Chapter 12

12

When Gavin awoke the next morning, he gave himself no time to think, but jumped out of bed and practically threw his clothes on, determined not to be a second late. Maura would be looking for any excuse to criticise him, he knew. He had no way of telling the time, and dawn always came late in winter, so although there was only a tiny speck of light on the horizon, he knew that the morning might bequite well advanced.

Waking up at the right time in the morning was something he had never had to worry about before, since a manservant always came to rouse him and help him dress.

Gavin laughed, looking down at the straw-covered floor of his tiny bedroom, the cracked wooden shutters at the window, and the tattered blankets on his bed. In a strange way, he had come to love this little space, and was sorry to be leaving it. Then he looked at his embroidered cushion, smiled, and stuffed it in the top of his sack. It would be a physical representation of all the bittersweet memories he was leaving behind him.

Just then, there was a gentle knock at the door, and he opened it as quietly as he could. Maura was standing there with a laden tray, and he stood aside to let her in. His mouth began to water as the smell of porridge, fresh bread, eggs and black pudding reached his nose. Maura placed a flagon of mulled ale on the floor beside him, then sat on his bed to enjoy her own food.

“Thank you, Maura,” Gavin said warmly as he began to spoon a heap of porridge into his mouth. “This is delicious. Did you cook it?”

“Aye, but there is nae time for nice words,” Maura replied quickly. “We need tae get out o’ here fast before anybody else sees us. Morag will be up tae cook the breakfast any minute.”

Although he was used to dining in a leisurely manner, Gavin ate hastily, and as he finished the porridge he asked, “What did you tell your uncle?”

Maura gave a short laugh. “I woke him up an hour ago,” she began. “He wasnae best pleased.” She took a sip of her ale and swallowed it before she went on, savouring it. Gavin had always noticed that Maura appreciated good quality beer.

“I told him that I was goin’ tae see another brewer because I wanted tae make sure that I wasnae taken in an’ made a fool o’ like the last time. I told him I was takin’ ye wi’ me for protection.”

“Did he believe you?” he asked, frowning. “If I had known you were doing that, I would have come with you to speak with him.”

Maura laughed. “He was still half asleep, but he will want for naethin’. I left him everythin’ he needs tae keep goin’ till I get back.”

“You are a very good liar,” he remarked, smiling. It was meant as a back-handed compliment, and he expected Maura to laugh, but he received quite the opposite response.

“Well, ye should know.” Her voice was cutting. “Since ye are very skilful at it yourself. Ye had me fooled for months. People in glass houses shouldnae throw stones, ye know.”

“I do,” he conceded. “I am not perfect, Maura. Not one of us is, but since I met you and began to work in the Goose and Gander, I feel as though my whole life has changed for the better. I was a pampered rich boy, and I had no idea what the world outside was really like. Ordinary people were just there to work for me, but now I see the other side of things, and it has opened my eyes and made me ashamed. I hope I am a better man now.”

“I am glad tae hear it,” she snapped. “Ye asked me if I thought a better Laird might change things. I dae—but that Laird isnae ye.”

“I am willing to learn,” he spat back, and for a few moments they glared at each other before Gavin turned away. “I am not as stupid as you seem to think, Maura.”

He felt as though he had been given a verbal slap in the face, but then, trying to change the subject quickly, he said something that made matters even worse.

“Will you be able to manage without me?” he asked. If he was expecting Maura to say that she could not, or beg him to come back, he was disappointed.

“We managed before ye came an’ we will manage after ye are gone,” she said tersely. “Can ye use a knife?”

Gavin frowned. “I presume you don’t mean for cutting bread?”

Maura gave him a mischievous smile as she pulled out a long, serrated knife from the leather pouch she wore around her waist. “I thought maybe it would be put tae better use cuttin’ meat.”

“Rabbit? Duck? Fish?” he asked, raising his eyebrows as he took the knife from her and turned it around in his hands.

“No,” Maura replied. “Men.”

Gavin’s mouth dropped open as he looked at the blade, his eyes widening as the impact of her words sank in. “Yes, I can use a knife,” he replied. “But I would rather not do it unless I absolutely have to.”

He examined the knife as he held it by its rough wooden handle. The light from the lamp glinted off its grooved blade, revealing it for what it was: a lethal weapon. It might only have been used for cutting meat in the kitchen, but it was perfectly capable of killing a man without much effort, even in relatively unskilled hands.

