“No’ yet. But someday I will be a great warrior and I will kill all sorts of wolves. Are ye a warrior? Ye wear colors like one,” he said eyeing Bram’s kilt.
Bram looked down at his kilt. It no longer represented the brilliant colors of red and green that the MacKinnon Clan proudly wore but now displayed a dull hue of faded colors.
“I am,” he admitted.
The lad smiled at him as if he was proud just to be in Bram’s presence. Attacked by wolves? Bram chuckled at the lad’s imaginative assumption. Even though that was not what had happened, the brutal treatment he’d received in the dungeon was comparable in nature to those of vicious wolves.
Just then an older man entered the barn. Tavish jumped down from the beam and ran past him back outside as if he would have been scolded for being there. Dressed in a stained tunic and dusty trews, the man raised a brow to Bram.
“Good day, Lad. My wife tells me ye are here to work for that pallet she had offered ye and the lass,” the man said holding onto a small wooden bucket full of nails and a mallet.
“Aye,” Bram replied reaching for his tunic, which had dried in the warm night air, and still hung over the stable wall. Donning his tunic, he stood up to greet the man properly.
“Good. Ye can start by helping me mend this roof. A storm like the devil’s rage blew through here two nights ago; ripped it almost completely off. There are many planks that need replacing and I can no’ do it myself. Me name is Innes and that wee hellion that just ran out like a windstorm was me son, Tavish.”
“My name is Bram. And aye, yer son just introduced himself to me. For yer wife’s gracious offer, I am glad to help ye.”
Bram worked hard throughout the morning. He cut wood as instructed, of various shapes and sizes to fix the roof and the damaged fences. He then gathered bundles of reeds and thick straw, binding them together with rope and stacking each bundle high on top of wood beams erected to provide better shelter for the horses.
Sweat beaded across his forehead. Using the back of his hand, he wiped the sweat from his brow. The sun was high and not a cloud in the sky to offer him shade. Even if it had been a cooler or cloudier day, he would not be able to avoid the heat and his sore muscles.
“My last farmhand did no’ work as hard as ye. Ye have me working to the bone and my body is in need of a break. Ye can stay here while I go fetch us some whisky. My mouth is as dry as the bark of a tree,” Innes cracked a smile and climbed down the ladder.
Bram continued mending the roof until Innes returned with the two mugs of whiskey. Taking the mug from Innes, he held it in both hands, drinking slowly, savoring every drop. It was not the best whiskey he had ever had, but it tasted like sweet nectar in this moment. He did not remove the cup from his lips until he had swallowed every last drop of .
As Bram and Innes returned to hammering the last few planks and beams on the roof, Innes spoke of his family, his work as a blacksmith, and the love he had for his wife. As for Bram, he mentioned little of himself.
Chapter 5
Lara awoke after the sun was already high in the sky. Sunlight filtered in through the open curtains like seams of gold. She could feel the daylight on her skin. Her eyes had not seen sunlight in weeks and they were stung by its brightness. Stretching out her arms, she rolled over her bed of blankets and sat upright.
Following a long-winded yawn, she wiped the sleep from her eyes and looked around the small living quarters. In the middle of the room stood a very tall and husky grey-haired man staring down at her with two mugs in his hands. Lara could feel her body stiffen with nervousness. Like a scared rabbit darting for cover, Lara grabbed onto the blanket and threw it over her shoulders like a shield hoping it would offer her some protection. Lara’s eyes darted back and forth between the man and Rowena who was sitting down at a table kneading dough at the far end of the room, unaware of their interaction. Nervously, her grip on the blanket tightened.
“Good afternoon to ye, lass,” the man cheerfully greeted.
“A...Afternoon?” Lara stuttered.
Lara knew that she had been completely exhausted but never would have dreamed that she would sleep so late in the day. Had they been watching her sleep? Lara could feel her cheeks heat and no doubt stain dark crimson in color.
The man smirked and let out a soft huff. Lara did not at all see the amusement in furthering her humiliation.
“Well my dearest wife, I will go check on the lad out in the barn while ye attend to the lassie,” the man said as he kissed Rowena on the cheek and walked out the front door.
“That be my husband, Innes. Well now that ye are finally awake, why dinna ye tell me why ye are so far from home?” Rowena asked, as she continued flattening and rolling the ball of dough in her hands.
“How do ye ken I am far from my home?” Lara shakily asked, worried that Rowena had recognized her or perhaps knew that she had escaped from the English dungeon.
“Because ye are here and no’ there,” she replied, looking at Lara from underneath her long lashes.
Lara could see the suspicion in Rowena’s eyes but pretended not to notice. As Lara stood up from the floor, she loosened the blanket around her, allowing it to drop to the floor. Rowena gasped.
“Good heavens child, what is that ye got on? Ye look like ye rolled around in the dirt wit’ the pigs.”
Lara rubbed her hands up and down her arms, not sure how to respond. She knew her appearance must look dreadful to the woman. The straps of her dress barely clung to her shoulders and the skirt was tattered. Her hair, which normally hung down in soft feathery layers was now disheveled, in knots, and coated in dirt.
Lara did not wish to lie to Rowena, but neither could she bring herself to tell the truth.
“I have been traveling for many days now and I lost my belongings along the way.”
“Dinna ye worry lass, I may have a gown ye can wear,” she said as she stood and walked over to Lara. “Follow me.”
Lara gratefully followed her into the next room. The small chamber had a bed barely big enough for two and a small wooden chest. The walls were bare other than cobwebs and a year’s worth of dust. In the corner, a roaring fire crackled in the fireplace. Murmuring to herself, Rowena dug through a pile of clothing and pulled out a brown wool dress and a white chemise.
“Ah, this will do. It is no’ a fancy dress but anything is better than what ye got on,” Rowena said as she laid it onto the bed. “I will go and fetch a few buckets of water I have heating so ye can wash.”
Lara rejoiced over the thought of washing her face and hair. She could barely contain her excitement, but managed to keep a guarded and calm demeanor. Shortly after, Rowena came back into the room with two buckets of steaming water and emptied them into a shallow tub.
“Unless ye have further need of me, I will leave ye to wash.”
“Nay, I need nothing else. Thank you, Rowena.”
Lara began removing her once beautiful green gown and let it fall to the floor. It would now serve well as a rag. Anxiously, Lara dipped her feet into the hot water, one by one, and sank down into the tub. Lara looked down at the bruises that stained her body; reminders of what she had endured. She scrubbed herself thoroughly, hoping and wishing she could scrub them away, but the dark purple and blue marks remained. Unwanted tears escaped her eyes. She swore to herself that once she reached home no man would ever lay a hand on her again. As for her husband, her mind went through various scenarios as to how she would get her revenge, each one ending with him taking his last breath.
As soon as she had finished washing her hair, Lara donned the dress Rowena had left on the bed. It hung awkwardly off her shoulders; several sizes too large. Finding a ball of twine on the floor, Lara began to unravel it and wrapped it around her thin waist. Biting off one end at the perfect length, she tied the dress in place. She sat down next to the fire and used the towel to dry her hair. She was quick about it, anxious to leave.