Chapter 18

AS THE DOCTOR POKED and prodded, Mab met the dark eyes of the man in front of her. Had he told her his name yet? Very few of his features could be seen through the mud, though she could make out his cool peaty eyes. His hair was dark and looked to have a curl to it, though that could just be from a combination of rain and slowly drying mud. What little of his skin was visible was much darker than her translucent skin, and she had the impression that he must have southern European ancestry. Spanish was what sprung to mind. Indeed, she could easily see him in decorated armour, a pointed metal hat upon his head with billowing red feathers flowing behind it. A conquistador! Yes, that is how she pictured him!

Mab resisted the urge to massage her temple. Perhaps she had hit her head in the tumble if she was romanticising this gentleman into a hero from one of the romance books she kept well hidden in the depths of her wardrobe.

And ... what was that look he was giving her? Mab’s eyes narrowed in contempt.

He certainly wouldn’t be conquering her heart.

The would-be conquistador quickly looked away, but Mab retained her cold glare at him.

He did look rather lovely from this angle, she thought, if one were to disregard the dirt. He was tall and broad. His neck, while thick, was lean, and she could see the long muscle, which led up to a chiselled jawline, straining to keep his head turned away from her.

Damn it ... had he given her his name?

Well, for now, she’d call him Guillermo. Fitting, she thought, given his appearance.

“How are you doing over there, Angus?” the doctor asked.

Guillermo snapped his head towards the screen behind which lay his friend. The sudden movement seemed to cause him some discomfort, and he winced as he drew in a sharp breath.

“Aye, almost done here,” boomed Angus from behind the screen. “He’s got a wee cut on his heid, though, Sam. Ye’ll need to come sew him up. Didnae think there be any broken bones, though.”

“You make a good nurse,” Sam said, a smile tugging at his lips. He had procured a candle as if from thin air and was moving it back and forth from Mab’s face, his gaze flicking subtly between her two eyes as if searching for something in her soul.

“Aye, me ma always said I had the gentle touch,” Angus replied, no sarcasm in his tone.

“That’s you all done, dear,” Sam said, his voice entirely too soft and comforting for what Mab was used to from the pompous doctors that would usually tend the upper class.

Mab, who thus far had been decidedly too preoccupied with Guillermo, finally glanced up at the doctor. He was Guillermo’s opposite in every way. Short – shorter than Mab, in fact – petite and lean was the best way to describe him. His suit had an odd fit to it too, and he wore it slightly on the loose side, giving him no bodily definition. His slender wrists, which poked out of his sleeves, made Mab think that he was perhaps even more slim than she’d initially thought.

“Thank you,” she replied, getting to her feet and looking awkwardly around. Was she supposed to meander back to her room now, or—

“You will need to stay the night,” the doctor said over his shoulder as he wandered off in the direction of Benedict. “The pair of you. Occasionally, symptoms following a bump to the head won’t appear right away, so I will need to check on you over the course of the night.”

Mab glanced about. There didn’t appear to be a division for men and women. Was she expected to spend the night in the company of not one but two men?

As if sensing her unease, the doctor spun on his heel and said, “Unfortunately, you are all in the same room for the evening. It is, thankfully, a very rare occasion when we need to make use of the infirmary, and even rarer that more than one patient, no less three, crosses my threshold at the same time. Unfortunately, there is only one of me, though, and I need you all together to keep an eye on you.” His look was almost apologetic as he continued his walk towards Benedict. The moment he slipped behind the screen, Sam let out a delighted, “Ah! You’ve changed the bedding. Thank you, Angus.”

Angus, who was tall enough that his head and the top of his shoulders could be seen above the screen, smiled. “Och, well I couldnae leave the wee laddie to sleep in the mud. Not after I spent so long cleanin’ him up. Now, if ye didnae mind, I’ll be off to find me wife. As much as I’d love to stay and help, I get the sweats at the sight of yon needle ye use to sew them back up.” With that, Angus slipped from behind the screen and settled his gaze on Mab and Guillermo. “What are the pair of ye still standin’ there for? Go an’ clean yerselves up!” He pointed a large finger to the other end of the room. Before Mab had a chance to look, Angus turned, heading for the exit.

Guillermo gestured for Mab to go first.

