and they left you in charge, Robert. Let me have my fun. I will do my duty and marry the awful giant.”

“You shouldn’t judge Michael McBain, Bridget. He is rumored to be quite nice. Hold your judgment until you meet him.”

“Maybe I have. Alice and I met someone coming back from Cousin Harriet’s wedding when I was seventeen.” Robert stared at me thoughtfully and then straightened.

“My brave sister, Bridget, never let this servant know you are a mere woman. Don’t speak to him much and wear the hat down over your face. Maryse will be forever in your debt, she could never let little Robbie go just now. He has been so sick these last few weeks and he is just regaining his strength. The servant will take you straight to the Doom because he thinks he is escorting the grandson and heir.”

Robert collected the supplies the others carried and tied them to my saddle; a bedroll was sent for and strapped behind my saddle. I gazed fondly at my siblings and moved Thor back to join the McBain servant.

“Your name, sir?” I asked in what I hoped was a lowered voice.

“I am McBain’s man. You may call me Ian.”

“Call me Robert, for my father.”

“Come along, young Robert and try to keep up,” and with that he wheeled his mount and trotted down the drive. Alice and Maryse were holding each other crying. Charles’ hand was atop his head clearly signaling me to keep my hair hidden knowing that it might be a tad bit difficult given its length and unruly nature. James waved gaily then gestured at his chest. I waved back thinking no man yet had admired my less than ample female attributes. I counted on my station to protect me should I be found out by McBain’s man. I continued to wave gaily at my family and mouthed the words “I love you” and clucked at Thor to start my journey. My greatest adventure was starting, I signaled to Thor to pick up some speed as it started to rain, surely a sign from the heavens on the folly of my actions.

~~~~~

We rode in silence for hours before stopping to rest the horses. We walked off the path into the forest and under a copse of large willows and alders to provide us some respite from the rain. Cold rain, wet rain, soggy boots, damp clothes. I contemplated the English language and its plethora of synonyms for uncomfortable and wet while I dismounted. I walked to Thor’s head and stroked his muzzle. He shook his mane and butted me letting me know he expected better than a three-hour slog through the mud. A giggle escaped at his antics, following my hand looking for his treat. I glanced at Ian. He did not appear to have heard my laugh. I watched as he cared for his horse. They certainly grew them large in McBain’s Doom. His thighs bulged beneath his wet breeches, each muscle clearly defined. His calves were covered with finely made boots, now mud spattered. I followed his trunk up to his face and noticed for the first time how beautiful he was. My toes curled, every inch of him called to me and made me shiver with longing. His dark blonde hair curled in its cue. His face was handsome and square, with strong cheekbones topped by piercing blue eyes. His skin lightly tan, his hands strong and sure wrapped around the horse’s reins told me that he was a working man, used to work and riding. His lashes were spiky from the rain. He caught me staring; I turned away before he could see me blush. I pushed my hat further down on my head and ducked away from him under the bough of the willow tree that provided us this brief reprieve.

We remounted after a brief rest and continued for several more hours, the miles slipping away beneath the horses’ hooves. The spring forest was beautiful even in the rain. The dense woods and ferns gave way to an occasional meadow dotted with golden saxifrage, violet crane’s-bill and other wild flowers that I could not identify from atop Thor. The butterflies, birds, rabbits and insects were more sensed than glimpsed in the rain. Conversation was conveniently non-existent as we each huddled into our cloaks as if trying to avoid raindrops. But we did manage a decent pace on the oft used trails. Finally, well into dusk, we slowed and I followed Ian up a hillside into the forest. In a small clearing, we came to a stop and dismounted.

We stood for a while, each telling our mount what a prize horse they were and how much we appreciated their efforts today while the rain turned to a drizzle and finally stopped. I used the time to covertly stretch my very sore legs and rub me bum. I was not used to riding for so long in a saddle designed for a man. I looked around our little cozy clearing; it was dusk, the last rays of sun were peeping through the trees. An owl flew over to begin its nightly hunt for mice and squirrels. I wished him good luck and hoped that we too would have success in finding a tasty treat for dinner.

“Let’s stop here for the night, it is somewhat sheltered and we are off the road away from….” Ian drifted off.

“Away from?” I prompted.

“I heard several reports of highwaymen. We need to steer clear of them. I’ve kept my eyes open while we were on the paths, but I haven’t seen any signs of them. I think it is safe for us to split up to find some dry wood and perhaps a stream.” He turned and headed into the woods parallel with the road. I loosened the girth on Thor and removed his saddle and my bedroll. Armed with my bow and some arrows, I chose to trek deeper into the woods. I found dry wood under some bracken, a stream and best of all, a couple of rabbits that had emerged from their shelter after the rain. Feeling quite accomplished I returned to the horses to find a small crackling fire and a kettle set to boil over the flames on a spit made of some branches. Very clever I thought. I dumped my wood next to the fire and handed over the rabbits. Ian nodded appreciatively and began the process of preparing them for his kettle. I grabbed a matching kettle and headed back into the woods for more water, grabbing my bag on the way. I was able to give myself a quick scrub and attend to my necessities with some semblance of privacy. I re-braided my hair and stuffed it back up under the hat before returning to camp. I easily found my way through the deepening night by simply following my nose. My rabbits were calling to my empty stomach.

“You were gone a while. Did you get lost?”

“No, just washing up.” I remembered to lower my voice. “It was easy to follow my nose back to camp in the dark. My rabbits smell wonderful.”

“Your rabbits?” Ian teased and smiled for the first time. It seemed as if sunshine had descended into our glen. I could stand to see that smile again and again.

“I caught ‘em”

“And I dressed them. I claim half the credit for this fine dining experience.”

I stifled a giggle, he was sweet as well as handsome and I couldn’t respond to him as a woman; I didn’t want to be discovered and returned to my family in shame.

“We’d better eat fast and bury the remains away from camp, wouldn’t want any predators nosing around tonight.”

“You’ve done this before?” Ian asked.

“Yes, my brothers and I, I mean my uncles and I have camped all over these woods. We’ve found ancient druid ruins up against the hills; the wolves tend to have their territory further south but you never know when a hungry wolf might come along.”

“Good to have you on this trip then, lad.” Ian gave the stew a final stir and dished it onto plates. We used our knives to spear the meat and the root vegetables he found. We ate together, speaking of our horses and other overnight trips. I studied him while he finished his meal; so beautiful he was, tall and well built with a narrow waist. His blond hair pulled back in a leather cord. Damp from the rain it looked somewhat curly. My own hair did the same thing when wet and caused me never ending trouble with all the tangles. His hair looked silkier than mine, so unfair, him with the long lashes any girl would die for and silky shiny hair. He cleaned up the remains of the rabbits and buried them away from camp as I cleaned off the plates with the heated water from the second kettle. By the time he returned the fire was dying down and I was stretched out in my bedroll. I turned away from him to discourage further conversation and drifted off to sleep.

Hours later I awoke; a pale moon shined above us, the light filtered through the leaves. At first I didn’t know why I awoke but then it came to me, the insects were silent, no night sounds of owls hooting in the dark.

“Quiet lad,” came Ian’s voice soft and low across the glowing embers. He’d sensed I was awake. I turned slowly reaching for my bow not knowing where danger lay. My bow is a small one; I was glad Ian hadn’t commented on it earlier. Its ornate inlays gave it away as a lady's toy in a glance. However, it was effective. I could bend it and string it in a heartbeat. When sleeping outdoors with my brothers they had taught me to keep it ready and available near my left hand. I sat up with an arrow notched. I let it fly at the first growl. The high pitched squeal proclaimed my arrow found its target. Ian picked up a smoldering branch from the fire and started after the wounded animal, roaring like the Viking he descended from. He returned a short time later shaking his head.

“No sign of anything. Whatever you shot ran off.”

“We won’t be bothered again tonight.” I stated but I laid down my bow with a new arrow next to me just in case. Ian noticed the gesture.

“Amazing shooting, lad.”

“Thank you.” I turned my back and tried to go back to sleep.

“Really amazing, lad, your brothers would be proud.”

“Uncles” I corrected forcefully.

“We will talk more on this in the morning; now try to get some sleep.”

“Umph” I muttered and quickly fell asleep to the sounds of insects and rustling leaves.

Ian was up before me in the morning, away from camp already. I rose and walked to the stream. It was a beautiful day with crisp freshly washed air. Water drops sprinkled the leaves of the trees and dripped off the underlying ferns. Some dropped on me as I walked toward the cold little stream. I washed my face shuddering when the icy cold water met my face. I braided my hair into a tight crown to give it a better chance of staying under my hat for a full day's ride. I retraced my steps back to our camp. Ian was finishing saddling his horse. The camp was packed. I struggled some with Thor’s gear but Ian didn’t appear to notice. I usually had one of the grooms help me. Ian swung a long leg over his saddle and mounted his horse. They started out. He looked back at me to see me struggle and miss my first attempt and succeed at my second attempt at properly seating Thor without the aid of the tree stump we often use when we are picnicking at the seaside.

The day that followed was much like the one before. We rode at a fast pace whenever possible, avoided villages and clambered off the road when Ian heard the sounds of approaching hooves. I was not sure why we evaded other travelers but Ian felt it imperative and actually with my constant battle to hide my hair from Ian, I did not seek any close scrutiny myself. I only succeeded thus far because Ian rarely looked me full in the face though I stole many a glance at his lovely features. He was tall. His back and arms were well defined through his shirt. I looked forward to my continued surreptitious study of his face. Those blue eyes with flecks of gold need to be thoroughly inspected and I know that I am up for that job. My thoughts were interrupted by my growling stomach. We stopped to let the horses have a drink from the stream we were following and eat some dry bread. With the ground covered in mud, we chose to stand and eat our bread and cheese. Ian looked at me, “This cheese is remarkably good.”

“We make it ourselves. We use the milk from our goats.”

“I know a tavern keeper who would buy your cheese and give your family some business.”

“We aren’t in business.” I replied with disdain. But I did wonder if cheese would pay for a new roof and save me from marrying a giant.

“Do you work in a tavern?” I asked.

“No, I am McBain’s man, but my friends own a tavern and they are always on the lookout for a good supply of food.”

“It would be fun to work in a tavern and meet all kinds of new people.” I said more to myself, but he heard me.

“You are to be a landowner who is not in business, Robert.”

We remounted our horses and continued our journey.

~~~~~

Our trek was slow. Once we left the mountainous area of the lake district, Ian insisted on traveling off the path. The forest floor was thick with mud. We rode single file with Ian leading. After several hours, we gave up slogging through the mud and returned to the road. We made much better time on the cleared dirt road. My stomach rumbled loudly and I sighed.

“Robert, you need to stop?” Ian asked.

I paused first. Robert? Oh, me! “Yes, may we stop for the night?” I asked despite the fact that it was only afternoon. My bum hurt, my back was sore and I needed to be off this delightful beast. We turned into the forest from the road and found an old campsite that had obvious use as a frequent stop for travelers on this road. It had a fire pit with logs set in a circle and a bucket swung in a tree for journeymen to fetch water. It was dry and secluded. The tree leaves provided a ceiling with just a peak of the sky.

Ian looked over the site and shrugged, “This'll do. You were successful with hunting, want to try again?” Ian began emptying a bag from his saddle. I am incredibly good at hunting so I wandered away with my bow and some arrows. Since we were travelling along the coast, we were in an estuary forest, beautiful and dense near the water. I found rabbits and brought them back proudly to camp. Thor shied away from the scent of dead flesh. I handed off my prizes to Ian's grunt and found myself disappointed he had not praised me. Silly chit, I scolded myself and went to Thor to comfort him. I watched Ian carefully dressing the rabbits and tying them on sticks propped over the fire. He was quite handy about the camp unlike my brothers who argued over the menial duties preferring to hunt and fish. I had grown adept at vanishing during their spats and returned only after food was finally cooking. My stomach growled heartily and I caught Ian's brief smile. He lit up the night with that smile. I sighed inwardly again cursing my deceit.

“What do you call your horse, he is a mighty steed,” I offered as a conversational gambit.

“Bruce.”

“A mighty name,” I observed, “Is it a reference to your Robert Bruce of Scotland?”

“It rhymed with goose. Tis what he can be when faced with any fowl.”

“A shy one then?” I switched my petting over to the neglected and ridiculed Bruce. “I think you are a mighty steed and need but a gentle hand to over come your fears.” He butted against my chest. “He likes me!” I squealed. Ian walked over to join me.

I drew into myself at Ian's sudden interest. Perhaps my play-acting wore thin. It was hard to keep myself in check at all times in the face of his wit and beauty.

“You really are but a lad, aren't you? Have you ever been away from your uncle-brothers?”

“Loads of times,” my voiced deepened. “I am learning about our farms and the manor and sometimes travel with my family on their many outings. Miss Bridget has a slew of suitors and we are kept constantly busy ferrying her about the county with her chaperones.” I lied.

“I doubt that very much.”

“Why, what have you heard about Bridget?”

“Aunt Bridget to you lad! Or perhaps you should start calling her Lady Bridget to her suitors.” Ian's voice was stern.

“No, she's not Lady Bridget. That would mean an inherited title. Lord Robert earned his title in service to the King during his time in London, working with the government to set up the East India Company. I don't really know why England wants to be in India.” I closed my mouth. Lads should not have opinions about world politics.

Ian didn't seem to notice my slip, he just continued the conversation, “They lost America, the government needs to tax someone; they need income.”

I didn't reply. I needed to remember I was the grandson of the lord of the manor. Ian seemed to think lads should be able to discuss philosophy and science. Despite my having read A Vindication of the Rights of Woman, I doubt Ian wanted to discuss what was on my mind and if women should be treated as property since I was about to be traded for a roof. My silence prompted him to change the subject.

“Tell me about your family, all the Garnets. Tell me about Bridget.”

“Why? You aren't the one marrying her.”

He glanced at me sharply, “No, lad, I'm just part of the family and delivering one lad in hopes that his family and Miss Bridget follow to collect him.”

My mouth opened but nothing came out. I closed my eyes to collect my thoughts. “Robert and his brother Charles are statesmen; they will keep their word to the McBain family. They keep some cattle and some sheep and a few goats. They make the best cheese in the area. They will bring Aunt Bridget to her wedding.”

“Why is your father Lord Robert as well as your grandfather?” Ian asked.

“Both Lord Roberts earned their titles in service to the crown.”

“How so?”

“Not sure, I just know about my grandfather and the East India Company.” I faltered. Ian could not be allowed to know of my brother's secret work for the crown, the work that bought him the title after the death of his first wife. “You saw the manor house. It is large but not old like the Doom. We have a nice bit of land and not a lot of money. My mother died when I was an infant. My father, Lord Robert met his little French wife in Edinburg when he spoke at the university about his work in London. She's happy here because many French families are moving into our area. Does your master know anything about Aunt Bridget?”

“Apparently not as much as her young nephew. I have heard she is a fair faced young girl, not a great beauty, but will do. We thought she was titled.” I started to become indignant.

“Aunt Bridget is lovely! All her young men tell her that.”

“And I hear she has not the refinements that make a great lady and she neglects her duties as a hostess.”

“That is not so!” I was shouting now, hand on hips. “There's hundreds of young bucks that have asked her to be their bride. She's lovely and gracious and has a sharp wit.”

“Not too sharp or you'd not be boasting of her many young bucks. My lord might not like to think of his betrothed as being too social or available to young men from all over.”

“How dare you imply there is something improper about Bridget! You don't even know her. She would have told me if she's met your arrogant....” I sputtered. How dare he? I'd not had but one or two suitors and they were generally complementary about me until I out shot them while riding. One once told me I had the eyes of the Thames River at dawn. I'd never been to London but it sounded like a compliment.

“That's Aunt Bridget to you, don't forget it. Now why would she be telling her little nephew about her suitors?”

I played with Bruce's mane while contemplating a plausible explanation. He had a point. “She often spoke to me in the stables while I saddled her horse. She asked me about her beaus and how they treated their horses. You can tell a lot about a man by the way he treats his mount.”

“Oh can you now?” Ian voice hinted at amusement. I cared not as I was enjoying the banter and longed to have it continue.

“Oh yes, a man that speaks gently into the ear, that offers treats is one to be trusted. One that wields a crop and yanks back on the reins, not a man to be alone with if you're a lady.”

“That's a lesson I might have to remember” said Ian. “What would you tell Aunt Bridget about me?”

I smiled as I turned away to gather my thoughts. “You are somewhere in the middle. You keep a shy horse and pamper him. You are arrogant beyond suffrage with all your orders, but you are quite handy around camp. I haven't seen you shoot so I know not if your aim is true and your chest is shapely.”

“MY CHEST?”

“Yes, the small chest you carry tied behind your saddle. It bespeaks a certain neatness about your person.”

“You are the oddest lad I have ever met. Next you’ll have to tell me why the heir is saddling horses for the ladies and then why Lady Bridget is allowed to go out hunting with her hundreds of suitors.”

“Miss Bridget,” I mumbled.

“Get used to Lady Bridget, she will be wed soon enough.”

That ‘allowed’ rankled but he had caught me in my own web. I’ll have to work on a better scheme of lying to this one; he is way too quick. I had to walk away to calm down and rethink my manhood.

