"To study so I can take exams to get into the University and learn about gardening," he complained.
"Och!" Sylla swung her large arm towards Brody, but this time he dodged out of the way… and further infuriated his mother by beginning to laugh. She began chasing after him, swatting at his slender bottom with a frustrated hand. "You want to take the day off so you can take out that trashy Englishwoman from that pub that you think I don’t know you go to every evening after work! No good, lad !"
"Ouch!" One of Sylla’s hands connected with Brody’s backside. "Ohh… If…mither!" He smiled at Liv and Kayla. "If you’ll excuse me I should… yeow!… get back to work." Brody jumped back into his booth and shut the half door behind him, effectively placing himself out of his mother’s reach. Then Sylla got a good look at the magazine he’d been reading.
"Brody James Cobb!" She began tugging at the door, calling the young man everything short of the Devil himself.
"Now, mither—" he laughed, holding up his hands to ward off further attack.
"And what is that nasty fuzz on your face?" The booth began to rattle. "Did you lose your razor?"
Kayla and Liv exchanged looks and both took off towards the house at a near run, eager to escape Sylla ‘The Sullen’, a Cobb family squabble, and the temptation of more shortbread. Liv could swear her jeans were tighter today than they’d been yesterday.
The wind carried Brody’s squeals of laughter and Sylla’s ranting curses all the way to the Manor’s front door as they let themselves into the large stone building.
Cobb Manor was far more crowded than it had been the day before, and from the foyer Liv and Kayla could see a large tour group being led around by a woman wearing a seventeenth century costume that resembled Sylla’s. Minus the pink fuzzy slippers.
"Ahh, Ladies!" A deep voice boomed from the stairway as Badger nimbly made his way towards them, his stout, bulky body easily traversing the steps. He stopped at the first landing and he waved with a powerful hand. "I love lasses who know how to tell the time. Forenoon is what I said, and here you are. I just finished popping in on the tour group you just saw. University
lasses
, here from Cambridge." He wriggled his thick white eyebrows.
Kayla smirked. Apparently, Brody came by his slightly wicked ways quite honestly.
As they drew alongside him Liv could smell the faint, clean scent of soap mixing with his sweet pipe tobacco. He was wearing the same costume he had the day before, but in deference to the chilly weather, his shirt was heavier and it looked slightly more worn.
Badger looked up at Kayla as they walked down the long, dimly lit hallway. "I understand from Sylla you were interested in the library."
Kayla’s dark head turned towards Badger. "Well—"
"No…. um… that was me. I’d love to see it!" A light flush broke out across Liv’s cheeks. She hadn’t meant to answer for Kayla. "Please," she finished weakly.
Two sets of slightly different colored blue eyes twinkled at the blonde woman in undisguised affection. And Liv found herself tumbling helplessly under both their spells, though for very different reasons.
Badger’s deep laugh shook his chest. "Then the library it shall be."
The library’s walls were covered with sturdily built, hardwood bookshelves that ran from floor to ceiling. The musty scent of old paper caused Kayla to sneeze as soon as they walked through the door.
"I do that myself," Badger commented, taking a chair with its back to the window. He handed Kayla a tissue from a box on the table beneath the windowsill. Light spilled in across his broad shoulders, illuminating the swirls of tiny dust motes that danced with his every movement. "The place could use a good airing." He sighed. "But the early rains this autumn have caused Sylla to keep this place shut tight as a drum."
Liv was shifting in her seat next to Kayla, trying to see what was on the shelves in front of her. "Take a look around, lass. That’s why we’re in this room."
Liv could feel the excitement in her grow as she jumped to her feet. "Thanks. But I don’t want to keep you unnecessarily."
Badger blew out a disgusted breath. "Please. If you’ve seen one tourist you’ve seen them all. I’m more than happy to spend some time in your company."
"We appreciate that," Kayla said seriously, surreptitiously glancing at her watch.
