Chapter 12

Lucy was humming to herself while the men were gone. She tidied up the basement to keep herself busy as the hours were long, and she wouldn't have been surprised had Ian and Rory taken longer than they expected, being distracted by the company in the taverns. She had seen some of them in her time, mostly when her father had taken her through the village. He had always expressed disdain for them, telling her that only people of low character frequented taverns. But he was always like that, looking down his sneering nose at others. Lucy had always enjoyed the taverns, though. They were filled with so many different people and all kinds of bubbling conversations. Her father had always looked at these men as though they were blights upon the world. He had assured her that her husband would be an upstanding citizen, someone far removed from the troughs of the world, and then he had tried to get her to marry Bryn Colbert.

She shuddered at the name.

The first time she had encountered Bryn she had actually been charmed by him. He was different from the other weak-chinned men that had been presented to her with their limp handshakes, breathy voices, and halting laughs. Bryn was a force to be reckoned with, a distinct presence in the world, but she was quick to learn that harshness was a way of life for him. He had barely looked at her, treating her as though she were just some object in the world. He spoke to her dismissively and outlined how their marriage would unfold, even going so far as to demand how many children they would have, including the number of boys and girls, as though she had any control over it. He was just like her father, trying to control her destiny, mapping out the rest of her life as though it were a great tapestry, and she could not deviate from what they had chosen for her at all.

He may have been from noble heritage, but he was rough and coarse, his manner curt, his eyes devoid of any affection at all. She wondered if he knew of love, or if it was some mystical concept for him. It must have been like that for her father. Hamish wanted to impose his own will on the clan, using his influence over the laird to forge new rules and laws so that everyone had to adhere to the way he thought life should be lived. Ian's distillery was in direct response to that. She found it wryly amusing that they had both been rebelling against Hamish Glennrock even before they had encountered each other. She couldn't wait to tell Ian this, knowing that he would find it amusing as well.

There was a lot she wanted to tell him, in truth. She felt she ought to apologize to him again. After all, he had revealed a few intimate things about his past and all she had done was offer him a lie. Even now, the truth seemed inadequate. But how much time were they going to have together? After all, she couldn't stay here for the foreseeable future. The longer she remained in the clan, the likelier it was that someone would recognize her. If Rory's plan worked, then she would have to leave, traveling anywhere but north, and saying farewell to Ian was going to be more difficult than she anticipated. Despite not being allowed out of the shop, she had come to like her time here. It was a shame it could not continue in perpetuity. But where would she go? Since she liked taverns, she thought that perhaps she could find work in one in a small town somewhere, or perhaps an inn along the road where she could greet weary travelers and hear all of their stories. She could grow old there. Eventually, her beauty would fade, and the weary men would stop winking at her. The winters would grow longer and the nights colder, but she would always be warmed by a thought of that curt blacksmith, the one who loomed large in her memory, the flames he stoked never burning out.

It was a bittersweet thought. Her privileged life had been a gilded cage. If she had been nothing more than a scullery maid, then she would have been free to marry Ian and nobody would have questioned it. There were unwritten rules in the world, and it was deemed that someone like her should not be intimate with someone like him, but why not? Why should they both have to suffer simply because of other people's expectations? Sometimes she thought a fool must have been in charge of the world because none of it made any sense.

But then she was interrupted from her thoughts by a sound from upstairs. She strained her ears, but did not sense Rory or Ian. She crept up the stairs, shushing Ginger behind her, and lifted the basement door, peering through the narrow opening. Her gaze fell upon the doorway, attracted there by moving shadows. Then, a thud as someone crashed against the door. It rattled, and then there was another sound, this time of something scraping in the lock.

It clicked open. The door swung. Lucy's eyes widened and she ducked down, the entrance almost hitting her head as she let it fall, for she was amazed to see two strangers entering the forge. One of them was tall, the other was stockier and porky.

"Keep quiet," one of them said. His voice was low. The other one spoke in hastier tones.

"I am quiet," they hissed. Lucy crouched on the stairs, worried they might come for the distillery. She wasn't quite sure what she was going to do should they enter, but perhaps she could scare them off. Their footsteps thudded against the floor as they moved around the shop.

"Right, let's see what he's got gaeing on here."

"Are we sure he hae anything gaeing on?"

"Ah, come on, Rab, he must. I hae been watching him for a while. Dae ye think he makes all this money by selling forks and spoons tae the innkeepers? Nae, I think he hae something else gaeing on in here, we just need tae find it."

