McBain's Bride Read online

  We remounted after a brief rest and continued for several more hours, the miles slipping away beneath the horses’ hooves. The spring forest was beautiful even in the rain. The dense woods and ferns gave way to an occasional meadow dotted with golden saxifrage, violet crane’s-bill and other wild flowers that I could not identify from atop Thor. The butterflies, birds, rabbits and insects were more sensed than glimpsed in the rain. Conversation was conveniently non-existent as we each huddled into our cloaks as if trying to avoid raindrops. But we did manage a decent pace on the oft used trails. Finally, well into dusk, we slowed and I followed Ian up a hillside into the forest. In a small clearing, we came to a stop and dismounted.

  We stood for a while, each telling our mount what a prize horse they were and how much we appreciated their efforts today while the rain turned to a drizzle and finally stopped. I used the time to covertly stretch my very sore legs and rub me bum. I was not used to riding for so long in a saddle designed for a man. I looked around our little cozy clearing; it was dusk, the last rays of sun were peeping through the trees. An owl flew over to begin its nightly hunt for mice and squirrels. I wished him good luck and hoped that we too would have success in finding a tasty treat for dinner.

  “Let’s stop here for the night, it is somewhat sheltered and we are off the road away from….” Ian drifted off.

  “Away from?” I prompted.

  “I heard several reports of highwaymen. We need to steer clear of them. I’ve kept my eyes open while we were on the paths, but I haven’t seen any signs of them. I think it is safe for us to split up to find some dry wood and perhaps a stream.” He turned and headed into the woods parallel with the road. I loosened the girth on Thor and removed his saddle and my bedroll. Armed with my bow and some arrows, I chose to trek deeper into the woods. I found dry wood under some bracken, a stream and best of all, a couple of rabbits that had emerged from their shelter after the rain. Feeling quite accomplished I returned to the horses to find a small crackling fire and a kettle set to boil over the flames on a spit made of some branches. Very clever I thought. I dumped my wood next to the fire and handed over the rabbits. Ian nodded appreciatively and began the process of preparing them for his kettle. I grabbed a matching kettle and headed back into the woods for more water, grabbing my bag on the way. I was able to give myself a quick scrub and attend to my necessities with some semblance of privacy. I re-braided my hair and stuffed it back up under the hat before returning to camp. I easily found my way through the deepening night by simply following my nose. My rabbits were calling to my empty stomach.

  “You were gone a while. Did you get lost?”

  “No, just washing up.” I remembered to lower my voice. “It was easy to follow my nose back to camp in the dark. My rabbits smell wonderful.”

  “Your rabbits?” Ian teased and smiled for the first time. It seemed as if sunshine had descended into our glen. I could stand to see that smile again and again.

  “I caught ‘em”

  “And I dressed them. I claim half the credit for this fine dining experience.”

  I stifled a giggle, he was sweet as well as handsome and I couldn’t respond to him as a woman; I didn’t want to be discovered and returned to my family in shame.

  “We’d better eat fast and bury the remains away from camp, wouldn’t want any predators nosing around tonight.”

  “You’ve done this before?” Ian asked.

  “Yes, my brothers and I, I mean my uncles and I have camped all over these woods. We’ve found ancient druid ruins up against the hills; the wolves tend to have their territory further south but you never know when a hungry wolf might come along.”

  “Good to have you on this trip then, lad.” Ian gave the stew a final stir and dished it onto plates. We used our knives to spear the meat and the root vegetables he found. We ate together, speaking of our horses and other overnight trips. I studied him while he finished his meal; so beautiful he was, tall and well built with a narrow waist. His blond hair pulled back in a leather cord. Damp from the rain it looked somewhat curly. My own hair did the same thing when wet and caused me never ending trouble with all the tangles. His hair looked silkier than mine, so unfair, him with the long lashes any girl would die for and silky shiny hair. He cleaned up the remains of the rabbits and buried them away from camp as I cleaned off the plates with the heated water from the second kettle. By the time he returned the fire was dying down and I was stretched out in my bedroll. I turned away from him to discourage further conversation and drifted off to sleep.

