Chapter 8

But he was not alone for long.

Pounding heels raced down the alleyway.

"Ainslee?"

A woman"s voice pierced the vennel. Malcolm couldn"t see the owner. Night was falling - and the skies were shedding its load.

Sudden darkness had descended on the streets, and with it, a fantastic deluge. The rain was so hard Malcolm could not see or hear anything.

For minutes, all he could do was to cap his head, using his hands to fend off the onslaught of rain.

But the downpour did not deter the woman, chasing Ainslee through the mire.

"Ainslee?"

The woman"s voice called again, and this time he saw her. A buxom blonde lass, of approximately twenty-five. Malcolm vaguely recognized her from the village.

Stretching her cape over her head, she was also struggling to stay dry.

The alley reeked of dirt and piss. The flood threatened to overcome them both, but the woman paid neither him, nor it, any heed.

"Where are ye lass?" he called to Ainslee. But she did not see him, and the chasing woman did not hear. Instead, she shimmied past, pressing his body against the walls of the vennel.

Knocking into his flesh, she gave a little yelp.

"Och!"

The woman screamed. Finally, she was aware of him! But Malcolm was in no mood for excitable wenches. Firmly, he pushed her back, vying for space in the narrow vennel.

Now the woman saw him, her piercing eyes shooting through the gloom.

"Watch yersel"!" she huffed, pulling her large shawl around herself and giving him an evil glare.

Malcolm was not concerned with her. Only Ainslee. But if this woman could get to her, then it might be worth a punt.

"Miss," he began, calling after the blonde woman. But she was already on her way through the darkened vennel. With barely a look back, the wench pushed on, leaving Malcolm alone, for the second time.

"Ainslee!" called Malcolm, again, into the empty night.

No answer came.

No answer, except for the sudden onslaught of hail, which let rip from the skies. Muffled cries in the distance told him the whole town was getting a drubbing. Scurrying feet hastened in the cobbles, dashing for cover.

But oddly, Malcolm was not bothered.

Instead of hiding, he threw his hood back, and allowed the rain to cover him.

He was wet, and he was cold, and stuck in the middle of a midden.

But so what?

He had spent ten years at sea - with every type of weather the world could throw at him. He had had it all. Why not some more?

"Hehe!" Malcolm pushed his head back and laughed, as the rainstorm took him. There was rain, there was hail; even a stone the size of a fish"s head. The air had turned even more bitterly cold. Malcolm could barely feel his fingertips, but it was of no matter.

He was finally free of The Margret Rose. He would return to the Duncan clan, and as soon as he had sought out his brother, he would track down Ainslee.

She could not have gone far.

Satisfied with his plan, Malcolm let the rainwater soak him. It washed all through his hair and clothes; stinking with seawater,

At least, he had seen her. For years, he had wondered after her.

Strangely contented, Malcolm"s mind flashed to the first feast they had spent together.

Ainslee was not even meant to be there. As blacksmith"s daughter, she was charged with delivering something - Malcolm could not remember exactly what - a candelabra, maybe.

As she had walked into the hall, he had been struck by her poise. Despite carrying a giant candle holder, she moved with grace.

His eyes had stuck to her, as she dragged the damned thing all the way across the large hall, and he could not help smiling.

His father had tutted with displeasure - a feast was in progress. The great and the good of the Duncan clan were amassed. All the scribes and the elders sat down, ready for the feasting.

Then, all of a sudden, this dark haired beauty appeared, battling what looked like an iron set of antlers.

She set it down, wallop, right into the middle of the head table, where the family had their seat.

He seemed to recall it was right next to Bruce, who was most put out.

"Och, watch yerself, lassie!" he had scowled, as the clatter had displaced his cups. Malcolm found himself smiling. Anyone who annoyed his pugnacious brother could not be all bad.

He loved her then. It did not matter that the elders had huffed and the scribes sighed, at this slip of a lass disrupting their feast. .

"Crivvens! I beg ye pardon," said the lass, quickly picking up the giant candelabra and grappling with it some more.

But the table was highly laden - with dishes and tranchers all over the place. With scant place to set down the candelabra, Ainslee was floundering.

