Cora and Minetta were exhausted by the time they reached the tavern. They had haggled with the silk merchant, a small French man, for what seemed like an eternity, but eventually, they got what they wanted at a satisfactory price.
Inside the Lamb and Shepherd, they found Clyde waiting for them in the company of several other men, all of them laughing uproariously at a very risqué tale that Clyde was telling. They had no trouble finding him in the brush, since he stood head and shoulders above the other Highland men, who were short and stocky. As well as that, his voice was stronger, deeper, and carried farther than theirs. He was speaking in Gaelic, in which he was fluent, and although Cora’s grasp of that language was merely passable, the tone of his voice and his gesticulations told her the whole story. This was a side of Clyde she had never seen before. He was not the nobleman she was used to, but earthy and honest like one of the common people. She loved it.
Presently, one of the men pointed to them, and the group’s bawdy laughter died down. Clyde shouldered his way through the crowd to meet them. “Sorry, ladies,” he said, grinning and not sounding sorry at all. “I hope your Gaelic is not good enough to understand that.”
“Good enough to get the gist of it, Brother!” Minetta said tartly. “Now go and get us some ale before we die of thirst!”
Cora giggled. “You are such a bully!”
Minetta shook her head, looking at Clyde. “He looks so big and hard and masculine,” she observed fondly, “but inside, he has the heart of a kitten. He would kill or die for those he loves.”
Just then, the man himself came back and put a glass of warm spiced ale into each of their hands. “God save me from those bloody farmers!” he said fervently, shaking his head. “They think because I am the laird that I have a secret hoard of treasure somewhere, and they make me pay for all the ale.”
Cora laughed at his woebegone face. “You love them, though,” she observed.
“I do,” he confessed. “They are so honest and straightforward. I wish I could spend more time with them, especially the children.”
Cora saw a longing in his eyes that she had never noticed before as he watched one of the men lift up a little boy, who looked about five years old, and kiss his son’s face. The child pretended to be disgusted and pushed his father away, but he was giggling, and the love between them was obvious for all to see.
“I have a feeling you will be a father very soon,” Minetta observed.
“I hope so,” Clyde murmured, smiling at Cora.
13
When they arrived back at the castle, Clyde found out that the two ladies had bought far more than they had admitted. Each of their saddlebags contained a bolt of cloth, and the guards’ horses had been used as beasts of burden as well. Altogether there were ten bolts of cloth, from plain, serviceable wool and linen to satin and velvet, as well as yards of ribbon and lace.
“My God!” Clyde said, horrified as the sheer size of the cargo was revealed and unloaded to be carried away by delighted maidservants who would coo over it and finger it for hours. “How many dresses are you making?”
“As many as Cora needs!” Minetta slapped her brother’s grimy hand as he ventured to touch a roll of shining pink satin. “She cannot keep wearing my dresses, and she needs cloaks and underthings too. Men cannot understand these things. Go away and have a bath, Clyde. A long one!”
Clyde gave her a menacing glare then stalked away.
“Men!” Minetta cast her eyes heavenwards. “Let me give you a tip, Cora. You have only to mention anything about women’s troubles to my brother, and he will disappear faster than a rat down a hole!”
Cora giggled. “I will have to remember that!”
Dinner that night was a pleasant, companionable affair, although Cora felt a little disappointed that Clyde was once more spotlessly clean. Clyde the farmer definitely had a rugged appeal!
Cora was silent as she listened to the banter between brother and sister, her mind once more wandering back to her home. She forgot about it for hours at a time, but it was always at the back of her mind, ready to pounce on her the moment she relaxed. She was tortured by the fact that the outlaws had probably ransacked the castle and sold everything that would make them a profit, and had either killed or driven away the guards. However, at least she had the consolation of knowing most of the servants had escaped through the siege tunnels, and she hoped that her beloved Hester was unharmed.
“You look sad, Cora.” Minetta’s voice broke through her reverie.
“Are you thinking about home?” Clyde put his big warm hand on hers and squeezed it. Cora looked up into his eyes, which were troubled.
Cora nodded, and Clyde picked up her hand and kissed it, then reached out to stroke her hair. “I swear to you on the blood of Christ, Cora, as soon as my garrison is fully replenished, we will mount an attack and rout them.” He paused, and tilted her chin up with his forefinger. “They are vermin, and I will treat them as such. Those I do not kill will rot in my dungeons forever and die of despair!” His voice was a menacing growl. “Do you believe me, Cora?”
“I do,” she replied. “I only wish that it could be done soon.”
“So do I.” He kissed her hand again, then looked at her plate, which was still almost full. He picked up her spoon and dipped it in beef stew, then raised it to her lips. “Eat or I will feed you,” he threatened, smiling.
“I am not a baby,” she protested, and laughed softly despite herself. Clyde always made her feel so safe.
As if he had read her mind, he said, “I will always protect you.”
“That is all I want,” she replied, returning to her food.
Just then, a maidservant appeared and curtsied to Clyde. “There is a lady outside to see ye, M’Laird,” she said. “But she wilnae give me her name.”
