When Fate Dictates (6 page)

“The food,” he said, thrusting the tray
toward Simon.

“Thank you,” Simon replied curtly, taking the
tray from the grubby man and shutting the door firmly in his
face.

“Simon, why was he trying to see into the
room?” I asked, genuinely wondering what he could possibly have
been hoping to find.

Simon scowled. “He is a nasty, grubby little
man with a mind to match and I don’t doubt that he had hoped to
find some seedy gossip.”

“But why would he expect us to provide him
with gossip?” I asked, wide eyed with indignation.

“Probably, because he has seen enough folk in
his life to know we aren’t married, but don’t worry your mind about
it,” he comforted, “he won’t bother us again tonight. Can I pour
you a mug of ale?” Not waiting for my reply, he steadily filled two
large bone vessels with the thick dark liquid. I held the mug under
my nose, deeply inhaling the pleasant bitter sweet smell of the
ale. The heady aroma of the food hung teasingly in the air of the
room and my stomach cramped in eager anticipation of its taste. Two
bowls overflowed with a steaming hot beef stew, packed with cubes
of bacon, wild mushrooms and leeks. I took a small sip of my drink,
savoring the liquid as it slid down the back of my throat. Simon
meanwhile emptied his mug in one deep mouthful, returning it
forcibly to the table. Pushing his chair back, he rose and made his
way to the fireplace. Hunching in front of it he removed his flint
from his pocket and proceeded to spark the fire. A glorious yellow
and orange glow filled the room as the sparks fed off the kindling;
growing stronger and brighter.

“Now!” he said, seating himself opposite me
at the table, “Let’s eat this fine smelling meal.” Emptying a large
spoonful of the stew into his mouth and swallowing hard, he smiled
affectionately across the table at me. “How is the food?”

“It’s delicious.” I looked up to see him
staring intently at me; both elbows perched on the table, his chin
resting in his hands.

“What?” I asked, unnerved at being
watched.

“I was just thinking.”

I shifted uneasily. “Simon?” I said
eventually, “What are you staring at?”

Shrugging his shoulders, he smiled lazily, a
soft tenderness in his eyes. “I am looking at you,” he replied
simply. At last his arm went out and touched mine. “You are a very
lovely lass and I will do my best by you, Corran.”

The smile on my face froze as I realized with
devastation that I was nothing more than a responsibility to him.
Eventually, when he said no more, I rose from the table and made my
way across to the fire. Standing close to it, I rubbed my hands
together in the warmth of the flames, angry at my own stupidity and
at him for using me to ease his conscience.

“Have you had enough to eat?” he asked from
the table.

I did not turn to face him. “Aye, thank you,
I am full,” I said, lifting my hand to wipe a tear from my eye. I
heard the legs of his chair scrape across the floorboards as he
rose from the table.

“I have some work to do in the city. I won’t
be late. You go to bed and I will see you in the morning.”

I did not turn to face him, but stood,
staring into the flames of the fire. He came up behind me, resting
his hands on my shoulders. “Are you alright wee Corran?” he said,
his voice gentle and soft.

I nodded, “I am fine thank you, Simon. Just
tired.”

“Right, I will bid you good night then,” he
said, heading toward the door. I turned my head slowly to see the
door shut behind him.

My shift was so travel worn and dirty that I
did not dare to climb into the clean cotton sheets of the bed
wearing it. Naked, I slid in between the smooth crisp bedding. It
felt soft and cold against my skin as my bare legs glided across
its surface. My head sunk against the softness of the feather
pillow and I sighed deeply, closing my eyes to the world.

However, despite the luxurious comfort of the
bed and the warmth of a cozy room, I did not settle well to sleep.
The shutters hung open a crack, allowing a tiny sliver of moonlight
to stream through the window. I could see Simon in the glow of
light as he slept, hunched on a high backed chair in the corner of
the room, a woolen blanket draped carelessly over him. I lay
perfectly still, watching him sleep and thinking how much younger
and softer he looked in the thin line of moonlight. “Simon
Campbell; I love you,” I whispered to the darkness.