Head held high, she strode off in the direction Angus had indicated, her heavy, wet gown swishing uncomfortably around her legs. At the other end of the room stood three makeshift wooden cubicles, each with a swinging door. The pair exchanged uncomfortable looks before Mab took the cubicle closest to the wall, while Guillermo, leaving a cubicle between them, took the one on the end.

The door swung shut behind Mab. The gap at the bottom meant her ankles would be on show, and she could just about see over the top of the door.

“Excuse me, er, Mr Sam?” she called out, uncomfortable at having to address the doctor by his first name, and simply addressing one by their occupation had always seemed dismissive and impersonal to Mab.

“Yes, dear?” His voice echoed down the long room, bouncing off the stone walls.

“Is there somewhere a bit more ... private ... for me to wash?”

“No, dear,” he called back. “We need to have a gap under the door – I can see if someone has collapsed that way. Now, you go ahead and get cleaned up. I’m almost finished here, and I’ll fetch you a clean shift on my way past.”

Mab chewed the inside of her lip. She wanted nothing more than to be in the privacy of her own room, but the mud and rain had cooled her down substantially, and if she didn’t get out of these clothes soon, she would be chilled to the bone. Reluctantly, she spun around the cramped little room to face the washstand. A wall sconce flickered above the mirror as a grotesque monster blinked back at her. She let out a squeal before realising it was, in fact, herself that she was looking at.

Before she had the chance to titter at her silly mistake, Guillermo had crashed out of his own cubicle and had attempted to burst into hers. Fortunately, the cubicle was so small that her body got in the way of the door opening.

“Mab? Are you hurt?” he called from the other side of the door.

Mab rubbed her shoulder. From the reflection in the mirror, she could see his form standing outside her cubicle, his shoulders and upwards visible from over the top of the cubicle door. Thankfully, he wasn’t peering over the door and directly into her cubicle but had turned his face to offer her some modicum of privacy.

“I am perfectly fine,” she replied. “I just caught sight of my reflection, is all.”

Guillermo sighed. Within a moment, she heard his cubicle door creak on its hinges once more.

Two large ceramic jugs sat on one side of the washstand, while a number of pieces of folded linen sat on the other. Mab picked up one of the pieces of linen and began scraping the clumps of mud from her face and hair. Once only a fine layer remained, she stripped off her dressing gown and shift. Thankfully, they’d protected most of her body from the dirt, and it was only up to her knees that needed a deep clean. She poured the jug of water into the bowl, dipped a fresh piece of linen into it and began the laborious process of cleaning herself.

As she worked, she heard Sam shuffling about the room, clattering around and busying himself, only stopping to yawn. At some point, though she hadn’t noticed when, he’d draped a clean nightshirt over her door. Just as she was drying her hair as best as she could, the doctor announced to the room, “I’ve prepared the two beds next to Benedict.” He let out a long yawn. “If you need me, I’ll be writing notes in my office. I’ll be checking on you throughout the night and have asked a couple of guards to stand by the door, so please call out if you need something, and someone will hear you.”

The doctor shuffled a couple of steps before a door, presumably to his office, opened and shut.

Mab pulled the fresh garment off the door. The shift Sam had left her was clearly designed for a large man. She had to roll up the sleeves five times. The hem bunched at her toes, and she had to lift it as she took a step towards the door for fear of tripping. She guessed beggars couldn’t be choosers and consoled herself with the fact that it would only be for one night. Shivering, she made her way across the long room to the beds .

The young lad lay motionless, the bed linens tucked in so tightly around him that he looked like a fly that had been caught and cocooned in a spider’s web. His golden hair was still slightly damp. Despite that, it sat roguishly tousled upon his head – the bits of it that weren’t covered in a bandage, that is. Mab doubted the doctor had styled the lad’s hair and wished that her fiery waves would fall naturally into place like the young man’s and not have to have a hundred strokes of the brush each and every morning.

He was incredibly handsome, albeit perhaps a decade younger than what Mab usually found attractive. His face still retained a boyish charm; there was a slight roundness to his features, but Mab could see the sharpness underneath that another year of maturation would uncover.