Exasperated, Malcolm rose from the table.

"Here," he said, helping her with the heavy piece of wrought iron. No one else seemed prepared to help; not the guards, nor the servants, running hither and thither with plates.

Impatience grew in him, he would have to have words.

But for now, his attention was on the bonny dark haired lass in front of him. Smiling, he took the candelabra from her, and setting it at the end of the hall, where, at long last, one of the serving lads had remembered their responsibilities.

The lad disappeared, leaving Ainslee and Malcolm face to face, at the far end of the hall. With the din of the feasting behind them, Malcolm turned his head Ainslee.

"Gramercy, sir," said the lass, swiftly nodding in deference. "I am sorry that..."

Malcolm silenced her. He couldn"t listen to her apologies.

"Nae fash, lass," he said, generously. Ainslee curtseyed again, as Malcolm glanced over her features. She was slender, but feminine. With curves in all the right places, she certainly met with his approval. But there was more to her than a shapely frame. Her eyes were absolutely beautiful.

He got his first taste of them when she finally raised her gaze. Her comely brown eyes pierced right into him, there was no mistaking their pertinence.

"I... hope the candlestick is to yer satisfaction," she said, with a small smile, before adding. "Sir..."

"Call me Malcolm," said Malcolm, instantly. And the rest had followed like that.

Standing in the onslaught of the Scottish weather, Malcolm hid his head in his hands, and stared into the street.

Somewhere, she was out there. Just waiting.

He would find her.

* * *

"It"s dog-catting it doon!There"s nae way we can go back noo!"

Marisse blue eyes were incandescent. This was madness, and Ainslee knew it. But all the same, she was desperate to get back home.

"Och, tis only a bit o" water!" huffed Ainslee, wrapping her already-soaked shawl around her head. "We"ve both seen worse!" she asserted.

Marisse looked at her with disdain. "A bit o" water! Ainslee! Anymore an" the horse will sprout fins!"

She looked at her friend, oddly. "What"s the big rush, I dinnae ken?"

They were standing at the entrance to The Ship inn. The sudden deluge had sent folks scurrying their way, and now the place was jammed to the roof. Marisse was clearly determined to drag her friend in, but on the threshold, Ainslee hesitated.

"There"s nae big rush," she said, unconvincingly. The pair of them moved, as a gaggle of fishwives pushed by. "I just want tae get home for father"s tea..."

Marisse gave her the most withering look. "Tea? Hen, it"s a wee bit late for that!"

Her dark blue eyes pierced the night sky with a harumph.

Ainslee knew she was right.

"Och," she muttered. The noise from within the inn was growing louder. Shrugging, Ainslee nodded to Marisse, and the pair went inside.

Inside, the room was sweltering. What might have been hot before, was now stifling. With the bodies from the docks now firmly inside, the small inn was packed.

Marisse eyed the crowd with uncertainty. "I hope they have got some room!"

Ainslee said nothing, but prayed fervently that they didn"t. If the inn was full, then they would have to go home. But of course, Marisse turned on the charm. Within minutes, she was angling up to the bar, smiling daintily at the innkeeper.

"Sir," she said, widening her eyes and sending the aging innkeeper a sage smile. Ainslee watched the man unravel. Marisse had that effect on men. Sometimes Ainslee wondered if she had put one of her potions on him. It seemed so effortless.

"Sir, I dinnae ken if ye can help us, we are two poor, wee lasses, in need o" a bed for the night," her blue eyes flashed balefully at the man. Ainslee sighed and hoped Marisse was careful.

The innkeeper, charmed, smiled back. He did not completely lose his head, though.

"We are full tonight," he said, his gray-colored eyes flitting between her and his wife. Ainslee watched the stone-faced beldam glare at Marisse.

As well she might!

The inn-keeper"s wife bustled past. "Aye, there"s nae room. We"re packed full o" merchants an" chapmen for the fair…"

She scowled, setting her heavy features into frown and dumping their drinks unceremoniously in front of them, spilling the tops.

Then, she hurried on, without looking back. It was clear she wanted them gone.