"I dinnae know, he dinnae mention anything like that in the tavern the other night."

"Ach, dae ye think he's just gaeing tae come out and say it? Nae, he plays his cards close tae his chest, but I know he is hiding something. I am nae gaeing tae let him take our business. Let's send him a message. He needs tae stick tae the forge. I dinnae want him interfering with us."

Lucy put a hand around her mouth, stifling a gasp. The men sounded crude and cruel, and she couldn't imagine they would treat her kindly if they found her. She wished she could cry out for help, but Ian and Rory were far away. These men must have seen them leave the shop. It was the only way they would be confident enough to intrude upon Ian's territory.

If she had been braver, then she might have been able to scare them off herself, but with what? Even if she had a weapon, she wouldn't have known what to do with it. They would probably just laugh at her, and if they did try to fight back, then she wouldn't have any way to defeat them. But she couldn't just stay in the basement, hoping that they would not discover the hidden part of the shop. She glanced back, noticing Ginger sitting at the base of the stairs. The cat offered no wisdom. The intruders were skulking above, looking in every nook and cranny. She occasionally heard odd comments from them.

"He's eating alright," for example.

When they came close to the basement, she froze. There was one moment when one of the men stood directly over the hatch. Lucy could see his legs through the floorboards. She held her breath and wished that her heart would remain still. It thumped so loudly she feared they would be able to hear it. She was certain that he would bend down and expose her, dragging her out, and she doubted they would be as understanding as Ian and Rory. If they suspected who she was, then they would probably surrender her to the guards.

Shadows flickered above as the man was called away.

"Rab, what's over here? I think I hae found something," the other man called. Lucy heard some rummaging and then the clang of metal as tools poured out of a cupboard. There were curses and she assumed that at least one of the men had been hit in the foot by falling tools.

She turned, knowing that she needed to do something. She was stuck in the basement though… or was she?

She ran down the stairs as lightly as Ginger, making sure to avoid the creaking parts of the steps. She crouched down, knowing that any wrong move would alert the intruders to her presence. She grabbed her cloak and wrapped it around her shoulders, and then headed towards the window. When she reached it, she stared at it hesitantly. Ian had forbidden her from leaving. It was in her best interests to stay in the basement, for guards continued to prowl the village. However, if she stayed, then eventually the two men were going to find the entrance to the basement. It was only a matter of time, and she couldn't allow Ian to suffer this fate. She thought at least if she disguised herself with the cloak she might be able to escape attention.

"Wish me luck," she whispered quietly to Ginger. When she had first arrived in the basement she thought it nearly impossible to climb back out of the window, but now that she was more familiar with the items in the basement, she knew that it only required some ingenuity. She dragged boxes across the floor and stacked them near the window, ascending them and squeezing through. For a moment, she thought she was stuck entirely, but she managed to twist her body, pain wrapping around her abdomen, and pulled herself out of the window.

Emerging from the basement, she rolled on the ground and quickly got to her feet. She flicked the hood over her head and glanced up and down the alley, relieved that she hadn't immediately encountered a mob of guards. Her heart was in her throat as she ran to the end of the alley, pressing her body close to the wall. She drew the hood ever tighter and bowed her head, hoping that anyone who saw her would only see a dark void where her face should have been. Lanterns flickered in houses and in the distance she could see people wandering around the square, heading to a warm tavern after a long day's work. Her heart froze as she noticed guards patrolling the area as well. What she planned to do would almost certainly attract their attention, but she had no choice.

She had to stop these men.

"Thieves! There are thieves here! I saw them break intae the shop!" She ran from the alley and jumped up and down in the middle of the village, pointing towards Ian's shop. "They broke the lock on the door!"

Lucy cried loudly, clapping her hands as well to get the attention of the neighbors and anyone else who might have been passing by. She hammered on doors and kept calling out the alarm, rattling windows until the neighbors emerged. As soon as she had raised a small commotion and their attention was on the shop, Lucy ducked behind some crates, hiding in the darkness. She trembled with fear that she might be discovered, although triumph flared in her heart when she saw the men stumble out of the shop and run into the distance. The neighbors remained there for a while, looking around for the mysterious hooded figure who had alerted them to the crime, but she was nowhere to be found. Lucy's throat was tight and she was afraid to move, fearing that even the slightest twitch would be enough to draw attention.