Chapter 8

Ian nodded to people as he walked through the village. Nobody thought anything odd about him making deliveries at this time in the evening. He even smiled and nodded to the guards, acting as though he had nothing to hide. If he avoided them and darted away from them, they might think him suspicious. Better to be open with them, and none of them bothered him. After all, he was just a simple blacksmith making a delivery of cutlery to an inn.

There was a buzz of excitement in the inn. Ian could see that people were enjoying the whiskey he supplied through the windows. Ian went to the back, as always, knocking on the door. The owner, Boon, flung open the door and dragged Ian inside.

"Dinnae stand there for tae long. The guards might see. I dinnae like them lurking around out there," he said, licking his lips nervously.

"Hae they given ye much trouble?"

"They come in now and then, asking about some thief who stole Lady Boyd's jewelry. I keep telling them that naebody of disrepute is welcome in my tavern, but they dinnae believe me. Now, let me see what ye hae got for me," Boon didn't even bother to look at the cutlery. He just went straight for the whiskey, pulling out the case. "Ah, liquid gold," he said, holding it close to his chest. "Ye are a lifesaver, Ian. I dinnae know how I would keep this place afloat if it was nae for ye. I mean, who would want tae come here if they could nae get drunk?" he lowered his voice to a whisper.

Ian started to unload everything else. "I'm sure they come for the friendliness of the host."

The two men shared a look, and then laughed. "Ye are a brave man, though, coming out here while those guards are about. I hope they catch this thief soon. Better for all of us that they stop nosing around our business. I wish the Laird would stop meddling in our lives. He dinnae see us gaeing up tae the keep and telling him how tae wipe his arse, does he?" Boon pressed his lips together, grimacing. "I hae been keeping my ear tae the ground. I think if I can help the guards, then they might look the other way. It makes my skin crawl just thinking about it, but it's the only way. Hae ye seen anything of the thief?"

"Nae," Ian said, his tongue feeling as though it swelled to twice its size. "Between working in the forge and working on this," he gestured towards the whiskey, "I dinnae hae much time tae think about anything else."

"Aye, ye are a man of dedication, Ian, and we thank ye for it. Why dinnae ye gae inside? Ask Lara for a drink, on me. It's only fair that ye should get tae enjoy the fruits of yer labor," Boon said. Ian inclined his head and then took his leave, making a note in his mind to not confide to anyone about Lucy, not even his customers.

When he entered the bar, his name was called by some old friends and he walked over to them. They patted him on the back and he smiled, sharing a few old jokes and asking about their families. He, of course, had no family to share news of. There were dismayed noises about the thief, and a few people said they had seen the thief skulking around. There were even rumors that it wasn't a thief at all, but rather someone with whom Lady Boyd was having an affair. Ian excused himself from the table, glad that none of them had the slightest idea about Lucy.

He went to the bar and placed his glass on the counter. Lara, Boon's daughter, was washing out a glass. Her curled dark hair was tied back, while her eyes lit up when she saw him.

"Been a while since ye hae spent any time here," she said, her voice low and rolling.

"Well, ye know what it's like. I'm a busy man."

"Oh, I know, even tae busy for things that men like tae dae. Ye know that my invitation still stands."

"I know," Ian met her gaze evenly. Lara laughed and shook her head.

"Ye are a strange one, Ian. If I were tae make the same offer tae anyone else in this tavern, they would be rushing up the stairs sae quick they'd leave a trail of fire behind. But ye… ye are nae married, ye hae nae ties… I wish I knew what was holding ye back. It cannae be that ye dinnae like me, after all," she raised her hands, stretching out her shapely body, which attracted some wolf whistles from elsewhere in the bar. Ian tried his best to look away, but he found it difficult. In truth, he did find her beautiful and he hadn't always been so restrained with her, but it was safer to not get tangled up in emotions.

Upon hearing the whistles, Lara immediately stopped and slapped her cloth against the bar, taming the men as a whip was used to tame lions. "Da told me tae only give ye one of these for free, but since I like ye I will give ye another," she refilled his glass.

"It's a pleasure, as always, Lara, and believe me, if I were any other man, then I would take ye up on yer offer, even though yer father would nae be pleased about it."

Lara leaned over the bar and whispered to him. "Maybe that's part of the appeal," she said, and giggled. But unfortunately, Ian was the way he was, and he couldn't allow himself to indulge in those kinds of things. He had other duties to think about, to focus on, and he wasn't about to let himself become weak. He took his drink and headed to a quiet bar in the corner. To his surprise, thoughts of Lucy entered his mind. He drank to try and forget about her as well. It wasn't long before he had a distraction, as two tall men came to him and offered him a drink. He didn't know them, and they didn't offer their names.

"I heard ye hae a good blacksmith shop. The best in the clan, they call it," the first one said. He was a thin man with a trimmed beard covering the lower half of his face. He wore a hat with a wide brim, and he did not take it off even though he was inside. The other man was stockier, with a face that reminded Ian of a pig.

"Best in the Highlands," Ian said, eagerly taking the free drink. He wasn't going to deny a gift like this.

