A Scottish Tale

It was an uncharacteristically warm evening. I stared out the window across the grounds, the moonlight filtered through the high wisps of clouds, casting flitting shadows through the trees and inky black shadows behind the hedges.

The guests would arrive soon. How I hated these functions, but it kept me in good graces with the townspeople. I loved the people and I wanted them to have a good time, I just didn't want to be there for it. Idle chit-chat for hours, the good-natured drunken brawl at the end of the night – we were Scotsmen, after all.

I could hear the front door opening as people began to arrive. I checked my kilt, made sure my hair was still tied back in its neat tail, and pulled my stockings up again. Damn things were always falling down. Then I set off downstairs.

Reaching the main hall, I saw the guests arriving in the best clothes they had -- the men in their kilts with sharp pleats, the women in simple flowing dresses.

Along one wall of the main hall a table stretched nearly 30 feet. On the table was all manner of local food and drink. There was the ubiquitous haggis, seafood, stovies and bannocks, cheeses, ales and of course whiskey.

As my father's only child, I had been fortunate to inherit the entire estate. My father had built the massive stone edifice through decades of dealings with the English monarchy and blind ambition. And, while I was loath to give up the comforts his life had brought me, I empathized with those who scratched and toiled to survive. I did my best to share the fruits of my good fortune with my neighbors and they appreciated the monthly gatherings at the manor and I knew all of them by name. Or so I thought.

On this evening, my world was to be turned upside down, though.

I knew as soon as she walked through the door. She was petite and slim and though she seemed somewhat reserved, I saw a fire burning in her that aroused me immediately. There was a glint in her eye that told me not to mistake her shyness for subservience. Her eyes were constantly roving, taking in everything and everyone and making immediate judgments. She saw me descending the stairs and I detected a slight sneer as though she were sure that I would be an aloof and arrogant bastard. I hoped I wouldn't prove her right.

While her dress covered most of her body, I could tell by the way she walked that she was had an exquisite form. The dress flared just enough at her hips to be enticing and it had a tight, laced bodice that made her cleavage more impressive.

I watched her walk along, eying the spread on the table and finally taking a hunk of black bread and nibbling it as she stood with her back to the wall. Nearby, a group of men guffawed and slapped each other on the back in a boisterous celebration.

Walking over to the group, I hugged them and bade them welcome.

After a bit of small talk, Hugh Dudley, an imposing man with a shock of red hair and a beard that defied any attempt to tame it, put his arm around my shoulder and spoke to me.

"William," he said in his thick Scottish brogue, "I have someone I'd like you to meet." He led me to where she stood, almost glowering at the assemblage. " This is my brother's eldest girl, Eithne."

She turned her face to mine and I saw those gray eyes. The light from the torches on the walls highlighted the colors in her hair – all shades of yellow and browns, with just a hint of red mixed in. She was even more beautiful up close.

"Welcome to my home," I said, putting out my hand, "My name is William Bruce. Thank you for coming."

She shook my hand briefly and I could see a touch of contempt in her face. I knew she thought I was nothing more than a pampered dandy.

"Please enjoy yourselves," I said, turning to Hugh. "If there's anything you need, let me know."

I walked away to mingle with other guests but kept finding myself scanning the room to see her. Occasionally, I would catch her eye and she would surprise me by holding my gaze, rather than looking away.

The longer I waited, the more I knew I had to find out about her.

As the evening wore on, the crowd grew and shrank, raucous laughter ebbed and flowed. Throughout it all, I kept looking for Eithne. I frequently saw young men approach her, talk for a few minutes and then wander away looking befuddled.

"She can't be that dense," I thought to myself. "Not with that penetrating gaze."

Finally I was able to make my way over to her. She was sitting on a long, low bench just watching everyone else.

"May I join you?" I asked, bowing with an exaggerated flourish.

She rolled her eyes and motioned for me to sit down. This was not starting out well.

"You are the daughter of Hugh's brother? What brings you to the Highlands?" I inquired. "Where does your family call home?"

She fixed her gaze on me, evaluating me for several seconds and I got the distinct impression that she considered me something of a dandy who only played to the common folk to remain on their good side.

