The Last Rose

Seachd

I couldn't help the heat that rose to my cheeks as Crìsdean teased. Suddenly the question of what exactly was making me blush caught me by surprise.

'Should I tell Alasdair that his lover requests him? Or do you go by something else?'

I slapped him in the arm. 'I am nothing of the sort. And you don't tell him anything,' I warned. 'Just tell me where he will be and I seek him out myself.'

'If you say so,' he sang. He dodged another one of my blows and pranced down the corridor. 'He'll be in the stables until supper!' he called.

The sun sank and took with it my confidence. I spent the remaining hours of that day going through what I would say to Alasdair. Every knead of cold dough was a reminder of the dwindling time I had left to formulate a plan of words.

The dough was packed into a tin and pushed into the bread oven, a hole in the stone wall burnt black with use. I at first looked for Maili's blonde head towering above everyone else's before remembering that Maili had left more than an hour earlier.

Wee Deirdre was scuffling past at that moment, and so she got the task.

'Deirdre, would you please take this loaf out of the oven in a half hour? I need to get going and get changed,' I said.

Deirdre's thin face looked up and the shadow of a scowl fell over her face like a bird flying through sunlight. Perhaps I had caught her at the wrong time. It was not the best thing to do, leaving my work for someone else to finish, but I needed those extra few minutes to talk to Alasdair.

'That's no problem,' Deirdre smiled, then hurried away.

With one last look around to make certain I hadn't left anything lying out, I deposited my apron and slunk into the corridors.

I wandered around for a few minutes, taking long deliberate strides as if I had somewhere important to be. Instead of veering off through the servants' hall into a bedroom to get redressed like I normally would for a special occasion, I sidestepped the bustle around the servants' stairs and continued through the halls, past eroding rock walls and puddles of god-knows-what. It was another minute before I came to the door I was looking for. For once I was thankful that I'd spent so much time with my màthair in this castle as a child that I could navigate it with my eyes closed.

The old lock on the wooden door was stiff, but she managed to push it open with a squeak. Orange sunlight blinded me after hours of working in dim conditions, but the fresh air was a godsend.  It was filled with pine, rain, and cold. I tucked my hands under crossed arms.

The bailey was crisscrossed with carts, wagons and horses and people tending to them, all in preparation for Ishbel's celebrations. From what I had seen and heard of the laird's daughter, she was a quiet, private woman, and I was sure that these celebrations were not Ishbel's idea. Any excuse to drink, Màthair would say. It makes them feel like every other drink wasn't so bad.

I traipsed through the throng of people and under the huge iron-gate that was pulled high above their heads to accommodate all the bustle descending on Castle Làidir. I was the only one going in my direction.

On to the worn road I walked. The only memory infiltrating my mind was that of being tarnished a witch. The thought of that insult being reciprocated by more people turned my stomach. There were far too many haunting tales and songs of innocent women burned alive.

The stables were not a minute from the castle gates. They were new; the centuries-old building that once stood in its place had fallen to a fire when I was only a toddler. Now it was a larger, more solid structure made of stone and wood that could house over twenty horses.

I couldn't see Alasdair in the small grassy field that the horses were often left to wander. The only person I saw as I approached the open doors was a young stable hand I recognised from the village, the boy no older than fourteen. He was shoveling golden hay with a pitchfork and tipped his cap to me as I went inside.

The long room was dull and it took my eyes a few seconds to adjust from the bright light outside. There was a small area at the door with tables on both walls laden with tools and saddles and all-sorts that I didn't understand. I followed a floor of grubby hay and mud past walls of stalls. Most had a horse in, but no sign of Alasdair. Would it be so terrible if I couldn't find him?

Then a loud neigh further down caught my attention. Someone calmed the horse, speaking to it softly and slowly.

A few more stalls down a tall black horse was panting heavily, its wide glassy eyes staring straight at me. I approached it cautiously. The animal had a wild look about it.

Beside the horse I spotted a crop of messy brown hair and my heart felt like it had expanded to fill every inch of my chest. Once more I rehearsed what I was going to say to him and took a deep breath.

'Alasdair?'

He stopped his mutterings to the horse and turned. His shirt was muddied and damp from a shower of rain, his boots caked in mud and straw.

I couldn't help but notice the surprised look on his face and wondered if this was even a good idea at all. It was too late now anyway.

'What are you doing in here?' he asked, tying the brown rope that hung around the horse's neck to a handle that stuck out from the wall with barely a second look. His inquisitive eyes were trained on her.

'I came to speak with you,' I started. My blue eyes met his for a second then flashed back to the horse. 'I would like to apologise for the way I acted last we...spoke, and if-'

'It was my fault,' he interjected. His broad shoulders that had before been rigid and high now lowered and relaxed. 'I was out of place to assume you- to push myself on you like that.'

I hoped I was hiding the disbelief from my face. This was the first time I had ever heard Alasdair apologise in a way that didn't sound like he was forced into it.

He took my silence a stubbornness. 'Tell me if there's something I can do or get you to make up for it. I'm honestly sorry, Pegs-'

It was then that I realised that I had him like clay in my hands. A stream of all the things I could ask of him gushed into my mind. A promotion? A new dress? A horse?

Maybe that was pushing it too far. Still, the temptation was too much to resist. For a second the moral voice of my màthair echoed in my head. I didn't expect anything from Alasdair when I sought him out, so I shouldn't take anything from him.

But all the things I could have!

Then all of a sudden it struck me like a rock thrown into the loch.

'Would you teach me to read?' I asked.

His face remained emotionless for what felt like an age. I at once felt self-conscious.

'If you'd like,' he replied. I bit down a smile. 'It would have to happen somewhere no one would find us. I don't want to think what would happen if they knew I was teaching a scullery maid to read,' he laughed. The smile slipped from my face. He had put me back in my place. Doubts infected me.

He looked up at the roof, deep in thought. 'There's an old bothy by the shore that's been abandoned for years. Everyone says it's cursed, but me and Calum use to go there all the time when we were younger. It's nothing more than a story.'

'Are you sure?'

'On my life. If it was true we'd be long dead,' he said. That wasn't what I was asking, but the answer soothed me nonetheless. 'Do you know the one I'm talking about?'

'Bothan Damainte?' It was a tiny cottage right by the loch that looked like it would fall apart any day, but it was well hidden from the road and completely covered by overgrown trees. No one dared go near it for fear of falling victim of the curse that a witch had cast upon the owner of it years ago.

'That's the one. Meet me there tomorrow at two?'

'I've got to work tomorrow,' I reminded him. Embarrassment was evident on Alasdair's tanned face. 'But I could ask Maili to cover for me. So long as I was back before Seonag got suspicious.'

'I'll see you there.'