Page 116 of Seduced By the Reckless Highlanders
Now, in the shadow of the hood, they looked black. On an impulse, she reached forward and began to push the hood back over his hair, but he reached up to stop her. However, she resisted him and he let go of her hands, letting the fabric slip back over his hair.
At once, he lifted his right hand to shield the scars from her gaze, but Minna was not to be dissuaded from looking at them again. “Don’t hide,” she said gently. “You are a handsome man, Mister Whoever-you-are. I don’t know why you are hiding away here.”
“And I don’t know why it is any of your business,” he growled. “I am someone who prefers to be left alone, and that is all you need to know.” He stood up and stalked out, and presently Minna heard the heavy bolt fall on the other side of the door. There was one on the inside too, but the man obviously relied on the fear of the villagers to keep them from bothering him. She wondered if any of the guards were as superstitious as these simple people were, however, she reasoned that they must be because the man had never been disturbed before.
With nothing else to do, Minna closed her eyes and went to sleep.
Gowan had never felt so restless. Usually, when he was not fishing or collecting his food from his traps, he exercised, puttinghis body through some punishing, rigorous routines that left him sweating and exhausted. After this, when he was absolutely worn out, he would go for a swim in the loch and let the freezing waters wash and refresh him. Afterwards he would feel hungry enough to eat and tired enough to go to bed.
He often dreamed of his mother and the last desperate look on her face as she sent him away, hopefully to safety. She had sacrificed herself for him, and he would be forever proud of her yet ashamed of himself. He should have died too, but in his dreams his mother would often tell him that such an action would do nothing to bring her back. It would be a sheer waste of a life, and everything that life could have accomplished. He tried to console himself with that thought, but it was never enough to banish his shame.
Now, as he sat beside the loch, his back against a tree trunk, he imagined her sitting beside him. She would have unbound her long dark blonde hair and would be combing it with her fingers, while he, only eight years old, was admiring it.
“Your hair is like a river, Mammy,” he had said, leaning against her. He was never happier than when he was with her.
“And your eyes are like the lovely soft eyes of a cow,” she replied, chuckling.
“I don’t want to be a cow!” he protested indignantly. “I want to be a stag with great big antlers!” He raised his arms to show her.
“Just your eyes,” she consoled him, squeezing his shoulders. “And your hair is like sunlight.”
“Am I your best boy, Mammy?” he had asked, looking up at her adoringly.
“Of course you are,” she replied, kissing his shining hair. “I wish I had another Gowan so I could love both of you.”
He laughed. “Then you would only love me half as much,” he pointed out.
“Oh, no, my son.” His mother shook her head. “Think of it this way. When you have a little boy you have a little boy pie, but when another one comes along, you don’t cut the boy pie in half. You bake a bigger pie.”
Those words had stuck with him over all the years since, and he had often wondered why his mother had never baked a bigger pie and given him a brother or a sister.
“Because it was not meant to be,” she had said, sighing. She had never told him about the three babies she had miscarried for fear of upsetting him, but looking back, Gowan realized that something dreadful had happened to his beloved mother. It made him mourn and miss her even more. He had loved his father too, of course, but he had adored his mother.
He went back to his exercises, lifting the heavy stones that he used as weights, stretching his body until he was as supple as a whip, turning cartwheels and somersaults, and fighting an invisible enemy with his dagger and fists.
Gowan also practiced archery, which was how he had provided the deer for the village. It had warmed his heart to see how much joy it gave them, and he resolved to provide them with another as soon as he could without arousing too much curiosity and suspicion.
He wandered around the woods for a long time, unable to settle his mind on anything but the beautiful woman who was awaiting him his cabin. She had said he was handsome. Handsome? He gave a cynical half-laugh. She must be blind, or mad. Who in their right mind could call his ugly, scarred face handsome? He had not looked in a mirror for years and that was exactly the way he liked it. He still shaved himself with the sharp blade of his dagger, however, although he had no idea why, since no-one ever saw him. Perhaps it was to remind himself that he was still a man, he thought.
He looked up at the sky and realized that the sun was beginning to go down.
The twilight at this time of year lasted for hours, but it was not every day that he had a ‘guest’ at home. Gowan sighed reluctantly and stood up, stretched his shoulders and began to trudge back. He was both looking forward to and dreading seeing his guest again.
Minna had found some trout in the little chest where Gowan stored his food, and she lit a small fire to cook it. When it was ready, she added some mushrooms and chestnuts, leaving some wild cherries for a kind of pudding, as if she was cooking a formal meal. She would have given her eye teeth for some bread, but she doubted that the man had ever been able to dig that up in the wood! It was a meager meal, but it would have to do.
Suddenly the door opened and he stepped inside. He was once more wearing the hood, and half his face was hidden. Minna could only see his square cleft chin and the Cupid’s bow shape of his firm lips.
Gowan had dug up some more mushrooms and had brought back bread, eggs and some cheese. When he saw Minna’s offering he almost smiled. At least the corners of his mouth twitched a little.
“The fish is still warm,” she informed him. “I have only just made it. I am sorry, but I could not find anything else to eat.”
“Thank you for the food.” He sat down beside her and brought out a carved wooden bowl and spoon, which he gave to her. “I managed to get some other things, as you can see.” He held out the bread and cheese.
“Thank you,” she said gratefully. “I was just thinking how much I would love some bread.” She nodded in thanks, broke off a piece of the crusty bread and began to eat. She had not realized how hungry she was, and even though the food was humble, it still tasted like the best meal she had ever eaten.
“I am sorry,” he said gently. “I usually have more meat but there has been little time for hunting. I got the rest of the food from the peddler with whom I trade.”
“My visit was very ill-timed, it seems.” Minna’s voice was bitter. She took a deep breath as she watched him eating his food, then finally asked.