Maura took it away from him and put it back in her pouch. “Then I will do it,” she said, tucking into her food again as though the subject were of no importance.

“I’m not afraid,” Gavin said grimly. “I have used one before, although I have never killed anyone. But Maura, I would not hesitate to use that knife on anyone who threatened you. That is how much your friendship means to me. Give it back to me, please.”

Maura took the weapon out of her pouch slowly, holding it by its handle, and looked at it for a moment as though considering what to do next. Then she turned it around and passed it back to him, handle first.

“I hope we never have to use it,” he said grimly as he tucked it into his own pouch.

“So dae I,” Maura replied. “But better safe than sorry.”

They finished their meal in silence, and Maura went to fetch her own belongings. When she returned, she put on her cloak and looked around. “Sure, ye have packed everything ye need?” she asked. She noticed that the cushion she had sewn was not on his bed, and was ridiculously pleased to think that it was in his baggage.

“I do,” he replied. He looked at the size of her pack, which was almost as big as his own. “Can you carry that?” he asked doubtfully.

Once again, Maura laughed. “I am no’ one o’ your delicate ladies in silk an’ lace,” she replied. “I have been liftin’ sacks o’ flour an’ barley since I was a wee bairn. Come on—hurry up. We dinnae want tae be seen.”

They ventured out into the darkness. Maura was holding a shaded lamp, and she led them onto the road, guiding them with its faint light. Dawn was breaking, but it was still faint and distant, and the looming clouds over the hills were not helping, sucking the sun’s rays into a grey fog as they struggled to break through.

It was only the effort of moving that was keeping them both warm, and Gavin would have given his eye teeth to be inside a warm carriage, wrapped in blankets with hot stones at his feet.

Maura had never experienced such luxury. She would have settled for a donkey or a farmer’s cart—anything that kept her feet out of the clinging, sucking mud, which was so slippery that she had almost fallen over three times already.

Gavin had offered her his arm to hold on to, but she had refused, saying that she was quite capable of holding herself up. That was when Gavin realised that he was walking beside the most stubborn woman he had ever met.

At last, dawn broadened into daylight, and they were able to make much quicker time. However, they were still moving much more slowly than Maura would have liked. She tried to pick up the pace, but the mud under her feet would not allow it.

Gavin, seeing her frustration, asked, “Should we stop for something to eat? Maybe it will give us a bit more energy.”

Maura saw the sense in this, although she hated to admit that Gavin was right about anything. She nodded, and they found the driest patch of ground they could, then put down their packs, intending to sit on them.

“Make a fire,” Maura ordered. “There are plenty o’ dead branches lyin’ around.”

Gavin went to do as he was told, although he knew he would have to make a confession to Maura that would either amuse her or cause her to treat him with utter scorn. He picked up as much wood as he could, gathered it into his arms, then dropped it beside Maura, who had unwrapped all the food. He built it into a cone shape as he had seen others do, but he had no idea how to light it.

“Light it, then!” Maura said impatiently. “I am freezin’!”

“Show me how,” Gavin said sheepishly.

Maura looked at him in disbelief. She was about to say something scathing, but decided it was not worth the effort. She selected two of the driest twigs, then cut a groove in one of them and rubbed the other up and down it until a tiny spark and a curl of smoke appeared. Then she took a few blades of grass and held them against it until they caught light. When she had done this, she put the tiny fire nest into the pile of wood, which immediately began to burn with a bright flame.

“Now ye will know next time,” Maura said, as she held her hands out to the fire.

“Thank you,” Gavin breathed. “You make me feel so unprepared and stupid.”

“The more ye learn, the better the Laird ye will be,” she observed.

Perhaps I should marry you, he thought wistfully.

Contemplating the bride who awaited him, Gavin’s heart ached. There was simply no comparison between the two women. One was strong, resourceful, and intelligent, and the other was pretty, not exactly stupid, but nowhere near Maura’s level of sharpness. No doubt, Elspeth was a better dancer and could fit into a crowded ballroom much better than Maura. However, in a situation like the one he was in—well, only one of them could have coped, and it certainly was not Elspeth!

Maura passed him a plate with cold meat and bread on it, then handed him an apple. It was plain food, but there was plenty of it, and when he had finished every morsel, he patted his stomach and smiled with satisfaction.

“I must hire this cook,” he said. “She is very good at her job.”

Maura seemed to have relaxed a bit, and Gavin took advantage of it to ask her a few questions. “I never asked you before, Maura, but how old are you?”