Badger chuckled. Kayla’s alert eyes and intelligent face couldn’t quite manage to veil her natural impatience. "Perhaps I could start while you’re still looking?" He shifted his attention to Liv, who was already caught up in a first edition of Robert Tannahill’s poetry. "Ahh… I see you’ve found one of my favorites. Are you familiar with his poems?"
"Not really." Her eyes scanned the verses and she allowed the words to paint a picture in her heart. "But they’re beautiful." She ran her fingers over the worn leather cover wistfully. Her stint in the Peace Corps in some of Africa’s most remote villages had made enjoying hidden treasures like this a near impossibility. She’d nearly forgotten how much she loved the written word in all its forms.
"Of course you haven’t read him," Badger snorted. "That damn Rabie Burns gets all the attention."
Kayla could feel a sudden flow of wonder and yearning coming from her lover as Liv continued to read and bits and pieces of the words and emotions floating around in the blonde woman’s mind made themselves known to her. She narrowed her eyes as she considered what she could do about it. And with a slight nod, she silently rose to her feet and stepped over to Badger, bending over to whisper something in his ear.
When she was finished, the old man drew back with his bushy eyebrows nearly on top of his head. Then he nodded and held out his hand. "It’s a deal, lass."
Kayla grinned and shook it firmly. A shiver chased up and down her spine and, startled, she looked hard into the man’s eyes, searching. Then her gaze flicked to the window over his shoulder.
Badger regarded her kindly and squeezed her hand once more before letting it go. "It’s cold in this big place." He patted his woolen kilt. "You get used to it, especially in one of these."
Kayla rubbed the skin on her arms, the hairs still standing on end. "Yeah." The corner of her mouth curved up. "I suppose so." Then she remembered the bargain she’d just struck. "Come sit down by me, Liv," she called out softly." She and Badger exchanged smiles. "And bring
your
book."
Liv sighed and began to slip it back into its spot on the shelf, not understanding the meaning behind Kayla’s words.
You’ll have time to read and explore later. Don’t be a baby now. They’re both waiting.
"One second."
"Bring over
your
book, Liv." Kayla bit her lip, trying to suppress a peal of unexpected laughter that threatened to spill out. Doing something nice for Liv gave her a little thrill that made her feel so good it was almost scary. Then her lover’s eyes locked on hers and what she felt down deep inside was nothing like fear.
"My book?" Her fingers instinctively tightened around its worn spine.
Kayla felt heat sting her cheeks and nodded slowly. She swallowed a few times. "Maybe you can read it to me later," she asked hopefully, completely forgetting about the man sitting three paces from her.
"Lord, help me." Badger pinned Liv with a playful glare. "Would you two like to be alone? I can always come back later."
"Oh, God," Liv mumbled, covering her face with her hands.
Heh.
I love my life.
Badger began to dig his pipe out from his
sporran.
"Because although it does my old heart good to see such a happy young couple, a man can only stand so much of the love-sick eyes before he keels over."
Kayla closed her eyes and groaned out her embarrassment.
What on Earth is wrong with me today? I’m practically a puddle around her.
Sensing her friend’s embarrassment, Liv crossed the room and put herself between Badger and Kayla, blocking Badger’s view of her partner. She leaned over and kissed Kayla’s cheek, "Thank you, honey," she whispered softly. "Something this old isn’t cheap."
Kayla squirmed uncomfortably. She just knew Badger was sniggering at her behind Liv’s back.
Old fart. But I’ve got Liv and you’ve got that battle-ax Sylla.
So there!
Badger began to hack. He pulled his pipe from between his teeth as a cloud of smoke surrounded his head.
"You’re worth it, Liv," Kayla said, honestly but quietly.
Liv cupped Kayla’s chin and tilted her head up. "Thank you." Then on impulse, she turned around and planted a kiss on Badger’s cheek, the bristly hairs of his beard tickling her mouth. "Thank you, Badger. It’s a beautiful book."
His face was beet red from his coughing and somehow, after Liv’s kiss, it just got worse.
Now it was Kayla’s turn to snicker. Loudly.
