Page 20 of The Highlander's Captured Bride
His eyes fluttered closed; he sucked in a deep breath and then nodded. “Aye, we must dae our part.” He nodded to a stall behind him. “Yer disguise is inside there, change and we can head out.”
Nibbling her lip, Violet sighed and then went to change. Ethan’s pain, that she felt so dearly, was like a steel band around her heart. She swallowed over the ache while changing quickly. She stepped out while fixing her wig and saw Ethan staring blankly into the distance, a mask of strength in place of the one of pain. His lifted his chin and his defiant stance had her hoping that he was committed and focused on finding this woman.
“I’m ready,” she said quietly.
His gaze was calm, “Yer horse is ready, and I have food in case we do get hungry on the way or in Turren.”
“Before we go,” she said, fishing something from her pocket, a woolen Monmouthcap, big enough to hide his hair, “Here, wear this.”
Ethan ducked his head. She used her fingers to comb his thick locks back, silently surprised at the softness she felt, before she placed the brim over his head and tugged it down to his ears. Stepping away, she smiled. “Perfect.”
His crooked smile was fleeting but it still pleased her. Violet grasped his shoulders as he lifted her on her horse, and then watched as he mounted his. They took the same hilly path and, as before, the surroundings were beautiful. The hills had a deeper shade of green and the sky shimmered a light azure. There was silence between them until Ethan broke it.
“Faither is giving me a year to transition into the Lairdship position,” he said. “But I keep fearing that I will never scramble up to the level Finley was on.”
Violet's mind flew back to when her mother died. “Ethan, when me maither died, there was a gaping hole in our home. As a devoted daughter, I tried to take on what she would dae in the home. I learned to cook at an early age, I cleaned, I made sure there was nothin’ to frustrate Faither when he came home.”
He was looking directly at her, with deep apprehension, and she continued, hoping to allay his fear, “Even with all me efforts, I learned quickly enough that nay one can equally measure up to the person who filled the spot before them. I never filled me maither’s space and that was just in ahome. Ye now will have to take care of a wholeLairdship.Ethan, the hard truth is ye cannae fill Finley’s boots. What ye can dae is forge yer own path and make the people love ye for ye.”
His head swiveled, “How old were ye were ye came to that realization?”
“Four-and-ten,” she said as her mount began a quick trot. “Before that, I floundered, wondering what I was doing wrong. The food did not taste the same, the house always felt cold, me faither was distant. When I finally realized that I would never be me maither, the burden became lighter.”
They were nearing in on the first town, but they kept straight on the main road and soon sped past it. The land was level enough for them to kick their pace up to a canter. Speaking between them became difficult as the wind stole the words between them. They maintained their silence while they rode to the next town. The path to that town took them down a hill into a village nestled in a picturesque valley. On the crest of the hill, Violet stopped her horse just to look.
A vee of grassy hillsides, dotted with scrubby bushes at the bases, bracketed a village of golden wooden houses. A thick line of blue snaked its way through the middle, bisecting the town in two, both halves connected by a large black-stone bridge that shimmered under the sunlight.
Her eyes drank in the sight with relish. It felt so charming that she voiced that is should be immortalized in a painting or a tapestry.
Ethan came close enough that his thigh brushed hers. “Many of our woodworkers and masons come from this town. As we pass through, you’ll see their handiwork.”
“It’s stunning,” she remarked. “The people must be happy to live here. It looks so peaceful.”
“It is,” he confirmed. “Sadly, the river passes through salty rock under the mountain, so no fish live in it. They get fish from us and our loch and sometimes beef from our herds.”
Spurring her horse forwards, Violet began the rest of the decent. They came to the base of the hill and began to trot towards the entrance of the township. “Where dae ye ken we might start to search?”
“The same as before, the market and then a tavern, that is, if we have time,” Ethan said. “The town after this one has an inlet dock of a very large loch where ships do come in from the lowland; we might start looking there too.”
Violet heard him, but her attention was locked on her surroundings. The houses were mostly quaint one-story wooden cottages with thatch and slate roofs, but in the middle of the town was a tall stone church with an arch for the entrance and steeple.
“The market’s over there.” He inclined his head to the west. “I dinnae ken if we can find much, as the market days are before the sabbath where they stock up on food for the evening, and it’s the middle of the week now. The culture here is that all except children and feeble adults fast for the day and while they go to church. They hold fast to the rule ofsix days shall ye labor.”
Nodding with his clarification, Violet headed to the market with Ethan’s horse plodding along beside her. The market had no sign or post but the tents and stalls made it clear what it was. A few people were lingering there, standing near their stalls with food piled on them.
Violet slid off the saddle and looked around, feeling concerned. Had they come all this way for nothing? Perhaps after this, they would have to go door-to-door with the villagers. There were only two to question here and she felt that nothing would come from them. Still, they had to try.
She handed the leading rein to Ethan who secured it to a hitching post, then went to the first person. It was a woman, middle-aged with thinning dark hair and bright green eyes.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” Ethan said. “I’m from Clan MacFerson, I’m sure ye might have heard about Master MacFerson’s death—” the woman nodded, “— but before that, he left some orders. A woman he had pledged to help through her troubles is naywhere to be found and we’re trying to find her. Dae ye ken of a woman with dark hair, light blue eyes, and a scar on her forehead? She has the skills of a healer, making potions and such healing draughts.”
The woman shook her head, “I dinnae ken anyone with those features or such occupation, good sir. The healers we have here are elderly cottage wives that grow herbs in their garden. A physician from Clan Hofte comes around three times per year or when we send for him.”
“Are there any women here with a child and nay husband?” Ethan asked again. “He might have died suddenly or left without a word?”
“Nay,” she shook her head, “The closest thing to that I can ken of is a woman whose husband left the village, but then he sent for her and they make a life in Edina now.”
Ethan shot her a disappointed look before nodding to the woman, “Thank ye for yer time.”
