Page 189 of Tales of Highland Loyalty

"I mean, ye ken, yer wee smithy lassie, och, whitshername... Aileena?"

"Ainslee," corrected Malcolm. Hearing him speak her name made her heart ping.

"Ah, aye, the sweet Ainslee," enthused James. Marisse's sharp eyes met hers. "Well, ye didnae make yer usual splash wi' her, did ye? Went doon like a cup o' pure boak, I'd say!"

Malcolm murmured something, that Ainslee did not hear, but before he could say more, James butted in.

"Nae fash lad. Moar fish in the sea. An' I can help ye find 'em. Mind ye, ye dinnae usually need any help, do ye! Remember Dublin!"

Ainslee stood and watched, as loud guffawing came from the pair. Through the gap, she could make out James laughing heartily, as Malcolm grinned and mounted his horse. The pair looked set for their travails.

Hurting deep, Ainslee froze almost into the ground. She could not move. She did not want to move. The last thing she wanted to do was to share a pavement with this man.

Marisse saw her eyes, and squeezed her arm. But in any event, they were forced out, by the little maid opening the inn doors behind them, to shake out her broom.

Unwittingly, they were pushed out, straight onto the drenched and dismal cobbles of the small side alley. Glancing at the skies, Ainslee saw a miasma of gray. No actual rain yet, but a dreich, heavy humidity that penetrated the air.

And her heart.

Wishing desperately not to be anywhere near, Ainslee was indefensible from the thin rays of light cutting their way through the gloom. She was immediately seen by the men.

"Och! Ainslee!" Malcolm's tone immediately changed. As did his demeanor. But it was all too late. Ainslee had seen and heard enough.

Primly looking down, Ainslee held Marisse's hand, and led her away to the side. The stables were a long walk around the back of the building, a factor that Ainslee was sincerely grateful for.

Or would have been. If it had not been for the sudden appearance of the stable lad.

"Miss!"

A small lad came trotting beside a pair of dappled ponies. He looked disproportionately pleased with himself, glancing up, Ainslee saw their palfreys being brought forward.

"Yer ponies, ladies," said the lad. He stood, awhile, lingering in front of them. Ainslee was distracted, but eventually Marisse opened her pocket and gave him a small coin.

Blinking, Ainslee came to.

"Thank ye," she said, sharply, taking the reins to her horse. The palfrey was seated up and waiting, right then, the lad's tip seemed a fair price. Desperate to be on her way, Ainslee slung herself into the saddle, and called to her horse to start moving. Marisse, a little behind, seemed surprised at the speed of her start.

"Come noo," clacked Ainslee, getting ready to leave the dusky backstreet. Above them, the skies were lifting - but only very slightly. Somewhere in the distance, the day was starting.

Yearning to be homeward, Ainslee started anxiously. But Marisse seemed less keen.

Sensing Mal and James behind them, Ainslee bristled uncomfortably. Still, Marisse did not move.

Just about to make the first move, a gravelly voice intercepted them.

"Ladies..."

Ainslee's blood ran cold. It was Malcolm's. She rushed to get her reins.

"Ainslee, I..."

In no mood to listen, Ainslee flicked her hair.

"Giddy up," she said, quickly, to the silver palfrey. The tiny mare whinnied, and tried her hardest.

But the large stallion in front blocked them in. The little horse bucked and moaned, as Ainslee burned with rage.

"Whit is it?" she was forced to ask, as Mal's stallion refused to move.