"I am from Kirkaldy," she said. I could tell from her accent that she was from further south, but I had no idea she had come such a distance.

"And why have you come so far to visit us?" I asked. It was obvious she wasn't going to volunteer any information. I was going to have to drag it from her.

"My father sent me," she replied curtly.

"For what reason?" I pressed.

Again she fixed her eyes on me. The cold steel gray of her eyes told me that although she was petite, she was not a person to be trifled with.

"It's not my intent to annoy you," I said. "I'm simply curious as to why your father would send such a lovely young woman so far from home."

"I cause trouble," she said matter-of-factly.

I laughed out loud and she shot me a piercing glance.

"I can see how you might," I said, "but I find it refreshing. Here in the Highlands we like strong women who aren't afraid to stand with, rather than behind a man."

She sat silent for a long moment, as though processing this idea, or perhaps just determining my truthfulness.

Finally, she looked in my eyes and her gaze softened somewhat. I felt as though I had made it past her outer layer of defenses. I had breached the cold, hard exterior, but only because she had let me, not because I was a master tactician.

"I am the youngest of six and my father's only daughter," she said at last. "All five of my brothers have been to Aberdeen, but I was not permitted."

An act of Parliament required the sons of landowners to be schooled in Latin and Law. If all five of her brothers had attended King's College in Aberdeen, I knew that this girl was from a family at least as fortunate as my own. I felt the momentum of the conversation subtly shift to my favor.

"You understand that law requires only the sons to be schooled," I said. "Why do you want to go to university?"

"Because I know I am the equal of any man. If I were wearing a kilt instead of this silly frock," she said tugging at the sleeves of her dress, "they'd let me go."

I knew she was right, but I didn't know what to do about it. I empathized but had no solution.

We sat for a while in silence and I could see the emotion rising in her. Her face developed a slight flush and I saw her jaw tense as she thought of others – dullards, even – being allowed to go to Aberdeen or even St. Andrews or Edinburgh while she was regarded as little more than property in civil society.

"I've not been to university," I told her, "But my father schooled me in Latin and Law and many other subjects. I would be happy to teach you what I know."

She considered the offer for a moment and shook her head.

"I want to go to university. I want to prove to them that I'm not an addle-minded twit. And I want other girls to know they are worthy of education."

"You sound as though you are going off to the Crusades," I laughed.

She shot me a look that gave me a shiver.

"I'm sorry." I told her. "Please come walk with me. I want to show you something."

As she stood, I realized how truly beautiful she was. I felt an almost overpowering urge to pull her close to me and feel the curves of her body against mine. I wanted to kiss her. I had to kiss her. But would she let me?

As we walked and talked, I felt her start to let her guard down and become more comfortable with me.

We left the main hall and walked outside, the ground was spongy and soft underfoot and I wondered whether the slight spring in my step was because of that or because I found myself growing more infatuated with this stubbornly independent woman.

"I agree that you should be able to go to University if you want to, but I have to ask you, what do you intend to do with that knowledge? After all, the opportunities for a lass like yourself are surely scarce at best."

We stopped along a low stone wall that bisected a small hill and afforded a view of the lush green fields below. She lifted herself up to sit on the cool, moss-covered rocks and pondered her answer for a moment.

"Sometimes, knowledge is its own end," she told me. "I would be dishonest if I said I never thought about how I would like to change things, but I know the way things are, too."

I stood there, dumbfounded. This woman was so different from anyone I had ever met. The young men I knew who HAD been to university went grudgingly, preferring less cerebral pursuits.

Most of the women I had known either never thought to question their lot in life or refused to make their discontent known. But here was a woman who was beautiful and feminine enough that she could have men swooning. She was strong and self-sufficient enough to provide for herself without their help. She was smart enough to point out their inferiorities but polite enough not to do so in a way they understood. And I realized as I looked at this woman I had known for only a few hours that I had fallen in love with her.

I stood there in stunned silence, trying to process this realization. I noticed her looking at me quizzically, wondering why I had fallen silent.

I knew that I had to find a way to keep this woman in my life, but I could not and would not follow the traditional route of going to her family and trying to barter for her hand as though she were a sheep.

