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Those words had stuck with him over all the years since, and he had often wondered why his mother had never baked a bigger pie and given him a brother or a sister.

“Because it was not meant to be,” she had said, sighing. She had never told him about the three babies she had miscarried for fear of upsetting him, but looking back, Gowan realized that something dreadful had happened to his beloved mother. It made him mourn and miss her even more. He had loved his father too, of course, but he had adored his mother.

He went back to his exercises, lifting the heavy stones that he used as weights, stretching his body until he was as supple as a whip, turning cartwheels and somersaults, and fighting an invisible enemy with his dagger and fists.

Gowan also practiced archery, which was how he had provided the deer for the village. It had warmed his heart to see how much joy it gave them, and he resolved to provide them with another as soon as he could without arousing too much curiosity and suspicion.

He wandered around the woods for a long time, unable to settle his mind on anything but the beautiful woman who was awaiting him his cabin. She had said he was handsome. Handsome? He gave a cynical half-laugh. She must be blind, or mad. Who in their right mind could call his ugly, scarred face handsome? He had not looked in a mirror for years and that was exactly the way he liked it. He still shaved himself with the sharp blade of his dagger, however, although he had no idea why, since no-one ever saw him. Perhaps it was to remind himself that he was still a man, he thought.

He looked up at the sky and realized that the sun was beginning to go down.

The twilight at this time of year lasted for hours, but it was not every day that he had a ‘guest’ at home. Gowan sighed reluctantly and stood up, stretched his shoulders and began to trudge back. He was both looking forward to and dreading seeing his guest again.

* * *

Minna had found some trout in the little chest where Gowan stored his food, and she lit a small fire to cook it. When it was ready, she added some mushrooms and chestnuts, leaving some wild cherries for a kind of pudding, as if she was cooking a formal meal. She would have given her eye teeth for some bread, but she doubted that the man had ever been able to dig that up in the wood! It was a meager meal, but it would have to do.

Suddenly the door opened and he stepped inside. He was once more wearing the hood, and half his face was hidden. Minna could only see his square cleft chin and the Cupid’s bow shape of his firm lips.

Gowan had dug up some more mushrooms and had brought back bread, eggs and some cheese. When he saw Minna’s offering he almost smiled. At least the corners of his mouth twitched a little.

“The fish is still warm,” she informed him. “I have only just made it. I am sorry, but I could not find anything else to eat.”

“Thank you for the food.” He sat down beside her and brought out a carved wooden bowl and spoon, which he gave to her. “I managed to get some other things, as you can see.” He held out the bread and cheese.

“Thank you,” she said gratefully. “I was just thinking how much I would love some bread.” She nodded in thanks, broke off a piece of the crusty bread and began to eat. She had not realized how hungry she was, and even though the food was humble, it still tasted like the best meal she had ever eaten.

“I am sorry,” he said gently. “I usually have more meat but there has been little time for hunting. I got the rest of the food from the peddler with whom I trade.”

“My visit was very ill-timed, it seems.” Minna’s voice was bitter. She took a deep breath as she watched him eating his food, then finally asked.

“How did you get your scars?”

He looked her straight in the eyes and opened his mouth to tell her, but hesitated, wondering whether to go on. Then he decided that it would be best to tell his story, since there seemed to be something about her he could trust, although he could not tell what it was. He always found it best to be guided by his instincts.

“My name is Gowan Hepburn,” he told her. “And I am the rightful Laird of Cairndene.” He lifted the hood and pushed it back. “Your father had my mother murdered and tried to kill me, but I escaped. I have been hiding here ever since.

I got my scar from the fire in the castle. A branch fell on me when I was running out of the castle. It burned all my hair off on that side too, but it grew back. My mother sacrificed herself for me, and her body was found in the loch a few days later.

The villagers of Cairndene gave her a decent, dignified burial, and for that I will be forever grateful to them. Yet to my shame I have been too afraid to come out of this forest, partly because I thought the Darroch soldiers might be looking for me but mostly because I looked so horrific. I knew that my scarred face would be associated with evil so knowing the simple, superstitious people that they are, I put the symbols around the woods to keep them away.” He hung his head so that his shining golden hair fell over his face.

Minna looked at him in disbelief. “Everyone thinks you are dead,” she told him.

“That was what I wanted them to think.” His voice was grim. “I was in mourning for my mother, and I could not even attend her funeral. For a while I thought about killing myself, but one thing kept me going. Revenge.”

She sighed. “I don’t blame you. I would feel the same way, but surely you can't go on like this, speaking to no-one. It is not healthy.” Then, without thinking, she reached out and brushed his hair back.

He looked up, and Minna smiled at him. “You are not ugly,” she murmured. “Your face is barely scarred at all, and there is certainly no need to hide because of a mark. Most of whatever was there to start with has healed now.”

“You can say that with confidence because this is not your face,” he replied bitterly.

“There are a few wrinkles on your cheek and the corner of your left eye,” Minna observed. “Do you not think that there are many men out there in a much worse state than you are? There are those who have lost arms and legs, and those who have had their minds scarred by what they have seen in battle.”

“You make me feel so ashamed,” Gowan said gloomily. “But would your brother’s guards know me if I ventured out of this place? Would I not be cut down as soon as one of them saw me? My scars are hard to hide.”

“I was just a girl of eleven years when all this happened,” Minna pointed out. “I had heard about you, and Jamie had seen you, but only in the distance. Even if you had stood in front of him I doubt he would have guessed who you were. But then he is not too bright at the best of times.” She almost spat the last words out.

“You have no love for your brother,” Gowan observed, watching her keenly.


Tags: Olivia Kerr Historical