After my nightly ritual at the stream, I returned to our campsite to find Ian organizing his own bow and arrows. We had been wary of another wolf sighting all evening. We decided we needed to keep watch and so we took turns. I kept the first watch, walking about the campfire and once venturing into the woods just far enough from camp to barely see the fire. It was an uneventful night. I suspected Ian slept through his watch but would never accuse him of shirking his duty.

~~~~~

Morning broke and even if my backside was still sore, I felt refreshed and well rested. My clothes had partially dried and even they could not dampen my spirit. I was on my grand adventure and Ian was a delightful companion with whom to be adventuring. We stopped once to break our fast. Ian ventured into a village while I stayed outside of town with Thor. Ian returned with bread stuffed with meat filling and a yellow gourd filled with strong ale. I tried to share the ale but it burned as it went down. Ian clapped me on the back as I choked and laughed. We continued on our journey. It was slower than Ian had planned as the ground was soaked and the road sodden with mud. The dried mud on our boots was being coated and recoated with wet mud. Branches heavy with water hung low across the path smacking us as we passed dousing us again and again so that we were never dry and we were never warm. We rode in silence concentrating on avoiding tree branches and deep rivets in the path.

We made camp again that night. I was delighted it wasn't raining. Ian sent me to look for dinner while he took the saddles off the horses and set them to grazing near our secluded campfire. It took me a bit longer to hunt down our dinner but I finally succeeded in bringing back three ground grouse and I recovered all three arrows unbroken. The warmth of the fire was welcome; Ian had water boiling and some potatoes roasting. I watched as he plucked the birds and roast them on a spit over the fire. I deliberately kept my conversation to a minimum. I was unsure how much longer I could keep up this pretense. I longed to talk to Ian in my own voice. He seemed a fairly intelligent servant with a ready wit. Lairds valued resourceful men like this. We ate in silence and I washed up near the stream we were following. When I returned I was readying a conversational gambit I had been practicing in my head when he gestured at me to lie down. My bedroll was already laid out behind me, my bow always at the ready next to me. Ian sprang to his feet and reached for his sword when I heard a voice behind me,

“Don’t be too hasty, my man.”

“I am not your man. State your business.” Ian demanded.

“I am in service of the king and I heard there were highwaymen about skulking in these woods and I find you and the young ‘un. Seems to me you might be thems what we’re looking fer,” the red coated soldier slurred his words and wavered toward Ian with his pistol cocked.

“I doubt it. Now put the gun away before you scare the lad.”

“I been watching the two of you for a while and I like what I’m seeing. I think I’ll take the young one with me, my cock beens a bit lonely for a time.”

I couldn’t help but gasp, not only at the vile suggestion but at the thought that he knew me for a girl so quickly. Ian’s eyes darkened with rage. “Why you…,” he started for the soldier who quickly brought his pistol up and aimed it at Ian’s heart. The gun was rock steady in his hand now.

“What are you really looking for?” demanded Ian again.

“What I found apparently,” the soldier replied, “a highwayman, a brace of roast birds and somewhere to bury my cock. Say goodbye to your little friend.” He raised the gun to fire as I held my breath.

“It’s too bad about predators in these woods.” Ian replied silkily.

At that signal I grabbed my bow, raised it and loosed an arrow in a heartbeat. I hit the man square in the eye. He died as he stood there. It was an upwards shot from my position seated on the ground. I fell sideways to the ground and curled up into a ball when I began to sob uncontrollably. I put my hands over my head so no one could see me, could see what I had done. Rough hands gathered me up and pulled me into a lap. Ian pulled my head against his chest where I cried all over his shirt. My forgotten hat lay on the ground. He stroked my head and back and told me over and over how brave I was and how clever I was to have saved our lives. Finally my sobs turned into hiccups. I looked into Ian's face expecting to see disgust but instead he looked at me with caring and those green eyes locked onto mine. I had to get away from him before I did something, we did something, I would regret. I stood up and ran to a tree within sight of the fire, fell to my knees and was ill. Ian followed me again stroking my head.

“Ah, my lassie, you are brave and beautiful, he was going to kill us for sure. Be strong now, we must keep going and leave here. I am sure he has companions that will come looking for him.”

Ian walked over to the man, picked up the pistol from the dead man’s fingers and placed it behind his back, stuck in his trousers. Still leaning against the tree, I swiped my damp hair off my forehead. I stood up and turned away from Ian and the monstrosity on the ground and went back to the river for cool fresh water.

I washed my face in the stream, trying to calm down as much as I could. I had killed an officer of the king. I was bound for the gallows for sure. I returned to camp to find Ian calmly eating the roast bird while sitting on a log on the other side of our little clearing. He had obviously dragged the body away from our camp. He saw me and invited me to sit down. I sat next to him and ate silently for a while as he offered me bit by bit my share of our dinner.

“I’m glad to see you eat, lass, it will stave off the shock.” I cringed at the ever so slight emphasis on “lass”.

“We need to bury him,” I stated. I felt outside my body somehow, distant from the scene and distant from Ian.

“What?” Ian asked.

“You need to dig a grave; about three feet deep should do it. I will take his boots and create a trail for his friends to follow.” I gestured to his feet. “Come on.”

Ian helped me pull off the soldier's boots. He had on two different color socks with many holes. One would think we could outfit our own soldiers better than this. His left foot had an infected sore, most likely an untended blister.

“May have been what put him in a bad mood.” I offered and yanked off the offensive socks. Ian just stared at me speechless. I was sure I was horrifying him but I had to do my best to insure our survival if a troop of the man’s cohorts arrived. I took the socks and boots and started away from Ian.

“Dig,” I directed and pointed at the softer soil near the bank of the stream. I followed the stream into the woods, slapping the socks on the ground or on the trees as I went. After going about a mile downstream I pitched the boots and the socks into the stream with silent apologies to the villagers downhill who depended on this stream for fresh water. Luckily the moon was full and it was a clear night. I crossed over the stream and trudged back up hill. It took a while as several other brooks joined the stream from that side. I slipped and fell a number of times and was wet and dirty by the time I returned to camp.

Ian had done as directed and the grave was nearly finished. We picked up the body with Ian doing most of the lifting. I picked up the naked feet and together we tipped the soldier into the grave. We started kicking the soil into the grave and soon he was lost to our sight in the dark night. We continued until the soil seemed level with the surroundings. As I stomped on the grave I intoned “Dear Lord, into your hands we commend this soul.” Ian backed away from me.

“Afraid of being struck by lightening?” I felt my hysteria peaking.

“No. Just truly amazed. Have you buried many souls before?”

“Nope. First time,” I laughed nervously, “And first time I ever killed a man.”

“He needed killing,” Ian observed.

“If he didn’t before he would have afterwards.”

“After what?” Ian asked.

“After shooting you and raping me,” I continued to lose my slim hold on my composure. “But you could have avenged me.”

“Not if I was dead.” Ian took a step towards me.

“Not dead, injured.” I turned in circles not knowing what to do.

“I would never let anyone harm you. Now, who are you really?” He said stepping closer to me.

I couldn’t concentrate on what he was asking. “You will have to protect them from me, I killed him, I killed a man!” I was screaming and then suddenly I wasn’t. I was wrapped in Ian’s arms and held tightly to his chest. I heard his heart hammering in time with mine.

“Auch now lassy,” the brogue was strong, “Calm yourself,” he murmured things to me as if I was a wild horse. He stroked my back and whispered things to me. I felt warm and safe. I stood straighter and Ian let me go.

“We’d best be going; we need to get some miles behind us this night.” Ian commanded. He had saddled the horses before digging the grave so we mounted and rode off. Shortly, we made it to the road and rode several miles before turning into the woods on the other side of the road.

“Know these woods?” Ian asked me.

“Not as well. I think we are fairly near the coast. We could ride straight through to the coast and then head north. We would come out near to McBain’s Doom. It’s a rough go but harder for someone to track us.”

“You seem to know a great deal for not knowing much.” Ian commented dryly.

“It is good to know your buyers.”

“Really? I thought there was to be a marriage contract between your family and McBain.”

“More like a bill of sale.”

“Explain.” Ian demanded as we crossed the road and entered the woods at a slower pace.

“One virgin in fair trade for a new roof and assorted other farm implements.”

“You don’t think much of this marriage then?” Ian asked in a low voice.

“It’s not for me to think on. I just do as I am told.”

“I doubt that very much. Who are you really?” His laughed boomed through the woods.

“Hush!” I silenced him with a gesture, “We need to go quietly for about a mile. There are some hunters’ huts nearby and I don’t know if any are occupied at the present.”

Ian pulled his horse over to mine to whisper at me.

“Do you think it’s time I learned who you are? You are certainly not young master Robert. McBain will be quite displeased when I show up without young Robert.”

“Call me Robin. I am just a nobody on the estate. I was dressed and ready to search for you that morning when you arrived. I offered myself in Robbie’s place because he’d been quite ill with a flux and could not have made this trip. That’s what Sir Robert was saying to me when he took me aside. His family is grateful to me and through him they made me a promise.”

“Going to share?” he teased.

“You know for one who so recently killed a kings guard you are remarkably chipper.”

“I didn’t kill him, you did,” he pointed out.

It was too dark to see his face clearly. I heard teasing in his voice but the message sent cold shivers down my spine. Would I face the gallows alone? Would my virtue count for naught? I held my silence as I wondered at the predicament: I was selling my virginity for my family’s good and then I killed a man intent on taking that virginity but doubted a court would see saving it as a reason to end a man’s life. Ian kept us moving through the forest away from the scene of my crime.

At last Ian pulled us to a halt. We again unsaddled our mounts and rubbed them down but no fire was built.

“We have but one or two hours until dawn, try to sleep. We need to cover long miles in the morning,” Ian softly stated.

I unrolled my blankets and climbed in with my boots still on, my bow again at the ready and stared up at the stars. “I’m sorry to have gotten you involved in this. If we are followed you need to move on ahead and leave me.”

“I’ll do no such thing, Robin. He would have raped and killed you.”

“How did he know I was a woman? You didn’t seem to notice?”

“He didn’t, lass, he thought you were but a young lad.”

I gasped, “How can that be?”

He laughed bitterly, “My dear child, there are things in the world that you’ve no concept of. I believe this is your first lesson.”

“Surely you are wrong. It makes no sense, the bits don’t fit.”

“I’ll not be the one explaining such to you. You can figure it out yourself being a farm girl and all.”

“No, you are simply wrong. He identified me as a woman…”

“Girl,” Ian corrected.

“A woman, he saw in me,” I huffed.

“You think he saw through your filthy clothes and that awful hat and was consumed with lust? You must have taken a blow to the head.”

“Some men find me attractive, I’m sure.”

“Some farm boy talk his way into those pants of yours and make you a woman?”

I was shocked by his crudity and told him so. I rolled away from him and tried to sleep. I fumed silently, sleep evading me. How could he say such a thing? I thought he was handsome and elegant and smart but I was wrong. He was an idiot just like every man I had met except my brothers, an idiot who only saw women as, as……. what that soldier said.

“Well who got us out of that mess, I’d like to know?” I muttered as I went to sleep.

~~~~~

I wanted a bath, a nice long hot bath with lavender soap. I wanted to wear clean clothes and put my hair up with a pretty bow. I was tired of mud. Mud on my boots, mud on my face and mud soaked clothes. All could be done without for at least a year. I was done with this adventure. It was not as fun as I had imagined. We broke our fast with the stale bread from the day before and the last of the delicious cheese from home. I saddled Thor somewhat more efficiently today and successfully avoided Ian’s glances. I was in no mood to talk to the oaf as we mounted and rode off. I allowed him to take the lead and decided he could do so until he rode us into a stream or got us lost. My unerring sense of direction would tell me when the idiot made a mistake.

We rode fast and hard for several hours before slowing to rest the horses. The trees thinned to a lush plain. I figured we would be approaching the coast road soon and from there we could strike north. We could be at McBain’s Doom within a day at this pace. My rear end needed a break from Thor’s mighty back by the time the sun was overhead. Ian called a halt and we walked our mounts back into the shade of the alder trees lining the nearby river. The lure of the fresh water made me thirsty. I pointed toward the water; we moved the horses down the banks of a swiftly flowing stream where all four of us drank our fill. I removed my boots and socks to wade out into the stream. Ian followed still silent.

The stream had a rocky bottom but was wider down a ways so I headed that direction. The bright sunlight sparkled on the water in spots so bright it hurt my eyes. I found what I was looking for and slowly bent over. Ian started to come up from behind but I held him back with a gesture. I slid my hand slowly into the water, “Come to mama, baby, my sweet baby,” I whispered. Quickly I clasped my hands together as a basket and brought them up out of the water. A trout came along for the ride. Ian caught it before it could jump back down into the cool water. He laughed at my smile.

“A neat bit of fishing.”

“I was hungry, or at least I know I’ll be hungry later.”

“Can you catch another? We can build a fire right here and eat them now, ride longer after dark when the horses are rested.” Ian tossed the trout up onto the bank where it flopped about for a while. I got lucky for two more smallish fish. Ian lost a fourth on the catch but we had enough for a supper. I again gathered wood and Ian cleaned the fish. This time we toasted them over the fire on stout sticks. I salted them from my pack and shared my apples with Ian. I gazed at him openly now. His beautiful face with his cool green eyes, he could have been called Thor. He met my gaze and started his own perusal. I dared myself to be brave and withstand his stare. At home my brothers would have called him out for the audacity but here he thinks I am a strumpet or worse.

“Are you about done?” I asked.

“Not really, you are a pretty little thing.”

“How nice of you to notice beneath my filthy hair and bad hat,” I quoted back to him.

“Still mad about last night?”

“Still mad about your assumption that I had marital relations with someone who is not my husband.”

“My God, you are naïve,” Ian sighed.

“I don’t know what you mean?” I was getting confused.

“You don’t sound like a nobody, you don’t sound like a housemaid or cook, and you know so little about life.”

“I know enough to keep us in food, to keep a wolf at bay and to kill someone in cold blood!” I jumped to my feet to face him. He slowly stood up and walked over to me. He towered above me in my bare feet. I hadn’t realized quite how huge he was.

“It wasn’t cold blood, it was self defense. You are a brilliant woodsman and whoever taught you, your uncles or your brother, they should be proud. I am sure the ladies of your manor would have died of fright the first night. I admire your skills greatly.”

Basking for a moment in the glow of his words, I smiled up at him and when he smiled back a funny feeling struck me in the pit of my stomach. I never felt this before and hoped I wasn’t going to be ill. He smiled down at me and kissed me on my forehead. Something inside of me was somehow disappointed but I couldn’t figure out why.

“Ian, why did that man go after us like that? It doesn’t seem normal.”

“It wasn’t. While you were laying trail with his socks, I removed his dispatches. He was on a mission up here, to bring back an enemy of the crown to London.”

“One man, alone?”

“I guess they felt he could do the job alone.”

“But I killed him.”

“That you did but I distracted him a bit.”

“I thought it was my boyish charms that distracted him.”

“Your charms are hardly boyish, Robin.” Ian held me away from him and gestured. I looked down at my sodden chest and noticed how clearly my breasts were outlined against the thin muslin of my shirt. I quickly pulled my vest together in the front and held out my hand.

“Let me see those dispatches.” I demanded. He pulled them out and I read through them. Now I had a dilemma; if I was an uneducated house maid I could not show Ian I knew how to read, if I was a regular nobody I would know how to read a bit but certainly not in French and this page was obviously written in French. I spent more time deciding on how to continue my deception than in actually reading the French words of a traitor.

“What are you thinking?” Ian asked.

“It’s in French, I think,” I tried to sound confused. “Do you read French?”

“You can read?”

“We teach everyone in our estate to read. Don’t you? So yes, I can read but this I can’t make out at all.” I lied.

Ian looked suspiciously at me. I don’t think he was easily duped. Damn, I spent too long reading the words before handing the dispatches back to him. How do I fix this? Ian helped me out by explaining to me what was written in the papers.

“Apparently, a chain of safe-houses follow the coast road. Several of these houses shelter French expatriates and nobles who fled France from the new Republic. The secrecy of these houses has been compromised and there is someone who is heading north to arrange for the murder of the refugees and their families.” Ian added a few more details.

We discussed this into the night as we both had been raised on this coast though miles and miles apart. Neither of us had ever heard of this network of Frenchmen living in our midst although Maryse had become friendly with a few fellow countrymen. Ian’s sharp mind and wit were in marked contrast to his poor opinion of me and it was difficult for me to put the two sides of Ian together. Soon we were in a spirited conversation regarding the treatment of tenant farmers, mass education and the new steam engine and what changes it could bring to our economies. Ian had some unconventional ideas compared to my brothers and I wondered how McBain’s Doom was managed. I finally asked him flat out if he was the estate manager.

“Yes, one could call me that,” Ian agreed.

“And what else could one call you?” I teased.

“I like lord and master.”

“In your dreams I imagine.”

“Or in yours,” his voice deepened. I blushed and turned away. He walked not in my dreams but did live in my waking thoughts. I left the clearing heading for the stream to wash my fishy fingers, taking a blanket with me. The clear cold water tasted divine. I splashed water on my face. I couldn’t stand another minute in these clothes so I stripped them off, took off my necklace, tucking it in a pocket and walked naked into the stream. Thor was tethered nearby and contently munched on a branch. Finally, as clean as I could be without the advantage of lavender soap, I stepped out of the stream and over to the blanket. The evening was finally warm, a promise of summer, on this spring evening. I lay naked on the blanket to dry and watched the clouds drift by, my thoughts drifted to Ian’s thighs as he proudly sat on his horse. What an amusing thought. I wondered briefly where it had come from and drifted off into sleep.

I awoke to an evening sky with Ian seated beside me. He had covered me with a second blanket. He reached over and moved a tendril of hair away from my face, “You are utterly beautiful. What was it made you smile in your dreams?”

“Your thighs,” I answered sleepily before coming fully awake. I froze as I stared at him. “No, your eyes, I can’t imagine why I said thighs, no, I wouldn’t think of your thighs, your thighs aren’t proper…” Ian silenced me with two fingers laid against my lips. He stroked them back and forth and leaned down close to me. He replaced his fingers with his lips, gentle as they lightly touched mine. Frozen stock still I thought of leaning into those beautiful lips, to taste them and then the proper part of me thought to keep perfectly still so as to not encourage him nor to dislodge a blanket. After debating with myself for a minute I pushed him away and stood up keeping the blanket close.

“You mustn’t ever do that again. It was very nice and it made my stomach turn.”

“I’m repulsive to you then,” Ian smiled.

“Turn isn’t the correct word, more like a flutter-like feeling, quite unusual, most probably not a good thing, I must be allergic to kisses.”

“You want to try again?” Ian asked.

“Most certainly not! I am not one of your little strumpets!”

“You are alone in the woods, traveling with me as a free woman with no chaperon. You are not a lady and I have seen all of you. Let’s play.”

“You beast!” I slapped him. The sound reverberated in the forest. I turned away from the brute. Grasping the blanket, I gathered up my clothes and bag and stomped back to camp. I put on the nasty clothes. I stood for a few minutes to calm down. All he did was kiss me and ask to play. I felt my necklace in my pocket. I clasped it around my neck. Feeling dejected, I saddled Thor and kicked dirt over our fire. Ian came up to me but I held him off with a shake of my head and held up my hand to keep him away. I mounted Thor and headed north. I cared not if Ian followed. All my happiness at spending time with him vanished. Our heady discussions tainted by his mistreatment. What a brute and what a fool I was to have thought him as fine as my brothers. When I was mistress of McBain’s Doom I would have him flogged or chained to a moldy wall or some equally nasty place.

I rode north. The Doom was north. I just wanted this to end. At each rock, tree stump, boulder, copse of trees, any obstacle, I turned left. I could hear Ian behind me, laughing at me at times, trying to start conversation at others. I ignored him. It was full dark by the time I found the road. I eased Thor up a bit and waited listening for sounds of Ian following. I turned around; no sign of him or Bruce could be seen or heard. Dismounting, I pulled Thor to the other side of the road behind a couple of boulders to wait for the big oaf to catch up with me. It wasn’t long before I heard the voices of a large company of soldiers coming up from the south. I quickly dragged Thor deeper into the woods and slightly up a hill. The boulders provided great cover and I had a clear view of the road from this vantage. The full moon provided quite a bit of light. I prayed Ian wouldn’t blunder into the company.

The leading soldier called a halt and the company spread out in the clearing on the other side of the road. Merciful heavens, the entire troop relaxed between Ian and myself. If the troop behaved as the one that bivouacked in our gardens, they would send out pickets and I was close enough to be inside of that picket line. I prayed Thor could walk quietly and turned to take him deeper into the woods above the troop, now spreading out to camp for the night. We made it some distance into the trees before turning south. I hoped to cross back over the road to warn Ian when I heard a commotion from the camp. I hid Thor behind more boulders and tied him firmly to a tree. I crept back towards the troop keeping as silent as I could. I dashed from rock to rock keeping well hidden. From my vantage point I could make out the troop, now spread out around several small campfires. The officers were seated around the central fire and there with them was Ian. His hands were hidden from me but I imagined he was tied and I feared he’d been beaten. He hunched over the fire. I retreated behind the rocks and tried to think. I could do nothing at this point but listen. Gradually the sounds of the soldiers quieted. I tried to pick out a single conversation. I heard a noise above me in the woods and saw the scouts. I was neatly trapped between the host and the scouts. I settled in for a long night. How was I going to rescue Ian?

The night wore on and I started each time the guards called out to each other. They were a finely trained troop and never shirked their duties leaving me no option but to wait for morning and pray they would not catch me as they mustered in the dawn. I huddled down closer to the damp cold soil placing my breast neatly in the mud to hide the white muslin of my shirt and the pale skin of my face. My dark green jacket and brown breeches blended in well and I could but hope to escape their watchful eyes. I slept not a wink and shivered through the night. As dawn crept into the sky, my guards, Brickmen and Sykes left their posts and returned to camp. I used that time to creep a bit higher into the brush along the edge of the wood, fighting not to cough or sneeze. I made it to a safer cover and collapsed onto drier soil. I listened as faint sounds of the soldiers drifted up. Soon all was quiet as the troop continued their northward march.