And then it struck me.

"I have an idea," I told her.

She said nothing, but watched me with a pensive expression. I was sure she had heard various proposals from men before, but this one would be different.

"You want to go to University but can't because you're not a lad. If they thought you were a lad, though. You could easily slip by. Forgive me for being direct, but if you change your clothes and manner just a bit, you could pass as a boy," I offered, preparing for the slap I feared was forthcoming.

She sat for a moment, thinking about what I'd said.

"It couldn't work, I'd need my father's permission to attend and he would never give it."

If I didn't get slapped for my previous statement, I almost surely would for what I was about to propose.

"Your father might not give you permission, but I would. If you really want to go, I can claim you are my dead sister's son and I have been tasked with raising you. I would send you to University."

"You hardly know me," she sputtered. "Why would you do such a thing?"

I knew I could not tell her the truth. I could not say that I was willing to do it because I was in love with this obstinate whelp. I couldn't tell her that I was willing to perpetuate any ruse to keep her in my life.

"I know you well enough to recognize your potential. I know it would be a crime against God and nature to let your obvious gifts go to waste."

Her eyes searched my own and I felt as though she could read every emotion I was feeling. I leaned against the wall, looking at the stones and traced the craggy surface with a fingertip. I knew if I looked at her, my face would lay bare my true feelings.

"I'd have to leave home," she said. "Where would I go?"

"You could stay here. I could take you on as a page or something. As far as anyone would know, you would be just a hired boy."

She squinted at me a bit, "And what would you expect of me in exchange," she asked, a little accusingly.

Honestly, it hadn't occurred to me to expect anything of her but her presence.

I thought for a moment and said, "when you are not at university, you would live here and help me. There is always work to be done."

She was still eyeing me suspiciously, so I continued.

"You would have your own room and I would expect nothing of you except your assistance."

She studied me for a few moments more and then held out her hand.

"I gratefully accept your offer," she told me, clasping my hand and giving it a firm shake. She slid down from the wall, smoothed her dress and began walking back to the main hall. Did I detect just a bit more swing in her hips? I wasn't sure.

When she got to the door, she glanced back at me and smiled and then disappeared inside.

That's when it really struck me. What had I done?

I had invited a woman I barely knew but already loved to live with me but I guaranteed her that I would treat her as nothing more than a hired hand.

As the party wound down and revelers began to stumble home, their bellies full and their heads swimming, I caught up with Eithne again.

I put my hand on her forearm and motioned for her to follow me to an alcove.

Standing in the darkness, the sounds of people muffled by the thick tapestry on the wall, I felt the uncontrollable urge to lean forward and kiss her. I had to keep reminding myself that I was trying to help her and not use her for my own pleasure.

"When you get home, take as much time as you need to get ready. When you return here, I will have a room ready for you and you and I shall go to Aberdeen to see about getting you into the university."

She smiled at me and gave me a slight nod. Did I detect a faint glimmer in her eyes? Could she see me as more than just a benefactor, I wondered. I shook the thought off, telling myself not to start going down that path. This had the potential of being a lengthy arrangement and the sooner I convinced myself that she was just a lad in my employ, the better.

I leaned in a little closer to her ear and I could smell her scent. I wanted her.

"Just make sure, when you return, to tell me who you are. I may not recognize you," I said quietly.

She nodded again, and I took my hand from her arm. She stood for a moment and then a startling suddenness, threw her arms around my neck and kissed my cheek.

"Thank you," she told me. "I'll return within the month." And then she slipped around the corner and vanished in the night.

I held my hand against my cheek where she had kissed me. I could still feel the touch of her soft lips on my cheek. It was almost as though she had burned me with those lips. I could feel her touch, seared into my cheek and I could still smell her scent, like a hint of meadowsweet.

--

For the next month, I alternated between moping around waiting for Eithne's return and throwing myself into projects with a manic fervor in an attempt to divert my attention from her absence.

What was it about this girl? Certainly she was pretty, but there were lots of pretty young women. Why did this one affect me the way she did? She was outspoken and opinionated, which I certainly admired, but I wondered if that was what affected me. I seemed to recall feeling something before I'd ever heard her speak. And, in some ways, I liked her despite her outspokenness. I'd known outspoken women before and with few exceptions, they tended to annoy me more than arouse me.

