Chapter Ten
The tavern fell silent as heads turned to watch the newcomers, doubtless owing to the Scotsmen’s great height and impressive builds.
“Do you know them?” Conrad asked quietly behind her.
She nodded. “In a manner of speaking.”
“What do they want with you?”
The blond giant had claimed an empty table in the back of the room, but the red-haired one was walking straight toward her with a determined glint in his eyes.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not certain, but, doubtless, I’m about to find out.” An instant later, she stood, craning her neck back to meet his gaze.
“I can’t believe ‘tis ye!” He smiled, and not for the first time, her stomach danced at the sight of his sensually handsome countenance.
Why did her tormentor have to be so bloody gorgeous?
She steeled her shoulders and placed her hands on her hips. “After you destroyed my loom, how else do you think I would make a living?”
He raked his hand through his hair. “I am so deeply sorry. We are completely to blame for everything, and we fully intend to right what has been made so very wrong.” He scanned the room. “I will never forgive myself for having brought you so low—”
“I’m a barmaid,” she snapped, interrupting him. “Not a grave robber. You’ve made your apologies. Now, why don’t you turn right around and head back the way you came. You’re bad luck, plain and simple.”
Another damnable smile broke across his face, and once again, she was struck by the masculine cut to his jaw and his deep-set blue eyes. “Ye’re luck is about to change. Can ye take a break and join my friend and I for an ale?”
She gestured behind her to where Conrad was eying them with suspicion. “I don’t think I’ll be allowed.”
The red-haired giant stepped past her and put his plate-sized hands on the bar. “Jo needs a break.”
Judging by the tightness of Conrad’s expression, he wanted to tell the Scotsman to sod off, but even Conrad appeared small next to her handsome tormentor.
Conrad waved a dismissive hand. “I was going to tell her to take a rest anyway.”
Jo hid her smile behind her hand. That, she knew, was a lie.
Having earned the attention of the rest of the bar, she felt dozens of gazes on her as she joined the men at a back table.
Before he sat down, her tormentor bowed to her. “My name is Ian MacVie, and this here is Ramsay MacTavish.”
She nodded stiffly in greeting to the blond giant, who was also as handsome as he was large, but she refused the blush trying to warm her cheeks. Gorgeous or not, neither man could be trusted. “State your business. I’ve work to do. My loom isn’t going to replace itself.”
Ian’s blue eyes brightened. She squirmed in her seat at the sight, then cast her gaze down, deciding it best if she just not look at him.
“We both regret the trouble we’ve obviously caused ye. Please allow us to set things right. We can buy ye a loom and set ye up in a new shop.”
She straightened in her seat but kept her gaze downcast. Were they truly offering to compensate her? She cleared her throat. “I’ll need coin to purchase supplies, yarn and such.”
“Agreed.”
She looked up in disbelief, but then her eyes narrowed. “Are you toying with me?”
He appeared taken aback by her comment. “Of course not. We wouldn’t dream of making light of our actions. Ye have my word. I have a purse heavy with coin just for ye.”
Her heart started to race. She reached out her hand. “All right then,” she said. “Give it to me.”
Ian shook his head. “Not here. I will get a room upstairs. When ye’re through with work, ye can join me there—”
“I should have known,” she snapped. Pressing her hands on the table, she stood up and stormed away without a backward glance.
“Men are all the same,” she fumed to Ruby who padded alongside her as she paced the kitchen, fury coursing through her body.
“Is everything all right?”
Jo stopped in her tracks.
Lorna was leaning against the doorframe, wearing a curious expression. “I saw you talking to those men. You seemed to be acquainted.”
Jo nodded. “I wish I could say that I didn’t know them, but they are the reason I’m in this mess.
I thought they were going to compensate me for the damages, but as it turns out...
” Her voice trailed off. She had been about to say that they had only wanted to buy what was not for sale, but she didn’t want to insult Lorna—she needed this job and her makeshift bed in the back kitchen now more than ever.