  Hours later I awoke; a pale moon shined above us, the light filtered through the leaves. At first I didn’t know why I awoke but then it came to me, the insects were silent, no night sounds of owls hooting in the dark.

  “Quiet lad,” came Ian’s voice soft and low across the glowing embers. He’d sensed I was awake. I turned slowly reaching for my bow not knowing where danger lay. My bow is a small one; I was glad Ian hadn’t commented on it earlier. Its ornate inlays gave it away as a lady's toy in a glance. However, it was effective. I could bend it and string it in a heartbeat. When sleeping outdoors with my brothers they had taught me to keep it ready and available near my left hand. I sat up with an arrow notched. I let it fly at the first growl. The high pitched squeal proclaimed my arrow found its target. Ian picked up a smoldering branch from the fire and started after the wounded animal, roaring like the Viking he descended from. He returned a short time later shaking his head.

  “No sign of anything. Whatever you shot ran off.”

  “We won’t be bothered again tonight.” I stated but I laid down my bow with a new arrow next to me just in case. Ian noticed the gesture.

  “Amazing shooting, lad.”

  “Thank you.” I turned my back and tried to go back to sleep.

  “Really amazing, lad, your brothers would be proud.”

  “Uncles” I corrected forcefully.

  “We will talk more on this in the morning; now try to get some sleep.”

  “Umph” I muttered and quickly fell asleep to the sounds of insects and rustling leaves.

  Ian was up before me in the morning, away from camp already. I rose and walked to the stream. It was a beautiful day with crisp freshly washed air. Water drops sprinkled the leaves of the trees and dripped off the underlying ferns. Some dropped on me as I walked toward the cold little stream. I washed my face shuddering when the icy cold water met my face. I braided my hair into a tight crown to give it a better chance of staying under my hat for a full day's ride. I retraced my steps back to our camp. Ian was finishing saddling his horse. The camp was packed. I struggled some with Thor’s gear but Ian didn’t appear to notice. I usually had one of the grooms help me. Ian swung a long leg over his saddle and mounted his horse. They started out. He looked back at me to see me struggle and miss my first attempt and succeed at my second attempt at properly seating Thor without the aid of the tree stump we often use when we are picnicking at the seaside.

  The day that followed was much like the one before. We rode at a fast pace whenever possible, avoided villages and clambered off the road when Ian heard the sounds of approaching hooves. I was not sure why we evaded other travelers but Ian felt it imperative and actually with my constant battle to hide my hair from Ian, I did not seek any close scrutiny myself. I only succeeded thus far because Ian rarely looked me full in the face though I stole many a glance at his lovely features. He was tall. His back and arms were well defined through his shirt. I looked forward to my continued surreptitious study of his face. Those blue eyes with flecks of gold need to be thoroughly inspected and I know that I am up for that job. My thoughts were interrupted by my growling stomach. We stopped to let the horses have a drink from the stream we were following and eat some dry bread. With the ground covered in mud, we chose to stand and eat our bread and cheese. Ian looked at me, “This cheese is remarkably good.”

  “We make it ourselves. We use the milk from our goats.”

  “I know a tave
rn keeper who would buy your cheese and give your family some business.”

  “We aren’t in business.” I replied with disdain. But I did wonder if cheese would pay for a new roof and save me from marrying a giant.

  “Do you work in a tavern?” I asked.

  “No, I am McBain’s man, but my friends own a tavern and they are always on the lookout for a good supply of food.”

  “It would be fun to work in a tavern and meet all kinds of new people.” I said more to myself, but he heard me.

  “You are to be a landowner who is not in business, Robert.”

