Page 36 of A Two-Faced Laird
“What kind of stories did she tell you?” Edina asked, smiling. “Stories from a book or ones that she made up herself?”
“Both,” he replied, “but the ones I liked best were the ones she invented. She is still very creative in that way, but she stopped telling me stories when you arrived to stay with us. She said I was too big for all that baby stuff.”
He sounded sad.
“But you do not mind being a baby now?” Edina asked, laughing softly.
“Not right now,” he replied, reaching up a hand to stroke her face. “Do you think I am a baby?”
His tone was innocent and suggestive at the same time, and Edina giggled.
“You certainly did not behave like one this afternoon!” she reminded him. “Now listen to this story. I read it in a book, so it is not my own, but I found it quite enchanting.
There was once a very rich young lady called Robina, who lived in a castle overlooking a village called Bleakburn. The villagers there were mostly kind and treated each other well, and they respected the Laird, Robina’s father, who was a fair and just man.
However, one day a stranger came into their midst, and everything changed. He was a small, ugly man, with a bent nose that had a wart on the end of it. His clothes were dirty, his legs were bowed, so he had to walk with a stick, and he had cross eyes. He sat down in the street with a begging bowl and asked for some food and drink because he was hungry and thirsty, but no one would come near him because he was so ugly. Not one person would take pity on him.
He went into the woods and got some chestnuts and a few berries to eat, then found the body of a squirrel that he cooked and ate in the woods. He went down to the burn and washed himself, then he sneaked into a stable so that the heat of the horses’ bodies would keep him warm, and went to sleep on a tattered blanket.
However, the next morning, the owner of the horses came into the stable and found the man. He shouted at him, then began to kick and beat him, and by and by a crowd came around to laugh and make fun of the poor man.
Robina had just come into the village and was about to ride past when her attention was attracted by the sound of the derisive laughter and screaming. She dismounted from her pony and followed the sound, to find that a number of the villagers had formed a crowd around the man. They were taunting him, spitting at him, calling him rude names, and some were even throwing stones.
‘Stop!’ she cried, and plunged into the mob. They made way for her at once, since she was the Laird’s daughter, and she bent down to see how the stranger was. The man was curled up in a ball, and she had to reassure him that she meant him no harm, and she would take him to safety.
She called some of her guards to help her, then took him back to her castle, where she fed him and nursed him until he had recovered from his terrible experience. She found out that his name was Fergus, and that he came from far away on the Isle of Skye.
‘Would you like to work at the castle?’ Robina asked, but Fergus shook his head.
‘No, Mistress,’ he replied. ‘I am on my way to see my father, but I was robbed, ye see. I must be on my way.’
‘You have had very bad luck,’ Robina said sadly.
‘Not any more,’ Fergus said, smiling. ‘You see, Mistress, I am not quite what I seem.’
Then he rose from his bed, and Robina was startled to see that his legs had straightened, and he was much taller. When she looked at his face, she could see that his nose was straight, the wart was gone, and his eyes, which had been a muddy grey colour, were a bright, startling blue. He was one of the most handsome men she had ever seen.
She was speechless, and could do nothing but stare at him for a while, then he smiled at her.
‘Who are you?’ she asked, mystified and somewhat frightened.
‘I am the Angel of Love,’ he replied, smiling at her. ‘And I am here to tell you that because you have given charity to a poor stranger who needed it, you will be blessed with love for the rest of your life.’
And before Robina could say another word, the man had disappeared, but he had spoken the truth. Shortly after that, Robina met and married the love of her life, and they lived happily ever after,”
Edina looked down at Aidan, whose eyes had drifted closed. In sleep, he looked boyish and vulnerable, and she felt her heart melt with tenderness. She smiled and began to stroke his hair, loving its warmth and satiny feel, its colour and gloss, which always reminded her of ripe chestnuts.
Presently, his eyes opened and he smiled at her drowsily.
“Did you hear any of that story?” Edina asked.
“Not very much,” he admitted. “I am a bit tired.” He yawned and stretched, almost tumbling off Edina’s lap.
“Time you were in bed,” Edina suggested.
“I wish you could come with me,” Aidan whispered.
He pulled her head down for another soft kiss, then sighed. The only woman he had ever wanted was staring him in the face, and yet his father had forbidden him to have anything to do with her. He reached up and stroked her cheek.