“Ian, I am so sorry,” I cried. Ian captured, being marched to the gallows. I pictured his bloody face and hands, beaten by his captors. “It’s all my fault.” I rolled into a ball on my side and cried until at last I slept.

~~~~~

Listening to the birds, the songs from the birds and Thor snorting at his new friend Bruce, I opened my eyes. I smelled a fire, and something roasting. I pictured my camp with Ian and rolled over coming wide awake as memories of Ian’s capture flooded my consciousness.

“You sleep deeply, lass,” Ian stated.

“You!” I sputtered, “You were captured! I saw you by the fire last night. They beat you. I was going to figure out a way to rescue you.”

“No they didn’t, they offered me cold roast and ale. We shared a warm campfire and told lies.”

“I cried for you.”

“A waste of tears, lassy”

I sneezed, “Obviously a waste. What is there to eat? I am a full meal behind you.” I sneezed again.

“A chill you’ve got.”

“No, I am fine. I spent a damp night, needlessly worried about your well being. I feel so cheated.” I sneezed and shivered.

A warm and slightly stinky horse blanket settled over my shoulders and a piece of rabbit thrust into my hands.

“We’ve got to get you warm.” Ian pressed a flask to my mouth. A warm liquid passed my lips.

“Just feed me and let me sleep but first tell me why you weren’t beaten and hanged.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“Not a’tall. But why did they welcome you into their camp. I could have stayed dry and hidden farther away if I hadn’t been so worried.”

“You worried? About me?” More warm liquid passed my lips.

“Do stay focused for a bit before I pass out. What happened?”

“Lie down and I will tell you, Robin.”

I settled down with the blanket about me, I’d started shivering and Ian cast more wood on the fire. The warmth did little for me; I was cold down to my bones.

“They recognized me from the castle and asked me to join them for a meal. I told them I was heading south on a task for the castle. They told me to watch for highwaymen as they had heard of some in the area. I think they are missing one of their own but are reluctant to announce it. The officers hinted loudly for information on relations here about between the crown and the locals.”

“They leave you with any ale?” I asked.

“No ale but some stronger spirits.”

“Keep sharing,” I licked my lips in anticipation.

“Aye, lass, you’ve a need.”

“You have no idea.”

My eyes drifted shut as Ian, for the third time, let me drink from a leather bag. I was close to sleep. “Talk to me Ian. I need to hear your voice. How did they recognize you and did you miss me?”

“Did I what?”

“Miss me, I missed you and I missed your voice and your thighs….”

“Oh my little lassy, you’ve a need for sleep. We can discuss this obsession you have for my thighs when you’ve your wits about you.”

“My tits are just fine,” I mumbled.

“Aye, that they are, now sleep before I….” I fell asleep before Ian finished his thought or at least that is my recollection of the conversation.

I awoke sore and stiff, an unusual event for me. My head ached from the spirits Ian forced on me. I added another fault to his growing list. Sneezing, I sat up and rubbed my eyes. My back ached, my head ached, everything ached. Little Robbie had shared the ague, blasted child. Ian thrust the flask at me, now filled with steaming liquid that smelled faintly of nuts.

“Drink, lass, it will help.”

“This is your fault you know.”

“Can’t see how, you're the one that slept in the mud and caught a chill.”

“No, my head aches from whatever the soldiers gave you, stop yelling.” Ian’s hand pressed up against my forehead.

“You’ve a fever, lass, a strong one. We have to get you warm and dry and in bed.”

“Alone?” I asked laying back down. I curled up on my side, “Always alone, that’s me.”

“You’re making no sense lass. Come on, up you get. We’ve a bit of a ride but I know somewhere close.” Ian pulled me to my feet and somehow got me up onto his horse in his lap. I turned to look for Thor to be sure he wasn’t left behind.

“Stop worrying about your horse,” Ian commanded.

“Where’re we going?” I mumbled. “Is it nice?”

“Nice enough, hush now.” I settled against his huge chest and sneezed some more. I tried to rub his shirt clean but got rather interested in exploring his chest. His muscles tensed beneath my fingers as they roamed across his well muscled expanse.

“Achh, stop that lass.”

“I’m sorry, you’re injured?”

“No, but aching apparently.”

“You want me to rub something? My grandmother taught me the eastern arts and I can ease an ache with just my fingers.”

“I imagine you can.” Ian’s voice sounded strained, “But hush now, be still.”

My thoughts wandered but eventually I slept.

A sneeze and the shivers woke me in the early evening. We were still deep in the forest and darkness was spreading beneath the trees. Ian spoke to me of how close we were to some destination. I listened silently trying to burrow deeper into his chest, seeking warmth. Finally we came out of the woods onto a farm. I could see the lights in the windows of a large comfortable looking farmhouse.

“Is this yours?”

Ian grunted. I took that to be an affirmative. I tried to pay attention in the gathering dark to the surroundings. Neat and tidy gardens surrounded the crisp white house with its freshly thatched roof. A large barn filled my vision, a few farm hands waved at Ian as we passed dipping their heads to us. We came around to the front of the house, the light from the windows welcoming us home. Ian handed me down to an older farm hand and gathered me back into his arms after he dismounted. We entered the home; I felt as if I might finally find warmth. The housekeeper, I assumed, helped me settle onto a settee in the great room. I shut my eyes and breathed in the smells of stew and fresh bread, my stomach protested its present state loudly. I was too tired to be embarrassed.

“Have ye not fed the wee lad, Ian?”

“Yes, we've been eating but the wee lad, as you say, has taken a chill and I think has a fever. We need some of your tender care and that vile tasting medicine you so often pumped down my throat when I was a wee one.”

She muttered and headed off after covering me with another blanket. Someone handed me a mug of the nut tea and I sipped it while stealing glances around. Ian's home was lovely. Flowers in crockery bowls abounded. Light glowed from shiny brass lanterns and stairs led up to a gallery along one wall most likely leading to bedrooms. A very prosperous farm did my Ian own. Soon, the housekeeper delivered a bowl of stew. I balanced the bowl on my lap and appreciated the warmth that seeped into my hands. I took a few grateful bites but was just too tired. I sneezed again and started to lose the bowl off my lap. Ian grabbed the bowl away from me with a curse. I found myself rearranged onto his lap and being spoon fed. I got but a few mouthfuls before drifting off. I started crying. It caused great consternation.

“Lassy, what is it?” Ian asked.

“I can't,” I sobbed.

“Can't what?”

“I can't marry you and this house.”

“Robin, lassy, why do you want to marry the house?”

“Don't call me Robin.”

Ian tried to say more but the housekeeper arrived with her vile tea and shooed him away. Ian moved out from under me and settled me back down and gave way before the woman.

“Now laddy, you must drink all of this. It will help you sleep and douse your fever; me own mother taught me to brew it and it has never failed me. You do what old Ennis says.” She continued in that vein until I had gagged down the entire mug. She didn’t look particularly old. She looked about the same age or maybe younger than my own mother with her kind eyes and warm smile. She removed my hat with a gasp of surprise as my braids tumbled out.

“Well, Master Ian, what have ye been up too, I'd like ta know?” She worked on removing my sodden vest and my necklace tumbled out from the chemise. I knew that the family crest would give me away, the twin lions on a field of green was known in these parts as being the Garnet family shield. My small necklace with its miniature lions sported tiny garnets in their eyes. I cried harder and turned away from Ennis to hide my embarrassment. I heard their voices and felt a strong hand stroking my back soothing me in my misery. Ian's low voice once again brought comfort to me and finally sleep overcame me.

I woke to misery; my throat raw, my mouth parched. I tried to sit up but hands held me down as cool water splashed across my brow and neck. I slept again and again woke to a fevered state. Deep in my mind I must have known how sick I was. I remember trying to drink the liquid that was offered. I knew somehow I had to cooperate for Ian's sake. Not quite sure why I cared, but I did. The third time I woke I was coherent. Ian sat by my side. I looked around and found myself in a white washed room, sunny, bright and tidy. Ian looked not so tidy, his lovely hair hanging limp around his face. I reached up to cup his cheek. He leaned into my hand, warmth spread clear through me.

“You look like something the dogs refused,” my voiced didn't sound like my own.

“And you look like the Thames at dawn”

“I thought that was a compliment.”

“Why on earth would that be a compliment? Have you ever seen the Thames?”

“No, I am but a simple lass,” I whispered.

“Not so simple, my love.”

“How long have I been ill?”

“Just two days. Your fever broke last night and Ennis finally left your side to sleep.”

“But you didn't.”

“You don't know that, I could have been to the Doom and back for all you know.”

“I'd know.” I touched his cheek again and he planted a kiss in my palm. It warmed my heart in ways I couldn't explain. Only one suitor had ever tried to kiss me and his attempt at the wrist kiss left me in giggles rather than this unnatural warmth spreading across my loins. Such sensations from one little kiss in my palm, I must still have the fever. I dropped my hand and held the kiss next to my chest protecting it and closed my eyes.

Once again, my stomach announced its presence and I awoke to the aroma of stewed lamb and potatoes. Finally, a meal that was not broth and not stale bread. I sat up. My head spun with a wave of dizziness but I wanted that lamb stew.

“Lass, you may eat some now and gain back your strength.” Ennis sat the tray next to me. I looked for Ian but he wasn’t in the room.

“You wore the poor lad out. He is asleep. He says that you have to leave tomorrow morning. I want you to stay with me a few more days but he insists that his family is waiting for him.” I nodded at her as I shoveled food in as fast as I could; I was afraid she would take it away. “You will have a nice hot bath after your dinner.” I put the spoon down and stood up. The lure of the hot bath was even more tempting than the lure of her delicious stew.

Ennis laughed, “Sweetie, eat. I’ll help with yur bath and it'll stay warm while you finish this stew.”

I did as I was told and finished the stew. Afterwards, Ennis led me to another room with a steaming tub. She helped pull off my clothes. She handled them gingerly as I am sure they stunk but I had long since lost any aversion to the smell. I stepped into the tub, lay down and sank below the water. Bliss, total and complete bliss. Ennis washed my hair with a bar of lavender soap; I was so happy it was lavender.

“I thought of lavender soap many times those four days Ian and I were traveling from my home,” I shared.

“I bet you did, lassie” Ennis giggled at me.

I washed myself with the same soap. After the water cooled, I stepped out and she wrapped me in a large soft sheet. She directed me to sit by a small fire while she combed out my hair. She told me about her daughter and the antics of her grandchildren. She quickly put my hair up in a simple style but I couldn't see it without a mirror. She then handed me a dress that her daughter had left for her mother to repair. It was a lovely yellow muslin dress with an empire waist and capped sleeves. I finally felt clean and refreshed.

We emerged from the room. In the hall we ran into Ian, also bathed and dressed in clean clothes. He looked startled and stared at me; well actually he looked me over as if I was a side of beef he was about to purchase.

“That's a bit small for her don't you think, Ennis?” Ian eyed me critically.

“I think the lass looks bonny in me Martha's dress.”

“Do you think the fabric is a bit thin? Perhaps she needs a shawl?”

“I think I am standing right here, you big oaf and I am sure Martha's dress looks just fine.” I glared at him while motioning my head toward Ennis. The oaf would surely hurt her feelings if he continued to criticize the dress. He ignored my frantic head nodding so I tried to get more subtle, if kicking him in the shin could be described as subtle. He finally looked me in the face, blushed and turned toward the door. I apologized for his insensitive remarks and thanked Ennis for her kindness during my illness. Ennis chuckled and went outside with the wet towels and my very stinky clothes. I was truly grateful to be finally clean.

~~~~~

Alone in the hallway, I scolded Ian. “You were terrible! This dress may be the finest thing Martha owned and you stand there belittling the gift as if it were below you. And it’s not to you the gift was bestowed, it was to me and I like the dress, I like the color and the way it fits.”

“It just fits too tightly, that's all I'm saying,” Ian responded sheepishly.

“I can ride in this, I just need a cloak,” I looked down at my bare feet, “and stockings and my boots.”

“Boots? Slippers more the like, and delicate at that.”

“Ian, can you really imagine me riding in delicate slippers?”

“I can imagine you in nothing at all.” His voice lowered to a husky sort of whisper and my chest did that thumping thing again followed by that queer feeling in my stomach. I took a step toward him, lifting up my head to gaze into his eyes.

“You mustn't say such things,” my voice shook.

Ian growled a sort of laugh and smirked, “I will continue to say such things just to see your reaction. Your face turns pink and the pink goes down your neck and....” He stopped with an oopmh as I punched him in the stomach.

“You will not treat me as your, your.......,” I sputtered searching for the word, something I had read in a ribald French novel my brothers had smuggled in, “...your concubine!”

“My concubine?” Ian erupted into laughter, huge and loud. I would have kicked him again but for my bare feet. I turned and with some sense of dignity I hope, I left the room. I went to find my stockings and boots so that the next time I kicked him, the large idiot would notice.

I found my boots next to a door and took them outside to clean off the dried mud. They were small for boots made especially for me, made from soft deerskin, not great hunks of leather such as Ian's. What would I do with delicate lady's slippers; they'd be ruined in a heartbeat. I brushed the deerskin vigorously thinking of the oaf. What is this strange effect he has on me and what is he going to do to me when Ennis tells him I am actually a Garnet? She saw the necklace the first night I arrived and again today in the bath. Thankfully, with a long chain, the medallion hangs low between my breasts, hidden from view. I looked down to insure the medallion remained hidden and realized that the bodice is rather low cut. Martha must be shorter than even I. Actually, I remembered Martha is the youngest child in the family and is probably only fourteen or so. I was wearing a child's dress! A slow smile crept over my face as I realized in the way a woman realizes, that Ian had no objection to the dress, and he was admiring my previously hidden attributes. A sense of wonder came over me accompanied by a little sense of power. This may be quite interesting. At that moment, Ian cleared his throat; he must have been leaning against the porch for a bit.

“What are you smiling about, lass?”

“Oh, this and that,” I leaned over to tug on my boot and deliberately leaned in his direction. Ian coughed again and straightened, and suddenly found the window fascinating. I smirked a bit myself. I could learn to play this game and I am very good at games, ask my brothers.

“Could I hold your arm while I put on the other boot?”

Ian grunted and walked over to me grabbing my upper arm while I used the other hand to tug on the second boot. I smiled up at him, to see an angry oaf. He grabbed my other arm and pulled me roughly to his chest.

“What game are you playing at, lass?” His breathe hot against my cheek.

“One I am learning from you, sir. Now, let go so we can move on.”

He stared at my lips for a moment and I sucked on my lower lip thinking hard about what was going on here. He crushed me to him and lowered his lips. Hot pleasure roared through my loins as his mouth devoured mine. His tongue thrust its way in to twine with mine, causing a myriad of sensations all the way to my toes. I stood on tiptoe to grant him more access. My mouth opened to him, my heart also. We stopped for breath and I pushed him away. Oh my word! What was that? I must be a sinner. I wanted him to kiss me again and again. I was doomed. I looked at him as I brushed my fingers across my swollen lips.

“I am sorry, lass.” Ian whispered as he stared at my lips for a full minute and then he turned away from me.

What was wrong? He was sorry? He didn't feel it? Feel that eruption of passion in my breast? He was sorry? I hated him. I kicked a bucket and sent it flying across the porch.

“Sorry?” I screamed at his back at he entered the stables. I kicked the wall and screamed some more. Ennis appeared at the door and motioned me back inside the house.

“Here, have a cuppa tea. Ian does that to people sometimes.”

“Does what? Make them want to murder him?”

“Yes, that among other things.” she bustled about and handed me a biscuit to go with my tea. “Our Ian has a way about him; he seems heavy handed and is a bit driven at times. What happened lassy?”

“He kissed me; he grabbed my arms and kissed me.”

“Is that all?”

“I kissed him back.”

“Ah,” said Ennis.

“And then he said he was sorry.”

“Ah, now that's the way of it, is it?”

“No, that is not the way of it, it can't be, I have to...to do something, and Ian isn't part of that. Why would he be sorry? Why shouldn't I be sorry?” I paced the room, “I could be sorry. I could be sorry about the way he looked at me and made my heart leap, I could be sorry about that.”

“This sounds serious.” Ennis looked suspiciously unserious.

“That's it! I will be more sorry than he is...for whatever he thinks he is sorry for. I'll show him sorry.” Ennis laughed and left the room. I looked about for my cloak and strode out to the stables to find Thor. The giant oaf was speaking to another giant.

I overheard them speaking of the French in the area. I joined them keeping the new giant between Ian and myself. I didn't want to feel the heat radiating from his body; I didn't want him to sense mine. The stable was warm and well swept. I assumed the stable hand was the man I'd seen briefly during my illness. I interrupted and thanked him for his hospitality.

“You’re quite welcome young lassy. Our Ian brings us the occasional lassy but you'd be the first that was so sickly.”

“Would he now? Bring home so many lassies? Here?” I was learning so much about our Ian this morning. I turned to glare at the oaf in question, “Now how many lassies have you brought here and how many do you claim to be sorry to, after having brought them here?”

Ian coughed a bit and tried to change the subject, “As I was saying, Fergus, we read a dispatch, in French.”

“Did ya now?” Fergus responded while I continued to fume, “Where did ya get such a dispatch? I understand them to be highly guarded in this area of the country.”

“I took it from a dead soldier, a sergeant I believe.”

“How did he get to be a dead soldier? We would have heard about any skirmishes with highwaymen, though it would explain the troops moving through here with such great frequency right now.”

“Robin shot him,” Ian gestured at me.

“No! The wee lassy shot a fellow?”

“Yes indeed she did. It was a sweet sight to be sure. The soldier had rather unpleasant plans for the lass and she took it upon herself to shoot him through the eye with the daintiest bow you have ever seen. A finely carved one at that.”

“The lass in question is right here, gentleman and if I shot the man, it was in self defense.” I poked Fergus in the chest to emphasize my point of view. “He wanted to do unnatural things to my person and I had no choice.”

“Ian did nothing to help you, lassy?” Fergus asked incredulously.

“He would have gotten around to doing something eventually but time was of the essence. I recall that a pistol was trained on our Ian and Ian was somewhat frozen at that moment.” I smiled sweetly up at Ian.

“I would have saved you.” Ian looked back with a blank expression, “The soldier thought she was a he at the time.”

“He did not!” I said.

“Yes, he did, you had your finer attributes disguised, quite well at the time.”

“You keep saying that but I don't see how that is possible.”

Fergus interjected, “You mean to tell me a king's soldier had Ian under a pistol and you managed to shoot him through the eye with a slip of a lady’s bow and arrow and then stole the king's dispatches and managed to come here dragging me and my family into treason against the crown?” Fergus' voice tended to rise a bit as he rather accurately encapsulated our accomplishments.

Ian smiled at him, “Yes, that’s exactly right.”

Fergus grinned back at the idiot, “Well as long as I understand. Ian, there's only one lass in these parts who has that kind of skill.”

I interjected before Fergus had a chance to continue. I knew he'd name me as Bridget Garnet as I was rather well known in these parts at least by reputation. “Fergus, we could show you the dispatches, they are in French. Ian and I thought it was rather odd. They claim a group of French families, minor nobility are living up here on the coast. They have been waiting for word to go to Normandy to await the signal to return to their estates. It indicated an assassin is on his way here to murder these families, children and all, to eradicate the nobility for fear of the nobility arising again in France.”

Ian looked at me with a strange face, “That wasn't exactly what was on the dispatch.”

“Yes it was. You mistranslated.”

“I did what?” I should have read disaster in his eyes but I missed it.

“Certainly, you read it as if they were already returning to their estates not as if they were waiting to return.”

“I did what?” I should have heard the frustration in his voice but I missed it.

“Yes, and the part about gathering somewhere together to hear word, you thought it referred to our soldiers gathering to attack them.”

He grabbed both my shoulders and turned me to face him. His eyes bored into mine and he demanded, “You are no house maid, you shoot too well, you read French and know about concubines. Who the hell are you?” His face was enraged; his anger obvious and I didn’t miss that.

I quailed, “You're hurting me, Ian,” as he brought me up on my toes.

Fergus placed a hand on Ian's arm, “Quit scaring the child.”

He slowly let me go.

