“All right, what do I do now?” she asked as she moved toward the other end of the sheep.
It took her forty-five minutes of hard work to turn the first tiny lamb inside the ewe. And every few minutes the ewe’s uterus would give a violent contraction and Temperance’s arm would be squeezed so hard that tears of pain would come to her eyes.
“You’re doin’ well,” James said softly from behind her, and she could tell that his emotions were involved in this for his accent thickened. He put his big hands on her shoulders and kneaded them while the contractions strangled her arm. “Just relax. Breathe,” he said softly into her ear.
When the contraction relaxed and she could feel her arm again, he talked to her about what she was feeling inside the ewe’s uterus. “Feel for the foot. There, got it now? Now pull. No, you won’t hurt her. She’s in too much pain now to know what you’re doin’. There, good. Pull. Slow, now. There! Pull again. Harder this time.”
All of a sudden the lamb popped out of the ewe and into Temperance’s lap. It was wet and covered with blood and a sac of mucus, but Temperance didn’t know when she’d ever seen anything so beautiful. Holding the little creature, she looked up at James in wonder.
“There’s another one,” he said, smiling at her. “Get it; then we clean them up and try to get the mother to nurse.”
After the first lamb the second one was easy, but Temperance could feel that the contractions were much lighter now, and she looked up at James in alarm.
“Just get the lambs out. We’ll worry about the mother later.”
In another few minutes there was another lamb in Temperance’s lap, and she watched as James grabbed handfuls of grass and tried to clean the afterbirth off the new lambs. Without thinking what she was doing, Temperance grabbed a white cloth from off the bushes and began cleaning the second lamb.
The lamb James had, by instinct, went to its mother to nurse, but the ewe just lay there, still panting.
“She’s dying,” James said softly to Temperance. “Sorry for this to happen on your first one.”
“My first sheep,” Temperance said emphatically as she put her lamb next to its sibling, then put her hand onto the big ewe’s stomach. “I’ve had to attend to the births of human women three times,” she said as she put one hand over the other and began to knead the ewe’s stomach. “One time the afterbirth got stuck and the midwife pushed and pushed on the woman’s stomach until—”
She was working so hard that she couldn’t talk anymore.
James pushed the lambs aside, then knelt beside Temperance and helped her knead. And after several moments the sheep expelled the huge afterbirth, which dropped onto the ground with a wet splat.
James and Temperance sat back and watched for a moment. The sheep seemed to stop breathing for a few moments; then she opened her eyes, moved her head upward, then lifted her legs.
“She wants to stand,” James said, triumph in his voice.
They got off their knees, helped the big ewe to stand, and after a few wobbly seconds, she ran off, her lambs running after her.
“Ingrates!” Temperance said, laughing, as she looked at James. He’d stepped away from her and was now holding up what had once been her clean shirt. It was now covered with what she’d removed from the lamb.
“I told you I should have left it on,” she said, smiling, and taking it from him with the tips of one finger and her thumb. “Now what do I wear to go back down the mountain?”
Still smiling, James removed his own shirt, quickly untying the cuffs and pulling it over his head, exposing his bare chest to the light.
Temperance took the shirt from him and put it on, laughing when the cuffs covered her hands by inches and the tail reached to her knees. James lifted her hand, pushed the sleeves upward, then tied the cuff about her wrist. When he was on the second cuff, he nodded toward her rucksack, lying on the ground where she’d tossed it when she first saw the ewe.
“Anything to eat in there?”
“Cornish pasties. They’re—”
“Even here in backward Scotland we’ve heard of such foreign food,” he said, smiling at her. “Come on; I know a place to eat.”
Without hesitation, she ran along behind him as his long legs ate up the ground and he moved away from the side of the mountain where the men were looking after the sheep.
There was an ancient tree holding on to the side of the mountain, and the ground beneath it was covered with what looked like lethally sharp rocks, but James climbed straight down the mountain for a couple of feet, then reached up his arms to her. She started to take his hand, but he wouldn’t let her.
“Jump and I’ll catch you,” he said. “It’s too steep for that skirt.”
She started to tell him that that was absurd, but the next moment she felt her body falling forward into his arms in complete trust. He caught her about the waist, swung her around, then set her down on a path. Sort of a path, as it was only about six inches wide. One misplacement of her feet and she’d fall straight down.
“If you’re scared, hold on to my belt,” he said as he started walking.
“Shirt off; hold on to your belt,” she said. “No wonder you don’t want to get married when you lead all the girls about with those requests.”