Ainslee caught Marisse"s face. Triumphant, she hoped her friend would agree just to go home now. But, at that moment, a lightning flash in the sky stopped her dead.

A giant thunderball shortly followed,

"We have got coin," said Marisse, patting her pocket. "We can pay oor way...!"

The woman stopped in her tracks; swiftly, she turned back.

"Ahm, well, perchance we can find a wee spot somewhere..."

The woman"s eyes arched to the innkeeper"s, who was quick to take the money.

"Nae fash, ye shall have a bed...," he said, pocketing the coin, with a smile. "An" a bowl o" hot pottage to see yer on yer way..."

Beaming, Marisse turned to Ainslee, who didn"t make a good job of hiding her disappointment. But looking outside, it was clear to see there was no other option.

It was dark, rain was pouring, and now great streaks of lightning were crashing from the skies.

Sighing deeply, Ainslee resigned herself to her fate.

She was stuck here. Drinking deep from her ale, Ainslee wondered idly what had become of Malcolm. But she didn"t think for long. Beaming widely, Marisse plumped down next to her, slapping her keenly on the back.

"So then," said Marisse, with a twinkle in her eye. Ainslee narrowed hers abruptly. "Ye gonnae tell me what he said, then?"

Ainslee blinked. But the expression Marisse wore said it all. Her smile burned into her.

"He said?" said Ainslee, wishing she did not understand. She did not feel like talking about Malcolm, but Marisse would not relent.

"Aye, what he said," said Marisse, with a wink. Ainslee blushed. The crowds thickened around them - the public room of The Ship inn was heavy with custom that evening.

Slowly, the innkeeper, and the barmaids wended their way through the packed room. Trestle tables were being moved around, into the center, forming a rough dining area.

With a nod, the landlady glanced at the pair to join them. Taking her seat, Ainslee looked around.

Men from the ships in the harbor were unloading in droves. Some were bargaining with the owner to secure their board, others were already at the table.

Ainslee hoped and prayed that Malcolm was far away, but sitting down, she heard a pleasingly salty voice beside them.

"Mind if I join ye, ladies?"

Ainslee turned around, to see a pair of twinkly brown eyes grinning at Marisse. In front of her, a tall, ruggedly handsome man, with sun-parched skin, and baggy keks.

Grinning at him, Marisse immediately hit it off.

"Can I get ye lasses a wee dram?"

The man"s smile immediately trapped Marisse in its snare. Then again, it did not take much.

Biting back a smirk, Ainslee nodded, murmuring a quick "thank ye."

She watched, as the man poured some of the dark colored wine from the nearby flagon. Ainslee watched, on edge. She had been hoping for some of the amber firewater, served in the center of the table, in a wee pitcher. But now the man had plunked a cup of wine unceremoniously at her.

He practically poured it down her neck. But never mind, because the waitresses had been around with dishes.

She was about to get back to the more important business of eating -her pottage had just appeared in front of her - when a familiar voice made her freeze.

"Tis a wee whiskey an" water, for the lady," announced the voice, pleasantly.

When Ainslee looked about, it was to see Malcolm, smiling airily at her, as if they had never parted. Her heart gave a start.

Nodding, the serving lass poured her a dram, and then went, leaving Malcolm edging closer to her, on the wooden bench.

"Nae fash, tis on me," he said, with a big grin. Marisse eyed him interestedly, but Ainslee refused to look.

Dropping her head, she pretended to concentrate on her meal - but the truth was she could barely summon an appetite for the watery pottage. Taking a hunk of dried bread, she dunked it in the tepid soup. Marisse glanced at her curiously.

"Allow me to introduce mysel"," said Malcolm, still grinning. His eyes invited Ainslee, but she did not meet them. Inside, she was a ball of fury.

How dare he come here! She had been right to not want to stay! Cursing Marisse bitterly, she glanced away, as Marisse and Malcolm spoke.

"I"m Malcolm," said Malcolm, without adding any more. Ainslee hated him fervently right then. "Pleased to meet ye, an" ye?"