“We'll speak of this again, be sure about it.” Ian turned to Fergus, “I must put in an appearance elsewhere. Let's set Robin up in your tavern with a room. I will come and get her as soon as I can disentangle myself from other commitments.”

~~~~~

I guess we were leaving. Ian led me to the horses, Fergus trailed behind us. Ian tossed me up on Thor; the two men mounted their horses and together we turned toward a road that led to a small village. The men greeted all of the people we passed. The road was well populated by the time we reached Dumfries. We rode straight to the Barrel Ale Inn. Lads met us and took the leads from our horses. One handed me down to a soft landing. I smiled my thanks.

“I am parched.” I said to no one in particular.

“Aye, lass, here's where you are served the best ale and the best pub grub around.” Fergus took my hand and we walked into the pub with Ian stomping behind us. My guess was that he was still angry over the translation issue. Honestly, some men had such abominable pride. I wasn't sure what he had against concubines but it seemed to be a sticking point.

The pub was warm and inviting, a long mahogany bar travelled along the inner wall. Low tables and chairs were scattered about the great room with more low chairs arranged in a semi circle about the fireplace. Several chairs were occupied with locals, their legs stretched toward the fire. They all looked extremely comfortable; one was snoring softly under a wide brimmed hat. Another reached for his ale well resting on the floor, the chairs so low to the ground. I could see stairs curling up to a second story with a short landing half way up, a dark hallway headed off toward the rear, probably rooms for let. Ian stayed back near the door and signaled Fergus to stay with him. Fergus was standing still listening to Ian. Ian was waving his arms, speaking rapidly and pointing repeatedly at me. Finally, his diatribe complete, he stared at me for a moment and left, the door slamming behind him. Fergus returned to my side and took my hand again and led me towards the stairs. Several locals looked up as I marched up the stairs behind Fergus. I was sure they had decided I was the new disreputable lady. I blushed and hoped Fergus didn't notice. He opened the last door on the left and ushered me inside.

“Here's where you'll stay until Ian returns.”

“Returns? Where did Ian go?” My voice squeaked embarrassingly, how could he leave me?

“He had some business to take care of before he can look into those dispatches you stumbled across.”

“I wasn't stumbling, I was aiming.”

“I gather.” Fergus said softly and sat down near the window, “You are quite the young woman, aren't you?”

“More than he knows.”

“Apparently,” Fergus agreed with a sardonic grin.

“Fergus, I can't just sit in my room or sit at a table and wait for Ian. Monday I need to be somewhere. Until then, can I help you at the bar, wipe tables or something?”

“That would be grand, lass. Ennis will give you an apron and you can start whenever you want.”

“Ennis? Ennis from the farm?”

“Aye lass. She took a likin' to you; you remind her of our daughter who has moved up to Edinburgh with her husband.”

“Now is as good as any time. Show me the way to the kitchen.”

Fergus gave me a bear hug and kissed the top of my head. Then he wrapped his arm around my shoulder and walked me down the back stairs into a lovely large country kitchen with beautiful wooden countertops and a large wooden table in the middle. In the corner a bowl covered with a tea towel foretold of a crusty bread for the evening stew. The walls were a bright white. A large pot simmering on the range filled the room with a delicious aroma. Some smoked meats were hanging from hooks on the ceiling. I walked across the room to another small door, opened it and peered down into a cellar where the walls were lined with bottles of wine and kegs of ale.

“You have a very modern kitchen here, Fergus.”

“We brew the best ale in the lowlands, lass as well as bake the best bread.”

“I can see that or shall I say, I can smell that, hmmmm.” I smiled at him, grabbed an apron to wrap around my waist and walked back out into the public area with Fergus in tow. Fergus stepped behind his new mahogany bar, wiped away an invisible ring on the countertop and nodded me over to a family that just walked in for an early evening supper.

I walked toward the family. They were rapidly speaking French in low undertones. When I approached they became quiet and wary. I was new and they didn't recognize me. “Hello,” I said, “What would you like to eat?”

“Lamb stew, ale and tea for the children,” The mother replied.

I started back to the kitchen when I heard them say in French, “The message said to meet here but I don't see any others.”

“Wait, mère, we may be early. We'll eat slowly and wait for the others.”

“I am not sure we are safe here. That girl was English.”

“I saw Fergus hug her, she must be a friend of the family.” I walked into the kitchen and was greeted with another hug and a kiss from Ennis.

“Robin, love! What a wonderful surprise to see you. I send you off with Ian in the morning thinking I will never see you again and here you are walking into my kitchen! Sit, love, have a cuppa with me. I have some scones here.”

“I can't Ennis, I am working.” I fingered the apron wrapped around my waist to indicate that indeed I was working.

“Nonsense. I will beat Fergus if he is making you work or pay for a room.”

“He isn't making me work, Ennis. I can't sit still all day waiting for Ian. I will only be here for a few more days anyway. I have to be somewhere on Monday. So, I need four plates of lamb stew and a pot of tea.”

“This is not right child.” She complained even as she began scooping the aromatic lamb stew into four bowls.

As if I have been serving food for years rather than ten minutes, I balanced the bowls and tea on a tray and delivered them to the small family without mishap. I then learned how to pull an ale, wipe down tables, and escape a pinched bum all while keeping a smile on my face. We were busy. Some French families intermingled with the locals. Farmers, bankers, families, merchants all came to Barrel Ale Inn for the cozy atmosphere, the great food and the exceptional ale. Fergus wasn't lying when he said he knew how to brew a good ale. By closing time I had sore feet, sore arms and was so exhausted I fell into my bed scant seconds after removing my dress.

I awoke to the fragrant smell of baking bread. I threw on my dress, splashed water on my face and curled up my hair, securing it to the top of my head. I needed a bath and a clean dress but first I needed tea and some of that bread. I walked down stairs and followed my nose to the kitchen. Fergus and a local woman were working in tandem to get several loaves of bread, kneaded, rising and baking.

“Morning, Fergus, Ma’am.”

“Morning lass, this is Heather, she comes in every morning to get the breads going for the day. Tea?”

“Mmmm, yes, and some bread, if it is allowed for me to have a bite.”

“Of course, lass, sit down over there and I will pour you a cup.”

“Do you know when Ian is coming back?” I asked between bites of the warm bread spread with delicious currant jam.

“He said he will be by today.”

“Ohh is there a way I can have a bath and some clean clothes?”

“Aye, a bath is being set up in your room now and more clothes arrived last night. You have Ennis to thank for that. She's not happy that you are working here, I have to tell you, she nearly took off an ear last night when I told her what a great pub wench you were shapin' inta.”

Some young boys wandered into the kitchen with two baskets of fresh eggs.

“We did as you asked mum, we did the water, we carried icky dresses, we got the eggs, and stayed outta your way. Can we have some bread, Mr. Fergus? Can we have some milk, Mr. Fergus? Can we sweep the floor out front, Mr. Fergus?”

I could hardly tell who was talking. They were all noise, movement, hands and legs.

Heather laughed and looked at me. “Twin nine year olds keep me young. Your bath is ready in your room. Why don't you take your tea cup and enjoy some quiet. I'll find more work for these two before they start their lessons for the day.”

I picked up my mug and left the kitchen to the sounds of “we don't need lessons, mum, we need to learn man stuff. I want to learn how to smuggle rum, like pirates.” and “You have to learn to sail first.”

Back in my room, as promised, was a steamy hot bath, and three dresses on my bed. I proceeded to enjoy the labor of the two rather-be-pirates. I had to get out of this situation and I had to speak with Ian. I am supposed to get married soon. My family is arriving within a week at Doom and they are going to wonder where I am. I don't think I want to marry for the family roof any longer; my heart was becoming rather fond of Ian. He has a nice farm house. His family seems to like me well enough; I could fit in with them. I really liked Ian's kisses. Just thinking about him kissing me brings a flush to my face and a flutter to my stomach. Yes, I would much rather be with Ian. Also, I needed to tell Ian what I had overheard from the French family. My first priority is to make sure my family knows that I am safe and explain to them that I can't get married anymore. I need to get to Doom.

The day passed quickly with the chores of running a successful inn. I was in and out of doors all morning but caught no sight of Ian. I asked Fergus again and again until he sighed at me to be a quiet lass, something that has always escaped me but he seemed not to know that. I was surprised to find myself with time for reflection. Working in an inn, your hands keep busy but you have plenty of time to think about what is going on around you and if you want you can isolate yourself and think about the mess you have created. I spent most of the day ruminating about my situation but by the end of the day I had also picked up on some very interesting conversations in French. The family that mentioned the message last night did not appear for luncheon. I assumed they were taking a walk. However another little family arrived and I helped set them up in the east wing. They were reluctant to talk around me but their adorable little girl followed me around the inn until her mother retrieved her. Her name was Isabelle; she was five years old and quite full of information. Isabelle was a bright young girl and seemed somehow to know I understood every word her parents uttered.

“You are sure, my wife, this is the correct inn? I see no sign of Belle and Pierre,” he said in French.

“This is the one, Belle told me about the wings and how we were to get rooms in the east wing. How many inns in this town are large enough to claim an east wing? Isabelle, get away from the window.”

“I will go down to the stables to look around.” the husband replied, promptly standing up and putting his words to action.

“How like a man, you go scouting among the horses, they can tell you tales.” The wife shouted after him in her native tongue. I hid my smile but Isabelle caught me and giggled. Her mother noticed and looked sourly at me. She gestured at me to unpack their belongings. After a while they too wandered out of the room. I quickly closed the door and turned the key in the lock before rifling through their belongings looking for written correspondence. I finally found a packet of letters tied with purple ribbon in the bottom of a valise that had been shoved under the bed, I supposed by the father. One could assume, it wasn't meant for me to unpack. I had but a scant moment to untie the packets and read the letters before hearing the darling Isabelle on the stairs. I shoved the packet back into the valise and kicked it under the bed and ran to the door to unlock it. I barely made it back to my place at the wardrobe before the door opened and the family returned.

“C'est fini,” the father gestured imperially at me which I took to be a universal sign that I, one unworthy of his attention, was completed with my tasks. I curtsied and left. I also still had one letter clutched in my hand which I hastily thrust into my apron pocket. I prayed he had not seen me.

~~~~~

Alone with the stolen letter, I walked back downstairs and out a side door to find myself in the kitchen garden, quite a small one for an inn this size. They must bring up produce from Ian's farm. I wandered slowly around to the side garden and leaned on the wall of the inn. Here I could assure myself of some privacy and took the letter from my pocket. I gasped as I read the missive. These folks were in such deep trouble!

“Que pase?” piped a small voice.

“Ma petite fluer,” I said bending down to take Isabelle’s tiny hand and continued in French. “You followed me?”

“Yes, Mama is so angry today, not like other days.”

“Other days she is happy?” I asked.

“Oui, she smiles and picks me up and sings. That was before we got the sad letters telling us to go to the sad place.”

“What is the sad place, Isabelle? Is it this inn?”

“No, Miss Robin. It is far, far away where they hate my family but we have to go back, to a chapeau.”

“A chateau, perhap?”

“That’s the word, I heard. I thought it silly to have to go to a hat.”

I laughed at her sweet innocence. In my letter, the author talked about the chateau, a family home over run with rabble, half burned to the ground and now a place of death, the dreaded guillotine had come to the chateau. The letter did not say to go back but rather to stay away, to stay oceans away. What was going on I wondered. I needed to talk with Ian and I needed him now. I walked with Isabelle through the garden chatting silly things about the flowers and the vegetables. She was so engaging and sweet. To think of her in the midst of a French riot made me angry. Why did these people think they had to return to that horror when they had this letter? What was contained in this letter was the total opposite of what was in the dispatch found on the deceased soldier. Isabelle yanked my hand, “Miss, what is this smelly plant?”

“What, Isabelle? Which one?”

“I have been asking and asking and you are just staring off at the trees and not listening to me,” Isabelle complained.

I dropped to my knees and took her by the shoulders “Little one, I am just thinking about the sad place and I'm worried about your family. But let's talk of other things. Show me the stinky plant that worries you?” I hugged her shoulder before standing. She pointed to a lavender bush, no longer covered with the fragrant blooms but fragrant none the less.

“Ah, my petite fleur, that is.....”

“Isabelle! I find you. Come. Vous ne pouvez pas errer de seul. Smart mother not wanting her child to wander off alone.

“Au revoir, Miss Robin,” Isabelle waved cheerily at me as her mother led her back into the inn.

I sat on the low stone wall with my back against a gnarled old tree. Older than the wall, it obviously determined the confines of the kitchen garden. The sun was warm on my face; I was tired from my morning work, I promptly fell asleep.

I awoke with a start, surprised I fell asleep at all. I should get myself to Doom to see my family and explain that I cannot marry for the roof. I decided I had waited long enough for Ian. I went back to work for the early evening meals. My mind was rehearsing how to tell my family that they get no new roof. After the evening meal was served and we were just refilling ales, I walked around to the stables, asked the stable boy to ready Thor and then ran up to my room to get my warm riding cloak. Ennis was in the kitchen cleaning up the final dishes with another young woman, listening to her gossip of her husband and children. I told her I would be back but she just waved me away and went back to her gossiping young friend. I ran back to the stables and set off to the Doom.

The road curved around a tidal inlet. The boys' talk of pirates made me smile. Pirates, right here on the Border? It would be exciting. I saw some bobbing lights down in the water. Lights? Who is down by the water at this time of night? Are we being invaded by France? That would be a long way round for France to attack I argued with myself. I turned Thor toward the water to investigate and ensure that our local French families were safe. The waves rolled in and out and the winds gently blew through my hair. I dismounted and loosely tied Thor to the last tree before the sand and sharp rocks usurped the solid road. The new moon was just a sliver in the drawing night sky. I climbed down a short cliff to the sand below and finally came across a row of men tossing bales wrapped in a coarse burlap canvas, from a boat up to shore where they disappeared into a small cave. Was this busy enterprise of men unloading bales of wool from Ireland? Irish wool is forbidden to be sold in England. Were they smuggling it in for the new mills? All worked stopped as the men turned to stare at me; at least one drew out his pistol. I backed up raising my hands in the air.

“Sorry,” I shouted. I backed into a boulder. The men continued to stare and the man continued pointing the gun. Behind the man with the gun, I saw Ian, his finger lifted to his lip. I nodded.

“Just out for an evening stroll,” I indicated the water. The warm boulder at my back reached over and grabbed me, tossing me over his shoulder and turned away from the beach. I knew this feeling, I had been hauled away before, and this must be my fiancé from Castle Doom. Oh my, how do I get out of this? The giant carried me back up the path to the top of the small cliff. And where was Ian? I lifted my head to look at the retreating beach. I barely made out Ian's profile in the torchlight. He appeared to be concerned, if howling in laughter showed any concern. The buffoon! I should introduce myself to my betrothed. He would fall instantly in love with me and my behind where you could currently find his hand and Ian would mourn for me forever or he would reject me outright for the harlot I was becoming and I could then run to Ian. I would win either way.

“Sir?” I asked.

The giant grunted.

“Perhaps I could explain?” I tried again.

He swatted my behind, hard!

We reached Thor; I was dumped across the saddle on my stomach and the giant audaciously slapped poor Thor who cantered up the path with me hanging on for dear life. As Thor crested the path to the meadow above, he slowed and I slid off. I spoke to Thor for a few moments trying to regain my composure and my equilibrium before heading back along the coast to the inn. I heard someone on the path and dragged Thor into the trees. Ian's huge shape was immediately identifiable as his horse entered the meadow.

“Ian, over here.” I whispered.

“Robin, you little fool! What are you trying to do? Get yourself shot?”

“Not anymore than you are. What was that? Smuggling? That’s what you all do up here, whore and smuggle?”

“Not all we do,” Ian answered calmly. “Mount up. You need to get back to the inn.”

Changing the subject I asked, “Who was that giant? He hit me?”

“He what?” Ian asked in some disbelief.

“Yes, on my bottom.”

“You deserved it, I guess.” Ian calmed down immediately.

“Who was he? Was he from the Doom?”

“Aye, that he was, a good man.”

“For a smuggler?” I was beginning to get testy.

“Don't you be judging the man. He and those men provide for their families with that work. Those mills are providing people with jobs and money, which, in turn, provide more jobs for the local farmers and pub owners. We have already seen improvement in our roads. Doctors are becoming more available to these people so that perhaps, just perhaps, the children will get better care and we won’t lose so many of our children.”

“Your points are not lost on me Ian. I know what those mills mean to the locals. But, by smuggling? Bringing in wool from Ireland from what I saw. Irish aren’t allowed to export their raw wool. I saw bales of it, bales and bales.”

“You saw nothing, Robin.”

“And if I say I saw something?” I slapped my chest.

“I said you saw nothing!”

“I'm sorry, I don't quite understand.”

“You don't need to understand, you just need to do what I say.”

“I don't think that will work out for me.”

“Why not?”

“You think I am one of your harlots?”

“You think I have harlots? More than one?”

“You might.”

“I don’t. You seem to have some difficulty with authority.”

“I have difficulty with bone headed males who are delusional about their ability to solve every problem with swords or guns.”

“You have a better suggestion?” he asked as he lead us onto the path again.

“I might if you slowed down enough to listen to me.”

He stopped and turned his horse to face me, his face a mask of anger.

“You don't think I am trying to protect you from all this?” he waved his arm toward the sea.

“I don't think I need protecting. I did just fine in the forest. Without me, you would have been hungry and possibly dead the first night or at least cold and bleeding. I was the one who shot the wolf; I was the one who shot dinner every night!” I yelled back at him.

“You are right; you did an excellent job in the forest.” He replied.

“You think suddenly I am helpless because I caught a cold?”

“I think you don’t get back to the inn and get some sleep you, tomorrow, you will be late for work.”

Work. I have never worked for money. I was tired and achy and did not want to be serving demanding men and screaming children.

As it turned out, I had the morning off. I slept late and took a long bath. I came down for luncheon service. I still ached, I still was rather put out by Ian and his friends and whatever they were up to and I was still not ready to face the demands of hungry pub patrons. Ennis, gleaning my mood from watching me rub my temples and then my back sent me out to the garden. Young Isabelle trailed behind me chattering in French. I handed her a bowl to fill with green beans. We picked the beans and she practiced English telling me her observations about town. My head throbbed. She screamed something about a giant and ran back towards the inn. The giant's arm wrapped around my waist and turned me around. I found myself being pulled through the garden down a quiet lane from the inn by an angry Ian. He seemed to only have one emotion for the past day and that was varying states of rage. I, unfortunately, seemed to be the one to bring out his best, if throbbing veins and angry eyes could be called his best.

“Who are you?” he demanded.

“We seem to keep having this conversation.” I stepped back.

Ian caught me in his arms and shook my shoulders. “You speak fluent French.”

“I think that is somewhat obvious.”

“And you read it better than I,” he continued.

“That goes without saying,” I offered.

“Those are not skills you pick up in a stable.” Ian scowled at me.

“I'd surmise that as well.”

“Quit agreeing with me!”

“Quit stating the obvious, Ian. I am only what I appear to be. Adept at hunting, fluent in several languages, a bit of a tom boy and somewhat confused as to why it matters so much to you. You are the one who keeps taking off for McBain's Doom. What is your business there?”

“It doesn't concern you, lass.”

“Indeed? Well, two can play at that game, who I am doesn't concern you.”

“It shouldn't as I am getting married in a few days.”

“Well so am I!”

“You are?”

“You are?”

We stood toe to toe screaming at each other. His news of his upcoming marriage startled the both of us. He stared down at me running his hand through his hair, breathing heavily from his rage. I watched his lovely chest move like a giant bellows until he regained control. He reached for me and I pulled back, away from him. His hand fell back to his side and he sighed, “Lassie, don't be scared.”

I whispered at him, “Stop, Ian, just stop,” and I took another step back which is why I fell backwards over the cliff as the bullet missed me and the echo of the retort provided punctuation to my scream.

~~~~~

Lucky for me, a shelf just a yard or so below the lip of the cliff broke my fall. I ached; it took me a moment before I could breathe. I heard Ian swearing above me, and then telling me to lie still and play dead; it wasn't particularly difficult given the pain in my back. I closed my eyes and went elsewhere for what turned out to be several hours. By the time Ian knelt over me gently shaking me awake the sun was well past noon. He wrapped me in a soft cloak and helped me to my feet.

“Was that a shot I heard?”

“Yes, the dragoons have returned but I am not sure it was from them.”

“It could have been. What if they found the body?” I paled.

“How could they have associated it with you, love? It makes no sense.”

“And someone from the inn shooting at me makes sense?” My hysteria rose and again he pulled me into his arms to hold me close. My back throbbed but I appreciated his warmth.

Unsteady on my feet, I wavered a bit. Ian led me to the steep drop at the edge and helped me find the narrow path that led down to the shore. We were sheltered from sight from above so we felt somewhat safe in making an invisible getaway. At the bottom of the granite cliffs, on the sandy beach, two horses waited, not my beloved Thor but a smaller sturdy mare with a thick gray coat. Ian assisted me atop the horse. He checked my stirrups and then mounted his own horse. We cantered up the beach and around the headland out of sight from the town and the inn. I became increasingly more uncomfortable as we rode and worried I had truly injured my back in the fall but I did not want to slow down for fear of the dragoons and whoever shot at us. We eventually left the beach and headed into deep woods, Ian picking out a path between the trees. The light faded as the hours passed, yet he was determined in his direction and I trusted him to keep me safe. At last we stopped. It was twilight, I could make out a large cottage nestled against a towering black stand of trees or so I thought. Ian helped me down and I staggered against him.

“Worn out?”

“Apparently. Ian, I think I hurt myself in the fall.” He reached inside my cloak to pull me up against him and drew out his hand with a sharp intake of breath. His hand was covered in blood, dark black on his hand in the failing light. I fainted.

~~~~~

I was floating in a lake scandalously naked, warm water flowing over my breasts and through my legs. I dreamed of Ian floating with me in the darkness, his soft voice whispering to me.

It was wonderful...and then I woke up and started screaming. It was dim and I was wet, floating in a small pool, more like a large tub. My eyes adjusted and I stopped screaming, it was rather silly. Ian sat against the far wall in the pool with me; my arms seemed to be tied to the rim of the pool keeping my head above water. I wondered how much of my dream was true. Ian stood and came to me, speaking softly to soothe me. He untied one wrist. Limp, it fell into the warm water. I brought it immediately up to run my fingers over the massive chest that filled my vision. A large naked chest. His lips brushed my cheek as he reached past me to untie my other wrist. By this time my traitorous hand had wandered back across his chest and around to his back, my newly freed hand began to explore his chest anew.

“Now stop right there, lassie.

“I can't seem to help it,” I whispered my voice hoarse, “Why am I naked in a pool with you naked in the same pool? And why was I tied up?”

“The bullet hit you, grazed you more like. The ache you had was a shallow furrow across part of your back. Your fall then tore the skin some and your clothes kind of got caught up in all that and then I had to…”

“Ian, why am I naked, and why do I want to keep touching your lovely chest?”

“It was all the healing stuff I could think of. I put you into the pool to get the cloth unstuck from the dried blood, to clean the wound, you see. And then your clothes seemed to get in the way and then my clothes seemed to get in the way and it seemed like a good idea to just simply remove them. I hope you don’t mind.”

“At least I am warm.”

“And I poured a bit of whiskey down your gullet.”

“Ah, that explains it some. The tied up wrist seems a bit extreme but I guess I approve of the rest. Where are we?”

“At a hunting lodge, long owned by my family, well away from the dragoons and the French. Far enough away for you to mend and for me to…, well never mind.”

I watched my hands continue to explore the expanse of his chest and on around to his back. I felt disconnected from them. I knew they were my hands and they felt wonderful, actually Ian felt wonderful but the part of my mind that should be horrified, shocked, embarrassed at being naked with a man was somehow not in residence. At about that moment, my hands both trailed up his back across his neck and into his glorious hair. I brought his head down to my lips but he had other ideas and detoured to my forehead. Ian gently held me with his lips doing their own exploring that led to very strange feelings in my lower regions. Strange but wonderful. He had made his way across my forehead and was working down towards an ear when I turned and found his lips with mine. I sucked on his lower lip; somehow, it felt like the thing to do. He must have agreed as he tried to do the same and pretty soon we were sucking and biting and exploring things with our tongues. It was all incredibly wonderful and I am certain, quite sinful. My sister never described anything like this; I was going to hell for sure.

Ian continued the kissing part while his hand sank beneath the water to explore my breasts. He cupped them and fondled them and it felt exquisite. He lowered his head and lifted my chest from the water when he latched onto my nipple with his mouth. Heat exploded, coursing through my body. I gasped, arching my back, granting him easier access; my nipples turned hard in eager response. One hand reached lower, one finger searched lower and lower before gaining entrance into my secret place. I moaned, writhing with an inner need to reach the top of this sensory mountain. Suddenly I was atop and my whole body shivered with exquisite release; stars exploded throughout my body. It was a few moments of complete bliss. I had no idea about what went on between men and women; I was ready to learn more. Completely limp in his arms, I luxuriated in the feel of my soft breasts pressed against his hard chest; my toes rubbed his legs whispering against the soft hair and hard muscles. I finally opened my eyes to look into Ian’s beautiful blue eyes; his finger stilled.