She left a bed between herself and the young man and slipped under the covers. She almost moaned as warmth enveloped her – the physician must have put a stoneware hot water bottle between her sheets while she was changing.

The sound of shuffling feet caused Mab to snap her head back towards the washrooms, and her heart almost leapt out of her mouth. Guillermo, no longer caked in mud, walked towards her, tactfully avoiding her gaze. He’d changed from his soiled formal attire into a too-short, too-tight nightshirt that was clearly designed for someone much smaller than him. Mab had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop a wayward giggle erupting as she realised Sam must have accidentally given Guillermo the shift that had been intended for her.

The shift grazed just above his knees, showing off delectably large calf muscles; the kind most men his age would have said farewell to a long time ago. A fluttering ignited in her stomach, and she moved her gaze to his face. While his calves were a light olive colour, his face and forearms were much darker, as if he spent a lot of time in the fields. But that couldn’t be the case. Guillermo, or whatever his name was, was part of the gentry, the stuffy upper crust who never left their drawing rooms save for a night of gambling or debauchery ... and maybe a ball or two.

Guillermo slipped into his bed and pulled the covers up to his neck. An involuntary moan escaped his lips as he too enjoyed the heat of a ceramic water bottle in his bed. Heat pooled in Mab’s stomach at the moan, and she stared up at the domed ceiling trying desperately to focus on the centuries old paintings that adorned the ceiling, not the devilishly handsome man in the next bed over. There was what appeared to be a white hare mid-leap in a midnight sky on one quarter of the closest dome. The leafy face of a man, a large portion of his face lost to time, stared down from another. She couldn’t decipher what had been painted on the other two quarters – barely any of the paint remained.

Guillermo coughed from her side, and her eyes flicked towards him. He too lay staring up at the ceiling. Finally, he said, “Thank you ... for not leaving us, that is. I doubt I would have been able to carry Benedict back on my own without you and Tilly as guides.”

“Well, we did knock the pair of you off the top of an ancient monument and almost killed you, so it was the least we could do.”

His lips twitched, but he didn’t tear his gaze from the ceiling.

“Thank you for not leaving us out there,” he said to the ceiling.

“I don’t think I caught your name,” Mab said.

He turned to meet her stare. “William.”

MAB WOKE THE NEXT MORNING to the sound of soft snores. She peered to her side where the men slept. Benedict seemed to have moved onto his side at some point in the night, which could surely only be a good sign. William, the dark-haired one, appeared to be in the foetal position, facing her, a pillow clutched between his arms. His eyes flittered under his short, curly lashes. His hair had dried during the night and fell in dishevelled curls about his face. Mab had the unusual urge to brush them back ...

No , she thought.

She had met many handsome gentlemen over the years and had managed to resist their sultry looks and rehearsed compliments. Why did this one, without having even the decency to try, make her feel this way?

Mab twisted around, determined not to look at him lest she be cast further under his spell. She noticed a little bundle of clothes – not the ones she’d had on last night – sat folded on the chair beside her.

As silently as she could, she peeled the bed sheets off her, grabbed the clothes, and tiptoed across the cold stone floor to an area out of the eyeline of the sleeping men. She pulled the oversized shirt off and quickly dressed herself. The dress was one of her own, a simple sky blue that she hadn’t worn in years, which she assumed one of the maids had fetched from her room. She sighed in relief as she slipped on the pair of leather boots they’d brought down.

Not knowing what to do with the nightshirt, she neatly folded it and deposited it at the foot of the bed she’d vacated. She supposed she ought to have stayed to be seen by the doctor, but she wanted to be as far away from him as she possibly could.

Mab allowed herself one final look at the men before tiptoeing out of the infirmary. She’d only made it halfway down the corridor when a silhouette came out of one of the doors just in front of her.

“You’re up!” the woman said. She was petite, with blond hair and a bright smile. The woman wore a simple rough-hewn dress covered in a blisteringly white apron.

Mab had the distant flicker of recognition, but for the life of her couldn’t place the stranger.

“Yes, I, er, woke up and found the clothes left for me. I really should be getting back to my rooms now. Could you please pass on to the doctor that I am feeling much, much better now.”

The woman’s face twitched as if amused by something. “I’ll be the judge if you’re well enough to leave.”