"Marisse," said Marisse, her big blue eyes smiling, she elbowed Ainslee, who glared at the ground. She felt sick. Setting down her spoon, she thought desperately how to get out of this.

"So then, who"s yer pal?" questioned Marisse. Ainslee"s ears instantly sprang up. She had not been aware of a second person. Despite herself, she stole a quick glance at the man beside Malcolm. As she did, she could not help noticing, first, Malcolm"s toned physique.

In the darkened alley she had not appreciated his toned muscles - in the last ten years away he had certainly become more rugged.

Seeing her looking, Malcolm gave her a little wink, and Ainslee looked away, but not without first noticing his friend.

"This here is oor captain, James," said Malcolm, slapping James on the shoulder. Marisse giggled, and Ainslee rolled her eyes. It was going to be that sort of night.

James beamed at Marisse. His dark eyes roving around her slender shape. Marisse sipped her dram, and patted down her skirts. Her eyes flashing, she searched James" face.

"A captain?" she said, in impressed tones. Ainslee wanted to disappear, but she could not help listening, despite herself. She wanted to know what Malcolm had been doing these last ten years.

"Aye," said Malcolm, before James spoke. "He"s taken us everywhere, this lad!"

Fury bustled in Ainslee. So that was what he had been doing, seeing the world. Going anywhere, except staying here, with her!

Sipping down her drink, Ainslee bathed in rage. So now he was flirting with her friend? Digging her nails into the palms of her hands, Ainslee struggled to get a grip.

"Aye, just got back from the Caribbean," said James, casually, his thick brogue filling the room. Ainslee immediately looked about. She couldn"t help it.

"The Caribbean?" she spluttered. Her drink almost spat out, Ainslee composed herself. The room was noisy, dinners crammed into small tables, and all around them was supping.

Even so, there was more than a bit of interest in the tones of captain James, from those around them.

"Really? Where"s that?" asked Marisse, her eyes all roundening. Ainslee tutted below her breath. She did not know much about adventuring - or whatever it was that Malcolm would claim to have been doing. But she was deeply skeptical all the same.

"Och, tis a lang, lang way awa"," assured James, his dark eyes twinkling. Now Ainslee cast a cool eye over him. He too was rugged, but a little more heavily set than Malcolm - not fat exactly - but well fed. "Miles, in the Aethiopian Sea! An" ye should see the things we saw!"

Ainslee looked at him, in open disbelief. But she did not direct her remarks at James, instead, she stared straight into Malcolm, with a hearty sniff.

"Months an" months, aye?" she said, in disdain. "Well, the pair o" ye look verra well fed... ye didinae perchance have to eat the crew?"

There was a ripple of laughter, but not before Malcolm sent her a searching glance. Perhaps he could tell she questioned his friend"s tall tales. So, casually, he reached down, coins clinking in his leather pocket.

"Here," he said, opening the drawstring pouch. "Some o" the coin we ha" gotten!"

Ainslee"s eyes almost popped out of her head. So did Marisse"s. In fact, Malcolm"s stance had attracted the attention of roving eyes all over the crowded table.

Even his friend looked concerned. "Och, put it awa" laddie!" said James, seeing the eyes following them. Marisse looked at Ainslee, impressed.

Ainslee glanced away. She was impressed, but desperately trying not to be. Even so, she had questions about their story.

"Here, lass," said Malcolm, slipping her one of the gold coins. Marisse"s eyes nearly popped out of her head. Ainslee felt the coin, smooth and cool against her hand. It glinted brightly in the orange half-light of the timbered inn. But as tempted as she was, she pushed it back to him.

"Nae," she said, through her teeth. "I dinnae take coin from strange men..."

With a pertinent look, she stood up, ready to leave. But Marisse was reluctant.

"Wait a wee while, will ye," she said, somewhat aggrieved. James had his arm around her, and was busy recounting the difference between a sea dog, and a leviathan. Marisse flashed Ainslee one of her trademark looks.

Ainslee sighed.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

What felt like hours passed.With a deep sigh, Ainslee pushed away the untouched pottage dish - cold and stewed - and sat back on the wooden bench.

