“Why is that?” Isla asked him, confused. “I always thought soldiers drank like fish.”
“I never allow drunkenness in me camp. It creates a lack of discipline, and if there’s an emergency, I need every man tae be alert, includin’ ye,” he told her.
She nodded, understanding the wisdom behind his insistence, and finding herself admiring the way he always seemed to put his men and his duty first. “I dinnae hardly drink,” she replied, forgetting she was supposed to have met the man who hired her to kill him in inn. “But I’m sure I’ll enjoy the party anyway.”
That evening, instead of eating supper in the tent, they went with everyone else to the rallying point. Isla was amazed to see how the cooks had laid out trestles loaded with all the confiscated supplies. In addition, someone had killed a boar, and it was turning on a spit, filling the air with the mouthwatering aromas of roasting meat.
“That’s quite a feast!” she exclaimed in wonder before her thoughts turned to those inside the castle. There would be no such feasting for them, and she could not help wondering how long the supplies she had so recently inventoried would last. With so many people needing to be fed, even with the supplies the farmers had brought with them, she was sure it could only be a few weeks.
But when the boar was carved and the meat piled onto plates and passed around, she gave herself over to savoring the juicy meat, enjoying the brief respite from the strain she was under. As she was eating, she noticed that Ewan was almost like another person. He transformed into a jovial host, joking, laughing, full of bonhomie for his men, the life and soul of the party. However, she also noticed he drank only a little ale. She watched him, wondering if this was what he was like when he was not commanding his army.
He kept her close to his side at all times, and though she was essentially his captive and under his control, she realized she felt safe being with him, able to share in the carefree celebration. Thus, when he came to her and said, “I think we should leave the men tae enjoy themselves now. We should go back tae the tent,” she was a little disappointed. However, she knew there was no point arguing with him.
“All right, but can we take some of the food back with us? I’m still hungry, and there are still a few things I havenae tried yet.”
“Good idea,” he agreed. They selected the food they wanted and, after bidding the cheery company a good night, strolled back to the tent in good spirits.
Once back inside, they took off their boots and made themselves comfortable, setting out the little feast on the table and eating whatever they fancied with their fingers.
“I must say I was glad of that roasted boar,” Isla remarked after a while, savoring the sweet taste of juicy preserved cherries on her lips.
“Oh, why’s that?” Ewan asked, popping salted almonds into his mouth and crushing them loudly between his teeth.
“The smell of it cookin’ almost wiped out the stink of a hundred-odd men who’ve been stuck in a confined space fer far too long without a proper wash,” she said, grinning.
He laughed. “Ah, aye,thatstink! I ken it well, unfortunately.”
“Mmm, ’tis a very distinctive aroma. I think I prefer the smell of a stable.”
“Are ye sayin’ horse dung daesnae stink as bad as me brave lads?”
“That’s exactly what I’m sayin’. Tae be fair, I’ve nae personal experience, but I’m sure it must apply to all soldiers stuck in military camps like this, nae just yer men.”
“That makes me feel a whole lot better.” He chuckled. “I havetae admit ye’re right. But ’tis nae always easy tae keep clean when ye’re out in the field. There’s nay nice bathhouse, nay laundry, and the enemy usually stinks just as bad, so he daesnae mind.”
“Och, please dinnae tease me with such words as “bathhouse.” It makes me think of hot water and laying in a lovely steamin’ hotbath in front of the fire. I cannae tell ye how much I crave that.” Ewan looked at her curiously as she popped another preserved cherry into her mouth and regarded her rumpled, grubby outfit. She wrinkled her nose. “Come tae think of it, I’ve been wearing these same clothes fer days and days. I cannae smell too good mesel’.”
“Aye, I was wonderin’ when ye’d notice. We’ll make a proper soldier of ye yet!” he joked, and they both laughed, sharing a momentary reprieve from their situation.
“Maybe I could go down and bathe in the loch,” she suddenly said. “Honestly, I’ve never felt so filthy in me life. I’m nae sure I can stand being like this much longer without goin’ mad. It would be wonderful tae be clean again.”
“Hmm, that wouldnae be such a good idea,” he replied, shaking his head before throwing some more nuts into his mouth. “It would be very risky tae leave the camp just now, and especially nae durin’ the day. And there’d be hell tae pay if any of the men saw ye without yer clothes on.”
“Ach, I suppose ye’re right,” she had to agree, bitterly disappointed. But then an idea came to her. “Hold on, I think someone mentioned a pond, over there in the trees.” She knew very well where the pond was. She had swum in it many times, just as she had the loch. But she could not tell him that, of course. “Could we go there perhaps? There’d nae be anyone there at this time of night. We’d have it all tae ourselves.”
Ewan was examining a small lemon tart. Apparently satisfied with it, he ate it with obvious relish.
“Could we?” Isla asked again, loathe to give up on the idea of bathing.
He chewed the tart, his eyes on hers. He swallowed and said, “I dinnae ken. It may be dangerous.”
“How? There’s nae one around tae see us. Please, m’laird.”
He snorted with laughter. “Stop yer wheedlin’, I’m thinkin’ about it. And stop callin’ me “m’laird. It sounds like ye’re bein’ sarcastic. Me name’s Ewan, as well ye ken, so ye might as well use it,Annie Dean.” He spoke the name mockingly, telling her he did not believe it was hers.
She ignored the barb and gazed at him, doing her best to persuade him with her eyes. “Very well, pretty please,Ewan.”
They laughed together. “Och, all right,” he said eventually. “I suppose if I’m with ye, ye can come tae nae harm. I quite fancy a dip mesel’.”