“An’ what business is that o’ yours?” she answered, frowning.

“None at all,” he admitted. “Idle curiosity. I will be twenty-three at the end of December. I was a Christmas present, according to my mother.”

“I am twenty-two,” Maura replied. “An’ I will be a year older on Midsummer Day, the twenty-first of June.”

“So I am a Midwinter and you are a Midsummer baby,” Gavin laughed. “How strange.”

Maura shrugged. “I was meant tae be twins, but my sister was stillborn,” she said sadly. “Just one o’ those things, I suppose.”

“I am so sorry,” Gavin said sincerely. “After my birth, my mother could not have any more babies, so I’m a singleton too. We are both lonely”

Maura shook her head firmly. “I have never been lonely,” she told him. “I might be the only child, but I always had plenty o’ friends. That is the good thing about growin’ up in a place where everybody knows ye. We a’ care about each other.”

“It sounds lovely,” Gavin remarked sadly. “Sometimes I think I grew up in the loneliest place in the world. People do not want to know you for who you are, but for what you have. Possessions mean more than people in my world.”

“Easy to say that when ye have plenty,” Maura said bitterly, throwing more wood on the fire. “Many around here would be glad o’ clothes on their backs, food in their bellies, an’ a roof over their heads.”

“Are you content with that?” he asked, looking into her eyes intently.

“I am. I have everything I need.” She nodded, looking into the fire. “I have never been one tae hanker after jewels an’ fine dresses.”

Gavin studied the way the flames made her eyes glow, and played over the curves of her body; a wave of desire swept over him, making him squirm uncomfortably as his shaft stiffened. “You are content with your lot,” he said approvingly, wishing that he could say the same. “I envy you.”

“What is she like, this woman they want ye tae marry?” Maura asked. She sounded unaccountably jealous, although she would not admit it. “Dae ye like her?”

Gavin sighed. “Everybody likes Elspeth. There is nothing really to dislike about her. She can hold a good conversation about the latest fashions and the wickedest scandals. She is a good rider and absolutely devoted to her two pet cats, whom she treats like queens. She is very proud of the fact that she is a good card player—I have to admit that she is—but apart from that, I really have nothing much to say about her. She is…” He shrugged. “Just another rich girl with little substance, and she fancies herself in love with me.”

“Is she pretty?” Maura asked, trying to sound casual. In fact, she was feeling more than a little jealous.

“I must say she is very pretty in a girlish kind of way,” he replied. “Dark hair, dark eyes, very slim and very petite. She would be better if she was less indulged and more intelligent.”

“How long is it since ye last saw her?” Maura asked, holding her hands out to the fire.

“About a year,” he replied. “Her father was having a ceilidh for his birthday and I danced with her.”

“So it has been a while,” Maura mused. “Dae ye think she will still love ye as ye are now?”

Gavin smiled, amused. “Why should she not?” he asked. “And what do you mean ‘as you are now?’ I am still the same man that I was the last time she saw me.”

Maura shook her head. She swallowed the rest of her ale and stood up, then looked him up and down critically. “No’ ye’re not,” she said firmly. “Ye have changed fae that big-headed eejit who came tae Carmalcolm at first; ye are more like one o’ us now.”

Gavin laughed. “Is that a compliment or an insult?” he asked.

Maura paused in the act of brushing down her dress and looked at him. “I think ye are a better person now,” she answered, and smiled at him. It was a wide, genuine expression of goodwill, and it made Gavin feel warm inside. “But dinnae let it go tae your head.”

Gavin laughed. The comment was so typical of her, giving a compliment with one hand and taking it away with the other. As he packed away his cup and plate, he said thoughtfully, “You know, Maura, I have often tried to see myself as you did at first, and I don’t think I would have liked that Gavin Forsyth either.” He suddenly became serious. “So thank you, and since we are handing out compliments today, I think you are a very good woman, and a very beautiful one too.”

Maura inclined her head in thanks and continued to pack away her things and douse the fire.

“Do you think I am a handsome man?” he asked, his eyes twinkling.

“Why dae ye think I hired ye?” Maura asked. “Are ye fishin’ for compliments, big man?”

Gavin closed the distance between them, then wrapped his arms around her. “Yes,” he replied, smiling mischievously and trying not to look at her full, soft lips.

Maura sighed. “If it keeps ye happy, ye’re handsome. All right? Now can we get movin’?” She pushed him away.