“But you are doing your best,” Gowan said softly. “I am sure they are grateful.”
“My best is not good enough!” Minna growled, then choked again.
Gowan fetched some water for her and she drank thirstily. “You should rest,” he advised. “Sleep for a little longer. No-one will disturb you.”
Minna nodded, then she took a long look at him. “Why do you not let me see your face?” she asked.
Gowan completely ignored the question. “You will be safe here,” he assured her. “I will protect you.”
“Thank you!” Minna was amazed. “Why are you doing so much for me?”
The man hesitated for a moment. “Because I hate men who bully and abuse women,” he replied grimly. “They are beneath contempt. I had to watch a woman who was very dear to me being taken away to die when I was younger, and I have nightmares about it to this day.” His voice was throbbing with anger.
“I am very sorry,” she said softly. “Was - was it your mother?”
Again, he did not acknowledge the question. He stood up, picked up her plate and his makeshift one, then stacked them together.
“I need to find us some more to eat,” he told her. “Bolt the door for your own protection. I can't keep you here against your will, but I would advise you to stay inside with me, at least for the moment for your own safety. Your brother might come back. There are candles by the fireplace.”
“Thank you for everything you have done - are doing for me.” Minna said gratefully. Then she blushed and said: “When - when I woke up I was almost naked. Did you undress me?”
“I had to,” he replied, a note of apology in his voice. “Your clothes were soaking wet, and you would have been cold and very uncomfortable if I had not. I left your camisole and did not look at you for longer than I had to. I did not touch you in any way -”
Minna held a hand up to silence him. “Thank you,” she said gently. “I believe you. What is a little loss of modesty compared to my life?”
Gowan nodded and slipped out silently.
13
Gowan could not stop thinking about his guest. She was so amazingly beautiful, with her sparkling blue eyes and river of golden brown hair that ran down her back to her waist, and his weak man’s body reacted every time he visualized her. If only he were handsome again. If only she could have seen him in his former days before the scars were inflicted, then perhaps he would be able to show her his face, but it was no use wishing for the moon. She was not his, and never would be.
However, her story had touched him in a way that he had never expected. He had always thought of the members of the Darroch family as villains, but now he realized that Minna was as much a victim as he was. She too was stuck in a situation she hated, in a prison that was not of her own making. She could run away, of course, but somehow he knew she would not, since he thought that she felt responsible for the village and everyone in it.
The more he thought about her, the more he admired her, and when he remembered her near-naked body as he undressed her, he felt his erection surge again and realized that he was not going to get much done that day. The more he tried to concentrate on other matters, the more the intrusive thoughts became and eventually he was performing his tasks unconsciously, hardly noticing what he was doing.
‘What if I were to show her my face?’he thought.‘Would she think me a monster? Or could she look past it and see the man I really am?’
He chewed it over again and again, imagining her reaction to his scars. Would she recoil in horror? Pretend they did not matter while secretly thinking them absolutely repulsive? Or would she pity him? He could not even bear the thought of that. It would be wonderful if she told him they did not matter and meant it, but he could not imagine any female being able to look past the horrible marks on his face. That lovely young woman could get any man she wanted; she was not going to bother with one who was as ugly as sin.
Gowan caught a brace of pigeons, then pulled half a dozen trout out of the loch. After years of practice he was a skilled fisherman and could catch enough fish, as well as rabbits and other small animals, to trade with the peddler who brought him ale, bread, candles and other necessities. He always had enough to ensure that he never starved. However, it was sometimes difficult to keep his stomach full in winter, when he needed more fuel in his body to stay warm.
It occurred to him sometimes to wonder about the utter futility of living the way he did, and pondered the thought of trying to move to a town and starting a normal life. However, he was so accustomed to being a hermit that he doubted he could be with others at all now.
Gowan had finally caught enough fish of sufficient size to trade with Jock the peddler, so he went out on the path to wait for his cart to pass, leaning his back against a tree. They met each other twice a week, which usually provided all the human interaction Gowan needed.
He did not have to wait long for the rickety, heavily-laden and ancient vehicle to come rattling towards him, drawn by an equally ancient mule called Molly. Jock himself was the youngest of the trio, being only in his early fifties, and now he greeted Gowan with a gap-toothed grin and a wave.
“Hello, Mister Nobody!” he called cheerfully. This was his pet name for the man who would neither tell Jock his name nor show him his face. “How are ye farin’ the day?”
“As well as usual, Jock. You?” Gowan asked.
“Well, lad. What dae ye have for me the day?” His green-eyed gaze rested on the fish, and he raised his eyebrows. “My mouth is fair waterin’. Fine trout.”
“Good,” Gowan replied, smiling. “Can you give me bread and porridge? And eggs?”
The last was added as an afterthought, and Jock narrowed his eyes at Gowan, then he sighed and relented. “Ye will put me out o’ business,” he grumbled. “Only four eggs, mind. That is all I have left.”
“That will do, Jock,” Gowan said, as he took his bundles from Jock and put them in his satchel. “Thank you. Stay well.”