Page 22 of The Shadow of a Laird
“No,” Maura answered, rubbing her forehead. “I have a splitting headache, Una.”
“Have ye been at some o’ that good wine?” Una asked wickedly. “I know ye keep a wee bit somewhere. Or has that big hunk over there been wearin’ ye out?” She winked and nodded at Gavin.
Maura pretended to laugh. “Pfft!” she scoffed, flapping her hand at her friend. “I have had enough o’ him and wi’ that lot over there thinkin’ that we are a couple.” She waved her arm at the men Gavin had been arguing with. “I widnae take him as a gift. He is no’ half the man ye think he is, Una. I hired him because he is handsome so that he could bring in the lassies, an’ he has done that, but he isnae much o’ a man inside. Good looks arenae everythin’.” Her voice was bitter.
“He breaks up the fights an’ a’,” Una pointed out. “Remember when he landed a punch on Rob MacVicar’s nose? Broke it so bad it will never be straight again. The troublemakers are a’ scared o’ him. If I were one o’ them, I would be an’ a’.”
“Aye, that is true,” Maura acknowledged. “But he is still no’ the man ye think he is.”
“What dae ye mean?” Una was baffled, but Maura had been called to pour a drink for someone else, and had to end the conversation.
The next customer was an elderly, white-haired man who had a positive army of children and grandchildren and was a habitual drunk, but he was never aggressive and always happy, and Maura liked him.
“Ye’re lookin’ a bit under the weather tonight, Maura,” he told her. “Anythin’ wrong?”
Maura smiled at him because he looked genuinely concerned. “I am fine, Jimmy,” she replied, smiling at his kind old face. “Dinnae worry. Just a wee bit o’ a headache.”
“Ye are such a lovely lady,” he said warmly. “Ye should be married by now an’ have bairns o’ your ain.”
Maura laughed. She had never met a man she could honestly say she had wanted to marry, although at one point she had imagined Gavin as a possibility. Now that hope was gone, however, and she could think of no one else. Besides, he had proven to her that all men were untrustworthy. Not to mention he was a Laird, and she was a barmaid, poor of no social standing. She had almost given him her heart—indeed, at one time she had contemplated giving him her body—but now she realised that she had had a lucky escape. They were just too different.
As he worked, Gavin watched Maura out of the corner of his eye and saw that she was simply not her usual self. The usual sparkle had gone from her eye and her face was expressionless except when one of the men challenged her or laughed at her, when she snapped back at them. She looked miserable, he thought.
Presently, one of the usual belligerent drunks shouted at her. “Ye’re gettin’ on a bit, Maura! Why are ye no’ married? I would wed ye, but I’m already spoken for. I am sure many men here would take ye on, though, hen. What dae ye say? I am very good in bed, so the lassies tell me.” He winked, and there was an enthusiastic chorus from many of the patrons, during which many lewd suggestions were made. Maura was utterly disgusted, and wished she had a man’s strength to give him a taste of his own medicine.
Gavin moved like a shadow. He barged over to stand beside her and pulled the drunk man halfway over the counter by his collar. His face was a mask of rage and hatred as he stood nose to nose with Andy MacGuinness. “Unless you want me to strike you down where you stand, as I did your friend Robbie a couple of weeks ago,” he growled. “Remember his broken nose? He is even uglier now than he was before. Now I suggest you apologise toMaura and take yourself somewhere to sober up. I can help you, if you like.”
He bunched his fist and held it up to MacGuinness’s face, and the man whimpered as he looked down his nose at it, trying to focus cross-eyed.
He let out a whimper of fear and tried to look around himself for help, but every one of his friends had backed away from him. “I am sorry,” he said fearfully, looking at Maura. “I didnae mean any harm.”
“Let him go,” Maura said, sighing. She was tired of all the hostility and anger. All she wanted to do was finish the night’s work, then she could go to bed and cry her eyes out.
Maura could not believe that this was her last night with Gavin. She had come to expect to see his handsome face every morning when she came down from her bedroom, and the thought that he would not be there filled her with deep sadness.
She had been badly hurt; her trust in Gavin had been irretrievably shattered, and she had made up her mind that she never wanted to see him again. At least, that was what she told herself, but the thought of him disappearing out of her life forever broke her heart.
Gavin had been drawn into conversations with many of the village men, with whom he had become friends that evening. It suited him to stay busy and distract himself with light-hearted banter, which kept his mind off Maura—at least for a while. Then, when the lout insulted Maura, he was almost glad to have a chance to defend her and take out his anger on someone who deserved it!
He was teased about the ladies he chatted to, and some men expressed their jealousy in a light-hearted way. They all knew by now that it was not a good idea to get on the wrong side of Gavin! A few men commented on his hunting skill and offered to buy his catch from him next time he had a good haul.
When he had a free moment, though, Gavin looked at Maura and saw by her general demeanour that she was not herself. Her smile looked fixed and, occasionally, she was rude, which was not like her. She was quieter than usual; a few customers even commented on it, and he heard her giving lame excuses like being tired or having a headache.
Gavin was drowning in guilt; he had made her feel this way. He was the one who had brought up all the pain and sadness of her parents’ death, and ultimately, he was to blame because he had done nothing to put the situation right. He had wealth, and he had connections in all the right places with the expertise to solve the problem of the water in the loch. He could have done something—or at least tried to—-as soon as his father died, but he had been too busy wallowing in his own misery.
He could not blame Maura for her actions, or her decision to sack him. He would likely have done the same had the positions been reversed.
You are a selfish, cowardly swine, Gavin Forsyth,he thought.You could have had anything you wanted, and you threw it all away.
The evening went on, and Maura studiously avoided looking at Gavin, merely doing what she had to do with her usual brisk efficiency. Occasionally, he would catch her eye, but she always turned away and ignored him until he became so frustrated he could stand it no more.
He needed to speak to her alone, but could find no way of doing so, so he continued to watch and wait until she finally gave him the opportunity.
Maura needed his help to bring a barrel from the storeroom. She groaned inwardly, trying to think of a way to avoid asking Gavin for assistance, but it was a job she could not do by herself. She was just not strong enough.
Her voice was stiff as she said, “Please help me with a barrel.”
“Of course,” Gavin smiled at her, but Maura had already turned away; he was not surprised. He moved behind the kitchen to where the beer barrels were stored, but when Maura came in behind him, he ducked behind her and closed the door then stood in front of it, blocking her exit.