It was late. Outside, the weather was howling. Wind came bellowing into the inn, racing through the room from the gaps in the shutters. Ainslee could not see it, but she could hear the gushing rain hitting the wooden slats.

For a few hopeful moments, the commotion dimmed, and Ainslee allowed herself the hope that the storm had passed. She had just about convinced herself that travel might be possible, when an almighty crashing struck the little inn.

"Och!" Malcolm"s hand fell protectively onto her shoulder, as Ainslee froze in disbelief.

A loud bang drew gasps from the tipplers, followed by a streak of light in the sky.

By now, the night sky was exposed by the inn"s shutters blowing open. Outside, vertical rain and utterly biblical sheet lightning told her in no uncertain terms, there was no going back.

"Ye alright, lass?" Malcolm asked, bending down to whisper in her ear. Ainslee tensed. She did not want to speak, especially to him. But the storm had unnerved her. Immediately, her thoughts turned to her horse - she hoped she would not be spooked by the unexpected fray.

Without looking, Ainslee nodded. But she was shivering. And it was not all cold.

"I ken, ye dinnae like thunder," recalled Malcolm, wearing a concerned look. Ainslee"s guts twisted. She hated him, but also, her heart leapt that he had remembered. And cared.

Withdrawing from his touch, she was forced, at last, to acknowledge him, at least briefly.

"I am braw," she asserted, without looking. Malcolm let go, but kept his gaze on her throughout, and with it, James" interest too.

"A muckle collieshangie," he mused, looking at the storm beyond. Marisse, who was almost seated on his knee, giggled impetuously. Ainslee tried her hardest not to clack her tongue.

All she wanted was to get out of there.

A silence lapsed, in which a hearty gust of wind knocked over Ainslee"s dram. This gave Malcolm the perfect excuse to refill her dram. Trying not to look at him, Ainslee nodded.

"Gramercy," she muttered, stiffly. Ainslee"s cheeks colored rapidly. Her heart beat hard. A combination of tiredness, drink, and the shock combined within her. She had to get out of here.

"O course, tis naething compared to the storms at sea!" announced James, heartily, as Ainslee failed to stop her eyes from rolling to the skies. "But what was worse than all the storms, an" sea dogs together, was when the auld captain was overturned! An" it took the aid o" this lad to do it... my first mate!"

James slapped his arms around Malcolm, who smiled, embarrassed. Then, a loud roar distracted them, as a bolt of lightning narrowly missed the inn. A giant cheer rose up from the tipplers, as the storm raged on, leaving the stout tavern untouched. But it was a close call.

Marisse let out a relieved breath, and Ainslee found her heart thumping hard. She had never liked lightning. Despite herself, her eyes went to Malcolm.

His pink skin was reddening, under the heat of their gaze. In that instant, Ainslee could not help but think how handsome he looked.

Blinking back her memories, she tried to compare him to then; she remembered a handsome youth, but not as heavy set as he was now. Maybe there were a few lines around the eyes, and a deeper tan, but all in all, he looked the same.

Only better.

For half a moment, Ainslee"s eyes met Malcolm"s. She wished they hadn"t, because she instantly saw him, and got sucked into his gaze.

Watching her, Malcolm answered James.

"Aye," said Malcolm, supping his dram, and never quite taking his eyes off her. "Together, we saw off auld Captain McGivern. The auld rascal... an" nae looked back...!"

Marisse"s blue eyes widened, and Ainslee looked on, despite herself. She glanced briefly to James, who confirmed this with a nod.

"Aye, the auld demon who dragged ye aboard, all those years ago - we abandoned him, to his fate - for some privateers to rescue...!" James wore a satisfied look, as he set about refilling all their drams.

"Dragged ye aboard?" said Marisse, her head tilting to James. "That makes it sound as if he kidnapped ye?"

Ainslee found herself listening closely. James shook his head.

"Nae me, Malcolm. He was sold to us wi" the ship!"

This seemed to amuse James greatly, and he began laughing, which turned into a cough. Pretty soon, he was doubled over, barking for breath.