Dawn broke to another damp and cold day and I
opened my eyes lazily to see Simon hunched over the fireplace,
striking a flint on some new kindling. The air in the room was cold
and I instinctively pulled the covers higher in an attempt to ward
off the chill. Hearing me move, he turned around. “Morning,” he
said softly, his face drawn and tired. Judging by the dark rings
under his eyes, I guessed he had not slept any better than I. “I
have some errands to run this morning. Will you be alright if I
leave you alone for a few hours?”

“Yes, of course I will be fine,” I replied,
noticing that he had shaved already.

“I will arrange for us to keep this room a
night longer,” he said, moving toward the door.

“What would you like me to do whilst you are
out?” I asked, shocked that he planned to leave so soon.

“Anything you wish, just don’t leave the
room, I am not yet sure how safe it will be.” With that he left the
room, pulling the door shut behind him.

Stunned I sat up, looked around the room and
wondered what I was supposed to do for the rest of the day. Coming
to no suitable conclusion I lay back in the soft warmth of the bed
and slept. I was awoken some time later by a knocking on the door.
Grabbing the covers and pulling them under my chin I called out.
“Come in.” Two young girls lumbered through the door with a wooden
tub. I stared at them, eyes wide with surprise.

“What is that?” I questioned.

“It’s a tub of warm water. Mr. Brun had us
bring it up so as you can bathe.”

With a rustle of skirts they dragged the tub,
carelessly sloshing water over the majority of the floor. Then
giggling childishly, they dumped it firmly in front of the fire.
They stood, expectantly, wringing their hands in anticipation of a
tip. I shook my head angrily. “Be gone with you before I have cause
to make a complaint about the mess,” I said sharply.

I could smell the sweet perfume of lavender
oil as I stood naked in front of the tub. Slowly I slid one foot
into the water, gasping in surprise at the wonderful feel of the
warmth as it rose ever higher up my calf. I gradually slipped down
into the water, running my fingers lightly over its surface,
watching it ripple and swirl around my hand. I sank lower until the
warm, sweetly perfumed liquid covered me completely. My eyes closed
in delighted pleasure as I arched my body, draping my head
backwards through the water, soaking my hair with the sweet perfume
of lavender oil. The water swelled in the tub as I pulled myself
up, my hair tumbling carelessly over my naked breasts. Cupping both
hands and filling them with water, I splashed it lavishly over my
face, and then rubbed fervently at my cheeks to remove the weeks of
travel dust and grime. I lay back in the water, my head resting on
the curve of the tub and deeply content, I allowed myself to be
lulled into sleep.

“Christ!” A deep voice cursed behind me. My
eyes flew open as I sat up and shot round to see Simon standing in
the doorway. He kicked the door shut behind him. My arms went
instinctively to cover my breasts. I stared at him as he moved
slowly into the room. Forcibly, he flung the sheet off the bed and
dropped it in front of the tub. “Cover yourself with that,” he
demanded, turning his back to me. He stood facing the shutters,
legs slightly apart and arms crossed. I grabbed the sheet and
hastily wrapped it around me, walking slowly toward him.

“Simon, I am sorry,” I said quietly. “I
didn’t think you would be back yet.” His face was stern as he
turned to me, a frown furrowed his brow and a dark shadow crossed
his face as I met his eyes. Embarrassment rose up my neck and into
my cheeks. His eyes stared darkly into mine. “I am sorry,” I
repeated, lowering my eyes to the floor.

“Get dressed,” He snapped. “I have bought you
a new gown, put it on.” He raised his arm and pointed to the door
where a box lay abandoned on the floor.

“I will be back for you in twenty minutes,
and then we are going out, make sure you are dressed.”

I nodded obligingly and went to the door to
pick up the box. He strode past me, opened the door and left the
room, slamming the door shut behind him.

Mortified, my eyes swam with tears. I wrapped
my arms around myself and allowed the tears to pour down my
face.

******

By the time he returned I had dried my eyes
and dressed. I stood motionless as he entered the room, noticing
immediately that he too had changed and now wore a long dark
overcoat and hat. “Did you manage alright with the dress?” he asked
sharply.

Lowering my eyes I nodded. “Aye, thank you
Simon, it’s the most beautiful dress I have ever seen. I love
it.”