Ian looked away and then pushed away from me sending water cascading over the lip of the pool onto the floor of the small room.

“You’re a lusty lass after all.”

“I am not.” I argued touching my fingers to my swollen lips, “Why was that so wonderful and so lusty? Why is this,” I waved my hand across my body, “such a bad thing?”

Ian moved towards me. “No, stay back. I am not lusty, never have been, and yet when you are near all I want to do is touch you. And that makes me a bad person.” I started to cry.

Ian stared at me for a full minute before exiting the pool with what sounded like an exasperated grunt. I watched his well-shaped bum. He stooped to pick up a sheet, and sadly, hurriedly covered his lovely bum. He thrust a sheet at me.

“Robin, climb out, I’ll help but I won’t look, I’ll keep my eyes on your intriguing eyes and we will get you covered and warm and then I supposed I must explain some things to you”. He was as good as his word and helped me from the pool, never taking his eyes off of mine. His intense stare spoke volumes but I was not yet speaking his language.

“I suppose you must because I am powerfully confused right now.”

I turned away from Ian and tucked the soft cloth neatly around my body leaving my arms naked and free. I turned back to him. Ian lied, he had been looking. I gazed up into his eyes, dark now in the dimness. My hand reached up to cup his cheek, his warmth spreading into my palm. He turned his head and planted a kiss in my palm. He then closed my hand around his kiss and placed it against my heart.

“So who are you, Mistress Robin, it is time for the truth.” Ian whispered.

“I can only give you my truth.”

“But isn’t that the truth?”

“Not necessarily, Ian. I left with you several days ago planning on traveling to the McBain’s where the Garnets would come and trade me for their virgin bride. As I told you, I was just a substitute for your strange request. And by the way, you have never mentioned why you needed young Master Robert to accompany you, almost as a hostage it would seem.”

“He wasn’t to be a hostage, more like a guarantee. Miss Bridget has a reputation of being a bit wild and not reliable”

“You’ve no idea,” I muttered.

“The thought from the McBain’s was that this would force her into coming to the Doom and presenting herself to the family. I would hope she would give the McBain a chance and would eventually enjoy being the Lady of the Doom before producing the heir.”

“So Miss Bridget is nothing but a brood mare?” I felt like crying for such a bleak future.

“You sound so sad. Isn’t that what all arranged marriages are?”

“I wouldn’t know. I am a simple lass.”

“Not so simple, Robin.”

“I am but a young lady, better educated than some, more resourceful than most. But just a lass, in the end, wishing for love.”

“Won't you find love?”

“Already did but it is not with my intended. And for him I must remain pure. If my soul has sinned, let me keep such sin in my heart. I shall always hold these hours with you in my heart.”

“Do you love me?” Ian asked with a hint of hopefulness in his voice. He gathered me close.

“I don’t know. I feel something powerful, something grand and intense. But also I feel so sad and cold. My intended shall never know of you, of this misadventure. You, I shall lock away, to be treasured in the darkness of my nights, alone and away from the hated marriage bed.”

“Must it be so bleak?”

“It will be for me, I am afraid. What else can it be? I can never see you again; I can never feel the wonder of your kisses. Some stranger will take me to his bed expecting me to lie still and do nothing while he……does whatever men do, and after dreaming of you, well, after what I imagined with you….Ian, why are your fists clenched?” I pulled away from his embrace, his fists against my back, putting steps between us. I had to separate myself from his warmth, his scent, his very life force. I leaned against the far wall, in the shadows. Ian stood ramrod straight in a manner I knew to be full of rage. My talk of my intended troubled him.

“Tell me of your intended.” I changed the subject.

“She is the daughter of someone my family would have me merger with. It is but a blending of two families, arranged for the good of the family, not for love but for family honor. It is to right a wrong done by our ancestors. It is a great obligation. I must be nice to the wee lass, I must be gentle and kind but I canna give her my heart, for once given it can never be taken back. You have my heart, love, now and forever.”

Tears filled my eyes and a fire pooled in my loins. I had no tools, no way to manage the feelings, so intense they were. I ached to hold him, to have him hold me. I cried as I watched him turn his lovely eyes and walk away from me, leaving me bereft, alone in the dark.

I stayed for an eternity thinking, trying to solve this problem, trying to find blame. It was easiest to blame Ian for taking advantage of me, he was worldly, and he knew what he was doing. He was playing with my heart just to fornicate with me. That sounded so carnal but that’s what he wanted to do. I didn’t admit to myself that it was exactly what I wanted as well. No, this was definitely his fault. He most likely had told that story of love and his heart to others, it was too well rehearsed. By the time I left the cellar and the lovely hot bath, I was sure Ian was the devil himself. He was the reason my family would starve, or at least freeze to death with no roof over their poor heads. Yes, Ian was to blame. I walked toward the light and towards voices raised in anger. Our little reverie was at an end.

~~~~~

New voices argued as I began climbing the stairs. Ian's I knew, I thought I also heard the giant from the beach and one more. An awful row was ensuing. It concerned beer barrels. Being so sure Ian was the devil, I sat on the top step and listened. Eavesdropping was an art form in my family, and I was the art's grand master.

“What are you doing here?” Ian's familiar bellow filled the room.

“It's you who need to answer that, Ian, what are you doing here when you should be at the keep?'

“I am here for my own purposes and no one else's. I am allowed a wee bit of time to myself before sacrificing myself for the family. Before raping some wee lass.”

“It's not rape; it’s the marriage bed, Ian. I should know since I got there before you did.”

“Your marriage bed? I know for a fact you bedded your wife afore the ceremony.”

“She bedded me if you get my meaning, son.”

Oh my, I thought, his father is up above and I am naked on the stairs! I found some scant comfort that Ian did not appear too eager to enter that particular bed with that particular wee lass. She was probably darling and petite; I hated her already. The voices dropped for a few moments and I could not follow the thread of the conversation. I heard boots stomp across the floor and a door slammed. I rose but froze as another voice continued in conversation with Ian, a voice with a French accent.

“You possess some skills with the ladies, yes?”

“This has nothing to do with skills.” Ian replied.

“But it does, it will not be rape if you take your time with the lass. If you feed her fine wine and trail your fingers over her small cold breasts, all your English women have but the tiniest of breasts and they are all frigid; but I think even you can warm a girl’s heart.”

I looked down at mine; they were neither small nor cold, they heated with the memory of Ian. I watched in amazement as my nipples tightened with thoughts of his hands.

“If you use your tongue skillfully, working your way down to her…”

“Enough!” Ian roared.

“I am but offering you some advice, my friend.” The voice chilled me.

“I do not need your advice; I will do my duty and do the least harm with my bride.”

“And then take your pleasure elsewhere? Or will you just come back here?” A hand reached into the doorway, grabbed me and hauled me into the light.

“What is this?” He looked me up and down and started to run the fingers of his other hand around the top of my towel as it circled my chest. I wrenched away from that touch but his other hand held me fast.

“Let go!” I screamed at him in French.

“Ian, you have a guest here, one from my country, how well prepared you are for me, I can demonstrate for you my style and then you can take your ease with this one.”

I looked to Ian for help. He stared coolly at the Frenchman. “That wench is mine. I don’t share. I paid good money for it.” I gasped at his cruel words.

“Then you won’t mind if I pay you for her use. I am cold after my long journey and require some warmth. She will do nicely.”

Ian pushed away from the wall and walked toward us. “If you want the wench, she is yours for the evening.”

My tormentor giggled; his madness added to my fears. I looked at Ian, tears welling in my eyes, how could he? Then I saw it, his vein in his neck, the one that bulged regularly when we screamed at each other. Ian was barely controlling his fury. In a heartbeat I knew he would protect me, how could I have doubted it? He did not want to anger this vile man. He obviously had some plan, some motive.

“It's me you should be paying, monsieur. Not the big oaf.” I added a French accent to my words.

“She speaks,” the man said.

“Let her go now.” Ian ordered and continued before the man could drop my arm. “Go get us some wine and some cheese, it’s down in the kitchen. And put some clothes on. Max, we need to talk, let her go.”

Max did and I rubbed my arm to let Ian know I was not pleased with him. However, I played my part and strutted out of the room, letting the towel drop a bit off my shoulders revealing the uninjured side of my back as I exited. I will never be sure who whistled. Ian owed me for that.

Running down the hall searching for clothes or a kitchen, I realized this was not exactly a cottage, more like a large lodge. Where were the servants and how did Ian keep such a place? He owned the home we were in the other night and this one too? It made little sense. I found the kitchen. Holding the sheet about me, I prepared a tray with three wine goblets, cheese and fresh bread. I stilled needed the wine and some clothes. I left the tray and continued my search. Simple stairs lead to the second floor. I rose to the second level of the massive lodge. Here I found bedrooms and trunks. In the third room I discovered a ladies retreat. Who’s? I wondered. I opened the armoire to discover an array of garments. I chose a camisole, several petticoats and a pair of sturdy ladies boots. I dressed the part of a whore and left my hair down. I checked in the large mirror to see the top of my wound peeking out of the camisole and a little blood leaking. It was no more than slightly sore. I draped my long hair over that side and across my shoulder. Lucky for me I had rarely cut my hair and the massive curls would spring out as they dried providing the wound further concealment. I lightly returned down the stairs to the kitchen snagging a bottle a bottle of wine from a sideboard in a dining room I passed. I hoped it was an expensive vintage.

Sauntering in with the tray I gave both the men a saucy wink and with great display of breast and swooshy hips, I placed it on the table. I began uncorking the bottle and decided to play my role with some finesse, so I pulled the cork from the wine bottle with my teeth. I spat the cork in Ian's direction. I caused a wee bit of a reaction in Ian; he raised his eyebrows, he was impressed. After pouring the goblets full of the ruby wine, I turned and passed one to Max and handed the next to Ian. I lounged back against the table closest to Ian, keeping my mouth shut tight. I would let Ian lead this conversation.

“Ian, my friend,” Max started, “You have let things get out of hand, non? You have allowed, even encouraged those soldiers to stay here in the area. I heard last night’s shipment was seen by an outsider who should have been killed and wasn't. You've got to regain your control, my friend. I have people counting on me and how can I let them be disappointed?”

“The shipment was not interrupted.”

“But it was observed, oui? I have my men in place there you know. The woman was removed, taken away but I saw her again today.”

“You did? Where?”

“At the inn. I am concerned; she was with the petite child of one dangerous to us.”

“I am not sure I am following you.” Ian encouraged Max to continue with a wave of his hand.

“There is a family in the inn, a powerful family. The husband was a distant cousin of the king. He is there with his wife and child. The wife was at the cove the other night. We want the husband to face the guillotine back in France. Here, he might raise an army to fight my friends. I think he may be contemplating how to become our competition to our little business and that could be deadly for us all. My friends want him taken care of.”

What business is that? I wondered. The smuggling obviously involved wool from Ireland but what of the French families? I watched them through lowered lashes as I sliced the cheese.

“My boats you have used for years, my friend.”

“You’ve been smuggling off my coast for years. I only added your fleet to mine two years ago.”

Ian has a fleet?

“Black mailed me you mean,” Max sneered

“I use what’s available.” Ian sipped his wine, seemingly relaxed.

“You still need me, Ian. I provide the ships to get to France. I provide the brandy you sell to every tavern in Ireland.”

“And not just a few English landlords,” Ian added, “So who is more at risk? You'll hang as a pirate when the crown catches you.”

“And you as a traitor with your family's lands forfeit.”

“Not necessarily.”

“How so?”

“Let’s just say I have a feeling it won't be me or mine that draws the attention of the crown.”

“You play a dangerous game, my friend.”

“No more dangerous than you Max.” Ian walked over to me, placed his hand on the back of my neck and pulled me into a kiss. I stiffened for an instant, so surprised I was, but my lips opened to his of their own accord. He broke the kiss, his teeth pulled on my lower lip. My hand trembled as I stroked my lip and I caught Ian winking at me. This was indeed a game to him.

“So the wench will warm your bed after all?”

“Perhaps and perhaps I will give her to you as a promise for more shipments of wool.”

“I risk my life for your brandy and not for a bit of skirt.”

“You risk your life for my gold and the opportunity to terrorize your countrymen hiding here.”

“No, Ian not to terrorize, to kill.”

“You think these pathetic fools are any threat to you? You are the one being foolish.” Ian scoffed.

“They can organize, they have gold smuggled out of France, and they can contact others in Ireland and Amsterdam. My task is to keep that from happening. That is why you must contact that man at the inn for me and you must take care of him.”

“You want me to introduce you?” Ian bumbled

“Not taken care of that way, you idiot.”

I laughed and toasted Max with my glass “Down with idiots” I slightly slurred my French accent, best if he thought I was already drunk.

“Be quiet wench.” Ian scowled at me. I shrugged my shoulder being as Gaelic as possible.

“I shot at the wife this morning and she went over the cliff. She was the one who saw the barrels last night. I will go back tomorrow and kill the husband and the child.”

I spilled my wine as my hand started shaking. It was not a dragoon of the king’s army that tried to kill me, but rather, an assassin sent by the rabble in France. My eyes sought out Ian's. He calmly offered the bread to Max. Max took the cheese from my tray and tore off some bread and began stuffing his mouth.

“Why the child?” I asked.

“Ah, little one. I just want the father to lose something he values before he loses his life. I want to watch his face as his child's head is blown into bits. I love it when they howl,” and again he giggled. I shivered in disgust; Max took it for fear.

“I will show you soon, little one. I can make you howl in pain and delight and you will never know which you are feeling.” Max leered at me.

“I think I shall charge you extra for your effort.” I cooed in French and I moved closer to him. I picked up the knife and cut more bread, “The big oaf,” I gestured at Ian with the knife, “rarely makes me pant much less howl.”

“The oaf pays you well?” Max continued in French.

“Well enough, but you sound like so much more fun.” I edged closer and closer. I licked the knife blade and watched his eyes enlarge. His breathing was coming in ragged spurts. My free hand rolled the edge of the chemise down, exposing a bit more of my cold English breast. He leaned closer and I sank the knife to its hilt into his stomach, angled upwards. He cried “Mon Dieu!” as I twisted the knife and jumped back.

At least that is what I wanted to happen.

But I am a coward; he continued to lean against the table looking down my chemise. I leaned in toward him running my tongue over the rim of my goblet and spun away. I caught Ian's eye and winked. He appreciated my acting if his throbbing veins were any indication.

“Ian, my friend, lets us continue our discussion without the distraction of your wench; I can come back for her later.”

~~~~~

Ian waved me away. I did not like being so summarily dismissed. I sauntered away drinking wine, hopefully keeping the vile Frenchman’s attention and maybe even Ian’s beautiful eyes on me. I closed the door and retraced my steps down to the bath. I stripped off my shoes and stockings. I dangled my feet in the hot water and drank my wine.

As I let the heat seep into my body and continued to sip the fine wine, I thought back on all the snippets of conversations I had heard over the past few days. My simple ruse was less than nothing when compared to Ian's life. He was a smuggler and apparently his family was in on the smuggling as well. The Irish wool they brought in could be woven into fine English cloth beneath the eyes of the Crown who denied our mills to the Irish wool industry. The Crown did anything and everything to keep the Irish poor and starving. It was a wonder the Irish hadn't rebelled against the English occupation. Everybody else was doing so. Money was changing hands over this. Did Ian own the mills or did he sell the wool as his own product? And the French? Too many French are here, some hiding, some killing. Ian was getting married soon and so was I. I needed to separate from Ian and make my way to McBain's Doom to find my brothers. Soon, I am afraid.

I leaned back on my elbows and closed my eyes. I should have remained wary. A hand lifted my hair from my neck to caress me, I leaned into the callused hand, trusting.

“I was so deep in thought; I didn’t hear you come down. Ian, why was that vile man here, with you? And who was thundering at you to go home?” A second hand began its journey of exploration below my other ear.

“You heard that part?” His tongue licked my earlobe.

“Yes, I did. He sounded familiar.”

“Well, he isn't.” His lips found the pulse in my throat.

“You don't know that, he could have sounded familiar to me.” The lips pulled back.

“He didn't!” Ian was so easy to annoy. I was starting to enjoy myself.

“Where did your friend Max go?”

“He is not my friend.” He emphasized.

“What is going on? It's about wool and Frenchmen and little girls he wants to kill. You know I won't let him harm that child. I will go back to the inn tomorrow and protect her. I can kill him myself if I need to do so.”

Ian drank from my goblet and then topped it off with the wine he had carried down to this wonderful pool of hot water. He sat down behind me straddling me to drape his feet into the water. I leaned back into him relaxed. His fingers traced up and down my neck.

“I know you can lassy, I have seen you in action and I know you can kill when absolutely necessary.”

“Does that make me a monster?”

“No.” Ian picked me up and stepped down into the pool. My eyes slammed open.

“My chemise!” I laughed at Ian and then got caught in his gaze. His broad chest was bared to me. I wondered what was below the water. His hand started trailing up and down my damp arm and then his fingers gentle brushed against my nipples. They hardened to taut pebbles; I shivered with pleasure. His other hand began the exploratory journey across my shoulders and into my hair at the base of my neck. I leaned into him, expecting to start one of Ian’s lovely long kisses. His head bent close to brush his lips across mine. I lifted my face to his and let him drink his fill. His tongue tasted the corners of my mouth sending shivers down my spine into the heated water of the pool. His teeth and tongue trailed kisses and nibbles across my chin to my ear lobe. I realized my loins, the heart of my femininity, fairly blasted with heat. I surely must be heating the water in the pool by now. This must be lust but it was oh, so delicious. My own hands started down his back to discover what was below the water but right when they got the base of his back and began to go further, Ian pushed away from me with a sigh.

“We have things that must be done tonight, Robin. I would much rather forget about the world and play with you, but we can’t.”

I was left with an empty feeling throughout my body, rather frustrated with this start and stop loving of his. “What must we do?”

“We have to meet up with Max.”

“Again? Ian, where did he go?”

“To search for his companions.”

“Do you think he will be back here tonight?”

“He'd better not be, love, as I’m not keen on the sharing of you.” Ian gently kissed me.

“I am not so keen on that either. There will be no sharing like that in our home.”

“So, lassie, you be thinking of this as your home? When did that start?” Ian sat up straighter.

“Not my home, I was just referring to your home, not my home. In fact I must leave you soon to go to my home, my real home.”

“Shouldn't you be going to McBain's Doom to meet up with the Garnet’s?” Ian asked sagely.

“Yes, of course you are right. I must be there to greet them. Do you think they have arrived yet?” I thought of my brothers, the roof and my virginity. I thought of leaving Ian for my role as a dutiful wife to a stranger. I sighed.

“Why so sad, Robin?” Ian whispered

“Not sad, just tired and I guess in shock from my wound, and somewhat confused. How do I walk away from all this? From you? The barrels of whatever you are smuggling in? The French assassin? Irish wool? My head spins. I am expected elsewhere but I am afraid our work here is not finished.”

“What say you finish this work with me? We can explain things to the Garnets later, and they can explain to me who you really are.” He pulled me back into his arms and sat me in front of him, nestled between his legs. His lips kissed the back of my neck and his very bold hands caressed my breasts.

“I'm Robin, plain Robin.”

“You, my dear, are anything but plain but for me to tell you again would only swell you head too much for your hat.”

“What hat?” I was having a hard time concentrating with his busy hands wreaking havoc on my nerves.

“The one you are going to wear as a disguise this night when we go meet up with some Frenchmen. You need to pretend to be ignorant of the French plans as well as pretend you speak no French. I need you to be a dull witted stable hand.”

“I can do that,” I replied. I allowed my hands to rub his legs. His thighs were well muscled and I was thoroughly enjoying the dichotomy of the sense of his hard muscles and soft skin.

“Can you dull your eyes?”

Not paying attention to his plans, just his legs, I murmured, “Not sure what you mean?”

He stopped my hand with his own. “Your eyes sparkle, your gaze is sharp. It bespeaks intelligence about your person.” Ian misquoted back to me from several nights ago.

“Like this perhaps?” I stuck my tongue between my lower teeth and gums and lowered my shoulders.

“Better.”

“Where are we going?”

Ian paused a bit before speaking. “We will be meeting up with Max and his associates; I think they hired the goon.”

“Which goon?”

“The first one. He carried those papers and he was no soldier of the Crown. They are bringing a translator with them tonight. I need you to listen and see if I am getting the whole story and I need to know what they are saying when they think I can't understand.”

“How do I let you know when they start to lie to you or mis-state things.”

“I haven't worked that part out yet but you will think of something. We need to get going soon; we have a bit of a ride ahead of us.”