"What ails him?" said Marisse, her eyes appealing to Malcolm. Malcolm just shrugged, banging his friend on the back, until finally, the coughing abated.

"Ah, I"m braw," said James, after finally getting himself straight. Ainslee"s eyes shifted between the floor and the door. She did not want to look at Malcolm. But all the same, the nagging thought had entered her head.

For the first time she wondered about what had really happened to Malcolm, all those years ago.

She did not need to ask questions. Marisse got in there first. As another rumble of thunder let rip, Malcolm confirmed what had been said.

"Aye," he said, wearily, taking a dram. "Aye, I was dragged an" bound, an" thrown into the boat. An" dragged off to sea by these mad bastards!"

He was smiling, but Ainslee saw a seriousness in his eyes. She had not meant to look, but her eyes had caught his, and now, she was stuck.

"Och, nae fash, lad, ye"ve nae done badly oot o" it!" quipped James, and the pair of them descended into laughter.

Ainslee, who had been worried, felt her temper rise.

"Whit, ye were dragged off... for ten whole years?"

A silence descended over the group. The rest of the room roared and laughed, but Ainslee glared sharply at Malcolm.

He fell silent. She repeated again. "Ye mean, ye couldnae get back, for all this time?"

She started to get up. Incensed, Ainslee felt her heckles raise.

He had made it sound as if he had been abducted, and yet, there he was; hale and hearty, and with a big sack of coin for his trouble.

"Ainslee," murmured Marisse, pulling her down. But Ainslee would not listen. Throwing off her arm, she shook her head.

"Nae," said Ainslee. "It"s nae true, is it, Malcom? None o" it. Ye were nae abducted, nae pulled aboard a ship! Ye left, o" yer own will, to go off adventuring... !"

"Ainslee!" this time it was Malcolm. He met her eyes, standing up in front of her. She damn near pushed him over, and his drink.

Her cheeks heating, Ainslee grabbed Marisse. "Come on, hen, we"re leaving...!"

Marisse opened her mouth, but stopped the sound. Glancing ruefully at James, she nodded.

Wrapping her arms around Ainslee, she helped her up from the room.

Ainslee needed help. She had not realized how heated she had become. The room was spinning. Putting one foot in front of another was hard work.

Guiding her, Marisse led Ainslee up the wooden steps to the upper chamber. There, was a long dormitory, full of hay and bodies - and a not altogether pleasant smell,

"Is this it?" Marisse asked, entering the low lit chamber. All around, slumbering bodies attempted to stay warm in the minimal blanketing. Marisse cast her eyes about. "Och, I supposed there may be a bed..."

Ainslee did not care about beds. Glancing about, she had seen worse. At least there was hay.

The more esteemed guests at The Ship had the adjacent chamber, where Ainslee suspected the actual beds were. For them, there was hay.

She could not care less. Finally away from the din below, hot tears burst from her. It had taken everything she had to keep them in.

Seeing her, Marisse murmured. "Sweeting..."

Holding her tight, Marisse hugged her. The heat of her body thronged through Ainslee, comforting her. Sobbing hard, Ainslee let herself go.

"Nae fash, hen," said Marisse, taking her in her arms. It was all coming out. All the hurt of the last decade, uncovered. And worst of all, quite undiluted.

"Tis all lies, all o" it," Ainslee mumbled. Inside, she was livid. He had played her for a fool, and expected her to believe it.

Everything she felt came rushing at her in that minute. This was too much. Her muffled sobs began to stir some of the sleepers, but Ainslee barely noticed. Instead, she clung onto her friend, breathing in her flowery scent. Marisse always smelled nice.

"I dinnae ken what I am gonnae do, Marisse," she said, sobbing tight into her arms. All the pain she had been holding for so long was now so free. "I thought I could forget him, but I cannae. He just left me, when we were to be wed. How can I ever forget that? How can I?"

Stroking her hair, Marisse replied thoughtfully. "Ye can," she said, slowly. "An" ye will. An" I am gonnae see to it. Ainslee, ye hark, ye are gonnae forget Malcolm Duncan!"

Wiping her eyes, Ainslee wished bitterly that she could.