"Ack." He wiped his cheek with his hand. "You’re welcome, lass. Now go sit by that tall friend of yours so I can start up my tale," Badger told her gruffly.
But Liv could see he really wasn’t angry. Still smiling, she joined Kayla on a small love seat.
Badger pointed a thick finger to an afghan that hung over the back of the chair. "You might want to cover
yersels.
With no fireplace, this room is a
wee
bit colder than where we were yesterday."
Kayla and Liv dutifully complied and snuggled closely together with the warm blanket covering their legs.
"Now, in case you’ve forgotten..." He knew damn well they hadn’t forgotten; but story telling usually is most effective when the storyteller uses some sort of lead-in. "It was the year of our Lord sixteen hundred and ninety, and it was a cold, unforgiving November in the American Colonies…."
Virginia (Mainland)
November, 1690
"N
O…." BRIDGET MURMURED. "I… it… too cold." Her entire body jerked as though she was struggling against some unknown force.
Dazed green eyes slowly fluttered open. "Bridget?" Faylinn tiredly lifted her head and peered at Bridget’s face, studying it through the shadows.
Rain still pelted the stables, its staccato rhythm magnified by the stillness of the room.
Faylinn’s eyes went round and any trace of sleepiness vanished before her next heartbeat. "God." A small, trembling hand moved to Bridget’s forehead and a tendril of stark terror wound its way around Faylinn’s heart… and tightened.
Bridget was on fire.
The tall woman’s body convulsed in the throws of her fever and nightmare. Her eyes were screwed tightly shut and salty sweat poured from her face, pooling in the hollow of her throat and drenching her hair. "Ca-ca-cold."
Faylinn sat up and straightened the horse blanket that covered Bridget. Then she scrambled off the bed completely and tucked the musty quilt tightly around the shivering woman’s body. She could feel herself beginning to panic. Bridget had had a fever when they’d arrived. But not like this. It felt like her wobbly legs might suddenly give way and Faylinn leaned against the wall with one hand, its cool, rough surface scraping her palm. "Oh, God. Oh, God," she chanted, eyes closed. "It’s happening again and I can’t stop it. I don’t know what to do."
The blonde bolted for the door. Her hands automatically moved down to lift skirts that weren’t there and her fingertips brushed her heavy woolen trousers instead. She threw open the door and a blast of cooler air raced over her skin and the scent of clean hay and manure wafted up to greet her. "Will? Are you here?"
Only a gray, hazy light filtered through the cracks around the door, cutting into the darkness. Her eyes scanned the room, darting in and out of the shadows. The workbench where Will and Katie tended Bridget’s wounds had been rinsed clean of blood, and the clothes they’d had to cut off Bridget’s brutalized body were no longer strewn carelessly on the dirt floor.
Faylinn squinted as she walked through the stables, which was empty save for a pair of scruffy, gray mules and a sleeping dog, whose light snores could be heard from across the room. She moved towards the light and nervously yanked open the stable door. How long had she and Bridget been asleep? It was impossible to tell.
The rain was cascading down in great sheets, as though she was standing in the center of a roaring waterfall. But if she looked hard enough, she could barely make out the outline of the Beynon farmhouse in the distance.
The mules whinnied loudly, stamping their hooves as cold, damp air flooded their stalls and the wind scattered the loose hay against the stable walls.
Faylinn wrung her hands. She didn’t care at all about the icy rain. She would walk through the fires of Hell if it would help Bridget. But she couldn’t leave her alone. Not now.
What if I left her and…. No.
She shook her head violently.
I’m not going anywhere.
An anguished scream from the back room propelled Faylinn’s heart into her throat and she bolted back past the stalls. She entered the small room half-expecting to see Bridget on her feet or on the floor, having fallen. Instead, the dark-haired woman was lying on the bed, eyes closed, the blankets balled in white-knuckled fists.
"Bridget." Faylinn rushed to the bed. "Stop. You’re going to tear your stitches. Calm down!"