Chapter 5

A few hours earlier...

"Och, I kent I shouldnae ha" let ye talk me into coming oot tonight!"

Ainslee slunk back, resting her head on Marisse"s shoulder. They were side by side in the fug of The Ship inn.

It was still afternoon, but outside, clouds swirled, blocking the scant daylight that the dreich winter"s day had seen. Ainslee clung deep to her warm shawl, even though they were technically indoors.

It didn"t make much difference, she bitterly observed, when the doors were opened that much - never mind the endless draft blowing in through the unshuttered, unglazed windows.

"Wheesht yer greeting!" Marisse said, in a voice that sounded sour, but turned to Ainslee with a rueful grin. "I said I"d get yer home again tonight, an" I will!"

The pair stared dubiously, at the heavy cloud descending rapidly over the seafront. Ainslee sighed.

"Father will be verra crabbit if I dinnae get home to make his tea!" grumbled Ainslee. She looked at the skies. It was impossible to even catch a glimpse of the sun, but she knew for sure it was already long past his tea. And by the time they returned it would be more like breakfast!

Taking another sigh, Ainslee supped at the mead in her cup, and promptly burped.

Marisse giggled. The mead had been her idea, of course, just like coming here and then indulging in daylong drinking. On a Sunday as well!

Rigid with mortification, Ainslee sat up tall. The bench they were seated on was uneven and uncomfortable, and not even the copious supply of drink could make it so. Her head swirling, Ainslee struggled to come to her feet.

Tugging at her arm, Marisse pulled her down. "Whit are ye doing?" she asked, irritably.

With a drink in her hands, she looked settled for the night - even though the day was still far from over.

Watching her, Ainslee narrowed her eyes. She had bought her herbs in record timings, and now was in no hurry at all to leave. But Ainslee was.

"I"m getting ready to leave," said Ainslee, pointedly. The room was swaying, this was bad. Especially when trying to make a moral stand. Sitting down fast, Ainslee regained what was left of her composure.

"Nae fash," said Marisse, looking at her. "Aye, so I"ve got ma herbs, but there is still plenty a wee dram left in here...," she pointed to the pitcher in front of them. "An" anyhoo, I have a duty to try oot this mead here, for the benefit o" my patients...!"

"A duty?" slurred Ainslee, somewhat skeptically. She looked about. There seemed to be a lot of folk in the inn that afternoon. Then, squinting, she realized it was because a recent ship had just come into dock.

Gazing through the thickened air, Ainslee made out the edges of the vessel, as it bobbed about in the port. Everywhere, men milled about - some in various stages of undress, disembarking from the boat, and spilling onto the cobbles.

Sipping on her dram, Ainslee giggled. "Och, is he nae jeelit?"

Marisse set down her mug, and looked up. Following Ainslee"s finger, she saw a group of young men standing on the docks, with their baggy keks, open leines, and in some cases, not very much more.

Ainslee could not help but gawp at one topless lad, in particular - a tall, well proportioned man, with especially thick shoulders. She was unable to see his face, for the others, but right then was more interested in his open chest.

"Och," sniggered Marisse, now also craning her neck to get a good look at him. Oblivious to the looks from the tipplers around them, Ainslee also strained her head.

"Lemme ha" a keek!" she complained, trying to bat Marisse out of the way. Her blonde head and locks were all but blocking her view. Both of them were very relieved when the sailors began to pour in through the inn"s stout doors.

"Hoo there, darling!" smirked one of them, coming into the bar. Ainslee blushed, as Marisse grinned, appraisingly.

"Where"s yer brat? An" yer hat, laddie?" she asked, casting a brisk eye over his bedraggled state. All the sailors disembarking seemed worse for wear - in more ways than one.

Soon the barroom was very noisy, with sailors jostling for position at the bar. Marisse seemed in her element, giggling and laughing at their gay arrival. But Ainslee was more cautious.

It would not do to be fawning over strange men, in such a way. Especially not these roughnecks.

"Marisse," Ainslee murmured, her eyes cast down, as Marisse continued to make a spectacle of herself. Lost in her thoughts, she was too busy plotting an exit route from The Ship back to the village. If they set off soon, there would just be enough time to make it before dark.

Perhaps not quite in time to prevent a skelping from her father"s tongue, but better than turning up at midnight. Which was what would happen if Marisse was left in charge.

Ainslee opened her mouth, but saw Marisse was engaged in full scale flirting with a broad shouldered blond man, fresh from the recent boat. He was brandishing what looked like barrels of whisky to the innkeeper, but still found time to turn to them.

"What ho, sweeting?" called the man, trying to connect with Ainslee"s gaze. She cast her face down, muttering to Marisse by her side.

She did not hear her. In fact, she did not hear anything over the noise and clamor of the packed inn room then.

The blond man had stopped flirting with Marisse and now was deep in conversation with the owner, a tall, thin, balding man who seemed to be less than keen on whatever it was he was selling.

In fact, the atmosphere between the locals and the incoming seamen was testy at best. Judging by the look on the barman"s face, he did not want these men here.

Sensing a collieshangie about to happen, Ainslee tensed.

"Marisse, I," she began, but once again, Marisse was too busy. Her eyes went from the man, to the bar and back again. Everywhere, except on Ainslee.

