Elizabeth lay wrapped in his arms, fighting back the tears that had threatened for hours. Ever since...
Ever since the most wonderful experience of her life.
Now she waited for the rebuke and repudiation to come. If she was a coward for lying here in silence, savoring these last few moments in his embrace before the inevitable ending, so be it.
The first bit of sunlight found her still awake and wondering what Jamie would do and what he would say. She’d promised to teach him to make oatcakes, but would he even care about that this morn? No longer content to wait about, she slipped free of him and gathered her clothes and dressed. She smiled as she realized she’d slept, and been tupped, in her stockings and low boots.
She found his muddied clothes from his pursuit of the wayward horse and took them outside, brushing the worst of the dried, caked dirt from them. Turning them inside out and rolling them up, Elizabeth planned to wash them when they found a good place to do so. Then, she went back inside to do the thing she’d promised him she would do before everything between them had changed.
Within a few minutes, she was mixing together some of the oats, a bit of salt she’d found, a small amount of honey and some water. She had no butter to add, but these plain oatcakes would fill their bellies. After adding some peat to the low fire, she put the heavy griddle pan on to heat it. Stepping quietly so as not to wake him, she only realized Jamie was awake when he reached out and grabbed her gown as she passed by him.
“I have the oatcakes ready to cook,” she said, trying for a brighter tone than what she felt. And purposely avoiding any talk about what had happened between them.
He sat up then, pushing the blankets aside as he stood and stretched. And damn her eyes! Elizabeth watched every move he made in case this was the last time she would see him so. If he noticed he said nothing as he walked outside to see to his needs and to check on the horse...and the weather. By the time he returned, the first batch of cakes were cooking on the griddle, filling the small dwelling with the delicious aroma of oats baking. He dressed before saying anything to her.
“So what ingredients did you use?” he asked, walking up behind her as she took the first batch off and dropped spoonfuls of new batter on the hot surface. She felt the heat of his body from where he stood looking over her shoulder.
“Oats, salt, honey and water,” she said, trying to ignore the longing within her heart to reach out to him and beg him to forgive her for the deception she played on him. Instead, she concentrated on the words she could say. “I would have added some butter if I was at home, but they will turn out without it in a pinch.”
“I think this qualifies as a pinch, does it not?” he asked as he stepped away and began to gather up all the clothing they’d removed from their bags.
She noticed he would glance over at her every so often and she waited for him to say something. But he did not. By the time she’d finished cooking the last of the cakes, he’d packed all their belongings and supplies and put them by the door of the shieling. Soon, they would leave and all evidence of what wondrous things had happened between them would be gone.
But not forgotten. Not by her. Not for a very long time.
Not ever.
She set the plate on the table and poured some water into the cups now. He took his place on the other stool and lifted one of the oatcakes to his mouth. She waited, his opinion being important to her after their teasing about her cooking abilities. He bit into it and chewed. Then he took more. She chose one but waited for him to finish his before beginning.
“For a bit of oats, salt, honey and water, these are delicious, Elizabeth,” he said. He smiled but did not meet her gaze. “Clearly you can cook oatcakes.”
Another deception on her part and one that had been going on for some time. Not even her mother knew of her true cooking abilities for, though skilled in it, she hated it. So, she purposely ruined meals until she was allowed to do the thing she enjoyed more—working with her aunt.
She thought on her aunt’s plan and realized it might be a godsend, for when she returned this time in shame, Connor would never let her stay. At least, he might consider sending her along with her aunt, far from Lairig Dubh in one of the cities.
“Jamie,” she began before losing any words she planned to say to him. How could she explain?
“You were not a virgin,” he said, softly. Neither his tone nor his expression gave away his feelings on the matter. He stated it as the fact it was.
“Nay.”
“When?” he asked without meeting her eyes. She understood the significance of his question even if it was asked in a calm voice. Did she carry another man’s bairn?
“More than a year ago,” she whispered. “Jamie, I...” Again, unable to defend herself, she let the words drift off into the silence.
She reached out to touch his hand, but he moved it before she could. Did he think she would deny it? She waited for him to speak, but he said nothing while reaching for another of the oatcakes. They continued to eat their fill without speaking, with the only sounds being the water jug or the plate being passed between them.
Elizabeth rose and wrapped the ones left to take with them and used the water to put out the fire. Jamie checked it and once content that it was out, he began to carry the bags outside. By the time she’d cleaned and put away the griddle and water jug and gathered her own bag, he had the horse saddled and the rest of their bags secured.
He pulled the door of the shieling closed and tied the rope to keep wild animals and the like from getting inside. Then he mounted and held out his hand to her to help her up. ’Twas at that time she noticed the thick blanket he’d placed behind his saddle, where she would sit. At first, it confused her, but then the reason became clear—he thought she would be uncomfortable riding this morning.
Truth be told, she was sore, though not as much as she’d been that first time. Not a virgin, however she was not accustomed to tupping and not as vigorously as they had. Now, she felt heat enter her cheeks as she thought of just how vigorous it had been. Coughing to clear her throat, she accepted his hand-up and adjusted the skirts of her gown and shift and the length of her cloak around her legs. Trews were absolutely more convenient for riding, but her family and most of the village would be scandalized if they witnessed it.
Jamie guided the horse down the now-drying path at a slow pace. Though the rains had stopped several hours before, the mud would take longer to dry out completely—if it did before the next storms passed through the area. They made it back to the bottom of the hill and Jamie surprised her by heading south.
“Where are you heading?” she asked over his shoulder. Surely after last night’s discovery, he would call things off between them.
“To the village. Where else would we be going?” he said, drawing the horse to a halt. “Nothing has changed, Elizabeth.” And yet it had, in so many ways she could not even begin to identify or describe.
