Chapter Four
Moyra stood in line at the butchers with a basket hanging from her arm.
The handle of the basket pinched her skin, and she fought the urge to throw it to the ground.
How she hated each task that had to be performed daily, a never-ending repetition of dreary things that brought so much boredom she could scream.
A handsome man she didn’t recognize walked in her direction, so she straightened, pushed her shoulders back, and allowed a smile to play on her lips.
Like most men who noticed her, his gaze flickered to her but didn’t linger.
Then he went to a woman in line with two bairns in tow and took her basket from her.
The couple had a short exchange then the woman smiled brightly at the man before walking away with the children, the man taking her place in line.
When the man turned his back to Moyra, she sneered at him. How could a man like that be interested in the drab mouse the wife was?
When someone behind jostled her, Moyra turned to find an older woman with an overfilled basket. “Get back ye daft cow,” Moyra exclaimed glaring.
The woman gave a startled gasp, “I didnae mean to push ye. I lost me balance.”
“I dinnae want to hear it. Keep away from me.” Moyra wanted to say more, to slap the woman, but instead she whirled around since the line moved forward. When she did, the handsome man looked on with a disapproving look.
Moyra smiled at him. He frowned and shook his head before turning back to the front. How dare he? This was why she wanted to marry Camden. He had coin, and they would be able to afford a servant who would perform the menial tasks her mother expected her to do.
Walking from the butcher’s, Moyra stopped at the bakery.
She was always on her best behavior there, after all, if everything went according to plan, she and the owners would be family.
Despite the fact that her mother and sisters made bread, Moyra always put a coin aside to purchase a loaf of bread at the bakery.
It gave her the opportunity to see Camden’s aunt and uncle and make an impression on them.
Today it was only Camden’s aunt at the counter. Moyra presumed the husband was in the back kneading dough or whatever it was he did.
“Moyra, how fare ye lass?” the woman greeted her with a warm smile.
Plastering on what she knew was a demure expression, her face soft and eyes downcast, she let out a sigh. “It has been a task filled day. I dinnae mind because I wish to help mum as much as I can, but I do become weary of doing everything. My sisters barely do a thing to help.”
The woman gave her a sympathetic look. “I am sure yer mum is grateful for ye. Shame on yer sisters. I must admit, I rarely see either of them. Is nae Ceit sickly?”
Moyra took a sharp breath at her gaffe. Of course everyone was aware by now of Ceit’s fall. The daft lass had fallen from a horse when trying to help their father and had broken her leg.
“Ah, yes, she is. I spent the day helping Camden with the caring of that poor lad, and also to retrieve herbs to help with Ceit’s care,” Moyra replied, hoping to distract the woman from her earlier comment.
The woman’s smile returned. “I am sure my nephew appreciates yer help more than he will say. Now that Beitris is married, I am hopeful he brings on an apprentice soon to help him with all the tasks.”
She’d not considered that he’d get an apprentice. What if he asked a woman? Then it would be harder for her to get close to him. To find excuses. Moyra was glad that Beitris was not about as much as before; it gave her more time alone with Camden. However, a woman apprentice could be problematic.
“I am sure he will find help soon. Until then, I will be more than happy to help where I can,” Moyra said.
Walking out with all her errands done, Moyra slid a look toward Camden’s home. It was hard not to go there, but her mother was waiting, and there would be hell to pay if she didn’t return promptly.
Upon entering her family’s cramped cottage, Moyra was greeted by the unbecoming sight of her mother and older sister, Sencha, toiling.
Her sister churned butter, while her mother sat with a half-made basket between her legs weaving thin willow into a form.
Her fingertips were raw and some bled. Moyra looked away in disgust. Both their hands were calloused from their insistence on doing such menial tasks.
“Start the meal Moyra,” her mother said by way of greeting, her expression pinched. “Ye took too long, yer da and brother will be home soon.”
Without speaking, Moyra placed the heavy basket on the kitchen table. Then she went over to where her sister was. “It is late nae to have the butter done.”
Sencha let out an exasperated breath. “I am doing both mine and Ceit’s chores. The garden needed weeding, the hens needed feeding, and the eggs needed gathering. Meanwhile, ye were late to rise and then out about the village without a worry.”
Their youngest sister, Ceit, had taken ill and been forced to remain in bed.
“Who says?” Moyra snapped. “I stood in line at the butchers for a long time. Then I to wait at…” she hesitated then realizing there was no bread baking, she continued, “As I knew neither ye nor mother would have time to bake, I saved a coin and bought some bread.”
Her mother’s eyes narrowed. “Ye could have saved it. We dinnae have coin to spare.”
Of course she was never thanked or appreciated for anything she did.
Moyra fought the urge to flee, to get away.
Unfortunately, there was nowhere to go. Outside the village, she didnae ken a soul.
She was condemned to remain in Tokavaig.
If her plans went well, it wouldn’t be for much longer.
Once married, she’d convince Camden to leave Skye.
Moyra stomped to the kitchen table and placed her purchases atop them, then fetched wood for cooking.
The entire time she fought the urge to tell them how much she not only hated her life, but them as well.
The hatred for her lot in life is what gave her the strength to get what she wanted—a better life. By any means necessary.
“Moyra.” Her mother’s voice broke through the haze of her daydreaming, and Moyra screamed. Shaking her arm violently as flames consumed the sleeve of her blouse. Sencha grabbed the picture of drinking water and doused the flames, her face etched with concern.
“Sit. I will see about yer arm. Hopefully ye are nae badly burned.” Her sister took her by the elbow guiding her to a chair, as her mother left the room with a pail, presumably to fetch more water.
Sencha peered down at the scored fabric. “I will fetch some cloths. We will have to make a salve.”
When her sister turned her back, Moyra’s lips curved despite the painful throbbing from the burn. This was an unexpected good turn. The burn would give her a reason to spend time alone with Camden.
Just as her mother reentered, Moyra stood holding her injured arm up with her other hand. The pain was becoming increasingly worse.
“I will go to the healer. I prefer he see about this. I dinnae want scarring, and he will see about it better than ye can.”
“Moyra,” Sencha uttered. “Ye are pale and shaking.”
She gave her sister a pointed look. “Ye can see about dinner. I will go see Camden, and he will care for my injury better than ye both could.”