“They’re as rotten as I first suspected. ”
“I should warn you—they both just took rooms upstairs.”
“No matter,” Jo shrugged, trying to regain her calm. “I don’t need them or their coin. I will work hard and before long, I’ll have my loom and a fresh start.”
Lorna smiled at her. “I admire your grit, Jo. You remind me of myself when I was your age. I was determined to own my own drinking house.” She made a sweeping gesture. “See for yourself what a little grit can do.”
Emboldened, Jo nodded fiercely. “Just like you, I’ll never give up. And I’m not going to stop with a loom and a roof over my head. One day, I’m going to open my very own fabric shop.”
“You know,” Lorna began, but her tone was suddenly hesitant, which immediately made Jo tense. “New Castle has a bustling marketplace.”
Jo gave Lorna a quizzical look. “Why do you suggest New Castle? Why wouldn’t I set up shop right here in Durham?”
“Oh, no reason,” Lorna chirped, fidgeting with her tunic. “You just mentioned a fresh start.”
Jo put her hands on her hips. “What aren’t you telling me, Lorna?”
Lorna glanced around uneasily as if checking to make certain they were alone. “MacLemore is talking about you to anyone who will listen.”
A sick feeling invaded Jo’s stomach. “What sort of things is he saying?”
Lorna sighed. “He’s telling people that you’re a whore and a liar.”
Tears came on so suddenly that a sob escaped her lips before she pressed her hand to her mouth, choking down the emotion.
Lorna’s brow pinched together. “Oh, pet,” she crooned, opening her arms, but Jo resisted the woman’s warmth, remembering her mother’s words...
Be strong, Jo. Let no one see your weakness. Even the most well-intentioned will use it against you if they ever find themselves in trouble.
“I’m all right,” Jo forced herself to say.
Lorna gently rubbed Jo’s arm. Inwardly, she savored the contact, letting Lorna soothe her weary, broken heart.
“Your mother’s death is still fresh. I can see the pain in your eyes.
” Lorna’s own eyes brimmed with tears. “My mother passed away nearly five years ago, and I still miss her every day. May God rest her soul.” She squeezed Jo’s arm and then cleared her throat.
“I know you don’t want me to fuss over you, but take my advice, from one tough woman to another; you need to cry out your heartache.
It will eat a hole inside you if you don’t. ”
“Thank you, Lorna.” She cleared her throat, then dusted her hands off on her apron. “I better get back to work. If I’m to leave town sooner than later, I’ll need coin for supplies.”
“Do you have a place to go?”
Jo dragged her fingers across her forehead, which had started pounding. She closed her eyes, thinking about Lorna’s question.
A place to go...
She couldn’t go home to Toonan, not after the numerous times over the last two years that she had promised her mother. Even on her death bed, her mother had, once again, made Jo swear she would never return to Toonan on her own.
Then she remembered the bishop’s advice. Go to Haddington Abbey. The abbot will welcome you. He will give you a purpose.
If a fresh start was what she needed, God had given her one.
She looked at Lorna. “Don’t worry about me. I have a place to go.”
Jo stared hard at the door in front of her, which she had been doing for what felt like the better part of an hour.
“Just knock,” she softly hissed at herself.
A purse awaited her on the other side of the door. All she had to do to get it was...
“Blast,” she cursed aloud, feeling her cheeks flush just at the idea of giving herself to Ian. She shook the innocent thoughts from her head. “What does it matter? The world already thinks me a whore.”
She raised her fist to knock, but let her hand fall back to her side. Pressing her forehead into the door, she squeezed her eyes shut against the pain twisting her heart. “Keep breathing, keep fighting.”
Forgive me, Da.
She rapped her knuckles on the door.
After a moment, the door swung wide. Ian flashed her a sleepy smile. “I had given up on ye coming.”