I made a trip to Edinburgh to purchase some furnishing and set about furnishing a room for Eithne. I spent more than I expected, purchasing a large feather bed, a wardrobe and chest, a long table to serve as a desk and a chair more ornate than any in the house.

For her room, I selected one downstairs, near the kitchen. As a boy, my father had employed a cook and she had stayed there. Several times, I considered giving her a room near my own, but rejected the idea for one with a more innocuous appearance.

----------

Eithne lay her plans to explain her absence, something she knew her father would be fundamentally uninterested in and therefore fortuitously uncurious about. University! It didn't seem possible. And disguised as a lad!

She'd experimented already with loose garments and jackets and thought she could pass, though (regretfully) she realized that the waist length hair would have to be shortened by at least a foot. And Will. A braw offer, he'd made, and a braw man he was to make it. She leaned back against her pillow after blowing out the candle thinking perhaps a bit too much about Will. The way his hand moved to her waist when she'd kissed him. The way he'd looked into her eyes.

No. Idiot. If anything happened... Well, he'd tire of her and then she could go whistle for a University education. If he wanted anything to happen at all. Maybe he didn't. She punched the pillow and rolled on her back. And thought -- just for a minute (what harm could it do?) of his long, hard body. Of herself, yielding. Of the long, sweet, dark, night.

Impossible.

----------

The next week was spent introducing my new charge to the help and showing her (I had to stop thinking of Eithne as 'her' if we were to convince everyone she was a lad) around.

While my estate was large, it was a bit disorganized. I rather liked it that way. I had my hands in so many things that often I forgot one project for weeks at a time.

About three dozen sheep grazed contentedly in one large field. Another lay fallow, waiting to be planted with barley. A creek trickled along at the bottom of a hill a few hundred yards from the main house. The trickling water lazily spun a water wheel on the side of a small wooden building. We tromped down the hill and I showed Eithne the furnace. I generally used it to help fit shoes on the couple of draft horses that were stabled over by the sheep. I'd also flirted with making glass, but just didn't have the touch. I showed Eithne the blacksmith tools I used and the large anvil and offered to teach her any of the skills I knew.

While showing her the tools, I turned to say something and found myself practically nose to nose with her. She had been standing just behind me, but when I turned, I found myself close enough that I could smell her hair and I could feel her breath on my cheek.

When I turned and realized how close she was, I stumbled a bit, catching myself in mid-step. I wavered there momentarily, trying to regain my balance and Eithne reached up and put her hands on my chest to steady me.

Regaining my balance, I stood there looking at her. I was a bit embarrassed and apologetic for nearly stepping on her, but I couldn't get any words out. All I could do was stand there, deaf and dumb. I could feel her hands still resting against my chest and her eyes looking into mine.

I wanted to kiss her and, had I been able to move, I might have. Instead, I found my feet rooted to the spot and my body incapable of following my mind's directions.

Fortunately, one of us was capable of movement, if not rational thought.

Eithne, resting her hands on my chest, stood up on her tiptoes and gently and quickly kissed my bottom lip.

Neither of us said a word. Her lips, the lips whose touch seemed to burn my cheek when she had kissed me before, now started a conflagration that threatened to engulf my very being.

The momentary touch of her lips against mine seemed to immediately radiate into my body from the point of contact. My heart fluttered and I trembled. My palms immediately began to sweat, My legs tingled and I felt familiar stirrings and I knew that I was rapidly getting hard. I wanted her. I wanted to take her in my arms and lift her up onto the long, low table. I wanted to pull down the boyish pants she wore and slip a finger inside her and hopefully find her as aroused as I was. I wanted to take her into my arms and I wanted to take her into my bed. I wanted to feel her entire body against mine and I wanted to feel myself enter her. I wanted to make love to this beautiful woman disguised as a boy. I wanted to taste her and feel her and hear her. I wanted to hear the sound she'd make as I first slipped myself inside her and then I wanted to hear her reaction when she felt me burst and spill my seed into her belly.