“Aye, well, that’s because I work hard, like I said, and I hae other skills. My father…” Ian paused as soon as he mentioned this, realizing that he’d had too much to drink.
“And what other skills dae ye hae?”
He blinked and frowned. There was a buzz in his eyes, and the illumination around him seemed brighter than before. He shrugged and muttered a vague response to the question, realizing that he had come close to mentioning the distillery. He pressed his lips together firmly, determined to not speak too freely.
The two men looked at each other. “And dae ye dae private requests for customers?”
“I need tae leave,” Ian said, fearing that he was not in the right mind to be talking about these matters. If he dared let anything slip while in this state, he would never have forgiven himself. He pushed his chair away and staggered out of the inn, finding it hard to remember how to walk. He raised his hand to his forehead. Thankfully, the way home was imprinted in his mind, so he lumbered through the village, groaning, hoping that he hadn’t revealed any information that he shouldn’t have.
* * *
Rory had been pacing around,waiting for Ian to return from the delivery so that he could say farewell. Eventually, though, he could not delay his departure. He hesitated for a moment before he left, staring at her. Lucy knew what he was thinking. She laughed.
“Ye dinnae hae tae worry, I’m nae about tae cause any trouble. I promise I will be here when ye get back, just like Ian will be,” she said. Rory bent down to pet Ginger and asked Lucy to take care of her, which Lucy duly promised to do. Then, he was gone, leaving Lucy alone.
Ian was taking far longer with the delivery than she had expected. The hours dwindled by and she became worried. She wondered if guards had arrested him, although the rising panic was quelled by the thought that if they had, they would surely have stormed into the shop by now. Still, Lucy could not sleep until he returned. She ended up finding some old clothes of his and mending them. He went about in such tatty things, she shook her head in dismay. At least some of the lessons she learned in the keep were coming in useful now.
As she darned his clothes, she hummed to herself and thought about what would be happening in the keep at this very moment. Her father would be pacing around, tearing his hair out, apologizing effusively for this aberrant behavior. He would have a lot of explaining to do to other people as well, to all the suitors he had lined up for her, especially the foppish Hugh Baird. Lucy shuddered when she thought about him. The first moment they met, he had reminded her of a snail, so slimy and weak. His hands had been clammy and limp, he wasn’t like Ian at all. Ian was a hard, solid man, a man who made his presence known in the world. His hands were strong, meaty, able to take his destiny in his own hands. Hugh preened like a bird, dancing about a branch and chirping as though the world was lost in an endless spring. He would never wear this rough fabric. His skin would probably break out in hives. Lucy allowed herself a giggle at the thought. If Hugh tried to lift a hammer, then he would be pulled to the ground, whereas Ian, well, Ian could lift the world.
He was so different from all the other men who had been chosen for her. They were of noble breeding, but not of noble heart. They had no idea of the plight of the common people. They spoke of high ideas and high minds, but had everything served to them without knowing how any of it worked. They may as well have lived in another world, a world that Lucy did not wish to be a part of.
Then, there was a noise as the door opened. There were loud stomps, and a noise, as though someone had fallen. She looked up as Ian came into the doorway, his eyes glazed over. She was sitting by a small fire. The air was warm. The amber glow illuminated him as he got closer, the fire dancing in his eyes. She looked up at him and gasped. There was something about him, something that was so immediate and raw, as though the air crackled around him. He was rough, unkempt, but there was an intensity that she could not deny. Her heart skipped a beat and she felt a cool bead of sweat trickling down her neck, resting in the hollow of her throat.
“What are ye daeing?” he slurred.
“Mending yer tatty clothes,” she said. “Ye are a businessman. Ye should at least try and look respectable. People are gaeing tae think ye live in the mud.”
Ian collapsed into a chair beside her and laughed. “Ye sound like Fiona,” he said. As soon as the word slipped from his mouth, he looked stunned.
“Who is Fiona?” she asked.
“Naebody,” he replied, but then he sighed. “That’s nae true. She was my sister. She died a long time ago, of the same illness that afflicts yer aunt.”
“Oh, I… I hae nae idea,” she said. Guilt flooded her heart. It explained why he had taken pity on her, but she felt awful for lying to him about it. It wasn’t as though she could tell him the truth now, either, for he might throw her out. She longed to ask him more questions, but was afraid that he might ask her questions in return.
Ian picked up the clothes and inspected the stitches. “This is nae half bad,” he sounded surprised. “I’m glad ye are better at this than ye are at cooking, although that is nae hard,” he laughed.
Lucy frowned. “I tried my best. Perhaps ye should hae a gae if ye are sae offended.”
“Oh, I am nae offended, lass. Ye hae tae forgive me. Whiskey hae strange effects on a man. It’s a wee bit like magic.”
“I would nae know. I hae never tasted any,” she folded her arms and wore a haughty look.
“Ye hae never tasted… ye meant tae say ye hae been down in that basement with us learning all about how tae make the stuff, but ye dinnae know what it tastes like? Ach, what are they daeing in that keep? Ye cannae call yerself a Highlander if ye hae nae tasted whiskey.” He promptly rose and left the room, returning with a bottle of whiskey, pouring her a glass. He thrust it into her hands. She went to drink it as she would water, but he placed a hand on her forearm, stopping her from doing so.
“Nae, lass, ye want tae sip it, enjoy it. This is nae just a drink, it’s an experience. Ye want tae let it linger like a sunrise. Take it intae yer mouth, let it swim around yer tongue, and then, then ye will feel the burn. Ah, what a sweet thing it is…” he said. Lucy did as he asked. She almost gagged at first, as the strength of the liquor was far more than she had imagined, but she resisted the urge to swallow it. Instead, she allowed it to swim around her tongue and gums, trickling into every part of her mouth. The flavor came to the fore. Ian stared at her and then gestured for her to swallow. She did so, and it was like fire running down her throat. She coughed, but the burn was a satisfying one, and she could feel her head beginning to spin.
“Ye like it?” he asked.
Lucy stared at the glass for a few moments and then nodded, deciding that she did indeed like it. She took another sip, and soon enough her glass was refilled. The fire danced, taking on shapes. For a moment, she thought it was whispering at her, perhaps even laughing. Ian grew closer to her as well.
“I hae tae admit, lass, I am glad ye are here. It’s nice tae return tae someone for a change. Before ye and Rory, this house was empty. It hae been empty for a long time.”
“Since Fiona?” she ventured.
“Aye, since all of them. Since… ach ye dinnae want tae hear about that.”
“I dae, Ian. I want tae hear about it all.”
