Page 7 of Highlander’s Forbidden Fruit

Da was wrong about the English, she thought as she followed the innkeeper’s instructions and turned right into a narrow alley. They are generous, warm folk, only too eager to help a Scotsman out. Wait till I get back and tell him all this.

The alley was infested with chickens. Some plucked at the muddy ground, some roosted on top of wooden crates, while others ran around squawking their tiny chicken heads off. Freshly washed laundry hung between the buildings which lay so close together they could be lovers trying to embrace.

Was this the way? Evanna looked back to where she’d come from, and then ahead. Of all of the tales Clara had told her of her homestead, none had involved dirty alleys and a colony of chickens.

Evanna scratched her itching head as best she could and consulted the map again. She tried to remember what Clara had told her of Ashby Hall. It was built near the Thames and had a large sundial in front of its gates. Evanna couldn’t see any sundials. She could barely see the sun in the narrow alley. As for the Thames, she hadn’t seen a glimpse of that famed river since she’d arrived in London.

“I’m lost,” she sighed, her shoulder’s deflating.

“Let me show you the way.” The innkeeper stood in the entrance to the alley, his sneer crooked with amusement. He licked his thin lips as he came forward. “Hand us the satchel, boy.”

Us? Evanna looked over her shoulder and saw the innkeeper’s wife guarding the other end of the alley.

It all made sense now. They had sent her on a false trail so they could ambush her and steal her money. If it would have been just about the money, Evanna wouldn’t have minded much, but her pride was hurt. How dare they make a fool of her? And most importantly, how dare they prove her father right?

The anger and resentment that had been simmering under her flesh, at the unfairness of her father and the indifference of Aleck, burst forth like an angry tide. The innkeeper lunged forward and grabbed her by the front of her shirt, unknowingly taking a fistful of her cotton breast-trap. Evanna felt the cotton cage come loose, her breasts celebrating their escape, and her lungs singing as additional air finally went in.

Panic at being groped near such a sensitive area flooded through her, and she did the first thing that came to mind. She kicked him squarely between the legs. It was the first thing Lockard had taught her to do when she had been assigned to him by her father.

The innkeeper’s eyes went round, and his mouth puckered as if he’d sucked on a lemon. His hand loosened around her breasts long enough for her to pull free. She had only gotten a few inches away when she was pulled back by the back of her head.

The innkeeper had gotten hold of her hat in an attempt to pull her back. Evanna yelped in pain as pins came loose and were yanked out of her head. Hair spilled around her flushed face. She didn’t turn around, just aimed a kick in the innkeeper’s general direction. Her foot landed on something hard, and she heard a groan of pain. The pressure pulling her head back disappeared, and she ran forward unencumbered.

“Crazy Scots!” she heard the innkeeper yell.

Eyes blinking with tears of pain, she ran towards the innkeeper’s wife. Hair untangled and wild around her face, screaming her frustration, Evanna ran at the woman at the end of the alley looking like a banshee from the moors. The innkeeper’s wife yelped in fright and ran away, leaving the passage unguarded. Evanna managed to escape, but she knew she could no longer trust anyone.

Brushing the hair out of her eyes, Evanna ran and ran, only stopping once to ask a child where the Thames was. After agonizing hours of sweat and thirst, she reached the banks of the Thames. Leaning down she splashed some water on her face and gargled the taste of terror out of her mouth. After a few minutes of rest in which she tried and failed in the attempt at grooming herself, she began to walk along the bank hoping to come upon Clara’s house.

“Rotten Englishmen and their stupid wives,” she muttered as she went along. Her feet were aching, and her legs were cramping. The lack of sleep was also having its effect. She was so drowsy she could fall asleep on her feet. But she had to keep going. There was no possibility of letting anyone take advantage of her again.

Soon, she reached a large manor house. It wasn’t as large as her home, but it wasn’t as old either. The windows weren’t small but large and airy, and the rock wasn’t covered with lichen and moss but of a pretty cream yellow. It was surrounded by neat gardens and pruned shrubbery.

Evanna spotted a young man pottering in the garden, his narrow backside up in the air.

“Excuse me?” she asked in her politest tone. “Is this the Ashby manor?”

The youth looked up at her, buck teeth protruding from under thin lips. He eyed Evanna’s disheveled appearance with disdain. “No.”

Groaning with frustration Evanna sat down on the pristine grass and put her head in her hands. She wanted to cry but her ego wouldn’t allow it. If only Laird MacLeod could see her now, horribly lost, hungry, and a sight to see, it would prove him right that Evanna was a naive little girl who needed his protection. She couldn't cry. She wouldn’t! But her eyes were swimming, and her lower lip trembled as she tried hard to keep her tears from spilling.

“Why are you crying?” she heard a note of alarm in the youth’s voice.

“I’m lost. I’m hungry. I’m tired. I just want to get to Clara’s, otherwise what was the point?” Evanna looked up, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, and spread her hands.

The youth put down the small trowel he had been working with and walked over to Evanna. His clothes were much too nice to be those of a servant, and his features were fine if you ignored the buck teeth. Sandy blonde curls sat on top of his head like a cloud of dust.

“You know Clara Ashby?” he asked.

Evanna nodded, in what she hoped was a dignified air. “She’s my best friend.”

The youth looked skeptical. “I didn’t know Clara kept such…loud company.”

“How do ye know Clara?” she asked. She looked at him with renewed interest. Had Clara ever mentioned a rabbit-toothed individual? Evanna couldn't recall.

“She’s our neighbor.”

“What?” Evanna stood up in a hurry. Blood rushed to her head, and she had to hold the youth’s arm to steady herself. “Why did nae ye say so before?”