“I—” Before Mab could argue further, the woman – a nurse, Mab presumed – had pulled her towards the nearest window and had begun inspecting her. The nurse pulled the sleeve of Mab’s dress up and revealed a nasty bruise that Mab hadn’t noticed.

“You might be a bit stiff for a few days, but you’re fine to leave,” the nurse said. “No more night-time strolls in the middle of a storm, though. It’s a miracle that none of you were seriously injured!”

Mab crossed her chest. “I promise I won’t be doing that again in a hurry.”

“See to it that you don’t,” the nurse said.

IT TOOK MAB A WHILE to navigate her way back to her room. She tried knocking on Tilly’s door, but there was no answer. Mab slung open her doors, crossed her room and threw herself onto the bed. Unable to sit still for long, she was quickly pacing the floors once more. A figure caught her attention from outside the window, and she spied the unmistakable form of Tilly, her raven-black hair whipping in the breeze. She was headed towards Arabella’s cottage.

Not missing a beat, Mab was once more striding across her rooms, down the stairs and, with a brief promise to the guards that she wouldn’t wander far, across the gardens. She instantly recognised the outline of the tree she’d found Tilly under, and a shiver skittered up her spine as she took in the many jagged rocks poking out of the exposed side where they’d fallen. Any one could have killed her and the two men, and it was by the powers that be that none of them had cracked open their heads last night. Mab continued around the monument and had the brief realisation that when Tilly had become scared, her first instinct must have been to find her baby, for the cottage was in the valley directly behind the ancient monument.

Mab kept going, and in another few moments, she was at Arabella’s cottage. While the cottage itself was inconspicuous among the heather, the sound of a child’s laughter cut through the valley. There was a small garden to the front of the cottage, full to the brim with ornamental flowers, herbs and vegetables. The thatched roof overspilt and cascaded down the walls, revealing only the barest band of whitewashed stone wall. The odd window had been incorporated into the thatch, and a single bright red door, the top portion of which was opened, sat squarely in the middle.

Mab felt a tug on the hem of her skirt, and icy blue-eyes, framed in thick, blond lashes, met hers.

“Are ye a fairy?” the little boy asked. Judging by his height, he couldn’t have been older than six, thought Mab.

“Yes. But the good kind,” Mab said, a grin spreading across her face.

“Och, Mama will be so pleased!” he squealed in delight. “She loves to tell me all about the wee fairies. But I thought yis were s’posed to be wee small things that play at the bottom of the garden.”

“Some of us are,” Mab said as the boy slipped his hand into hers and directed her towards the front door. Mab really ought not to give into the fanciful whims of a child, but she had a vivid memory of her mother pretending to be all sorts of fantastical creatures when she was young, and the awe and splendour of it was enough to fuel Mab’s imagination for decades.

“I s’pose ye’d be the queen of the fairies, then?”

Mab didn’t answer, for sometimes a nonanswer was better for the imagination than anything else. “Who would you be, then?” she asked instead.

“Hamish,” he said brightly. “My mama is Arabella. She’s a maid in that big house yonder.” Without looking, the boy jabbed a finger in the exact direction of Gaol Manor. “And my mam is a cook there too!”

“How wonderful!” said Mab.

“Yup,” Hamish said, his chest puffed up. “My mam has baked some bannocks. They’re the very best in all of Scotland. You should try some!” he said, slipping his hand out of hers and reaching over the lower half of the door, presumably to undo a lock. The instant the lock was undone, he announced into the dark room, “Mama! The fairy queen has come to visit! Where are the bannocks?”

Before receiving an answer, Hamish bowed low and gestured for Mab to enter.

“Thank you, kind sir,” Mab said to the little boy.

“Fairy Queen?” came Arabella’s voice from the gloom. “Hamish, did ye pick them mushrooms I told ye to stay away from? Oh! Hello, Mab!”

“Hello, Arabella,” Mab said. She made out the form of Arabella sitting by the fire with Tilly. “Sorry to intrude; it’s just you said I could visit? I can always come back another time,” she added, noticing the little writhing form of the baby in Tilly’s arms. Mab instantly felt guilt bubble inside her. What had she been thinking? Of course, Tilly would want to spend some time alone with her son. And Mab, who was never any good at knowing when she would be intruding on someone until it was too late, had just strolled up here as jolly as you like to be with her friends.