"That's high praise. We were thinking of buying a forge from a blacksmith. He owes us a great debt, but we dinnae know how tae make it profitable. What's yer secret?"

Ian barked a laugh. "There is nae secret. It's just hard work. I work there day and night. Ye see this?" Ian held out his arm and rolled up his sleeve. Under the coarse hair were thick muscles, but the skin was also marked with burns and bruises. His fingers were thick, his palms leathery. "It's nae easy work, but once ye are done ye can see what ye hae made. Ye forge yer body as much as ye forge the metal, but ye hae tae be willing tae put in the work. Day and night, over and over again. The sun rises, and the sun sets, but ye are still at the forge. Naething can take ye away from it. But for all the hard work ye put in, ye need a wee bit of luck as well. That's the same for everyone though, and I hae been given my share of good and bad."

"Naething, but what about gaeing home?" the man with porcine features said.

Ian barked a laugh again. "My home is the forge. Let me tell ye something, gentlemen. If ye want tae make a successful forge, then ye hae tae live and breathe it. Ye hae tae put every ounce of yer blood and sweat intae it because there are always gaeing tae be people trying tae steal business from ye, sae ye hae tae be the best. Ye hae tae live it, every moment of yer life. Like now, for example, as soon as I return I will be back there, making preparations for taemorrow. I'll hae myself a few hours of kip and then as soon as the sun rises I'll be right back at it. If ye walk past my shop, then ye are likely tae hear the hammer crashing down, because that is my life. It's my heartbeat, and if ye cannae sacrifice the same, then ye hae nae business at all. But if ye are thinking of getting intae the industry for profit, well, ye hae the wrong idea. I cannae say I hae ever known a rich blacksmith."

"Ye seem tae be daeing well for yerself."

"Aye, well, that's because I work hard, like I said, and I hae other skills. My father…" Ian paused as soon as he mentioned this, realizing that he'd had too much to drink.

"And what other skills dae ye hae?"

He blinked and frowned. There was a buzz in his eyes, and the illumination around him seemed brighter than before. He shrugged and muttered a vague response to the question, realizing that he had come close to mentioning the distillery. He pressed his lips together firmly, determined to not speak too freely.

The two men looked at each other. "And dae ye dae private requests for customers?"

"I need tae leave," Ian said, fearing that he was not in the right mind to be talking about these matters. If he dared let anything slip while in this state, he would never have forgiven himself. He pushed his chair away and staggered out of the inn, finding it hard to remember how to walk. He raised his hand to his forehead. Thankfully, the way home was imprinted in his mind, so he lumbered through the village, groaning, hoping that he hadn't revealed any information that he shouldn't have.

* * *

Rory had been pacing around,waiting for Ian to return from the delivery so that he could say farewell. Eventually, though, he could not delay his departure. He hesitated for a moment before he left, staring at her. Lucy knew what he was thinking. She laughed.

"Ye dinnae hae tae worry, I'm nae about tae cause any trouble. I promise I will be here when ye get back, just like Ian will be," she said. Rory bent down to pet Ginger and asked Lucy to take care of her, which Lucy duly promised to do. Then, he was gone, leaving Lucy alone.

Ian was taking far longer with the delivery than she had expected. The hours dwindled by and she became worried. She wondered if guards had arrested him, although the rising panic was quelled by the thought that if they had, they would surely have stormed into the shop by now. Still, Lucy could not sleep until he returned. She ended up finding some old clothes of his and mending them. He went about in such tatty things, she shook her head in dismay. At least some of the lessons she learned in the keep were coming in useful now.

As she darned his clothes, she hummed to herself and thought about what would be happening in the keep at this very moment. Her father would be pacing around, tearing his hair out, apologizing effusively for this aberrant behavior. He would have a lot of explaining to do to other people as well, to all the suitors he had lined up for her, especially the foppish Hugh Baird. Lucy shuddered when she thought about him. The first moment they met, he had reminded her of a snail, so slimy and weak. His hands had been clammy and limp, he wasn't like Ian at all. Ian was a hard, solid man, a man who made his presence known in the world. His hands were strong, meaty, able to take his destiny in his own hands. Hugh preened like a bird, dancing about a branch and chirping as though the world was lost in an endless spring. He would never wear this rough fabric. His skin would probably break out in hives. Lucy allowed herself a giggle at the thought. If Hugh tried to lift a hammer, then he would be pulled to the ground, whereas Ian, well, Ian could lift the world.

He was so different from all the other men who had been chosen for her. They were of noble breeding, but not of noble heart. They had no idea of the plight of the common people. They spoke of high ideas and high minds, but had everything served to them without knowing how any of it worked. They may as well have lived in another world, a world that Lucy did not wish to be a part of.

Then, there was a noise as the door opened. There were loud stomps, and a noise, as though someone had fallen. She looked up as Ian came into the doorway, his eyes glazed over. She was sitting by a small fire. The air was warm. The amber glow illuminated him as he got closer, the fire dancing in his eyes. She looked up at him and gasped. There was something about him, something that was so immediate and raw, as though the air crackled around him. He was rough, unkempt, but there was an intensity that she could not deny. Her heart skipped a beat and she felt a cool bead of sweat trickling down her neck, resting in the hollow of her throat.

