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He seldom insisted Sam take part in the manor’s activities though he taught the boy everything about it. And expected him to stand up to it when the time came. Possibly when he had married. The thought caused a contrary reaction twisting his guts. Intense and unpleasant. He forced himself to leave it.
His massive frame approached the group, he saw Shannon stood among them. She had been coming to help in these last couple of months, maybe because, being a childless widow, she wanted to be among people.
Aileen shuffled through the field to start cutting another section. The morning proved to be productive, the work invigorated her. It prevented her from having negative thoughts and cheered her up despite doing it in his fields.
Her spine straightened again, and she dried her sweat brow with her sleeve. The workers started to drop the tools, luncheon upon them.
At that moment, she spotted The McDougal among probable tenants yards away. They talked to him in a relaxed way and she concluded his people might like him well. His work alongside them certainly made him popular.
A beautiful blonde woman in her thirties joined the group right beside him. She had a plate wrapped in a kitchen cloth. Her hand touched his arm as she lifted a familiar smile to him. He turned to hear what she was saying and smiled even white teeth at her. If those lips constituted excruciation when serious, smiling they were deadly. It provoked a ripple in her insides.
After speaking to him, the blonde adjusted his red and black tartan with unmistakable intimacy. It downed as a flash she was his paramour.
In a swift move, she pivoted her back to him while blood drained from the surface of her body in a dizzying rush. And her stomach heaved so dreadfully, she thought she would shame herself on the spot. She swallowed repeatedly, sitting on her hunches, pretending to work. Bile, undiluted, bitter and unfathomable rose to her throat. A reaction whose reason she had no clue to ascertain. It took several deep breaths for her to go back to some semblance of balance.
“Lass, are you alright?” a friendly voice sounded from above her head.
Eyes darting up, she saw a matronly woman, with greying brown hair and pleasant face, staring down at her.
With an iron effort, she produced a wan smile and stood up on strangely wobbly legs. “Yes, sure.” An even bigger effort to utter these weak words. “I was just taking a rest.”
A frank grin stretched her round red cheeks when she introduced herself. “Gracie at your service, madam.” She made a small curtsy.
Her easy ways coaxed her to relax a bit, and grin back. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Gracie. I am Aileen.”
“So, Aileen, shall we have a much-deserved luncheon?”
Anything to distract her from alien reactions. “Certainly, Gracie.” And started walking.
The jolly woman guided her to a long table set in the middle of the field. She should have brought something to share. In a hurry to flee the manor, she had not thought of food. She doubted she would be able to eat anything right at that minute.
“A pity I did not bring anything to eat.” Aileen commented. She would keep the woman company drinking a cup of water. The will to eat nowhere to be got.
Gracie turned her round face to her. “Do you not worry about that. I brought enough for a battalion.”
Trouble being the Laird sat at the head of the table with the blonde glued to his side. Her stomach threatened to start over anew.
“Oh, here is a good spot.” She said with fake enthusiasm, pointing to chairs on the opposite side. With all these people in between, she would not need to look at the devil.
“A relief to sit a little.” Gracie said as she took the seat next to her.
She would have to turn to the opposite of the head of the table if she wanted to talk to her new friend.
She preferred to die than to let him perceive her unsettled mood.
His buidseach sat far from him. Too far for his taste, Taran observed from his spot. And what did he mean by his, anyway? Notwithstanding, he wanted to check her every action, wanted to see that smile on her luminous mahogany eyes and hear what she said and to whom.
The stubborn woman did not turn to him once. Not even a slide of eyes. Her head kept to the other side, listening to Seamus’ wife. A mighty interesting tale the middle-aged woman must be telling, by the looks of it.
He, on the other side found it cycloptic difficult to divert from her figure. Another of Shannon’s proprietary touches forced him to though. The widow’s behaviour was annoying him. Thinking of it, she had been too clingy of late. He did not like it, even less done so publicly.
Luncheon over, Aileen disappeared from his sight. Time and again, he would spot her in the very reverse direction of his. Avoidance, he realised. A wise attitude if it did not anger him to blazing levels.
This awareness of her did not bode well. In the least. His every sense attuned to her disturbing person. An obsession he could do without for sure. When his son married, he would send them to one of his farthest farms, he promised himself. A damning danger to his tranquillity that was what she represented.
Taran made it a point to take Shannon home under her ceaseless public display. As he stopped in front of her cottage, he left no doubt that they were severing their connection. The blonde looked none too pleased about it, but had to accept his decision.
The sight of the devil and the blonde on the wagon together provoked an intense reaction in Aileen. She seethed with a sulphurous feeling roiling in her for no reason she could recognise and would not acknowledge for the life of her. As soon as the wagon disappeared in the country lane, she headed for the manor. A bath should wash off this day.