She smiled when James’s laughter floated back to her. She really must stop being so outrageous! But, truthfully, it was a relief to be around a man who wasn’t begging her to give up what she wanted to do in life and marry him. Sometimes Temperance thought that she was a challenge to men, rather like climbing the highest mountain. How many men had said to her, “Come away from all this and be my wife. Bear my children”?
Because of where they always seemed to lead, Temperance had had to keep humorous remarks to herself. At least she’d never been able to share them with any man.
But now she could. James McCairn was a man she could laugh with and not fear the consequences. As a result, she felt herself becoming more outrageous by the minute.
James stopped so abruptly that Temperance had to put her hand on his bare back to steady herself. His skin was certainly warm! she thought as she reluctantly removed her hand.
“What do you think?” he asked, turning back toward her.
Temperance put her back to the rocky side of the trail and looked out. Below them was the village, the same breathtaking view she’d seen with Ramsey on the horse. To the left was what looked to be a little cave. “It’s beautiful,” she said honestly.
In the next second, James disappeared around a corner, and she lost no time in following him. It was a cave, about six feet deep, eight feet wide, and inside was a rough plank bed covered in sheepskins and a little stone circle where she could see there had been many fires.
When she looked back at him, he had an expression of a boy, as though he really, really wanted her to like his secret place.
“Cleaner than the house,” she said seriously.
James smiled as he put the rucksack down on the ground. “Have a seat,” he said cheerfully as he tossed a sheepskin to the ground, “and tell me all about yourself.”
“Well . . .” she began, her eyes twinkling in mischief as she watched him rummage inside the canvas sack. “—but Mother says that I’m so adorable but then I know that because all the boys tell me that so that’s why I want to marry a lord and become a princess and—”
Smiling, James took a pasty from the sack, leaned back on one elbow and bit into it. “I don’t think a woman has ever made me laugh as much as you do,” he said thoughtfully.
Temperance suddenly had a dose of reality. They were very alone in the little cave, and he was half naked, and . . .
“So why are you really here?” he asked, looking at her with squinted eyes.
“You need a housekeeper, and I need a job.” She was glad to think of something else besides his bare body.
With his head turned toward the front of the shallow cave as he looked out over the village, he snorted. “You’re as much a housekeepe
r as I am a clergyman. What did my uncle actually say to you about me?”
Temperance couldn’t think quickly enough to make up a lie, so she just looked out at the village in the distance.
“So what’s he want of me this time?” he asked, looking at her profile. “Did he think that I’d be so overcome with your beauty that I’d end up having to marry you?”
“Most certainly not!” she said much too fast.
“Ah, but there is something more to this than you cleaning my old house.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but he held up his hand in dismissal. “No, no, don’t tell me; I like a puzzle. Bloody little to think about in this place. So what would make an American city woman like you come to a remote place in Scotland and scrub floors? It’s not the romance of the Highlands, is it? Getting to live near the laird of a clan, that sort of thing?”
“Not likely.” Temperance looked down at her pasty. It was beef and onions and potatoes wrapped in pastry, then baked. If she did say so herself, it was delicious. Maybe she did have an aptitude for cooking after all.
In spite of her pretense of being uninterested, listening to him try to figure out the puzzle was the most interesting conversation she’d had since she’d arrived in Scotland.
She had to keep from smiling as he looked at her hard and tried to piece together what little he knew.
“Shall I give you a hint?” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop herself.
“Ha! The day I can’t figure out what a woman’s up to is the day I give up.”
She had to turn away to hide her smile; then she looked back at him. But that was a mistake. All he had on was a kilt, a wide leather belt, and some soft boots that reached to mid calf. She decided it was safer to keep looking at the village.
“Would you mind telling me what this is between you and your uncle? He seemed as though he cared about you, but he also seems to do things that you hate.”
Sitting up, James leaned over her to reach the rucksack, and Temperance couldn’t breathe while he was so near. Now I’ll be able to tell my women that I know what it’s like to lust for a man, she thought. However, I must also be able to tell them that I controlled my raging emotions.
“. . . and marriage,” James was saying.
“I beg your pardon, I didn’t hear you.” She had to try to remember where she was and not transport herself back to New York every few minutes.
“I said that my uncle is determined to marry me off, and I don’t want to get married.”
“Why ever not?” Temperance asked, turning to him, her interest in his answer overriding her senses.
“Once you get married, you have no freedom. She wants you home for dinner every night. She wants you to . . . to . . . She wants you to go shopping with her in Edinburgh.” He sounded as though he were going to be sick.
Temperance couldn’t keep from laughing. “Oh, you poor tortured man. What do you expect her to do? Climb a mountain with you and help deliver lambs?”
“Yes,” he said so softly that Temperance barely heard him.