"What are ye daeing?" he slurred.

"Mending yer tatty clothes," she said. "Ye are a businessman. Ye should at least try and look respectable. People are gaeing tae think ye live in the mud."

Ian collapsed into a chair beside her and laughed. "Ye sound like Fiona," he said. As soon as the word slipped from his mouth, he looked stunned.

"Who is Fiona?" she asked.

"Naebody," he replied, but then he sighed. "That's nae true. She was my sister. She died a long time ago, of the same illness that afflicts yer aunt."

"Oh, I… I hae nae idea," she said. Guilt flooded her heart. It explained why he had taken pity on her, but she felt awful for lying to him about it. It wasn't as though she could tell him the truth now, either, for he might throw her out. She longed to ask him more questions, but was afraid that he might ask her questions in return.

Ian picked up the clothes and inspected the stitches. "This is nae half bad," he sounded surprised. "I'm glad ye are better at this than ye are at cooking, although that is nae hard," he laughed.

Lucy frowned. "I tried my best. Perhaps ye should hae a gae if ye are sae offended."

"Oh, I am nae offended, lass. Ye hae tae forgive me. Whiskey hae strange effects on a man. It's a wee bit like magic."

"I would nae know. I hae never tasted any," she folded her arms and wore a haughty look.

"Ye hae never tasted… ye meant tae say ye hae been down in that basement with us learning all about how tae make the stuff, but ye dinnae know what it tastes like? Ach, what are they daeing in that keep? Ye cannae call yerself a Highlander if ye hae nae tasted whiskey." He promptly rose and left the room, returning with a bottle of whiskey, pouring her a glass. He thrust it into her hands. She went to drink it as she would water, but he placed a hand on her forearm, stopping her from doing so.

"Nae, lass, ye want tae sip it, enjoy it. This is nae just a drink, it's an experience. Ye want tae let it linger like a sunrise. Take it intae yer mouth, let it swim around yer tongue, and then, then ye will feel the burn. Ah, what a sweet thing it is…" he said. Lucy did as he asked. She almost gagged at first, as the strength of the liquor was far more than she had imagined, but she resisted the urge to swallow it. Instead, she allowed it to swim around her tongue and gums, trickling into every part of her mouth. The flavor came to the fore. Ian stared at her and then gestured for her to swallow. She did so, and it was like fire running down her throat. She coughed, but the burn was a satisfying one, and she could feel her head beginning to spin.

"Ye like it?" he asked.

Lucy stared at the glass for a few moments and then nodded, deciding that she did indeed like it. She took another sip, and soon enough her glass was refilled. The fire danced, taking on shapes. For a moment, she thought it was whispering at her, perhaps even laughing. Ian grew closer to her as well.

"I hae tae admit, lass, I am glad ye are here. It's nice tae return tae someone for a change. Before ye and Rory, this house was empty. It hae been empty for a long time."

"Since Fiona?" she ventured.

"Aye, since all of them. Since… ach ye dinnae want tae hear about that."

"I dae, Ian. I want tae hear about it all."

He looked up and gazed into her eyes. She had turned to face him, her features soft in the light. The scent of whiskey lingered in the air, while the echoes of their teasing laughs reverberated through their minds. She could feel the truth swelling up inside her, wanting to break free. She longed to tell him her real background and sweep away all the lies she had told him, but she also wanted to learn about him as well. She wanted to hear about his family, for surely there were more than his sister? What happened to them? How did he end up here?

"I look at ye, lass, and I am nae sure what I see," his words were slurred together, his breath hot. "Is it a thief? Is it a maid? I'm nae sure. I just see…" he reached up and pushed back a stray lock of her hair. The feeling of his fingers against her skin made her gasp. She was wholly intoxicated, not just by the whiskey, but also by his presence. She felt herself drawn to him. Instincts inside her were aroused and stirred, and it was as if she wasn't in control of her own body. He got closer and closer, his whiskey-stained breath scorching her lips, his brooding eyes gazing deep into her soul, and she wondered what secrets he would reveal. There was so much about her life that had been out of her control, managed, arranged, but she had turned away from all that. She wanted to be more like Ian, to take her destiny into her own hands and… and…

And she put it into action.

She leaned forward, closing her eyes, as though she was jumping off a cliff into an abyss. Their lips met and the fire of it engulfed her. A hazy, delirious feeling surged through her body, making her tingle all over. His kiss was insistent, his lips firm, and she gasped as she tried to process the sensations. It was as though some new force had been unleashed from within, and sought to flit through her like a whirlwind.

"Lucy…" he whispered, the word slurred, the eyes hazy. She craved him, craved rebelliousness, but he was so intoxicated and she was scared of what it might mean. She pulled away from him.

"I think we should get some sleep," she cooed.

"Ye are probably right," he said, but as they looked at each other, there was reluctance in their eyes. Neither of them said anything, however. They just turned, holding on to the fire that had been created between them. Lucy's mind was in disarray.