“You love too easily,” he mumbled. His eyes
were dangerous and searching as they surveyed the garment. Made
from fine burgundy silk, its skirt hung long and graceful from my
hips, the bodice low and revealing. I crossed my arms protectively
as his eyes lingered on my breasts. For a long moment we stood
looking each other. Then he turned suddenly and made for the door.
“I am taking you to meet an acquaintance. You are to behave as my
wife, do you understand?” I hurried after him, gathering the drapes
of the dress as I did.

Simon flung open the door of the tavern. The
air was still and heavy with the smell of tobacco smoke and stale
ale. The smell smacked me in the face as we entered the room and I
gasped, unable to catch my breath. “Oh, I am so glad you could make
it,” hailed a smartly dressed man, waving a broad-brimmed hat at us
from behind a mass of bodies. I took Simon’s arm, feeling suddenly
afraid; he squeezed my hand reassuringly.

“Don’t worry. Just do as I tell you and
follow my lead,” he said, striding confidently across the room
toward the waiting man. “Joseph, may I present my wife.” The ease
with which the words rolled off Simon’s tongue took me by surprise.
I shot him a startled glance, noticing a glimmer of humor in his
eyes as I did.

“I am very pleased to meet you, Mrs. Brun,”
he said, bowing politely.

“And I you, Sir,” I replied as confidently as
I could, wondering if I ought to curtsey. Concluding, however, that
this was probably not the time to acquaint myself with a new skill,
I settled instead for a courteous smile and a nod of the head.

“My dear, this is Joseph Marshall. Joseph is
a merchant.”

I smiled and nodded politely. Casting an
inquiring look around the room, Simon located a free table and led
us toward it. I settled into a chair next to Simon, accepting a mug
of ale. The two men huddled across the table; talking at length
about ships, trade and the great deal of money that was to be made
from them. I sat quietly in the chair, realizing that both men had
all but forgotten my existence. The evening dragged on with further
talk of money and sea adventures; none of which I paid any
attention to. A single wax candle burned steadily, casting a soft
yellow light over the table’s dark wooden finish. I accepted
refills of ale to my mug, ate heartily from the bowl of warm soup
they placed in front of me and sat watching the candle as it sank
closer and closer to the tabletop. Eventually, Simon rose from his
chair, shook the hand of his companion and bid him good night. I
sighed heavily with relief as we left the stale air of the tavern
for the fresh, salty air of the city night. The ale had gone to my
head and I swayed slightly against Simon as we headed away from the
tavern and down the crowded street back to the inn.

“Corran, my dear sweet, Corran,” he said, his
eyes twinkling with adventure and excitement in the moonlight, “We
make a very fine team, you and I.”

Back in the room of the inn, Simon removed
his long black coat and flung it onto the bed. He sat down at the
table, reached for his flask and offered it to me. I took a sip of
the whisky, shuddering as its heady fumes caught the back of my
throat. I passed the flask quickly back to Simon, who drank deeply
from it, filling his mouth with the liquid and sighing contentedly
as he swallowed it. “That tavern ale is alright but there is
nothing to match a good whisky.” He raised his arms, putting his
elbows on the table and rested his chin in his hands. He watched me
intently, his eyes fixed on my face. I shifted uneasily on my feet,
grabbing hold of the back of the chair in an attempt to keep myself
from swaying. I leaned heavily against the chair for support,
lowering my head to look across the table at Simon. A smile crept
slowly over his face as I looked down at him, my eyes fighting to
focus. “You know,” he said eventually, “I do believe you are drunk,
lass.”

He rose from his chair, pushing it roughly
backwards and stepped around the table. Putting his hands around my
waist for support he guided me to the bed. Lifting me onto the
mattress, he removed my boots and put them neatly on the floor next
to the bed. “Sleep now,” he said, tossing a plaid on top of me.
“You will have a stinking headache in the morning.”

I woke to a churning in my stomach and
pounding head. Rolling onto my stomach, clutching my forehead in my
hands, I groaned. “Dear God what is wrong with me?”

“You have a hangover,” he smirked in
amusement. I did not move to look at him but buried my face in the
pillow, praying the throbbing in my head would stop. “I have a
meeting this morning; I will be back shortly.” I heard his
footsteps on the wooden floor as he made his way toward the door.
He paused briefly before opening it. His coat rustled as he pulled
it on, then the door slammed shut and I shuddered as the sound
resonated through my head.