  We remounted our horses and continued our journey.

  ~~~~~

  Our trek was slow. Once we left the mountainous area of the lake district, Ian insisted on traveling off the path. The forest floor was thick with mud. We rode single file with Ian leading. After several hours, we gave up slogging through the mud and returned to the road. We made much better time on the cleared dirt road. My stomach rumbled loudly and I sighed.

  “Robert, you need to stop?” Ian asked.

  I paused first. Robert? Oh, me! “Yes, may we stop for the night?” I asked despite the fact that it was only afternoon. My bum hurt, my back was sore and I needed to be off this delightful beast. We turned into the forest from the road and found an old campsite that had obvious use as a frequent stop for travelers on this road. It had a fire pit with logs set in a circle and a bucket swung in a tree for journeymen to fetch water. It was dry and secluded. The tree leaves provided a ceiling with just a peak of the sky.

  Ian looked over the site and shrugged, “This'll do. You were successful with hunting, want to try again?” Ian began emptying a bag from his saddle. I am incredibly good at hunting so I wandered away with my bow and some arrows. Since we were travelling along the coast, we were in an estuary forest, beautiful and dense near the water. I found rabbits and brought them back proudly to camp. Thor shied away from the scent of dead flesh. I handed off my prizes to Ian's grunt and found myself disappointed he had not praised me. Silly chit, I scolded myself and went to Thor to comfort him. I watched Ian carefully dressing the rabbits and tying them on sticks propped over the fire. He was quite handy about the camp unlike my brothers who argued over the menial duties preferring to hunt and fish. I had grown adept at vanishing during their spats and returned only after food was finally cooking. My stomach growled heartily and I caught Ian's brief smile. He lit up the night with that smile. I sighed inwardly again cursing my deceit.

  “What do you call your horse, he is a mighty steed,” I offered as a conversational gambit.

  “Bruce.”

  “A mighty name,” I observed, “Is it a reference to your Robert Bruce of Scotland?”

  “It rhymed with goose. Tis what he can be when faced with any fowl.”

  “A shy one then?” I switched my petting over to the neglected and ridiculed Bruce. “I think you are a mighty steed and need but a gentle hand to over come your fears.” He butted against my chest. “He likes me!” I squealed. Ian walked over to join me.

  I drew into myself at Ian's sudden interest. Perhaps my play-acting wore thin. It was hard to keep myself in check at all times in the face of his wit and beauty.

  “You really are but a lad, aren't you? Have you ever been away from your uncle-brothers?”

  “Loads of times,” my voiced deepened. “I am learning about our farms and the manor and sometimes travel with my family on their many outings. Miss Bridget has a slew of suitors and we are kept constantly busy ferrying her about the county with her chaperones.” I lied.

  “I doubt that very much.”

  “Why, what have you heard about Bridget?”

  “Aunt Bridget to you lad! Or perhaps you should start calling her Lady Bridget to her suitors.” Ian's voice was stern.

  “No, she's not Lady Bridget. That would mean an inherited title. Lord Robert earned his title in service to the King during his time in London, working with the government to set up the East India Company. I don't really know why England wants to be in India.” I closed my mouth. Lads should not have opinions about world politics.

  Ian didn't seem to notice my slip, he just continued the conversation, “They lost America, the government needs to tax someone; they need income.”

  I didn't reply. I needed to remember I was the grandson of the lord of the manor. Ian seemed to think lads should be able to discuss philosophy and science. Despite my having read A Vindication of the Rights of Woman, I doubt Ian wanted to discuss what was on my mind and if women should be treated as property since I was about to be traded for a roof. My silence prompted him to change the subject.

  “Tell me about your family, all the Garnets. Tell me about Bridget.”

  “Why? You aren't the one marrying her.”

  He glanced at me sharply, “No, lad, I'm just part of the family and delivering one lad in hopes that his family and Miss Bridget follow to collect him.”

  My mouth opened but nothing came out. I closed my eyes to collect my thoughts. “Robert and his brother Charles are statesmen; they will keep their word to the McBain family. They keep some cattle and some sheep and a few goats. They make the best cheese in the area. They will bring Aunt Bridget to her wedding.”

  “Why is your father Lord Robert as well as your grandfather?” Ian asked.

  “Both Lord Roberts earned their titles in service to the crown.”

  “How so?”

