Chapter 1 #2
She slid her hand into the pocket of her apron and extracted a small box. “Here,” she said. “Try this.”
“What is it?” he asked, looking at the box curiously.
“It is one of my pomades,” she explained. “It is the one people from far away come to me for.”
She opened the lid and revealed a soft smelling pomade, the color of sand, smelling of roses. She walked over to him and dug into the pomade with the tip of her finger. It glistened on her skin. She reached out for him, but he pulled away.
“Nay, that willnae be necessary,” he shook his head.
Veronica suddenly blushed, not really certain why.
She had to admit that she wasn’t expecting him to draw back like that, but then again, she did tend to be rather forceful.
Usually, her customers didn’t mind a free sample, which demonstrated her skill and knowledge.
That was exactly what she wished to show right now, only he refused a free demonstration of her skill.
“I just want ye to give me a chance to prove meself,” she said, not allowing herself to sound defeated.
“It smells like me mother’s garden,” he told her unexpectedly, glancing at her finger. She could see inquisitiveness in his gaze. It gave her hope that not all was lost.
She needed to convince him of this. Her life, as well as the life of her sixty-year-old father, depended on it. They were barely scraping by as it was. It was crucial for her to make a serious business of healing, and Laird Ferguson was her means to that goal.
“Roses,” she smiled, slightly apprehensive at the change of topic, but deciding to go along. “They’re beautiful and very fragrant, but not many people know of their great healing powers.”
“Ye smell like roses as well,” he noticed, giving her a side glance that revealed more than she was willing to acknowledge.
She disliked this very much. The fact that he was diverting the topic of conversation from business to the way she smelled proved to her that he wasn’t taking her seriously at all. This enraged her.
“Ye expected me to smell like toads and salamanders?” she asked, wanting to show him how offended she was that he thought he would get rid of her so easily. It only made her even more adamant to get what she came here for.
He looked shocked at her words at first, then burst out into a chuckle. “Nae, nae toads and salamanders, but maybe some other witchy smell.”
She frowned. “Ye think I’m a witch? Well, that explains a whole lot.”
“It does?” he wondered, tilting his head a little as he spoke, as if to take a better look at her, sizing her up. It took all of her conscious effort not to look away as he held her gaze.
“Of course,” she scoffed. “Ye daenae wish to be involved in somethin’ as murky as witchcraft.”
“Murky?” he asked again, grinning from ear to ear. This was obviously amusing him more and more, while she was sailing further away from her goal with each exchanged statement, which was driving her mad. “Need I remind ye that I am the owner of the murkiest pub in all of Scotland?”
“Nay,” she told him. “That just proves to me ye daenae care where yer profit comes from, as long as it keeps comin’.”
“That is right, lass,” he towered over her as he stood. “I like businesses that are bound to bring in a return. Witchcraft brings nothin’.”
“I’m not a witch,” she knitted her eyebrows at him.
“And me business isn’t witchcraft! I heal people who need help, who have nowhere else to turn to, but I cannae do that without the means to find the right ingredients.
” She tried to remind him of everything she’d already told him, but it was futile.
He was barely listening. His mind was elsewhere, or he was focusing on some other matter, which made her even more furious.
“Witch, healer, whatever ye want to call yerself,” he shrugged. “Me answer is the same… about yer business as well as the way ye smell.”
“Well, ye smell like a rotter,” she spat back, not really wanting to resort to silly, childish insults, but that was the best she could come up with under the circumstances.
He had caught her completely off guard with the smell and the witch comment, and worst of all, they had barely discussed business.
“Do I now?” he laughed heartily this time, holding his stomach.
Veronica felt her cheeks blushing a poppy red, something that very rarely happened. Almost no one wielded such power over her. She wanted to say something else, but this unexpected turn of events, this sudden and oddly flirtatious behavior caught her off guard.
“Rotters arenae that bad,” he said, winking at her. “We’re here to make the rest of ye feel better about yerselves.”
“Ye are… ugh!” she shouted, unable to find the right word to describe this insufferable man who was driving her more and more insane every time she saw him. “This isnae over!” she said, trying to sound as if she was in control of this situation, despite what just happened.
He grinned, taking the reins. “I’m certain it isnae.”
She turned on her heel and marched out of his chamber, leaving him as wordless as she was, with her heart beating all the way up in her throat.