I tasted it.'It is perfect,' I told him.
'It is burned,' Hugh said.
'It is not,' I denied.And it was not.A few moments later I licked the last of the fish from my fingers.Hugh was watching me through a fringe of auburn hair.When I met his gaze, he looked away.
'Best get some sleep,' he said.'We have to get out of Tarras tonight and the Armstrongs will be looking for us.'
I had not realised how tired I was until I lay down beside a tree and woke up some hours later.I stretched, wondered why I ached in every muscle in my body and decided to stop stretching.Instead, I pushed myself to my feet and looked around.The light was beginning to fade into that deliciously sombre golden autumn glow, enhanced by the dead leaves that were falling from the trees.Everything was peaceful, with the scent of damp earth and faded flowers, a slight wind wafting through waving branches and the gentle gurgle of the burn.
I was hungry, so finished the last of the blackberries and found a sliver of meat on Hugh's trout.I also realised that I was extremely dirty.Well, there was a simple solution to that; wash in the burn.That raised one problem: where was Hugh?
He was nowhere near the camp, and the horses were unattended.They had not wandered far during the day and grazed happily at the side of the burn.I decided that he had either gone to seek more food or was scouting our route for the night.So much had happened the last few days that my head was in turmoil.I needed some time to think and somehow, I knew that we did not have much time.Eventually, the Armstrongs would tighten the noose, quite literally too.First things first, I had to get washed and get the muck out of my hair.
With Hugh absent, I needed to find a secluded spot on the burn.I would not go downstream into the open land of the moss where the Armstrongs could well be out on patrol or reiving business, so instead, I pushed deeper into the woodland.
I smiled at the sound of splashing ahead: a waterfall would be the perfect place to wash.The closer I moved the pricklier and dirty I felt until I was frantic to strip my clothes off and plunge into fresh, cool water.I passed a twisted silver birch, whose branches stretched right across the burn, and stopped.Somebody else had thought of bathing first: I had found Hugh and the sight made me widen my eyes.
I stepped back behind the cover of the birch, knowing that I should not watch but having no intention of walking away or letting Hugh know that I was there.Instead, I settled myself comfortably as a late-evening shaft of sunlight dappled a wondrous little glade where the thin white thread of the waterfall tinkled happily down and Hugh bathed, unaware of my presence.
In his unclad condition, he seemed taller than I had thought: a shade over six foot, and broader in the shoulder and chest than I had thought.I watched as he stood waist-deep beside the surge of the waterfall that thundered between two moss-furred rocks to descend twenty feet into a rock-lined pool, feathered with ferns and bright with that evening sun.He turned away from me with the water foaming around him, and the muscles of his back glistening wet.Raising his arms high, he stepped right under the fall.The water cascaded over him as he looked upward, scrubbing his hands through his hair and over his face, trying to remove the filth of the dungeon.
I had never seen a man take such care to be clean before.The boys I knew were perfunctory at best when they washed.It was quite fascinating to see Hugh in this situation, with his auburn hair sleeked to his head and his upper body a-shimmer beneath the foaming water: it was a sight I knew I would always remember.He stepped back from the waterfall and crouched with his hands busy underneath the water.I felt my mouth open as I realised which parts of him he was washing and stifled a giggle.I had not thought, but of course, men had to wash those places as well.Or some men anyway.
Without looking around, Hugh walked to the edge of the burn and onto the bank.He was all man and that is all that I will say about my first view of him totally unclothed.I felt my heartbeat increase as he strode to the clothes he had piled at the side of the water.He turned his back, giving me a glorious view of the rippling muscles of his back and slender, muscular buttocks that held my attention for an unconscionable length of time.All Borderers are bred to the saddle and that gives us fine legs and firm bottoms, yet this was the first time in my life that I was affected by the sight.I felt the pace of my heart increase as the breath caught in my throat.
At first, I was unsure what he was doing until I saw him take his clothes one by one to the water and scrub them between his hands before squeezing them dry.I was not sure why I found that interesting, but I did.Finally, when he had his washed clothes in a neat pile at his side, Hugh slid the knife from its sheath, splashed his face and began to shave.Have you ever watched a man shave?His face goes through a thousand contortions as he searches for every last elusive hair and patch of stubble.Hugh thought he was ugly; I only thought he looked comical as he shaved and I felt strangely proprietorial as I watched, almost as if I owned part of him, as if this strange, naked, not-handsome man was… was what?As if this man was mine?
I knew he was not.Robertwas mine; I had known that since first I had my vision when I was around five years old.That was immutable, inviolable; whatever strange emotions I felt for Hugh, he could never be mine.
Nor could the Yorling be mine, despite the feeling of closeness and trust that I had immediately felt for that gallant young man.My emotions for that black-haired young gallant had been different again, although I could not find the words to describe them.
'You can come out now,' Hugh spoke loudly.'Jeannie; you can come out from behind that birch tree.'He stood naked and unashamed beside the burn, looking in my direction.
Oh, dear God in heaven!He knew I was watching!
I came out, feeling very silly and very small.
'You will want to wash now,' this amazing man said.'Be careful as you approach the waterfall; there are some slippery stones underfoot.'
I am sure my mouth gaped open as I stood there, saying nothing.Hugh lifted his still damp clothes, draped them over his arm and walked slowly toward our camp.Despite my embarrassment, I watched every movement of his body.He spoke over his shoulder.'I will get us something to eat before we set off.'
I did not know what to say.If anything, I felt embarrassed, even ashamed at having watched him, yet I would not have missed those few moments for the world.Even now as I look back, after years of marriage, I remember how I felt watching Hugh Veitch at that waterfall.
I washed without enthusiasm, aware that Hugh was in the vicinity, part hoping that he would sneak up to watch me yet desperately hoping he did not.I knew, somehow, that he would not; he was a true gentleman, damn him.As I have written elsewhere, being born at midnight on Midsummer's Eve could be a blessing or a curse.Those feelings, those insights of knowledge, could be very uncomfortable.
We did not talk much as we prepared to leave that forest.I avoided Hugh's eyes through shame, and he was silent; I thought he was angry.Perhaps he was.He may also have been amused.I still am not sure.
'You look even better when you are washed and shiny,' Hugh said at length as he readied the horses.
'Thank you.'I touched my hair.'Even with my long black hair?'
'It suits you,' he said.
'Does that mean it suits my black heart?'I fished for his true thoughts, or perhaps for a compliment.
'I mean it suits you,' he said.'There were two parties of Armstrongs in the Moss during the day.'
'They did not see us.'I hoped to break the stiffness and return to something of the easy familiarity of the night before.
