Page 61 of A Flawed Scotsman

The surroundings lost their color, everything turned black and white and Esme lost her sense of balance. She fell backward, her newly purchased linens and dirk dropping to the ground beside her. Terror seized her as she grabbed the dirk and crawled to hide behind a water barrel. Her heart pounded and all she could hear were the echoes of screams and moans.

Still, nothing came into focus. Had she gone blind? Esme tried to scream for Ruari, but her voice caught. The only sound that came out was like a hoarse moan. Closing her eyes, she curled into a tight ball and waited for whatever was going to happen to end.

“Esme. Ye’re safe. Ye’re safe.” Ruari’s soothing voice permeated the fog in her mind and she began to sob as he pulled her up from the ground and held her up in his arms. “Ye’re safe,” he repeated again.

Feeling stupid at her reaction, she pushed her face into the base of his neck, not wanting to see how people were reacting to her hysterics. “I am so foolish.”

Someone neared and whispered soothing remarks. Then another voice said something, but she could not make out what they said, too busy trying to get her thundering heart and sobs to slow.

“They wish ye well and say ye are very brave.” Ruari’s words made her cry harder until she could barely breathe.

“Look at me,” Ruari said after placing her in the wagon and climbing up into it with her. “Esme,” he said in a stern voice. “Stop at once.”

How could he speak to her in that manner? She glared up at him but stopped crying.

With brows furrowed, he returned the look. “Ye cannot be upset over what happened. If ye wish to cry about being scared, I will not stop ye. But to cry because others see ye being scared, I will not allow it.”

In truth, she had been upset over what others thought of her, instead of accepting that indescribable terror had gripped her.

“Do not tell my mother about this. She will worry.”

Ruari nodded and helped her down from the back of the wagon and onto the seat. Once she was settled, he went to speak to the blacksmith and to pay him a few coins for looking after the horse.

Back straight, Esme sat with her eyes ahead until someone tugged at her skirts. A young, handsome boy held up her linens and the dirk. “Ye left these, Lady Esme.”

Somehow she managed to smile and accepted the offering. “Thank ye. I did not realize that I had left even the dirk behind. I must have dropped it.”

His cheeks turned pink as he met her gaze. “I wish ye well, Lady Esme.”

Watching the slender young man walk away, she prayed that he and others that were not old enough to fight would be spared if ever the Mackenzie attacked.

The ride back to her home was vastly different. Instead of noticing the beauty of the surroundings, she was vigilant and tense.

Unlike her, Ruari seemed at ease. He handled the reins with ease, gently urging the horses forward, his attention ahead.

Then she noticed something. There was a pattern to his movements. Every so often, he would look to one side of the road and then to the other. He scanned the surroundings but never once changed his mannerisms. Outwardly, he seemed calm and unbothered, but if one looked closely, he was on guard and prepared. He sat tall with his sword within reach, back straight and gaze moving.

Seeming to sense her perusal, he looked at her for a long moment. “A warrior never leaves the battlefield without scars. Killing, even when defending yer home, leaves deep scarring that take longer to heal.”

Esme swallowed and turned her attention to the road ahead. The truth of his statement fell over her.

*

The calmness and normality of everything struck Esme as they entered the courtyard. Everyone went on with their chores and duties, the familiar happenings continued despite death and war. She squeezed Ruari’s upper arm. “Remember not to mention what happened. My mother tends to worry, and she has been through a great deal.”

Her husband nodded, his serious gaze traveling over her. “As have ye.”

Leaning into him, allowing his strength to seep into her, she sighed. “And with ye at my side, it helps me feel stronger.”

Once inside the great hall, she was greeted by the sight of her mother, Catriona’s mother and her aunt, sitting at a table chatting. Lady Fraser waved her over. “I was worried about ye going off to the village. Honestly, Esme, ye need to remain home where it is safe.” There was sadness in her mother’s face that made Esme want to hug her tightly.

Instead, she smiled and spoke in a bright tone. “I felt a need for fresh air away from here. All is well in the village. I purchased these beautiful linens.” She held the cloths up ensuring to keep the dirt-stained side away from their gazes.

Her aunt studied the cloths. “Indeed, they are quite lovely. Who made them? Was it Flora?”

“It was. And because she’s recently lost her husband and is struggling to feed her bairn and mother, I asked her to come to be a companion to Catriona.”

“Splendid idea,” her aunt said.