She swallowed hard, taking in the sleek, sinewy contours of his bare chest and muscular shoulders. She craned her neck back to meet his gaze. Dear God, did he have to be so big?
“I’ve come,” she said lamely, not knowing what to say.
He stepped aside, a lazy smile curving his lips. “Welcome.” Gesturing to the table near the brazier, he said, “I sent for some food. There’s bread and cheese and pigeon pies that I bought at market earlier today.”
Her legs felt flimsy as she stepped into the room.
Keep breathing. Keep fighting.
She glanced at the table. Despite her gnawing hunger, she couldn’t think about food. “I’m not hungry.”
He smiled. “No matter, join me for a drink then. I have warm mead and wine.”
Why did he delay?
“Could we just get right to it?” she blurted, wishing her humiliation to be over.
He jerked his head up from where he stood, pouring the wine. She could see the surprise on his face. “Er...if that is yer wish.” Then he pointed to the bed. “At least make yerself comfortable.”
He turned away, crossing the room to a rough-hewn wooden chair in the corner where he seized a satchel and began digging around in it.
Make yerself comfortable—she knew what that meant.
Swallowing hard, she seized her tunic. Her hands trembling, she started to pull the wool over her head.
“What in blazes are ye doing, lass!”
She jumped, her heart racing. Was she doing it wrong? She tried to pull her tunic back on, but her nerves made her hands shake. She couldn’t find the hole for her head. “Damn it,” she cursed.
“Hold still, lass. Let me help ye.” Ian tugged her tunic back in place. “Are ye hot or sick?”
“I...I thought,” she swallowed hard.
He must have changed his mind, but she needed his coin to get north. “Don’t you still want me?”
His eyes flashed wide. “Nay...I mean aye—ye’re beautiful and fiery and exciting, but that’s not why I asked ye to come up here.”
“Do you mean to say that you’re simply going to give me the money?”
“Och, lass,” he crooned, lightly clasping her hand.
“It looks like I owe ye another apology. I’m afraid that I didn’t make myself clear earlier.
Ye see, I asked ye up here because I didn’t want anyone downstairs to see me give ye such a big bag of coin.
I worried someone might try to relieve ye of it before ye had a chance to buy yer new loom. ”
She staggered back. “Oh, God, what you must think of me.” Stumbling toward the door, she cried, “I have to get out of here!”
“Wait!”
She froze, her fingers a breath from the door handle.
“Please.”
Hearing his gentle plea, she slowly turned around, although she could not bring herself to meet his gaze.
“Hold out yer hand,” he said softly.
Cautiously, she reached out her hand.
Despite his massive size, his touch was feather soft as he cradled her palm in his. Gently, slowly, he smoothed his thumb across her palm.
“How long have ye been a weaver?”
She looked up, surprised by his question. “I first learned when I was very young.”
“Do ye scrub and dye yer own wool?”
“When the job demands it, I do.”
He seemed to consider her hand for another moment, but then he cleared his throat and said, “close yer eyes.”
She cocked a wary brow at him.
“Don’t ye trust me?”
“Is that supposed to be a jest?” she said dryly.
He chuckled. “All right. Don’t close yer eyes.
In fact, be sure ye don’t blink at all.” From behind his back, he produced a bag of coin, which he set in her hand.
“Ye will find enough to pay for what Ramsay’s great arse shattered, plus a wee extra, which I feel ye more than deserve to truly compensate ye for yer trouble. ”
The weight of the purse made her hand dip.
Her heart pounded. “Thank you,” she said breathlessly and turned on her heel, rushing to the door.
Throwing it open, she stepped out into the hallway, but then she paused and looked back, once more, taking in the sight of his half-clad, sinewy physique.
“I’m going to forget all about you,” she lied.
“Promise that you’ll forget about me, too, especially...
you know...our little misunderstanding.”
Heat shone in his sky-blue eyes, making her heart race faster.
“Never,” he vowed softly. “I’ll never forget ye.”