“Come in,” said Tilly. Relief washed over Mab as she made out a smile on Tilly’s face. “I w-was just telling Arabella about what happened last n-night.”

“What an adventure the pair of youse have had!” said Arabella, looping her arm into Mab’s and directing her to an empty seat.

“Adventure? I didnae ken ye’d be talkin’ about an adventure! I thought youse would just talk about all that borin’ stuff as usual,” Hamish said, striding across the room and plonking himself on the ground directly in front of Tilly.

His mother crossed the room and issued him a gentle smack on the back of the head. “Dinnae be rude, Hamish. Ladies never talk about borin’ stuff, aye? At least, they only talk about borin’ things until the men bugger off. Then they can have a proper conversation.”

“Mama! Ye told me I couldnae say that word,” Hamish scolded, and Mab felt the corner of her mouth twitch. “Aunt Tilly,” Hamish said, a note of pleading in his voice. “Please tell me.”

Tilly bit her top lip, her eyes widening briefly before her face settled with determination. “I’ll tell you, but f-first we must go far back in time, otherwise the story won’t make sense.”

Hamish nodded, his eyes fixed on Tilly. He didn’t even break his stare to look at the plate of bannocks his mother held in front of him before grabbing one.

Arabella rolled her eyes and muttered, “A thank-ye wouldnae go amiss,” before offering the plate to Mab.

“Thank you,” Mab said, taking what looked like a flat scone from the plate.

“Once upon a time,” started Tilly, “there lived a little girl in a little village far away from here. She wasn’t afraid of anything, n-not even her horrible parents. As she grew up, everyone told her how p-pretty she was, and she caught the eye of many handsome men. One day, she caught the eye of a cruel p-prince who coveted her for both her beauty and her father’s money. He didn’t want anyone else to have her, so he hurt her and made it so no one else would want her.” Tilly pointed at her crooked nose, and Mab’s insides hollowed out. “But when the cruel p-prince found out that her father had no money left, he didn’t want anything to do with the young woman—”

“Bastard,” Hamish whispered.

“Hamish! Watch yer language,” Arabella called.

“Sorry, Mama,” Hamish said before locking his eyes back on Tilly.

“So, the young woman was sent far away in the hopes of finding a husband for her and her new little baby—”

“Where did the baby come from?” Hamish asked, and Mab saw Tilly cringe.

“Where all wee babies come from,” said Arabella without missing a beat. “A stork brought it to her.”

“That was ill-timed,” said Hamish under his breath, and even Tilly seemed to have to stifle a smile.

“The woman ended up at a mythical house, deep in the valleys of Scotland, where a fabled witch and her husband lived—”

“You mean Aunt áine?”

“Hamish!” Arabella said. “Do ye want yer Auntie to finish her tale, or no? Shut yer wee gub, or it’ll be nightfall afore we hear the end o’ the story.”

“Sorry, Mama,” said Hamish.

“By this stage, the young woman was afraid of everything. But she was most afraid of men, for she couldn’t f-forget what the cruel prince had once done to her. She was so afraid of the witch and her husband that she cried the whole journey to their house. But, as it turned out, the witch and her husband were very kind. They knew that the woman didn’t need a h-husband, at least not right away. What she needed to do was to heal. So, they found a very kind family to help the woman look after her baby until she was well enough to do it herself. And they let her heal.

“One day, a new woman came to the house. She was radiant and so full of the confidence that the young woman once had. The pair became friends very quickly” – Tilly flicked her eyes to Mab, a grin on her face that made Mab’s heart melt – “and they decided to ride out the brewing storm in each other’s c-company, swapping stories by the fire. But something spooked the young woman, and the fear she had once felt a very long time ago quickly came back. The only thing she could think about was her b-baby, the one that the kind family were looking after. Without thinking, the young woman ran. She encountered a giant, which she q-quelled with a single look. She encountered knights, which she slipped past before they even knew it was her. She braved the storm and finally made it to the top of the hill where she could see the light from the cottage that the kind family and her baby were in. She fell to the ground when she realised her baby was safe. That’s when her friend c-caught up to her. The young girl was so in awe that her friend had come to help her” – Tilly flicked her eyes to Mab once more – “that she wanted to get her friend back to the safety of the witch’s house. But it was so dark, neither of the women could see in front of them, except for when a flash of lightning would i-illuminate the grounds. What the young girl and her friend didn’t know was that two princes were also lost in the valley that night.”

