Chapter Twenty-Eight
The journey north to Ledmore had taken much longer than Lilia had imagined.
It was winter, which meant the weather was vicious at times even though Brody had assured her that it was a mild winter in the Highlands from his experience.
Given the fact that she had spent her entire life either at her aunt’s home in SelBrody or at Hawkhill, a journey of this magnitude was overwhelming.
The path was not easy, nor was it swift.
At times, the weather turned sour and they were forced to seek refuge.
Once, when they reached the village of Killiecrankie, a snowstorm blew in and they spent five solid days bunking with a farmer and his wife.
That hadn’t been too terrible, in truth, as the couple was more than happy for the company and Lilia spent those days helping the farmer’s wife and playing with their small children.
It had magical moments.
Brody had watched his new wife playing with the children, thinking that she would make a wonderful mother and falling in love with her more every day. But the storm eventually cleared and they continued onward, traveling through a winter-white wonderland as they moved deeper into the Highlands.
In spite of the winter beauty, the truth was that it was very cold and Brody had purchased furs from a trapper in the town of Dunkeld that Lilia had sewed together to make two very fine cloaks.
That was the same time where he’d also purchased a mare for Lilia to ride since the burden on Aethon of two people was heavy.
Therefore, wrapped in their fur cloaks and riding separate horses, Brody and Lilia made better time through the Highlands, sometimes covering fifteen miles a day if the weather wasn’t too horrible.
Aethon had settled down admirably and was an excellent traveling horse and Lilia’s mare was sturdy and comfortable.
All things considered, the journey, though long, wasn’t as bad as it could have been.
Brody made sure to stop every night and find his wife a bed, even if that bed was a warm stable with clean straw.
He did his very best to ensure Lilia was comfortable and she was appreciative of his efforts.
It seemed that the man she’d first met, who seemed incapable of taking care of himself, was very good at taking care of others.
The man she’d first met in that dank, dirty alley no longer existed.
The Highland Protector had returned.
When their journey finally came to the seaside village of Ullapool, Brody informed Lilia that his home of Ledmore was a mere two days away and she was thrilled to realize they were nearing the end of their journey. But Brody didn’t seem too excited. In fact, he seemed subdued.
They had used some of the last of their coinage to rent a room in Ullapool at a tavern called The Queen’s Ax.
It sat on the edge of town, next to the main road, and the window of their chamber overlooked that road and the massive loch beyond.
They’d arrived at sunset and Brody had a hot bath brought to Lilia, who sat in the dented copper tub until the water cooled off and she was forced to get out.
As she dried off in front of the fire, Brody climbed into the cool water and bathed with the soap she’d brought from Hawkhill, the savon d’alep that reminded him so much of her.
He kept trying to splash her with the cold water, causing her to squeal.
She finally moved out of firing range, braiding her damp hair in the warmth of the fire.
“Stop throwing water at me or ye’ll be very sorry,” she said. “I willna be so nice tae ye and let ye use my soap.”
He grinned as he washed the soap from his hair. “I was thinking of shaving my beard for ye, but I’ll rethink that if ye’re going tae be cruel.”
She snorted. “Cruel, am I? Consider it a favor I’m doing ye because ye smell like one of those sheep we passed on the road. Ye look like one, too, with that fuzzy face.”
He laughed quietly as he began to froth up his beard with the slimy soap. “A man has a right tae smell as he pleases,” he said. “Ye’ve not complained before.”
“I am now.”
He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Fickle wench,” he said. Then, he pointed at his satchel. “Can ye find my razor? Be cautious; it’s sharp.”
Carefully, Lilia felt around in his satchel until she came across the razor he kept wrapped up in canvas.
It was the same razor that Tynan had brought him at Hawkhill those months ago.
Pulling it forth, she handed it to him, butt-end first. Brody sat in the water, looking into it, until it stopped moving enough that he could use it as a mirror.
“So ye decide tae shave that off now,” Lilia said. “Why? It keeps yer face warm.”
He took off a whole strip on the left side of his face. “Because my da will have a difficult enough time recognizing me without this forest growing on my face,” he said. “Besides… I thought ye’d rather have a clean-shaven husband.”
She was back over at the fire, brushing out the ends of her braid. “I will admit that yer whiskers are bristly like horsehair,” she said. “Sometimes, when ye kiss me, my face is raw from it.”
