Page 20 of The Outlaw's Bride
“Well, that’s enough to keep us fed during the journey. It’s just as well we are traveling by boat, because three pennies won’t by ye a donkey, let alone two horses.”
Adaira fell silent. Lachlann’s words reminded her how frivolous she’d been over the years. She wished she’d managed to save more than three silver pennies. Rhona had often teased her about her love for fine fabric, and perfumed oils and soaps. She never missed the monthly market at Dunvegan village, and what coins her father had given her at each Yuletide were spent there.
Frankly, she was surprised she’d managed to save anything at all.
Her fickle ways embarrassed her. She wondered how she must appear to Lachlann Fraser. A silly goose of a girl, with a head full of nonsense.
“Stay with the boat. I’ll be back soon.”
Lachlann watched disappointment shadow Lady Adaira MacLeod’s hazel eyes. “Can’t I come with ye?”
Lachlann shook his head. That was the last thing he wanted. They’d landed just below the village of Geary, a small crofting hamlet that sat on the north-western coast of the isle.
And within MacLeod lands.
Fortunately, Adaira had no idea of their real location.
Traveling this way put Lachlann on edge. Sailing around the coast of MacLeod territory made him nervous. They were close to Dunvegan now, far too close for his liking.
He couldn’t risk having Adaira recognized by one of the village folk at Geary. If she spoke to any of them, the game would be up too, for she’d know instantly that they were still upon the Isle of Skye.
“Someone needs to look after the boat,” he pointed out. “It’s faster if I go alone.” He carried one of the silver pennies from Adaira’s purse; it would be enough to buy them a decent meal for tonight and enough food for tomorrow morning. He estimated that, at their current speed, they’d reach Talasgair by noon the following day.
Not waiting for her to voice another objection, Lachlann turned and made his way up the shore, toward the narrow path that climbed the hill. He needed to make this journey quickly and draw as little attention to himself as possible. The sooner they were back on the water and rowing away from MacLeod lands, the better.
Adaira was starting to ask too many questions. Although sheltered, the lass was highly perceptive and missed little.
Geary was tiny, little more than a handful of crofters’ huts huddled together upon a bleak, windswept hillside. Lachlann knocked on the door of the first hut he encountered, and a woman with two bairns hanging off her skirts answered.
“I don’t have much,” she said, beckoning him in, “but for a penny I can fix ye a meal.”
Lachlann flashed her a charming smile. “A weary traveler thanks ye.”
The woman smiled back, her gaze coy. Lachlann wondered where her husband was; he hoped the man wasn’t due back anytime soon. He didn’t want any questions.
“I’m a widow,” the woman told him as she went to a bench and retrieved a loaf of coarse bread.
Relief suffused Lachlann, although wariness swiftly followed. She had the look of a woman in search of a new husband.
“I’m sorry to hear it,” he replied.
“Drowned,” she continued, cutting the loaf in half. She then reached for a wheel of cheese. “Left me with these two to raise on my own.”
Two grubby faces peered up at Lachlann in the dim light inside the hut.
Lachlann didn’t reply. He didn’t want to encourage the woman. Instead, he watched as she filled a cloth bag with the bread, cheese, and four boiled eggs. His mouth filled with saliva at the thought of the coming meal. He hadn’t eaten anything since those three buns on the morning after their escape from Dunvegan. His belly now burned with hunger.
A penny would have bought him far more in town, but this woman was poor.
He pressed the coin into her palm with a smile and took the cloth bag from her. He then held up the empty water bladder Adaira had given him. “I don’t suppose ye have some boiled water I could fill this with?”
“Aye,” the woman replied, holding his gaze. She was blonde and curvaceous with a bold stare. “But I’ve something better than that.” She motioned to the barrel behind her. “Apple wine.”
Lachlann’s smile stretched into a grin. “That’ll do nicely.”
A short while later he left the hut, a sack of food and drink in hand.
The woman followed him to the door, her two children still clinging to her like limpets. She batted at them, irritated, but they wouldn’t let go. “There’s no need to rush off,” she called after him. “Dusk will be upon us shortly. Why don’t ye stay the night?”