Regardless, Ainslee struggled to make her point, tugging at Marisse"s arm, she was about to admonish her when suddenly, her jaw fell open.

"Crivvens," her heart rate increased, pulsating around her chest. No-one could hear it or her. No-one at all. But across the tavern, her eyes had connected with someone.

Mal.

Ainslee blinked. "It cannae be," she muttered, her pulse rate zooming along. Straining to look again, she was thwarted by the blond man"s head. No matter how much she attempted to look around him, he would not budge, and by the time he did move - pressed away by the flustered barman - he had gone.

If he had ever been there. Because it seemed impossible that her eyes were not deceiving her.

Ainslee was still staring, when Marisse finally remembered she existed.

"Och!" her friend gave her a sudden poke in the ribs. Ainslee came to. Marisse was looking at her keenly.

"What have ye seen?" she said, following Ainslee"s gaze across the bar. Marisse"s eyes flashed, as she cottoned onto her friend"s daze. "Or maybe I should say, who have ye seen?" Marisse winked. "A noo sweetheart?"

Ainslee took a deep breath. "An auld one; Mal."

Marisse stopped. "Nae possible, lass," she said, effectively shutting down the conversation. Suddenly, she was done. "So come on, sup up, time to get on the move!"

Ainslee looked at her, wryly. "Ye changed yer tune, didnae ye?" she said, but without demurring grabbed her cloak, wrapping it around her shoulders even more tightly.

Her friend"s eyes flashed. She was already halfway across the packed room, stopping only briefly to connect eyes with the blond man.

Ainslee was hot behind her. Within minutes, they were out in the cold winter air, sailors spilling everywhere. The atmosphere was lively and loud, the arctic temperatures not detracting from the merriment outside.

But Ainslee was so taken aback, all she could think of was whether she had really seen him.

Seeing her face, Marisse took her hand. "Wheesht!" she said, slapping her head playfully.

"Och, what have I got tae do to get that man oot o" yer heid!"

Stepping further into the street, Ainslee was about to reply, when she saw him again. Blinking hard, she rubbed her confused eyes. There, in front of her was a tall, well built man, his longish red hair spilling down around his shoulders.

For a moment, he stared at her, with no recognition at all - a totally blank expression. Inside, Ainslee felt herself boil. Tugging on Marisse"s sleeve, she was ready to cry out to her - to all and sundry - that this was Mal, when suddenly, he disappeared.

Ainslee blinked. It was impossible. One minute he had been there, his green eyes fixed on her. The next, he was gone. And there was no trace of him anywhere.

Ainslee cast about wildly, swerving into the crowd, even knocking straight into another man, with tall, rugged shoulders. His head was turned, obscuring his face. For a moment, Ainslee waited, with impatience for him to turn. He was about the same height and build, and just for a minute, she really believed it was him.

The crowd milled all around, as Ainslee stood there, and stared.

"What is it, hen?" said Marisse, but Ainslee was not looking. All her attention was focused on him - the tall sailor in front of him. Tantalizingly, she could not see his hair, the large scarf wrapped around it.

Despite all the rushing around her, she stopped where she was, refusing to move.

"Ainslee," chided Marisse, trying to push her out of the way. Ainslee stood firm. She was waiting.

Finally, the man turned; his truculent gaze almost turning her to dust.

"Awa" lassie, oot o" ma way," he said. Ainslee looked up. A man"s hardened face was upon her, his thistly eyebrows meshed together crossly.

He was not Malcolm.

"Pardon," muttered Ainslee, softly, and allowed herself to be pulled away by Marisse. Taking her to one side, Marisse looked at Ainslee, archly.

"Hen, what is up wi" ye?" she asked. Ainslee blushed. The turmoil of the crowd, and the after effects of day-long drinking were beginning to take their toll. Confused, she looked at her friend.

"I...I...saw Mal," she said, increasingly disoriented. Her whole body shook, and it was not entirely the cold. The shock of seeing his face after so long - even if it had been briefly - had undone her.

Marisse sent her a glance of frustrated sympathy. "Mal," she said, looking at her as if she was mildly deranged. "Ye cannae have... Listen, Ainslee. Ye have to forget that man... that"s the whole point...!"

Sailors and townsfolk milled past. It was noisy. It was late. Ainslee felt an overwhelming desire just to get out of there, and go to bed. She wanted nothing more than to hit the road, and speed off home. But she couldn"t.

"I cannae forget him, cannae ye see?" she said miserably. By now they were channeling down the side alleys, hoping to get away from the men still trickling into the town. But all the while, Ainslee"s heart beat as loud as a bell.

Marisse put her arms around her. "Ye"ve got ta, hen. For yer own sake..." she pleaded with her.

Ainslee was about to concede, and turn away, when she thought she caught the glimpse of him again.

This time, he was further down the path, at the other side of the vennel they had been walking down. The light was fading, but Ainslee was certain it was him.

"Nae," said Ainslee, suddenly stubborn. Pulling her hood around her, she pushed on through the narrow alley, and straight out the other end. There, she sped after the disappearing man - to Marisse"s consternation.

"Ainslee," called Marisse, but she could not stop her from going on.

Now in her own world, Ainslee"s head was focused on just one thing.

Finding Mal, and confronting him.

She would do whatever it took to get him to stop.