Hamish let out an audible breath.

“And because it was so dark, they couldn’t see each other until it was too late. The women accidentally crashed into the men, causing them to stumble down the hill, along with the young woman’s friend. The young woman thought she’d accidentally k-killed the youngest prince—”

“Oh no,” said Hamish, his hand unconsciously cupping his mouth.

“But thankfully, she didn’t. The young woman and her friend hatched a plan to drag the unconscious princes back to the safety of the manor. The problem was the ground was so wet and muddy that the women just didn’t have the strength to pull the princes.”

“What did they do?”

“Well, thankfully, one of the princes woke up. He was strong enough to lift the youngest prince over his shoulder, and with the help of the young woman and her friend to guide him, they all made it safely back to the manor.”

“Thank God!” cried Hamish.

“Hamish, what have I told ye about takin’ the Lord’s name in vain? ”

“Sorry, Mama,” Hamish said sheepishly.

“What the young girl realised that night was that, given the fact that she’d scared a giant, slipped past some knights, accidentally knocked a prince out and had to help rescue him, perhaps she didn’t have to be afraid of men anymore. Perhaps they should be afraid of her.”

“I’m nae afeard of ye, Aunt Tilly,” Hamish said.

Tilly smiled. “It’s not that the young woman w-wanted men to be afraid of her, dear. But just the fact that she could frighten them was enough to help her find her confidence again.”

“And what about the princes?” Hamish asked.

“Well, one was tall and dark and seemed to have that special little spark with the young woman’s friend.” Tilly winked at Mab, who bit her lip and bid the butterflies in her stomach to stop fluttering. “And the fair-haired prince, the one that the young woman had almost accidentally killed, lay asleep on the bed. The young woman looked at him, his golden hair and kindly face, and thought that maybe ... just maybe ... she might want to be friends with him.”

“ Pfft . Friends?” scoffed Hamish. “Ye cannae be just friends with the prince ye rescued, Auntie. In the stories, they get married.”

“Right, that’s enough stories fer one afternoon,” Arabella said, scooping Hamish up and throwing him over her shoulder. “D’ ye nae have some work to be doin’ in the garden, son?” she asked as the boy exploded into a fit of laughter. “And then ye have yer sums to be workin’ on after that.”

Hamish groaned as his mother deposited him at the front door. “I hate doin’ sums! Mr Campbell makes me write them all oot, even when I tell him I can just do them in ma heid. It’s such a waste of time!”

“Be that as it may,” his mother cooed back at him, “Mr Campbell is yer teacher. Yer to do what he says.” Under her breath, and after Hamish had darted through the door, Arabella added, “Whether he is a blitherin’ eejit or no’. ”

Tilly cooed down at her son. The same icy-blue eyes as Hamish peeked out at Mab through the swaddle.

“He’s a bonnie wee laddie, is he no’?” Arabella asked.

“That he is,” Mab agreed. While the eyes of the baby had an impossibly striking resemblance to his foster-brother, the mop of raven-black hair was unmistakably that of Tilly’s. “What is his name?”

“Keir,” said Tilly.

THE TRIO LAUGHED AND giggled their way through another cup of tea and countless bannocks before the clock on the mantel chimed two.

Mab and Tilly said their goodbyes, Tilly issuing a lingering kiss on her baby’s temple and taking a heartbreaking whiff of his hair before gently placing him in Arabella’s arms.

Mab and Tilly spoke of nothing particularly meaningful until they reached the tree Mab had found Tilly under last night.

A carriage glinted on the road below them, heading off in the direction of Gaol Lodge, where the men stayed.

“Do you think ...” Tilly started.

“Do I think what?”

“Do you think the blond-haired one looked kindly?” Tilly asked.

Mab thought for a moment. He had indeed looked kindly, but that wasn’t much of an indication as to one’s true nature.

Before Mab could answer, Tilly continued, “I think I would like to find out.”