“I know,” he said, rinsing off the razor and waiting until the water calmed again. “I can see how red yer skin is all over yer body after we’ve fornicated.”
She frowned. “Do ye have tae call it that? That’s what Colly called it and…”
He shushed her gently. “I’m sorry, my angel,” he said. “I willna use that word again. I will simply say that we’re doing the devil’s dance.”
She looked at him in horror. “What?”
“Belly bumping?”
Lilia burst out laughing. “Nay! Brody, that’s terrible!”
He pretended to ignore her as he shaved the right side of his face. “I’ve heard it called beating the guts. Is that better?”
“Stop this instant!”
She was laughing so hard that she could scarcely breathe, which brought out the naughty boy in him. “We’ll call it docking the boat. Ye’re the dock and I’m the…”
“Enough!” Lilia was far gone with laughter, hand over her mouth. “Ye’re a terrible, terrible man. How dare ye say such things about… that. Something we do that’s an expression of our love.”
He was grinning as he looked at her; it was such an adorably dastardly grin. “And it means the world tae me,” he said, sobering. “I was only jesting, my angel. It’s good tae see ye laugh.”
She was still chuckling. “And ye,” she said. “I dunna think we’ve laughed enough. We need tae laugh more.”
“And we shall,” he said, washing the remainder of the suds from his face and rubbing his hands over his cheeks and chin. “I’ll think up more names tae call dipping my wick and I’ll make ye laugh until ye cry.”
Lilia was torn between screeching and laughter until he put up his hands in surrender. “I know,” he said. “Ye said enough. I’ll stop. Now – how does my face look?”
Lilia went over to her mischievous husband, inspecting his cheeks. “Very clean,” she said. “Ye look like the man I fell in love with.”
He beamed. “Good,” he said, splashing around again and causing her to move away from the tub. “Tomorrow, my da will actually know who I am. I hope… I truly hope he’s glad tae see me.”
He climbed out of the tub and she grew serious. “He will be, willna he?” she said. “Surely a man would be glad tae see his own son.”
Brody took the same drying linen she had used, damp from her, and began to rub his big body down with it.
“My da was a man of calm and reasonable temperament,” he said.
“I’ve not thought much about him until I met ye and forced myself tae remember things I’d tried hard tae forget.
I realize that I miss my da very much. I’m eager tae see him. ”
Lilia could see the strain on his face, the strain of longing for a loved one. Standing up from the stool she’d been sitting on, she gently pushed him to sit on it as she took the drying linen and began to dry his hair.
“Tell me about yer village,” she said. “Ye were born there, werena ye?”
Brody closed his eyes as she gently buffeted his head, remembering the place where he’d lived most of his life. It seemed like so long ago.
“Aye,” he said. “Ledmore is the small village. But the place where I was born is a tower that has been in my family for two hundred years. Latheron Tower has four floors and is built with thick walls and little windows. I was born on the second floor and my mother, Valery, passed away shortly thereafter.”
Lilia put the towel aside and picked up her comb, pulling it through his thick, brown hair. “Who raised ye?”
“My da,” he said. “I had uncles who had wives, but they were busy with my cousins. No one had time for me, but I dinna mind. My da and I were close when I was young.”
She continued to comb. “But that changed after Jedburgh.”
“Aye.”
She cocked her head thoughtfully. “He probably thinks ye’ve just run away,” she said. “What I mean is, he couldna think ye were dead, could he? Surely, he thought ye’ve run off and will return any day.”
Brody shrugged. “Possibly.”
He sat there for a few moments, enjoying her attention, letting her comb his hair until she teasingly made an attempt to braid it and he’d had enough. He stood up and went to find his clothing.
“I’m going tae go tae the common room and bring us back some warmed wine,” he said. “Is there anything else ye’d like?”
“Can I come with ye?”
“If ye dress in something proper, ye can.”
She looked down at the sleeping shift she was wearing.
As Brody pulled on his leather breeches and not one but two heavy tunics, she quickly donned the dark green wool that Lady Currie had given her.
It was tight around the bust but flowing everywhere else, with sleeves that were long enough to wrap her hands up in.
It was warm and comfortable, and Brody took her hand as they headed down into the common room of the bustling tavern.
Given that snow flurries had started again, the tavern was full. People were piling in from outside, finding any space available to stay warm. The hearth was low and wide, and it gave off an enormous amount of heat into the small, stuffy room.