Page 41 of The Highlander's Pirate Bride

Smiling broadly, Maxwell shouldered her satchel and they made their way along the road to the west.

They trudged throughout the day enduring sudden rain-squalls, Aileen protecting her shoulder, Maxwell’s back and shoulders aching from his extended time at the oars.

Stumbling on the rutted cart tracks, Aileen cursed.

“Dinnae fash,” Maxwell soothed. “These roads are the shortest ways tae travel between villages. We’ll make better time if we stick tae them.”

They passed a number of farmers carts slow-walking back to their farms, and before long the village and the farms were behind them. The only sign of life for many miles was a straggle of stone cottages where crofter families worked their small plots of land.

Many times throughout the day, Maxwell turned to watch the road behind them. Once or twice a horseman cantering toward them had them leave the road and find a hiding place in the thickets of undergrowth lining the road, until the fellow passed.

Aileen peeked out at one of the riders. “He’s nay one of Sutherland’s. With crimson cheeks and a nose such as his, he’s likely the local innkeeper, or a landed gentlemen wi’ too much money tae spend imbibing wine and porter.”

It was dusk when their steps began to slow.

They’d called at one croft and purchased some hard-boiled eggs and oat bread. Aileen had refilled her flask from the cold, clearwater of a bubbling stream they’d passed and as the darkness fell, they hunkered down beside the road to dine on their modest repast.

Aileen shivered, rubbing her arms for warmth and tugging her cloak more firmly around her. As the road had climbed higher into the hills, the temperature had dropped alarmingly and now the first flakes of sleet were falling around them.

“I’m tempted to ask the crofters if they’ve room in the animals’ quarters. It might nae smell pleasing, but their creatures would keep us warm.”

“Nay, Maxwell. Dinnae ask fer aid from these poor folk. It would please Sutherland nay end tae torment or torture them if he found out they’d offered us shelter.”

“Aye. Ye’re right. I dinnae wish tae risk harm coming tae these kind folk. ’Tis best we keep tae ourselves. Let’s press on a little further and see if we can find a better place tae shelter.”

He helped her rise and the two of them set off into the gathering gloom, his arm wrapped protectively at her waist.

It was almost dark when Maxwell noticed the looming shape of a cottage as they passed by on the road. There were no lights and the place seemed deserted.

“Wait here.” He left Aileen to wait by the road and went to investigate. It was as he’d thought; the cottage was empty,but still standing. Where once it must have been sturdy, with strong roof beams holding up a peat roof, some of the turf had crumbled and fallen and birds had nested in the space in the roof. But the stone walls held fast, with no holes to let in the draught. There were even a cooking pot and a kettle on the floor by the circle of stones that had been the fireplace. An old timber bench and a rough palette stood in mute testimony to the life that had once been lived here.

His spirits lifted and he hastened back to Aileen.

“The crofters are long gone, but they’ve left us a bonny space tae spend the night.”

She greeted this with a giant grin and hurried with him along the path to the cottage. Once through the creaking timber door she looked around and was quick to give instructions.

“I’ll seek fer some dry kindling while ye find some bigger branches we can use fer a fire.”

He laughed at her imperious commands but, all the same, set off into the little woodland behind the cottage. It was almost impossible to see where he was going, but he stumbled upon a fallen branch and then another large log. He lugged the pieces back to the cottage. They’d provide a fine fire that would keep them warm through the night.

Aileen was already kneeling beside the stone fireplace at the center of the room, having gathered a supply of twigs and dry leaves they could use fer kindling.

He struck his flint, and within moments small flames were leaping up. A spiral of smoke went straight to the space in the roof above. Before long he placed one of his logs on the little fire and slowly it caught fire.

Without waiting any longer, Aileen went outside again, returning some minutes later with an armful of bracken.

“This will give us a soft bed fer the night.”

As the ferns were damp, she placed them close enough to the fire for a while to dry off. Once the makeshift bedding was dry, she arranged the fronds on the wooden sleeping palette.

“There.” She looked at them proudly. “With yer cloak as a cover they’ll soften the timber fer us to sleep.”

He grinned, pleased that she’d still the energy to think of making their sleep comfortable. “Good work, lass.”

He went to the door and looked out, scanning the dark shapes of the trees, straining his ears to listen over the wind. Satisfied that they were alone, he pushed some heavy stones against the door, keep it firmly closed against the chill of the breeze.

“I fear that the sleet is already becoming snow.” Aileen rubbed her hands in front of the flames.

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