Chapter 2 #2
"When I came here, I was gambling on the hope he hadn't noticed me. He tends to ignore people he sees as lower ranking or inferior."
Now that she thought about it, Alec did have a superior attitude, as if he thought himself above almost everyone else.
"We need to find you more clothes," Darack said.
Startled by his change in subject, she glanced down at her clothes. "What's wrong with my gown?" She smoothed her skirts, feeling the intricate flower and vine embroidery beneath her fingers.
"Look at it." He frowned down at it in the moonlight.
"'Tis one of my finest."
"Indeed and that's exactly what's wrong with it. You need to look like a peasant, not a queen. At least your cloak is plain black."
He thought she looked like a queen? She would've thanked him if he'd meant it as a compliment, but he hadn't.
Her richly designed gown was a hindrance to her getting back home safely.
Her brother had spent a pretty penny on her wedding trousseau, and she was grateful for it.
But what must Darack think of such extravagant fabrics and designs?
His own clothing was very basic, a faded plaid kilt, a dull linen shirt and a worn doublet.
For this journey, her clothing needed to be along the same social lines as his.
"Well, I've been known to wear an arisaid at times," she said. "'Tis also what crofter women wear."
"Mayhap we can find one for you."
Find one? How would that happen? She knew her family had sheltered her the whole of her life, not allowing her to experience many hardships. Losing her parents had been extremely difficult, of course, but she had never wanted for food, clothing or safety.
They walked along the muddy road for another hour or more, the moon climbing higher in the midnight sky.
Suddenly, she felt exhausted. Never had she traveled so far on foot in her life.
Was it true what they said—that she was coddled?
She refused to be. From now on, she would learn how to be strong and resourceful.
Mayhap Darack could teach her. She glanced up at his handsome face.
Aye, he appeared very resolute and determined.
His jaw was firm, his dark eyes hard as he glanced at her.
Finally, they neared the outskirts of a small village and she sighed with relief, hoping they could rest for a bit. All was dark and no doubt all the residents were asleep.
"Let's go this way," he whispered, then guided her as they slipped around back of a row of tidy cottages.
"There." Darack pointed. One of the crofter's wives had forgotten to bring in her laundry. More precisely, a plaid hung on a clothesline made of thin rope.
"It might be a man's plaid," she whispered.
"Nay, look at the length. Much of the weave is white. 'Tis an arisaid."
"Very well, but I've never stolen anything in my life. I don't like that. And what if they see us take it?"
"They're likely asleep. You stay here and I'll slip over and get it."
"All right." She crouched behind a bush. "Have a care," she whispered, then watched as he crept forward, stealthy as a wildcat. He snatched the piece of clothing from the clothesline and hastened back toward her.
"Let's go." He shoved the plaid into her hands.
The strong scent of urine overwhelmed her. "Ugh." She flung the material back at him.
"What now?" he grumbled.
"Didn't you smell that?"
Lifting it, he sniffed. "'Tis not that strong. After working in a stable for days, I'm lucky to be able to smell anything."
"Well... I'm not wearing that." She cringed.
"You were in the manure wagon earlier."
"Aye, but the straw kept most of the dung off me. The reek of this arisaid is far worse."
"Look at it this way—people will stay away from you." The humor in his tone grated on her nerves.
"'Tis not funny. I'll not go into town stinking of pee."
"What do you think the town smells like? No one will notice."
She ground her teeth. "I'm sensitive to horrible odors. That makes me want to retch."
"I'll carry the arisaid for now, but if we encounter people, you will need to put it on. And I'm thinking you'll survive." Again, his amusement came through in his tone.
"I told you, I hate the stench of it."
They made their way back to the road, her hand around his elbow so she wouldn't step in a hole on the muddy road and fall.
"You don't want someone to report seeing a fancy lady in the company of an outlaw wearing a moth-eaten plaid, do you?" He glanced down at his clothing. "I dressed this way intentionally."
She'd thought he had no choice in the matter. "Why do you dress that way?"
He was silent for a long moment, then snapped, "You ask too many questions. Save your breath. We have miles to walk to reach the harbor."
At his boorish tone, she snatched her hand away from his elbow.
"What's wrong?"
"I can walk on my own. I thank you very much.
" She should be used to irritable men, given who her brother was, but with Dugald she could overlook it.
With Darack she wasn't sure she could. He had been kind and understanding since she'd encountered him in the stables.
For him to suddenly become bossy and bad-tempered annoyed her. And even hurt her feelings a wee bit.
"Are you tired?" he asked.
"Aye, but what does it matter? I'm a strong woman. I can endure it."
"I have no doubt of it, but if you become too tired and weak to walk, I'll carry you."
"What? Nay!" she said. His words startled her. She didn't know if he was being kind or showing off how strong he was. Anyway, if she became incapable of walking, it would be because she'd passed out. Otherwise, she was showing no weakness before him.
"'Twill be a long journey if you argue with everything I say the entire time," he said.
"I'm not arguing. I'm simply telling you that I'm strong enough to walk." Though she did not like his attitude, she forced herself to ignore it. 'Twas not much different from Dugald's brusque tone, and she had dealt with him the whole of her life.
She needed to throw off the spoiled label her brothers had always saddled her with. After all, she was a grown woman, not a wee lass anymore. She straightened her shoulders, trying to look stronger, at least, even if she didn't yet feel that way, and walked faster.
"All my life, I've been hiding out and lying low while in certain areas of the country, especially the Lowlands," he said. "If you wish to stay alive long enough to reach your home, you must do everything I say."
She rolled her eyes, then glared at his shadowy form in the moonlight. 'Twas too much for her to ignore. "Bossy, are we?"
He sighed.
"Fine," she said. "I will do what you say, unless it's something completely stupid."
"Do not question it, even if it sounds stupid. I'll not be steering you wrong, lass." This last he said with gentle intensity, as if urging her to trust in him.
Obviously, she did trust him to an extent, otherwise she would've never left with him. Still, she didn't know him very well.
"Why are you helping me, Darack? Truly?"
Silent for a long moment, he glanced about as if searching for the answer.
"I like your brothers and your whole clan.
They've been friendly to my clan. If I had a sister in a mess like you're in, I'd want Dugald or Tòmas to help her return home, if he could.
'Tis what Highlanders do—assist one another. Family is the most important thing."
"Aye," she said softly. His simple words made her throat tighten and her eyes burn.
She'd heard the heartfelt sentiment beneath.
He didn't have much, but he still had family and friends.
And his Highland honor. Indeed, family was most important.
She would give everything she owned to be back at Rornoch already.
The dresses of her trousseau had been so important to her when she'd had them made, but now she realized how little they meant and how shallow she'd been.
Another thought came to her—maybe Darack was brusque and bossy at times because he'd had a difficult life, which had hardened him to an extent. But still, he cared about family.
They continued walking for another a half hour, then he turned abruptly and looked back. Faintly, she heard the clomping of hooves.