He helped me from the bath a second time that night and bound my wound. It seemed clean but somewhat raw from being immersed in the tub. He also nibbled my ear lobe for a bit. He brought me dry sheets to wrap myself up in as I went upstairs in search of more clothes. This time less salacious, I believe. I did like the boots so I kept them. I found reasonable clothing and a warm woolen cape. After stuffing my feet into the boots, I lay on the bed and closed my eyes. I was afraid of the unknown husband-to-be, I was afraid of the Frenchman, I was afraid of my feelings for Ian. My back throbbed, I wanted to be with my sisters and brothers; I wanted to be with Ian.

~~~~~

We walked to the stables behind the lodge and again I was overwhelmed with the size of the place. “Ian, this isn't the hunter's lodge I had envisioned.”

“It's not?”

“It is huge; you have a bathing chamber in the cellar, stables for a dozen or so horses. The lodge is several stories high – more like a manor. A hunter lodge usually has a cot or two. You have armoires full of ladies clothes and a well stocked wine selection.”

“You noticed quite a bit.”

“I was running around looking for clothes, wine and cheese, if you remember correctly. Is this yours as well as the farm house?”

“It belongs to my family.”

“And your family is...? Oh, I know, it doesn't concern me.”

“I wish it could.” Ian whispered.

I did not believe he had wanted me to hear that so I let it pass. I was so confused. He called me 'love', he wanted me to be of concern to his family and yet he also was using me to interpret French killers while smuggling his little heart out. I had an inkling of who his family might be and was wondering how he might fit into it. We continued into the stables where a couple of horses stood saddled. Not my beloved Thor or his Silly Bruce. These two looked mean and fast. They stomped the ground as if impatient to be off. Ian pointed to a pile of clothes on the railing, topped by a floppy hat. I traded my skirts for some horrible britches and pulled them on as Ian silently turned his back on me.

“All set,” I told him as I buckled a belt through the trousers.

Ian nodded at me and gestured to one of the beasts. “His name is Peaches”

“I don't think so,” I told him as the animal glared at me daring me to mount him. I wagged a finger at him to let him know who was in charge. Ian helped me mount and I sighed as I watched Ian effortlessly mount his horse. Unbidden, comparisons of him riding me came to mind. I closed my eyes and lifted my head, arching my back, taking in his imaginary scent.

“What are you doing, love?” Ian’s voice sounded ragged.

“Remembering something that hasn't happened yet.”

“How can you remember something from the future?”

“Perhaps I am remembering a dream.” I smiled coquettishly at him and turned Peaches toward the stable doors, daring Ian to follow.

“Care to tell me your dream?” Ian asked as he caught up.

“No. Which way? You lead and I'll follow you.”

“That would indeed be a dream.” Ian muttered as he rode by me and headed away from the lodge into the dark forest.

“I heard that!” I hollered at his back. He turned his head back to me with a wolfish grin.

We rode in silence for several miles. Ian chose the path with care and eventually we came upon a campsite of tents arranged in a circle about a small campfire. Three men slowly rose as we entered their camp. The men were well dressed in warm woolen coats and sturdy boots, not highly polished like a soldier’s but heavy and serviceable not unlike my brothers’. The tents looked to be of good quality as did their tack and saddles all of which were neatly arranged on the ground. These were not poor, lost wayfarers. Ian hailed them in poorly accented French. He certainly was not as fluent as I, but he possessed more than this rudimentary skill.

“Good evening monsieur...”

“No names!” Ian cut him off.

“Oui, no names, and who is this.” He pointed at me. I continued my perusal of their camp as they continued in French.

“No one, just a stable boy to care for the horses while I hunt. It was easy to explain my absence with the excuse of a hunt. The witless one does what I say.”

Trying my best to look witless, I dismounted and waited for Ian to hand me his reigns. I petted both horses as he took a few steps away from me to engage in conversation with the men. Ian kept his voice loud; the Frenchmen dutifully raised their voices. I had no difficulty hearing their plans for a murder. I kept my head tucked in next to our mounts to hide my shock at what I was hearing.

After a bit, Ian walked toward the fire and I caught his signal to follow. I stayed back, out of the light behind my master, so to speak. I listened while they explained their plans. Ian was getting a fair translation but there was an undercurrent. The side conversations, the soft voices from other men were somewhat at odds from what Ian was discussing. I coughed and spit. Ian continued in his conversation but held up a hand to excuse himself to retrieve something from his saddle bags. I followed him behind the horses. His voice whispered into my ear, “What did you pick up?”

“The timing is wrong, they are telling you something will happen the day after tomorrow when the next ship arrives with more barrels but the men over near the fire are talking about tomorrow evening. Something is not true and I think we should leave as soon as we can.”

“Is my little warrior acting frightened?”

“Your little warrior wishes for her bow so she could take out the lot of them while they sleep. These are evil men.”

“Aye, that they are, love.”

“Again with the 'love'? You're about to be wed for goodness sake.”

“I know,” he whispered as his tongue traced my ear.

“And not to me! So stop and go finish with these men, we'd best be away soon.”

“Aye love, soon,” and with that Ian clumped me on the head and cursed. I staggered but managed to keep my head down. Why on earth had he done that? It soon became apparent when Ian ordered me to mount up and cursed me some more for being ten kinds of a fool for not bringing along some map. He quickly mounted beside me and called out to the leader that we'd be back in two evenings. He again batted me but I ducked and wheeled the horse about and together we left the camp.

~~~~~

Our ride home took many turns and several start and stops. Ian took the lead and motioned me to ride close. We took back ways and side ways to put distance between us and the camp. We made it difficult to track us in the dark. Eventually we came upon a path. Ian led us in a new direction, up the hill instead of back down toward the inn. I could feel my horse starting to tire. We circled a rock wall at the top of a hill and then Ian disappeared. Peaches ignored my distress and followed blindly. I bent low under some sweet smelling vines and entered a copse, open to the stars. I heard Ian more than saw him dismount and I did the same. We removed the saddles and petted down the mounts. Ian gave them each a sack of grain from his saddle bags while I unrolled the blankets. It was as if we were back to those first nights together without so much rain. The stars shone brightly above us and the sweet smelling vines veiled our little hideaway.

A light breeze stirred the leaves into a faint whisper. I shivered a bit in my cloak and longed for the warmth of that magical pool of Ian’s. He moved behind me enveloping me in his cloak and bent his head to my neck. I so enjoyed what he did to my neck. I turned in his embrace and wrapped my arms around him; his breath in my hair sent a different kind of chills down my spine.

“This is better than whumping me on my head. What was that for?”

He continued his slow kisses under my ear and around the top of the shirt I wore. “Just part of the charade. Did you not see Max in the tent? He studied you until I hit you.”

“No man has ever hit me before.”

“And no man ever will. I’d kill any man…..”

“Ian, you are the ‘any man’, my soon to be husband will protect me.”

“He’d better.”

“He’ll be protecting me from you.”

“Lass, you make my head hurt.” He continued to nuzzle me causing more shivers along my spine. “Love, let us lie down here and cuddle against the night chill.”

“Is it cuddling you’re after, Ian?” I teased.

We sank to the ground and I found myself quickly wrapped into blankets with him, thick warm blankets.

“You were expecting us to be here this night?”

“I meant to bring you up here before you were shot. I have food and wine and if you wait a bit I have something more for you.”

I sat up and pulled the blanket close. In a moment I heard the scratch of tinder and a small lantern pooled light about us. It was dim and gave off little warmth but it did illuminate our nest. Indeed, he did provide us food and wine and a veritable mountain of blankets. A pack horse must have brought them up. Ian turned to me and knelt down in front of me. He began by removing my boots and socks. He then did the same. He stripped off his coat and shirt and I reached for his lovely chest, the one that fascinated me earlier. I too shrugged off my coat and the horrible breeches he had given me. I then snuggled into the blankets and rolled away from him. I heard him laugh softly and I heard the rustle of the blankets. He gathered me close, my back to his chest. I felt through my thin shirt his nakedness and his rather insistent manhood prodded my behind. I wiggled with pleasure against him to bring myself closer and to get warm. He grasped my hip to still me. We stayed still for quite awhile, his breathing even; I thought him to be asleep and started to drift off myself in this safe cocoon he had made for us. It was the first time I had been warm in hours. I burrowed deeper into the soft blankets.

Ian shifted and brought his hands up around my chest and began an exploration of sorts. Soon the chemise was unbuttoned and off my shoulders. His callused fingers felt rough against my skin. He traced my ribs and the undersides of my breasts. He cupped them in his hands before laving my ear with his tongue. He removed his tongue and blew softly across the wetness left behind at the same instant he pinched my nipples. I groaned, an arrow of heat shot down between my legs and I arched back into his chest. My Ian seemed to know what he was doing. I tried to turn around but his arms held me tight. He repeated the same sequence and I danced against him but this time Ian groaned. My body was but an instrument in his arms, I was held prisoner, but my, what a delightful cage. Eventually his hands wandered lower and sought my core. He stroked my hips and further down toward the fire that pooled, waiting for his touch. I struggled in his arms. I had to touch something, my lips needed to kiss something, my head flailed back and forth, his teeth capturing my neck, nibbling as I moaned his name again and again. His fingers found their goal; his fingers teased my bud. Pleasure started in waves through my belly. His finger entered me while his thumb continued its own exploration. Again and again, I arched back against him. I felt his rod grow ever larger against my back. His fingers, his lovely fingers against my secret bud, rubbed and pulled. In and out his finger moved and another joined in the dance, all the time his tongue and teeth played and danced on my neck. I was panting; I needed to move, to shout, to kiss, to suck, anything but lie trapped in his glorious arms. I bucked against his hand and something inside me roared and surged, a thousand tiny lights went off in my head, I was filled with a song that had no words, only the rhythm of his hands and my heart. The beat slowed, I could breathe again and he removed his hand. I sighed. Ian chuckled.

“Robin, you are a bit of a lusty wench after all.”

“What was that? My sister’s never mentioned that!”

“What was what?” Ian answered cockily.

“I don’t rightly know but I never heard of such a thing.”

“What thing?” Ian pressed.

“Oh ho!” I chortled, “You’re a proud one. I think you think that was something special.”

“It obviously was for you, my love.”

“That it was, what ever do you call it? Is it proper?”

“Nothing about you lying here with me is proper, Robin.” Ian’s voice sobered, “You know that I want to be your first. I planned to be your first. I had this all set up so you could not resist me, but now I am feeling lowly, like I took advantage. You are being given in marriage to a man and he will not look kindly upon a bride who is not a virgin, so I am afraid I cannot repeat the experience and join in, as it were.”

I turned in his arms and faced him. In the starlight I could make out the shape of his face and the glint in his eyes. I cupped his cheek with my hand; my fingers trailed across his lips where I could feel a small smile still lingering. I kissed him, slowly and sweetly. He opened his mouth to me and slid in his tongue. It was the sweetest kiss he had given me and it hurt when we stopped; my heart hurt when we stopped. This man could have taken my virtue, I guess my virtue was pretty much gone by about now, but he could have taken my virginity but he refrained.

“I am not worth much of anything to anyone if I am not a virgin, my maidenhead for the price of a home and the promise of children.”

“I know,” Ian whispered, “it hardly seems fair.”

“You can tup all the woman you want and come to the marriage fully prepared and well practiced. I assume you have practiced long and hard.”

“Quite hard, my love.”

I laughed but went on, “You know what I mean.” I continued to trail my fingers over his chest, stopping on his nipples since mine seemed to have been such an interest to him. He gasped a bit so I assumed I correctly judged that. His hand covered mine and stilled its journey.

“You must stop, my love.”

“Why? I thought you enjoyed this.”

“I did, I mean I do, but I can’t,” my proud strong Ian faltered. “You are correct in that it is imperative that you enter the marriage bed a virgin. I can’t bear the thought of you being rejected by another man, I might have to hurt him, but I can’t do that without ruining you by saying we had this night together.”

“But what if I want this night together?”

“It’s an impossible situation and it’s my fault. I brought you here with the intention of seducing you, of pleasuring you and taking my pleasure but it is at too great a cost.

“I’ll take you back to the inn and leave you with Ennis, she’ll see you to the Garnets and they’ll get you home. I want you to be happy in your marriage.”

“You think I can be happy with another man?”

“Of course.” Ian lied, “This will all be just an adventure you tell your grandchildren, a story.” I felt his hands clench into fists again, I felt the tension in him. He was being noble and unfortunately, he made sense. I could not let my family down; I wanted this man, not the Giant of McBain’s Doom. I wanted the McBain’s steward, their pet smuggler, my almost lover. That’s what I wanted and that’s what I would demand of my brothers. I was not terribly important to the plans of my father; I knew I could get him and Robert to see things as they were. I thought about seducing Ian myself and then forcing him to marry me but that wasn’t honest. I’d do the right thing without sharing too many details of these past few days. The details would make my brothers want to kill Ian and that wouldn’t do for my plans. I was going to marry the big oaf.

So I played along and let him be noble. I let him cover me in a clean shirt and snuggle with me under the stars. I felt his breath against my forehead as we drifted to sleep with a smile on my face. This was how I planned to spend the rest of my life, in his arms if I could just get him and my stubborn brothers to accept it. I dreamed of plans and plots and woke to sounds and smells of frying bacon. I sat up and smiled my very best smile at my soon-to-be fiancé.

~~~~~

“What’s your plan for the day, Ian?” I asked sweetly.

“I want you to see the Caeverlock before we head back to the inn. There is some interesting history here about.”

I crawled out of my warm nest and found Ian had thoughtfully brought along decent clothing so I would not have to wear the terrible britches from the day before. I dressed and washed my face. My hair was hopelessly tangled so after running my fingers through it, I settled for a simple braid. Ian handed me a stick with a rasher of bacon and some toasted bread. It smelled divine and I ate mine greedily. He tidied up a bit and grabbed my hand pulling me up.

“You have got to see the view from the highest tower before the sun gets too high.” Ian sounded like an excited boy; I found him utterly charming. We did not head out the way we had entered on the horse. Instead we ducked under an archway that led to a long low tunnel of sorts, open to the sky here and there, smelling slightly damp but of fresh moss and not rot. We came out into a tower with only one side missing.

“Stay close, my love.” Ian warned. He pointed to the missing steps. The wood planks of the stars leading up, switched back and forth across the remaining wall. I could see the remains of what had been a circular stair. It reminded me of something I couldn’t place.

“These wooden steps are new, only a century old,” Ian laughed and leaped over a missing one. I followed and he caught my hand to steady me, it was but a little leap. Several more steps were missing with us leaping from step to step up the stairs. The final chasm lacked three stairs. Ian leaped effortlessly while I was somewhat wary of the leap and of my skirts. “I’ll catch you, come on,” Ian urged while I hesitated.

“You’d better,” I muttered back. I hiked my skirt up fairly high and took a couple of steps back downwards so as to gain some forward momentum. “Ready for me?” I hollered and off I charged. I over estimated and easily cleared the chasm but bowled into Ian causing him to lean a little too far sideways. For a second I thought we would topple into the tower. His strong arms wrapped around me and he pulled me against the wall. I felt his heart beating in his chest. We both looked down and realized how far up we had come. We turned to each other, exhaled, then laughed, one more shared near death experience, hysterical laughter is a great release.

We trudged more slowly afterwards and in a single turn we found a doorway to a platform. It felt sturdy to me and we walked across to lean over the parapet. I noticed we were still holding hands. Ian hadn’t let me go. In my heart I knew he would never let me go, we just had to work out the details.

The view was magnificent. Patches of forests, boulders and hills stretched to the horizon. I heard the sound of the sea from behind the tower and smelled the salt tang on the breeze. It was a glorious day, the sky as blue as Ian’s eyes. His hair loose in the wind, he looked the Viking he had descended from and he turned to me as if I was his woman. My heart soared. I reached up to pull him down for a kiss. It was a short kiss but still so sweet.

“Come see this,” he said taking my hand. He led me across the platform to the far parapet. I imagined archers kneeling down behind the massive stone, firing arrows into advancing enemies. The sea protected the other exposure. He pushed against a particular stone in the corner and the stone below it swung away grinding against the accumulation of dirt. When a stairway appeared, Ian hopped down leaving me to follow. It was narrow and lit dimly with what appeared to be additional arrow slits but I could not imagine an archer being able to draw a bow in the small confines of the stairs.

“Nay, no archers here, love, only lookouts. See here as we turn we are now facing the southern exposure and when we turn again we’ll see the sea.”

“How did you find this Ian?” I asked.

He kept a steady pace ahead of me and the passage widened.

“It is a mirror image of the tower in McBain’s Doom.” Ian told me.

I kept silent about my secret foray into that tower a few years ago when the giant found me and hauled me back to Alice’s bed. He couldn’t yet know I had been a guest in his master’s castle. We continued down until we came to a broken arch leading out to a grassy area open to the sky.

“This was the great hall.”

“What happened here? How did this all come down and how did the Doom last through the wars?” I asked.

“Betrayal and treachery, or so the story goes.”

“You have to tell me.”

“It’s a story for another time, about a maiden leading her clansmen into the castle to steal away her lover from under the nose of her rightful master and husband. Many versions are told, some pick one version over the other as they each favor the maiden, the lover or the spurned lord.”

“Ahhh…” I murmured thinking this was remarkably similar to my own predicament; however I was going to steal away the estate manager before I got married. I needed to talk to my brothers as soon as possible to explain what I wanted them to say and do. I was so sure they would support me. Little did I expect how much they longed for the new roof. I also had to convince Ian to not marry to end some stupid family wrong that happened centuries before. Lord, those Scots could carry a grudge.

Ian continued my tour of the ruins and eventually we found our way back to our horses and our camp. We saddled them, leaving the camp and blankets; I secretly hoped that meant Ian would return here with me tonight. He helped me mount and we left our magic almost-paradise. I wistfully looked around, imprinting this in my memory so that if plans went awry, I would have this memory of my one night with my love, this one memory to hold for the rest of my life after I married another man.

The morning was half gone by the time we returned to the inn. Our trek home took us through the cool woods and then onto a coast road where we passed other travelers going to and from the town. No one seemed particularly excited, so we both assumed all was calm in town. Ian kept up a rambling commentary about the occupants of the town. He knew so very many people here as the McBain’s steward, he must have had dealings with most everyone between the work he did for the estate and the work he did smuggling. It certainly gave him a broad cross section of inhabitants to use as acquaintances. Shortly, we saw the roofs of the town and the steeple of the church and soon we found ourselves in the stable yard. Fergus stormed out of the inn and approached.

“I’d like to know if you are daft, man?” he waved both hands in my direction.

“I’d like to think not,” Ian glowered and pulled Fergus to the side. I ambled over; just close enough to listen.

“I did not harm the lass, if that what you be thinking,” Ian stated.

“I be thinking that I’ve seen the way you look at her and I’m not thinking you’ll be letting her go like all the others you bring here.”

“I’ll let this one go,” Ian said, “I have to; you know I am marrying to right the McBain’s Mistake.”

At that I turned and went into the inn. Pieces of my heart fell and shattered against the stone of the stable yard. From the kitchen I watched the two of them, thinking, McBain’s Mistake?! Do they name everything here? Ian heatedly gestured at Fergus and then looked for me. Our eyes locked and he just stared, his eyes like ice, cold hearted bastard. I felt hot tears well up and turned away quickly so that Ian wouldn’t know I’d heard his heartless statement to Fergus.

I stumbled into the kitchen and fell into a chair. Ennis was at my side in a heartbeat and took one look at my face and started plotting Ian’s slow painful death. I waved her away.

“No. I am fine, just need some tea if you’ve got some.”

“Of course dear, what did he do to you?”

“Nothing really,” I stated.

“Nothing? Now that’s not a bit like Ian.”

“Oh really? He does a bit of something with every lass he brings here? That’s what your Fergus was saying out there.”

“No, it’s not like that Robin. Ian is a fair man to look at and a fine man to touch, if you get my meaning.”

“Aye, I know that.”

“And there’s a fair number of young lassies around here that would love to have Ian pay them attention and possibly even court them official–like.”

“I can imagine.”

“And then there are those that throw themselves on Ian, some older women, the ones that never married because of their wildness as girls or a couple of widows, they follow him around.”

“This is getting more and more educational but if you don’t mind, I am quite finished with Ian and I have a life that I must return to with a family who must be frantic as to my whereabouts.” I stopped hiding my clipped speech but that didn’t seem to affect Ennis a bit.

“Well then, you’d be wanting to go up to the Doom to see the Garnets, they are all here now for the wedding. Are you a cousin Robin?”

“You know I am a Garnet? Since when? Does Ian know?”

“Calm yourself, I guessed after I saw the necklace when you were ill, but I knew for sure when I heard you speaking French with the little girl. It was beautiful. Your accent is excellent. Are you related to Lord Robert’s little French wife?” Ennis place a cup of tea in front of each of us and sat down at the table with me.

“You could say that,” I fumbled.

“That’s all right my dear, we’re not all bumpkins here.”

“No, I knew that, that’s why I love being here with you, its charming and invigorating to run an inn, it’s like being at home with the family, everyone knows so much about so many things, there’s always something to talk about, I never meant any disrespect to any of you, please understand that.”

“I know child. But you are lying to Ian about who you are and I have to wonder about that.”

“Does Fergus know I am a member of the Garnet family?”

“He knows you are not some simpleton. It’s Ian who is thick brained about it.”

“Ian is thick brained in general.”

“Not necessarily, but he looks at you and sees something he’s never seen before. You are smart, well educated, not fawning over him. You challenge him, he also sees something else.”

“What does he see?”

“He sees his true love.”

“Oh no Ennis!”

“Yes, and it confuses him since his life is planned out and you are unexpected.”

“I love him but I can’t have him. What will he do?” I started to cry. Ennis gently wiped my tears.

“I don’t know but our Ian, thick as he is will eventually worry down a problem and solve it.”

“What will I be worrying down?” Ian thundered.

I whipped around wondering how much he had heard. Ian loomed in the doorway, a chill wind blew in and I realized he had heard very little. Good. I stood up and made my way out of the kitchen and did not look back.

“Lassie!” he called, I ignored him.

“Wench!” He hollered and I strode out the door to Ennis’ laughter and Ian’s bellowing.