  “Not sure, I just know about my grandfather and the East India Company.” I faltered. Ian could not be allowed to know of my brother's secret work for the crown, the work that bought him the title after the death of his first wife. “You saw the manor house. It is large but not old like the Doom. We have a nice bit of land and not a lot of money. My mother died when I was an infant. My father, Lord Robert met his little French wife in Edinburg when he spoke at the university about his work in London. She's happy here because many French families are moving into our area. Does your master know anything about Aunt Bridget?”

  “Apparently not as much as her young nephew. I have heard she is a fair faced young girl, not a great beauty, but will do. We thought she was titled.” I started to become indignant.

  “Aunt Bridget is lovely! All her young men tell her that.”

  “And I hear she has not the refinements that make a great lady and she neglects her duties as a hostess.”

  “That is not so!” I was shouting now, hand on hips. “There's hundreds of young bucks that have asked her to be their bride. She's lovely and gracious and has a sharp wit.”

  “Not too sharp or you'd not be boasting of her many young bucks. My lord might not like to think of his betrothed as being too social or available to young men from all over.”

  “How dare you imply there is something improper about Bridget! You don't even know her. She would have told me if she's met your arrogant....” I sputtered. How dare he? I'd not had but one or two suitors and they were generally complementary about me until I out shot them while riding. One once told me I had the eyes of the Thames River at dawn. I'd never been to London but it sounded like a compliment.

  “That's Aunt Bridget to you, don't forget it. Now why would she be telling her little nephew about her suitors?”

  I played with Bruce's mane while contemplating a plausible explanation. He had a point. “She often spoke to me in the stables while I saddled her horse. She asked me about her beaus and how they treated their horses. You can tell a lot about a man by the way he treats his mount.”

  “Oh can you now?” Ian voice hinted at amusement. I cared not as I was enjoying the banter and longed to have it continue.

  “Oh yes, a man that speaks gently into the ear, that offers treats is one to be trusted. One that wields a crop and yanks back on the reins, not a man to be alone with if you're a lady.”

  “That's a lesson I might have to remember” said Ian. “What would you tell Aunt Bridget about me?”

  I smiled as I turned away to gather my thoughts. “You
are somewhere in the middle. You keep a shy horse and pamper him. You are arrogant beyond suffrage with all your orders, but you are quite handy around camp. I haven't seen you shoot so I know not if your aim is true and your chest is shapely.”

  “MY CHEST?”

  “Yes, the small chest you carry tied behind your saddle. It bespeaks a certain neatness about your person.”

  “You are the oddest lad I have ever met. Next you’ll have to tell me why the heir is saddling horses for the ladies and then why Lady Bridget is allowed to go out hunting with her hundreds of suitors.”

  “Miss Bridget,” I mumbled.

  “Get used to Lady Bridget, she will be wed soon enough.”

  That ‘allowed’ rankled but he had caught me in my own web. I’ll have to work on a better scheme of lying to this one; he is way too quick. I had to walk away to calm down and rethink my manhood.

  After my nightly ritual at the stream, I returned to our campsite to find Ian organizing his own bow and arrows. We had been wary of another wolf sighting all evening. We decided we needed to keep watch and so we took turns. I kept the first watch, walking about the campfire and once venturing into the woods just far enough from camp to barely see the fire. It was an uneventful night. I suspected Ian slept through his watch but would never accuse him of shirking his duty.

  ~~~~~

  Morning broke and even if my backside was still sore, I felt refreshed and well rested. My clothes had partially dried and even they could not dampen my spirit. I was on my grand adventure and Ian was a delightful companion with whom to be adventuring. We stopped once to break our fast. Ian ventured into a village while I stayed outside of town with Thor. Ian returned with bread stuffed with meat filling and a yellow gourd filled with strong ale. I tried to share the ale but it burned as it went down. Ian clapped me on the back as I choked and laughed. We continued on our journey. It was slower than Ian had planned as the ground was soaked and the road sodden with mud. The dried mud on our boots was being coated and recoated with wet mud. Branches heavy with water hung low across the path smacking us as we passed dousing us again and again so that we were never dry and we were never warm. We rode in silence concentrating on avoiding tree branches and deep rivets in the path.