Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

R ory’s leg was well on the mend a few days later when Aihan suggested to Mac that the boys needed some new clothes.

“They have outgrown most of what they have, or are about to,” she said. “And what just barely still fits is worn and shabby.”

Mac looked up from the paper in front of him with a guilty start. “Aye, ye’re probably right lass, I hadnae noticed.”

“I take them to buy new clothes,” she said.

He nodded. “I’ll give ye a note for the tailor, he can send the bills to me. Ye’d best get them some new boots as well.” He reached for a piece of paper and a quill.

“What about Wee and Fergus?” she asked. “I notice Fergus mending his stockings.”

Mac waved a hand. “Get whatever ye think is fit, and something fer yerself.”

“Thank ye, but can you afford?—?”

“Aye, d’ye think I’m poor, lass?”

She pursed her lips. “You dinnae live like a wealthy man.”

He grinned. “Aye, that’s the secret to maintaining yer wealth, lass. Ye nae spend it unless ye have to. I’ve a mind to take ye into Edinburgh for a spot of real shopping one day.”

Thus, that afternoon, Aihan walked to the village with Rory and Cam to visit the tailor and the boot maker, armed with Fergus and Wee’s requirements. The tailor sold off-the-rack items as well as made-to-measure garments. While the boys were having their measurements taken, Aihan selected some items for Wee and Fergus. Stockings and shirts, principally. And a new pair of breeches for Wee, as he, like Rory and Cam, was growing faster than he could wear out his clothes. And, mindful of Mac’s instructions she chose a plain brown plaid for herself. It would be warm in the cooler nights coming on and useful when she left to go south. Her heart squeezed at the notion.

She didn’t want to leave, but knew she must soon.

She added stockings and shirts for the boys to the pile and some neckcloths too, for Mac, for she had noticed his—when he bothered to wear one, which wasn’t often—were grey and showing signs of wear.

The tailor’s wife bundled up her purchases into two parcels, and they left the shop, each boy carrying a parcel, heading to the boot maker.

“Rory!” called a voice from the other side of the street. Rory turned his head, and a group of boys stood in a cluster round a slighter bigger boy with tousled brown hair. He was the one who spoke.

“Hey, Toby,” said Rory in greeting.

“We’re heading to the beach to fish, come with us.”

“Can’t,” said Rory with a glance at Aihan. “Got to get boots.”

“Yer servant telling you what to do?” taunted Toby.

“She’s nae a servant,” said Rory, showing hackle. Aihan hid a smile at his defence of her.

“Ahh! Then the rumours are true! She’s warming yer father’s bed!” Toby grinned lecherously and made an obscene gesture.

“Take that back, Toby MacPherson!” said Cam stepping into the road towards him.

Toby laughed. “Ye’re gonna make me, Jessie?”

“Aye, I will!” said Cam, dropping his parcel and running at him with a fist raised. Cam barrelled straight at the other boy before Aihan could move to stop him. And Toby, still laughing, knocked Cam flat on his back with a punch to the face. Aihan raced to his aid, dropping to her knees. Cam’s face showed a rapidly contusing black eye.

“Ye’ll pay for that, Ferguson!” yelled Rory, throwing his parcel away and launching himself at Toby. With two swift movements—that Aihan had taught him, she was pleased to see—he had Toby on his back, winded. He followed this up with a punch to the nose. Blood flowed copiously.

Rory turned to face the other boys, raising a fist menacingly. “Anybody else want some?”

As Toby and Rory were the biggest boys in the group, the rest backed away and dispersed. Only one stayed to help Toby to his feet, offering him a handkerchief for his bloodied nose.

Toby looked at Rory over the handkerchief and said muffledly, “Ye always called him a Jessie!”

“That’s different!” said Rory. “He’s my brother. I’m allowed. Ye’re not! And don’t bad mouth my father and our house guest, neither!”

Toby eyed him with a strange look. “Where did ye learn that trick?”

“Aihan taught me.” Rory indicated her with a nod of his head, bending to pick up his discarded parcel and Cam’s as well.

“A girl taught ye to do that?”

“Aye, she’s a bonnie fighter.” Rory grinned, and Aihan smiled back at him.

“Are ye all right, Cam?” she asked quietly, helping him to sit up.

“Hurts!” Whimpered Cam, holding his eye.

Toby and the other boy slinked off, and Rory turned to look at his brother. “That was well done, Cal, but ye should have used the moves Aihan has taught us.”

“Forgot,” said Cam, getting to his feet with help from Aihan. “I just got wild and wanted to hit him for insulting Aihan.” But he smiled at Rory’s praise, and Aihan fancied his chest expanded a bit.

“Thank ye for coming to my defence, Cam,” she said. “And you too, Rory. Yer father would be proud.”

“Hm,” Rory grunted. “We had better get those boots and get him home before that eye swells up so much he cannae see.”

By the time they got home, Cam was reeling a bit and complaining of a headache and feeling sick. Surprisingly, Rory didn’t rouse on him for being weak, instead he took him upstairs and put a damp cloth on his face.

“That’ll help the swelling go down. Ye’ll be a mite sore for a couple of days, and ye’ll have bruises for at least a week,” he said, demonstrating his superior knowledge of wounds acquired through fighting.

He then disappeared to his room and came back a few minutes later with something clutched in his hands. He held out the pieces of paper to Cam. “Ye’d best have these back.”

Cam took them and Aihan craned her neck to see what they were. She saw drawings of a lovely woman. Cat. She smiled, watching Cam’s face light up. The younger boy flung his arms round his big brother and hugged him.

Rory blushed and pulled away abruptly. “Leave off, ye Jessie!” But it was said affectionately, not as an insult.

Col had been out when Aihan and the boys came home from their shopping expedition, so he didn’t learn of the day’s adventures until he was confronted with Callum’s bruised face over dinner.

“What the bluidy hell—!” he said, stopping in the dining room doorway at the sight of his youngest son. His eye fell on Rory, who said, “It wasnae me! Cal took exception to something Toby said and got punched for it. But dinnae worry, I avenged our honour and got Toby a good bob on the nose. Lots o’ claret, there was!” He grinned, obviously pleased with himself.

He got the full story from Aihan after dinner, although he had to press a bit to get the full detail of what was said by whom. “Well, I suppose I should be pleased the boys seem to be on good terms,” he remarked. “And that Rory saw fit to return the drawings to his brother.”

“ And the fact that Rory sprang to yer defence,” she said with a smile.

“Aye, that’s a turn up.” He smiled and pulled her down into his lap. He was sitting in the chair by the fire in his study. “I’m glad they saw fit to defend yer honour, my dear. There is some hope of turning them into gentlemen yet.”