~~~~~

The tavern was full of people this morning. I picked up a tray from the bar at Tom’s arm and went off in the direction he pointed passing out ales and ciders. I had orders aplenty before long and spent some time free from thinking about Ian as I talked to the patrons. This morning I spoke in both languages and took no pains to hide my fluency from anyone. Much laughter was had at my expense and my sudden understanding of French but it was all in good fun. The French men in the corner were so engulfed in their conversation that they were unaware of my presence in the bar. They were planning something so I stepped nearer them and wiped down an empty table that was already clean.

“I hear there’s a ship to be waiting below the town.” Someone whispered as I stared down at the gleaming wood.

“It will take us to Brittany and from there we can make our way back to Bordeaux, that’s where my family is waiting.”

“Bordeaux is held by the nobility now?”

“Yes.”

“There’s talk of an army and support of the Spanish crown to restore the monarchy in Paris.”

This talk went round and round, these people were so full of hope and desperate to return to their lives, their home. But it was not to be. How could I tell them it was a plot, they might be killed on the roads or on the ship. Ian had to find out the plans.

A crash boomed from the kitchen, everyone in the room turned. Ennis yelled for help. I dropped my tray and told the seated guests nearest me to stay where they were. Surprisingly, they listened. As I got to the kitchen door, I could see that Ennis was trying to open the back door and out the window, I could see men sprinting away. I heard another crash out front. I ran over to the plotting men in the corner and pointed to the front door.

“Try to get it open, the back door has been locked shut from the outside.”

Three men ran to the front door and found it too was jammed shut. A woman screamed and pointed at smoke curling down the stairs from the rooms above us. I grabbed a small bucket and ran to the stairs and started up but black smoke filled the upper hall. More smoke came from the kitchen. We were trapped. The families wouldn’t be killed on the road to the ship; the plan was to kill us all here.

“Tom, soak all the towels!” He threw them to various folks as soon as he could get them wet enough. Some men went upstairs to beat the flames with the wet towels, other continued to pull at the doors. I hustled the women and children against an outside wall, seating them on the floor. I ran back to the bar to retrieve a small ax I had seen when cleaning earlier.

“Back away,” I called out as I hacked at what I hoped was the thinnest wall in the building. The wall sported an odd archway; it may have been an entry port for barrels years ago and had been covered over.

“Good girl!” someone called out to me. A man picked up a table and smashed it to the ground and brandished the table leg at me. I pointed at the small leaded window and he began hammering as well. I heard shouts from outside and could hear someone hacking with an ax on the door. Another man took the axe from me and continued my work. I looked over my shoulder to see flames at the top of the stairs, smoked filled the room and those without wet towels around their faces were coughing something terrible. The man at the window finally broke it open, but it was too small for any of us to get through, he started pushing any small children he could grab through the tiny opening. The fire pulled in the fresh air giving us all a breather but the flames above our heads whipped higher. The man with the ax continued to chop at the old arch. I could hear answering blows from outside the inn.

“Hurry!” I called.

The hole became an opening; hands reached in pulling fragments away. As soon as it was big enough to crawl through, we shoved out the remaining children.

“Stand back, let us make it larger.”

“Mon Dieu! Hurry!”

A large chunk tore away; daylight poured into the smoke filled room. More of us got out. I pushed people through, over and over, until finally it was Tom the barman and me.

“Go on lass, it’s done.” He leaned over and leaped through. I started through and stopped for a brief look around the bar. Flaming ash curled around the room, dancing in the smoke. I heard a cry from the bar and ran across the room. Arms reached for me nearly choking me, it was the little French girl Isabelle. In French I said, “Climb on, we’ll get out of here.” She clambered up my back and held on, coughing and coughing.

A timber crashed from the ceiling, knocking us sideways. Overturned tables jammed against each other tripped me; I was blinded by the black smoke. I threw Isabelle over the tables and shouted at her to run. I clambered over them behind her and ran toward the light. I was grabbed by mighty and hands and pulled out the hole in the wall.

I looked up to see Isabelle in her mother’s arms. I did not see her father in the crowd. Many were doubled over coughing the foul air from their lungs. I joined them. The pressure on my back continued. After retching for a bit, I accepted the water offered and stood up. Ian towered over me. Soot stained, his arm looked burned.

“I waited and waited for you, you were the last out.” Ian fairly shouted at me.

“I heard the baby and had to go find her.”

“You could have been killed.”

“As if it matters to you?” I screamed.

“Aye, lass, it matters,” He folded me in his arms and I briefly hugged him taking in his strength; it was sorely needed for what was to be done. I shoved him away shortly and said, “It matters not to me.” I looked around and pointed, “Where is her father?”

“Why?” Ian asked.

“The French were duped into thinking they could take one of Max’s ships to the north coast of their former country. They can’t. There is no ship.”

“And you know this how?” Ian sounded a bit brisk. I ignored him.

“The letters we read, they spoke of this trap, we just didn’t know, the fire was the trap, get everybody here and then set fire to the inn. They were promised a safe trip home, they were promised they had a home. That monster you had in our …I mean your lodge the other night, he knew the truth.”

“And you knew he knew how?” Ian’s voice became a bit strident but I ignored it and went on.

“When I went to get the wine, I read some papers Max had left in the other room. They were in French but I read that quite fluently.”

“So I noticed,” Ian drolled. Men ran back and forth with buckets, the smoke was thick and we moved out of the way. My heart ached for Ennis and Fergus, their inn was their life. We stood watching the bucket brigade toss bucket after bucket of water, the steam turned to fog as the flames died down. I hoped the inn could be spared total destruction. Ian’s arm snaked up and wrapped around my shoulder, I took a step away into coldness.

“And then when we went to the camp, the men over by the tents talked among themselves about today, not tomorrow as we had thought. It is all making sense now. They talked about the noose being drawn tighter. This must have been the noose. They got all the families in here together and barricaded the doors. How did you get out?”

“I didn’t enter the kitchen after you left. I turned back to go outside and Ennis followed me, offering her opinions as to my lack of intelligence. Fergus was out there too and then the door slammed shut and we heard a crash. Someone inside must have blocked the door. It is still blocked. We ran around to the front and that too was wedged shut from the inside.”

“No, I was on the inside and it was blocked from the outside, that is why I started hacking at the wall with the little hand ax Tom keeps behind the bar.”

No, definitely from the inside, I saw wedges along the floor of the door when I was bringing you out.”

“That means whoever did this was trapped inside with us. He must have toed in the wedges and as the men struggled with the door after he started the fire upstairs, they were actually making things worse.” Realization dawned on me and I grabbed Ian. “That means he was inside when we escaped, that he got out with us.”

Ian and I looked around at the crowd.

“Who went upstairs before the fire and then returned down after you started on the wall?” Ian whispered harshly into my ear.

“I don’t think it was someone who came down the stairs.” I whispered back to him. “I think it was someone who was with us and made sure all the families were inside and then he went upstairs to start the fire after he wedged the doors shut. I’m sure he jumped out a window to escape the trap he created. But where is he? What happened to him?”

“Did you see anyone go upstairs after the fire started?”

“No.” I frantically whispered while looking around.

“Look for someone who has little to no smoke damage on their clothes, more soot free and not coughing as much.” Ian instructed.

Ian and I separated and walked around through the crowd. I looked at fathers and mothers wiping their little children’s faces, no, not them. I looked at people of the town, hauling the buckets back down toward the wells for more water, no, not them. I turned around and became aware of two men staring at me, pointing, they were from the camp. It was them. I raised my voice to shout to Ian when a grimy hand clamped down over my mouth and I was hauled back against someone’s chest.

~~~~~

“If it isn’t Ian’s wench from the lodge, not caught along with the pigeons inside or did you let my pigeons free, ma petite?” A sibilant French voice hissed in my ear. He continued to drag me backwards. I couldn’t breathe. We turned a corner and he dragged me down a little ally between stables, covered over with a rough roof, creating a dark tunnel in the daylight. He was taking me away, away from the crowd and Ian. Turning he flung me away from him; my shoulder hit a wall and I staggered. Max came after me with his knife, the same knife from the other night that he intended to slit Isabelle’s throat. I shrank away.

“What is this? Fear?”

Max hauled me to my feet and hustled me in front of him down the alley and around another corner into a deserted street. The town’s people all were back at the inn fighting the fire. His men had a couple of horses saddled. Max handed me off to his men and mounted a huge black beast. They practically tossed me up to him. They mounted their horses and quickly we wheeled and rode hard out of town. Behind me I heard Ian’s roar. Please follow, I prayed.

The horses’ hooves pounded across the wooden bridge and we passed by groups of men running to help contain the fire. I let drop my scarf, my ploy to stall him earned me a hard cuff across the back of my head. Dizzy, I swayed. Max slowed a bit to resettle me against him; I prayed I bought Ian some time to find our trail. I hoped the men we practically ran down on the bridge could point out the coast rode as the one we took. My scarf might also point the way. The road headed through the trees well hidden from view from the town. We turned off the road into the trees after a bit. The men slowed briefly.

“Where are we heading Max? Back to camp?”

“No, the smuggler and his brother have both been there, they’ll go there first.”

“Where then?”

“To an abandoned castle, a ruin. I can lure the smuggler there, lay a trap, with this as bait,” he shook me and I cried out, my head and shoulder sore,

“I do not believe this is just a wench he hired.”

I knew where we were heading having just had my heart broken there. Part of me thought it was appropriate to lure the big oaf back to the castle where he would have to fight this idiot. Max had to be an idiot, he burned the town's best inn and he had Ian after him. He should be running for his life. Max appeared to appreciate it when I pointed this fact out to him, if appreciation was demonstrated by another hard cuff across my head. The woods sped by and the land rose as we made our way to the castle. This was a more indirect route than the path Ian and I traveled this morning. I was not about to point out this error to Max. This idiot could tire his horse and his men and it would be to my advantage. I slumped against him and he hugged me tighter. He might think I desired his arms about me when really I just needed to rest. I could feel bruises forming on my arms and shoulders from his not so gentle ministrations. My head continued to throb and I let my eyes fall shut. The idiot could do all the work, so I pretended to doze.

I never really slept but I kept my eyes shut and my body relaxed. Max continually readjusted to keep me in his arms. I had to keep from cringing but knew I needed to keep up this act. As the horses slowed, I stirred and sat up away from Max only to be dragged back against him. He sunk his teeth into my neck. I screamed and twisted away from him falling to the ground. I slammed into the dirt and new aches sprang up across my body. One hand covered my neck as I checked for blood. My hand stayed dry and I glared up at Max as he giggled. That was the first time I felt scared, really scared. What if Ian never caught up? I had to think for myself here. Max dismounted and stood over me.

His soot covered breeches were tucked into old leather boots; one boot had a hole. My mind went back to the forest the night the soldier wanted to rape me, the one I shot. I took his boots off of him before we buried him. Those boots had the same hole, those were the same boots! I scooted back away from him to get a better view of what he wore. I was sure we had buried the boots. The socks I remember tossing in the stream a mile below our camp but I couldn’t recall what we had done with his boots. Max really was an idiot, he had been chasing us for days not knowing who we were or that we had discovered the dispatches on his dead friend. He bent over and grabbed my sore arm; I gasped with shock and pain. Max seemed to enjoy my moans and cries. This was not going well for me. I attempted to gain my feet to ease the pain in my arm from his tugging and I did help myself a little. Max told his men to spread out, one on each side of the ruined entrance.

The front of Caerlaverock had once been mighty and imposing, now it was picturesque. Moss covered stones, a portico open to the blue sky, grassy paths between the stone arches. I enjoyed my morning with Ian and now I struggled to recall the layout. We had entered from a different side last night. Max took me straight through the courtyard. He turned me and we watched his men leap down into a depression, possibly the old moat, now filled with reeds, to lay in wait for Ian.

“Men in the reeds!” I screamed not knowing if anyone could hear me and of course that earned me yet another blow. No one leapt out of the trees in answer to my call. I was alone with the monsters. And the scariest one led me deeper into the ruins, away from freedom.

We clambered over stones and through archways, many still intact. The gray stones had seen many a prisoner, I was sure, and not a few enemies. It was stealthy enemies entering under the cloak of a moonless night that brought the castle down according to Ian. He told me the tale last night under our blankets while we gazed at the stars, a sad tale to be sure. Max yanked on my bruised arm and I gasped again just to make him happy. I seemed to be getting my bearings. We passed through the old kitchens and were heading toward the standing tower. We ducked under a low leaning pillar and entered the turret; stone steps spiraled up in front of us. Max thrust me in front of him and I picked my way through the ruble and began my ascent. I heard the ringing of a blade and hesitated. Max heard it too and slammed me up against the wall. He turned and drew steel. Ian! He stood in the archway at the bottom of the steps. Blood dripping from one arm, and from his sword, I prayed it belonged to the men in the reeds.

“I have something of yours?” Max sneered, “Come to retrieve your slut?”

Ian climbed over the rubble to start up the stairs after us. Max propelled me forward. Ian followed.

“I had such little success with the fire, thanks to this one, she will pay,” Max continued to taunt Ian who followed with no expression on his face save an icy stare. Not one word did he utter. I leapt over the breach in the stairs and turned hoping to see Max fall, but no, like a graceful cat he made the leap and continued up. Ian waited a bit before launching himself over the breach.

“Too slow, smuggler?” Max dared Ian to react. Still nothing from Ian. I made the final turn on the stairs and stepped out into the fresh air onto the lookout. Max followed. We both blinked in the bright sun and then Ian also was with me, blinking at the bright light. His sword held high, he attacked. Max met the blade with a parry but fell back a step. He countered with a low thrust. Ian caught it on his guard, saving his fingers. Ian again raised his sword high and I worried that Max could get under his guard but Max kept his sword high as well. The swords rang across the heights; their boots sounded a staccato dance back and forth across the platform. I ran around behind Max to look over the parapet for reinforcements. No army to be seen. It was only Ian. Come to save me. The swords clashed once more and I turned back to watch. The men strained against each other, Ian taller and stronger. Max bent under Ian’s mighty strength. Max’s arms started to quiver, I knew the end was in sight. Max had no stamina for the fight after fighting me in the saddle, after giving me so many blows, after keeping me hugged up against him while I feigned sleep. He was exhausted while Ian’s strength was steady. I made eye contact with Ian and he gave me only the slightest of nods. I smiled and turned the secret stone opening up the narrow hidden stairs. Ian kicked out at Max who crumpled, his sword skittering across the floor. A second kick and Max tumbled down the hidden stairs. We heard the clatter as he descended, he moaned and then silence. I closed the opening and stood tall, smiling like an idiot at Ian. Sweat poured from his face. His strong arms damp. He sheathed his sword and turned from me. He strode to the doorway. Tears filled my eyes. I wanted his arms around me; I needed his arms around me. He waited for me to follow and as I passed him, he took my hand and brought it up to his lips. His ice blue eyes bored into mine, unreadable, still not a word from him. He kissed my palm so slowly and sweetly. I melted again for this Viking warrior. He let my hand go and gestured for me to head down the stairs.

Our descent was slower and somewhat more careful with none of the joy from this morning. At the base of the tower, Fergus waited. He took my hand and led me out through the ruined castle. We passed the remains of the men in the reeds.

“Do not look, lass. Ian was not gentle with them.” Blood was everywhere, he was not gentle. Ian stomped next to me and then past me. He continued into the woods, never looking back. Fergus led me into the woods on the other side of the old road. The horses whickered at the smell of blood. Fergus assisted me to the saddle and then mounted his horse.

“Ian couldn’t get here fast enough,” he offered.

“And he couldn’t leave fast enough,” I countered.

“He picked up your scarf.”

“And dropped me with his friend.”

“He heard your call in the reeds.”

“And he missed the cry in my heart, Fergus, he said not one word to me. He fought that animal with a ferociousness I had never imagined. I watched him slaughter that man and then opened that trap door. And not one word.”

“I don’t know what he is thinking now; I knew what he was thinking on the road here. Incoherent rage and fear.”

“Fear? I think not.”

“No, Robin, his only thought was to get to you. His only thought,” Fergus emphasized.

I relented a bit, “I knew he would follow, that's why I left my scarf, why I screamed about the men in the reeds. I kept trying to slide off the horse so Max kept hitting me and the whole ride he kept his arms wrapped tight around me, his arms were exhausted, I tried to exhaust his strength.”

“Now girl, don’t think you were responsible for any part of that fight.”

“I did my part for Ian, he knows.”

Fergus laughed; infuriating me.

“Look at me Fergus!” I reined in the horse and yanked down my bodice showing the bruises on my neck, I pulled up my sleeves and showed him my arms. Purpling bruises covered my arms, clear finger marks could be seen on my neck. Fergus gasped “Oh child! We need to get you back to Ennis. When he sees this, Ian is going to murder someone.”

“Too late, he already did.” I muttered. “And I need the big oaf to see me, not these,” I held up a bruised arm. “Why did he stop talking to me? Does he know who I am? Is he disappointed?” my hysteria rose, “He thinks I am a terrible person, a loose woman, a concubine.” I wailed.

Fergus looked sympathetic, if sympathetic included one’s mouth hanging open. He reached over to take my reins and we continued through the woods. We reached the farm lodge where Ennis waited. Gentle hands helped me down and assisted me into the house. The house was much the same as when I left, filled with warm light and delicious aromas. I stumbled up the stairs and into the white washed room that had been mine in my illness. A steaming tub sat before the hearth. Ennis shooed Fergus out before assisting me from my clothes and into the tub. Sweet smelling herbs floated in a little sachet in the hot water relaxing me further. The aches faded the longer I sat in the warm water. I longed to be with Ian in the ancient hot water tub below his lodge. Eventually, Ennis collected me from the tub and tucked me into the little bed. I cared not, the herbs and the warm water, did their work and sent me into a deep dreamless slumber. I had no more dreams, Ian was gone.

~~~~~

A brilliant morning sun streamed through the windows. Ennis thoughtfully left yet another dress of Martha’s, one as blue as Ian’s eyes. No, I told myself, I will not think of his eyes. The bodice of the dress was low, the sleeves, short. I dared not look in a mirror. I dressed and combed my hair, leaving it loose. I picked up a shawl and covered the many bruises and barely healed scabs; I was indeed a mess. I walked down the stairs and outside. As I started across the yard towards the stables, thundering hooves entered the yard. One rider slowed and scooped me up into his arms. The rider wheeled and exited the yard. I was gone from the lodge in a second. No one watched, Ian’s roar was silent as he was not there.

I cried silently in the rider’s arms. My brother cooed softly that all would be well. He had thrown his cloak around me and I sat back against him letting my thoughts roam backwards over the past few days. I didn't want to think about today. Today is my wedding day.

We rode through the birch woods that hugged the coast road. Through the light skinned trunks, the sea sparkled below the cliffs on our left. I gazed out over the water as it moved into and out of my view. Normally the birches made me smile. I loved the silver bark and lovely light green leaves. Today I stared blindly through the trees recounting the moments spent in Ian’s arms, wondering what led to his sudden coldness. He must have found out who I was or decided I was nothing but a harlot.

We rode in silence until we saw the Doom on the heights. The lone tower rose to the sky with pale green vines rising up the sides. The steeple of the church, the site of my upcoming nuptials, rose to meet the cloudless blue sky. The manor house or former castle had been renovated with a new wing that artfully blended styles and displayed the careful and beautiful work of the local stone masons. The overall effect was charming and fanciful. Gardens of well tended roses were interspersed with graceful lawns with paths leading to seating, rock gardens and other buildings. The castle of damp drafts from several years ago looked quite different in the spring. Too bad I no longer wanted to reside here. I had my heart set on a large lodge in the woods.

“Robert, I don't want to marry today.”

“You don't have too, it's tomorrow Bridget.” My brother spoke softly, “I imagine this seems rather overwhelming, guests have been arriving, and your family has been here for days waiting for you to come. You have a great number of questions to answer. And where is that man, the messenger from the McBain.”

“I'm not really sure. He kind of left me at the farmhouse.”

“Alone?”

“No, not at all. Fergus and Ennis attended me; they fed me, clothed me and dosed me with herbal infusions.”

“Why? Are you unwell?” Robert asked.

“I am well. I have so much to tell you.” Robert handed me down to Charles who waited in front of the chapel and together we walked inside.

“We can have some privacy here. Too many people are roaming around the manor, all preparing for tomorrow.”

The small chapel was remarkably tall and sturdy. It was made from the local white washed stone and had a squared tower. Inside belied the plainness of the exterior with rich cherry wood pews, warm and colorful stained glass windows and an altar that reflected the congregation’s dedication to their church and the evangelical movement present in the community. Sunlight illuminated the stained glass window creating rainbows of colors above the altar. My brothers and I sat in the first pew, near the altar and the rainbows. They hugged me and kissed me and then all started speaking at once.

“So you did not keep your hair covered,” the youngest stated. I shook my head no.

“You lost your hat?”

“Aye, but that was not all I lost.”

“I beg your pardon?” Robert boomed. He yanked me around causing the cloak to drop to the floor.

My brothers gasped as my bruises were exposed; the deep purple marks on my arms were Max’s hand prints. His bite marks clearly stood out on my collarbone. Robert gently touched my neck as his voice deepened, “Oh you poor lass. You do have some stories to tell.”

I leaned down, picked up my shawl and re-wrapped it around my shoulders, fighting tears. I looked down and tried to regain my composure to begin my tale.

The doors of the chapel slammed open, two giants strode down the aisle, swords in hand. Robert started down the aisle from the altar followed by all my brothers.

“You!” Robert roared.

I looked over at Ian and the other giant, my intended I assumed. Ian must be the younger brother, not the estate manager as I had thought. Ian stood tall under Robert's glare.

“Are you responsible for the lass’s condition?”

“I am,” Ian stated.

Robert drew his sword, “You did this to her?”

“No, but I am responsible for the lass.”

“No, you are not.” Robert sounded calm, a dangerous sign.

“Well, you certainly aren’t. You let the lass take the place of your son, I assume, ride off with a strange man, unescorted. She could have been ravished.”

“She has been gravely injured under your supposed care,” Robert pointed out.

“She was almost raped.”

“By you?” The sword raised its tip.

“No, by the soldier she shot.” Ian countered.

“You shot a soldier?” My brothers turned as one towards me, “Is it true, did you kill a soldier?”

“He wanted to do unnatural things to my body.” I offered.

“While this man did nothing?” Robert waved his sword in a circle at Ian.

“Not a thing, at least not that time. He killed the next man who wanted my body.”

“How many men wanted your body?” Robert’s voice shook, another very bad sign.

“I don’t have to answer that. It is very impolite of you to ask.”

“Well, it seems pertinent.” James offered.

“I kind of lost count.”

“I’ll kill him.” Robert stated.

“No you won't. I love him.”

“No lass, you don’t, we’ll protect you, he can’t force you anymore.”

“You don’t understand.” I pleaded.

“I do, lass, I truly do. You got taken advantage of, he forced you, he beat you, and convinced you that you deserved it or that only he could protect you, or some such nonsense. I will take you home, and your marriage….”

“There will be no marriage.” Ian roared.

I gasped; my knees buckled and fell to the pew. My fears had been realized. He wouldn't have me, he thought I was not good enough even for him. I was a sinner. I sat and stared at him, tears streaming from my eyes.

“You’ll die, scum, no one makes my sister cry,” some brother yelled.

“Sister?” Ian bellowed turning to point his sword at me.

“This is your sister?” Ian hollered. He whirled back toward the brothers.

“You sent your sister off with a strange man, with ME?” Ian roared beating his chest with his fist.

At that point things sort of got confusing with Ian bellowing and my brothers hollering. All the swords were drawn and kind of waving around. I pulled myself up and backed away from the melee. Ian’s older brother, my fiancé just stood still, separate from the yelling men, studying me. I returned his studious gaze. He stood almost as tall as Ian and somewhat broader. He was the giant from the beach, the smuggler who tossed me over his shoulder. He had probably done the same thing several years before in the castle. He had a bit of a smirk on his face. Ian and Robert were toe to toe, Robert’s finger repeatedly jammed into Ian’s chest. Ian’s sword kept being pointed at me. My brothers clustered around adding to the noise level. I wished I was in bed at the farmhouse; this did not seem to be going well. I feared blood would be drawn, I just did not realize the blood would be mine.

Again.

~~~~~

Backing away from the scene, I prepared to make my escape. If Robert calmed down long enough, he might realize I needed to be murdered or at least locked up. Ian again waved his sword in my direction; however, he still would not look at me.

A scrape behind me caused me to turn. And there he was, Max, bruised and bloody and armed. He looked glad to see me if glad includes yanking my hair and placing a knife against my throat.

My brothers, my brother-in-law and McBains all turned at the sound of my scream. Ian bellowed.

“I thought I killed you.” Ian pointed his sword in our direction.

“You really are inept.” Robert offered.

“I was protecting your sister,” Ian answered.

“You weren't doing a very good job at protecting her, judging by her bruises.”

“She never appreciated all my efforts.”

“How much effort did it take?” Charles asked.

“You're asking me? You must know how difficult she is.” Ian answered.

“Indeed she is. Is that why you are refusing marriage?” James asked, his eyes never leaving mine.

“I'm just saying she won't be marrying any farmer, no, wait. If she's your sister, it's a McBain she would be marrying.” Ian figured out.

At this point, I was near the entrance with my brothers and Ian at the altar.

“You dolt!” I cried. “You just figured that out?”

Once more I was yanked against a hard broad chest. A chest that smelled bad. I knew who had me, with a knife at my throat. Max. Max pulled me further into the alcove. My brothers and Ian were inching closer to me as they argued over my wedding plans. The knife wavered against my neck pricking me. A small trickle of blood snaked down my neck. “I thought you were dead.” I stated calmly to him. Lord knows I have been in this position before and now I not only had Ian and my fiancé near my side, but three angry brothers as well.

“I am very much afraid there will be no marriage today.” Max sneered. “So the petite wench is just the daughter of farmers and not your whore?” That silenced all of them. In one brief statement, Max managed to insult Ian, my brothers and me.

“He needs killing.” James offered.

“I tried to kill him.” Ian answered.

“You didn’t do a very fine job if it.” James suggested.

“Perhaps Bridget should have done it for you,” another brother chimed in.

“He made the marks on her arms,” Ian stated.

“He’s a dead man,” Robert added.

Max jiggled the knife, blood continued to flow.

“A very dead man,” Ian whispered.

Max backed me out of the chapel into the vestry and kicked the door shut. He threw the bolt home, grabbed my arm and dragged me after him. We ran through the vestry and through a side door into a small garden. I heard my brothers leaving the chapel but they were on the other side of a very tall wall. Max dragged me down the garden path and then through some thorny rose bushes snagging my dress and scratching my arms. I tried to slow him down by digging my heels into the gravel path. But Max was stronger and meaner. He laughed at my cries and kicked open the gate at the bottom of the garden.

The gate opened into a narrow alley with high walls and no windows. No one could see us as we picked up speed and I could hear no sound of pursuit. At the end of the alley Max again opened a door with a high threshold. I tripped as we went over the threshold pulling Max down. He slapped me with his free hand as he yanked me up.

“You’re not leaving my side quite yet, I have plans for you.”

Max obviously knew the layout of the chapel and gardens, as many doors opened off to one side or the other down the hallway. We entered another narrow, dark stairwell. What was it with Max always wanting to go up narrow dark stairwells? I was quite tired of being dragged around and forced up spiraling stairs. I knew this tower; I knew this stairway as I thought furiously how to escape from Max yet again. I had grown tired of Max and his insane giggle but still feared him and feared what he planned for Ian.

Max's shirt was covered with dried blood; perhaps I had damaged him in his fall at Caeverlock after all. We finally left the stairwell. He pushed me hard through the door way. I stumbled and fell forward. He grabbed me back up against his chest. I aimed my elbow into the wound on his side. He made a gagging sound and pushed me away from him. Max was panting hard, I thought to attack again. I refrained after noticing the much longer knife that he now held in his hand. I guessed I wouldn't win that encounter.

Max and I stared at each other for quite a while. His panting slowed while his wound continued to bleed. I imagined him weakening, but the knife glinting in the sun kept me at bay.

“Are you waiting for Ian? You think he's going to come after you yet again?” I asked.

“I know he will,” Max stated.

“I think he may wait this one out, we have to come down sometime.”

“I can make it happen faster,” he said pointing his knife at the edge of the parapet.

I slid to the floor never removing my eyes his knife.

“On the other hand, we can wait for Ian here.” I offered and so we waited. We listened to the breeze, the occasional bird but no thundering steps, no shouts of outrage from the open doorway.

I sighed. Nobody will rescue me; I will have to figure it out for myself. “No one seems to be charging up here. What are you planning? How do you think you can leave the castle?”

“I can hold you in front of me as a shield. It worked before.”

“Why are you doing this? It's over. The Frenchmen are never going to go with you. They know you lied to them. They know this is nothing but a slaughter, planned by you. It’s over.”

“No, my dear, it's not. If I can't get the families back to France and killed, while then, my dear, I have other plans. I can get my people to convince London these people are dangerous and must be thrown out of the country. I can arrange for their ships to sink in the Irish Sea. I can get the McBain land confiscated for the crown. He is a traitor after all, your Ian.”

“You think you are so powerful?” Max glared at me as his chest continued to heave. “You think you still have all that power? I doubt it. Ian slaughtered your men in the reeds. I killed your spy myself. I buried him in the woods.” His eyes changed for a brief moment, so fast I thought I'd imagined it. I’d surprised him.

“I did not miss him.” Max attempted to recover. “He was not important.”

“But the dispatches were.”

“You read those? That was how he knew.”

“Yes, that's how we knew, before you even got to the town, your plan was ruined. I translated the documents and we found the Frenchmen and their families and we kept them safe.”

Max looked over the low wall, no sounds of pursuit rose up to us. I watched him move from the parapet, the sunlight catching on the knife blade. I stared at that knife, it didn't get any smaller. I tried again to reason with Max.

“You're done, you’re finished here.” Max strode over to me picking me up and backing me against the low wall.

“I'll be done but that will be after your death. I’ll be done after Ian watches you die.” Max sneered.

“No” I screamed at Max as he raised the knife to my throat.

“No” Ian roared as he burst through the door.

Max shoved me against parapet and I struggled to regain my balance. I shoved back with all my might and added an ill placed kick at Max. It wasn't much but it did get him away from me for a moment. It was all Ian needed to close the space between himself and Max. I edged around behind Max while keeping an eye on Ian. Ian had the longer reach with his sword but Max was fighting for his life and drew upon a desperate need to win. He also landed a few blows. Ian's shirt was torn, blood dripped from a scratch down his wrist. I could hear the shouts of my brothers coming from the stairs. This was the second time these two had fought today. Something was different this time. Max was fighting for his life but my Ian was fighting for something too. Slowly it dawned on me, he was fighting for me, and therefore, he was fighting for us. I watched the blood stain grow on Ian's arm. I decided Ian was not in this fight alone. I kept maneuvering myself to stay behind Max. He slashed the air and I pushed away from the wall putting my whole body weight into this mad rush. I crashed into Max. He lost his balance and fell into Ian. Ian thrust upwards with his knife. A gurgling sound came from Max as he slid off the knife and onto the floor.

Ian stood panting over his body his face stone, his eyes cold.

He looked over at me, “You did not need to do that, my dear, I had him where I wanted him.”

“Is that so?” I asked, “Did you want a knife in your belly too, because that's where it was headed.”

We stared at each other, breathing heavily.

“Is that your blood?” Ian asked gesturing at me with the sword.

I didn’t need to see myself to know that I was covered with gore, very little of it mine.

“Some of it may be. More of it is his.”

Ian stood staring at me shaking his head as my brothers burst through the door. Robert was the first one through. He stood still as he took in the scene. He walked toward me kicking Max as he went by.

“Did you do it right this time, McBain?” he asked.

“Aye, that I did with the help of your sister”.

“Quite something isn’t she?” My brother asked.

And Robert looked at me with critical eye, “How much of that blood is yours?”

“I'm telling you the same thing I told the big oaf, a bit of its mine, most of it is his,” I pointed at the late Max, “I want to go home and take care of this and take care of my Ian.”

“Your Ian?” Three sets of brothers’ eyes suddenly focused intently at me.

“Aye, Robert, my Ian. He's the only one I'll be marrying.”

Ian smiled down at me. “I am?” He gently wiped some grime from my face. We were lost in each other until my brother cleared his throat.

I stepped toward my brother.

“I'm sorry you wanted the money and the new roof my virginity would bring. I don't care if it's not the laird I'll be marrying. I can't go through with the wedding, Robert. I don't want this. Not anymore. I am not a thing to be bought and sold. I don't belong to you. I am my own person; I want to have a choice in my future. I want to know love, true love. It's Ian I want and only Ian.” I turned to Ian and continued, “Now find someone else to marry that wee lass you described to me in the bath.”

“He was with you in a bath?” Robert hollered and again he pointed his sword at Ian.

“Which wee lass?” Asked the giant.

I parted my way through the six men gathered on the tower floor, past the giant, and the man I intended to marry. I put my hands on the door frame and turned over my shoulder to say, “Ian, maybe I'll help you a bit with the smuggling and buy my brothers a new roof. But, I am not marrying him.” I pointed at the giant. I ducked into the dark stairwell and heard Robert send the youngest, James, with me.

James chattered of how berserk Ian became when Max dragged me out. I smiled a secret smile in my heart. He also shared the argument between Ian and Robert. He shared that each man berated the other for my behavior, my recklessness and my injuries. Somehow a little bit of my blood seemed to send each of these men quite over the edge. We exited the stairwell and I went in search of my sister Alice. I needed to prepare for a wedding tomorrow. I only hoped it would be to the right man.

~~~~~

Sometime later Alice helped me from a warm bath and wrapped me in clean linen. She arranged for our dinner to be brought to our chamber and we spoke long into the night. She wisely ordered a large bottle of fine wine. I told her everything, the camping and hunting, the soldiers, my illness and the whole thing in the bath. The wine loosened our normal restraints as we talked about men and women. She asked more than a few questions about the bath and decided she would get her husband to have one built in their home. I had no idea my sister had such lusty ideas. Perhaps there was more to marriage than I knew about and more importantly maybe I wasn't a sinner but just a normal young woman in love.

We dried my hair by the fire with Alice brushing and somewhat calming the riot of curls. It would have to do. At least I’d gotten the bits of leaves and dried blood out of it. I finally climbed into the huge bed and slept. I woke with a clear head but was stiff with pain. My bruises stood out on my pale neck and arms. The newer scratches from the rose bushes stung. I looked lovely for a bride if lovely included purple and black bruises and rivulets of blood oozing down one’s arm. Alice brought a suitable dress and we got it arranged correctly. She continued to work on my hair but we decided to leave it long as it hid more of my wounds. At a knock on my door, Alice and I rose. Charles was ready to escort us to the chapel.

“Is Ian going to be here?” I asked Charles tugging at his arm.

“Ian and Robert talked long into the night.” he offered.

“To what outcome? Do I get my Ian?”

“Perhaps I misspoke. Ian and Robert yelled at each other long into the night.”

“Oh dear, so who is the groom?” I pleaded.

Charles silently led us to the back door of the vestry, the same room I had exited in such haste yesterday.

“Bridget, you wait here. Alice, you may go sit with your husband in the chapel.” Charles patted my head as if I was a sad old dog and ushered Alice out the door.

“It had better be Ian.” I shouted at the closed door. This did not feel quite right so I planted myself in a chair. A knock sounded on the chapel door and the priest told me it was time to come out.

“I am not coming out there. I told you I deserve to make my own choices.”

“It's your wedding, Lady Bridget.”

“To whom?”

“To Lord McBain's son, of course.” I heard people conspiring outside the door. “You'll come out of there and marry me,” someone hissed.

The door to the sanctuary opened a wee bit and I hissed right back, “You can't come in here.”

“Yes I can, I’m the groom, Lord McBain's son.”

“I don't care who you are. You can’t have me. I won’t let you touch me.”

“That's not proper talk for a church, lass,” the voice whispered.

“Do not begin to lecture me on what's proper. I've been improper for days now. I am going to hell and I don't want to marry you.”

“Your brothers want you to marry me.”

“I am just a property to be traded to them. They just want a new roof over their heads. They want to be rid of me. That is why I have been sold off to the highest bidder.”

The voice gasped and then resumed the hissing again, “There were bidders?”

“Bidders, suitors, it makes very little difference.”

“How many?”

“I don't rightly recall. Some came asking for my hand, others came asking for a stroll or something.”

“Define or something,” the hissing was getting a bit strident.

“The usual, hand holding, then grabbing at me, something with lips.”

“Robert neglected to tell me of these suitors.”

“It makes not one bit of difference as I am not marrying you. I want your estate manager, Ian. I explained very clearly to Robert that I will not marry you, Lord Giant, only your brother.”

“You think Ian is the estate manager and my brother?”

“He may be a by blow of your father's but he is indeed your brother.”

More sounds could be heard from the other side of the door. I heard stomping feet stomp away. I slipped out of my chair and walked softly to the door, quietly opened it and peeked out. All of them were talking again. Ian, the giant and Robert all waving hands and poking each other and whispering at the front of the church. Then I watched Alice come storming up the aisle. She pushed the door completely open, grabbed my arm and marched me to the altar. I looked out at the chapel, full of people, some townspeople and French families I recognized. Ennis and Fergus, with a lovely young woman who must be their Martha, and my family all gazed back at me with happy expressions. Aye, they did want that roof.

I stood in front of the priest and thought furiously how to get out of this marriage.

“Who gives this woman in matrimony?” The priest's clear voice rang out and the congregation quieted. Robert looked up from his argument with Ian and the giant.

“I do.” Robert replied.

I bent my head; Robert was giving me to the wrong man. There was nothing I could do. My family needed me to do the honorable thing and I had to do so even as my heart was breaking. Robert walked up the steps to me and kissed my bent forehead. He placed my hand in a huge callused hand. It was then covered by its huge partner effectively trapping me. He might have my body but he'd never have my heart I swore to myself. The priest continued the ceremony by wrapping a tartan cloth around our hand forever locking me to the McBains. He spoke the phrases and I repeated them. He then turned to my groom.

“Do you Michael Patrick Ian McBain take Elizabeth Bridget to be your wife?”

“I do” Ian stated. I looked up into his eyes and my heart soared. He was here and not the Giant. He was the McBain's heir. I looked for Robert and saw him laughing as he slapped the giant on his back.

“You? You are the McBain?”

“Excuse me,” interjected the priest, “but could we move on?”

We both turned and Ian motioned for him to continue. And then I was married, to the correct groom, in front of my laughing family. As we walked from the church, Ian bent and picked me up.

~~~~~

In his arms we exited the chapel and he deposited me on my beloved Thor. He mounted Bruce and we sped away. I heard the bells ringing in the castle as we headed across the fields, away from my brothers and away from his family. I guessed where we were headed, to our private hideaway in Caerlaverock Castle.

We entered the keep through the same bower of vines to a transformed fairyland. Candles in glass lanterns had been set around on the stone walls waiting for nightfall to be lit. A bower had been erected on the lawn. A fire burned in the fire pit. A table was set with our bridal luncheon and what looked like a real feather bed rested under the canopy.

“Do you need your sisters, lass?”

“No, husband,” I emphasized, “I received some fair advice from Alice last night.”

“And what advice did Alice have to offer.” Ian helped me from my horse and set them both free after removing their saddles.

“I advised her some actually, husband.”

“On what topic, wife.” Ian caught me up and swung me around while planting a hearty kiss on my lips.

“I told her of Roman baths and heated water and such.”

“What did your proper sister think of such sinful activities?”

“She wants to ask her husband to build one for them.”

“She is truly your sister then after all.” Ian laughed and took my hands. He led me to the feather bed. He cupped my face in his hands and gave me the sweetest of kisses. “Why I wouldn't have you as a wife?”

“I feared you thought I was wanton. I thought you were the estate manager, I thought the giant was laird. What is his name by the way? We always call him ‘The Giant of the Doom’.” We sat down on the bed.

“His name is Sean and he is my younger brother. He steps in as Lord or Laird when I am needed elsewhere.”

“Why did you holler that there would be no marriage yesterday?” Together we lay back on the bed while Ian started untying my dress.

“I meant no marriage to anyone else. I thought at the time you were some servant lass.”

“You did not!” Ian pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it to the floor.

“You had me powerfully perplexed. I could not place you at all. You are too well educated and incredibly resourceful and brave. I never dreamed you were the daughter of the Garnets, that they would callously send you off dressed like a boy...” Ian started to get worked up again.

I kissed his broad chest, “I stepped in where family needed me. Tell me about the smuggling.”

“I also step in where family needs me. We have cousins across the water in Ireland, they ship us raw wool illegally of course, and we in turn ship them our ale or rum as it comes in from the Caribbean. We just do it beneath the nose of the crown.” He explained while slipping my bodice off my shoulder.

“Isn't that dangerous?”

“Aye, but it’s a tradition, to thumb our noses at the Crown. We may have to look for other ways to do so as the mills expand.”

“I think you will have to curtail this as your family expands. I don't want my children to be raised fatherless.”

“So you'll be bearing my children now?” Ian teased and started rubbing his thumb over my very taut nipple.

“If you can ever get around to showing me how it’s done.”

And so he did.

~~~~~

Tara Hill Is busy writing her next book. Please visit her at Tarahillbooks.com or email her at tarahillbooks@gmail.com

Table of Contents

McBain's Bride