When she looked into his eyes, they were fierce and dark, and she had difficulty looking away from him.
When she spoke, her voice was light. “If you fall in love with me, McCairn, you’re going to get your heart broken. Your uncle is paying me well to do this job, and as soon as I have enough money, I’m going back to New York. I have a job to do there. People need me.”
James smiled at her in a way that made sweat break out between her breasts. “I don’t want to marry you; I just want you back in my bed.”
“You, me, and Grace? Won’t that be a bit crowded?” she said without blinking.
At that James laughed and moved back onto his elbows. “You know, I think I like you. You’re not like other women. All right, so what is it you want to know about me so much that you came all the way up here?”
That nearly threw Temperance. He was a bit too perceptive for her to be able to hide too much from him. So, the closer she stayed to the truth, the better off she’d be. “I don’t know a lot more about why he wants you to marry than you do. Actually, I had only one conversation about the whole matter with your uncle. He told me that if I would be your housekeeper for . . .” She hesitated. “Six months, for the summer . . .” Truthfully, Angus hadn’t given her a time limit, and sometimes that frightened her. What if she didn’t find James a wife for ten years?
“. . . for six months,” she continued, “he’d give me passage back to the U.S., and he’d even donate to one of my causes.”
“Your causes?”
“I help destitute women.”
“Ah. Like yourself. So destitute that you’ll take a job as a cleaning woman.”
When she turned to look at him, there was genuine anger on her face. “Your uncle is a low-down, lying scoundrel who refuses to bend or listen to reason or—” She opened her eyes wide in horror.
“Oh, aye, he’s all that, all right, and more. You can’t tell me anything about him that I don’t know already. But what has he done to you?”
“He made this job seem wonderful: laird of a clan, a big house in the country. I thought I was going to be directing a houseful of servants and that it’d take me only a few hours a day.”
“But instead you got us,” James said, his voice full of amusement.
“Why do you keep your stables so clean and that house so . . . so . . .”
James shrugged and reached for another pasty. “The house means nothing, but every year I win races and money, so the horses are worth more to me than the house. What do I need with a big house? I live up here.”
“But if you did get married—”
“Once is enough for me.”
“Oh,” Temperance said with a slow smile. “Now I understand.” She pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged them to her as she looked back at the village. “Now I see everything. You were hurt in love, so now you despise all women. I think I’ve read that book.”
When James didn’t say anything, she turned to look at him. He was staring at her in an odd way. “You and my uncle didn’t get along, did you? He doesn’t like women who see things as they are.”
Temperance laughed. “Not well, no. So, are you going to tell me about your wife?”
“No,” he said. “You have it all figured out, so why bother?”
Temperance could have bitten her tongue for having been so flippant. If she’d asked him nicely, maybe he would have told her something about his marriage that she could use. “Why is your uncle so set on getting you married? Because you need an heir?”
At that James smiled. “Oh, aye, there’s a great fight over who gets this heap when I die.”
“Then why does your uncle insist that you marry?” she persisted.
James took a moment to answer. “I think that Uncle Angus likes marriage. He wrote me that he married again just recently. I haven’t met her, but he says she’s the best of all his wives, a very kind woman, sweet-tempered. Angus likes sweet women.”
“And what kind of women do you like?” she shot back at him.
“Ones that aren’t too nosy,” he said quickly. “I have to get back to the sheep now,” he said as he started to stand up.
“But—” She couldn’t think of what to say—that he couldn’t leave because she hadn’t yet discovered what she meant to find out? “What’s Grace like?” she asked as she got to her feet.
“What’s your interest in Grace?”
“None. It’s just that I hear her name so often, and you must be in love with her if you . . . I mean, if you . . .”
He was standing outside in the sunlight, and he looked down at her. “I think people talk too much and you listen too much. You going to bring me lunch every day?”
“Will you get me some help in cleaning up that house? I can’t repair the roof or get rid of the chickens in the bedrooms.”
“What does it matter to you if the place is clean? Why not just take my uncle’s money and sit out
your six months’ sentence?”
What could she say? That any of the prospective brides her mother sent would turn tail and run at the sight of the place? “Angus McCairn is likely to send inspectors to see if I’ve done my job.”
“I doubt that, and I don’t believe you think he will,” James said softly as he looked at her in speculation.
Temperance had to turn her face away to hide its redness. She could see that he knew she was keeping something from him, and he was trying to figure out what it was.
She followed him along the narrow path; then he climbed up ahead of her and helped her up the steep hillside to stand under the old tree.
“Go straight down the wide path, don’t get off of it, and you’ll come to the village. Take a left and you’ll wind up back at the house.”
“What about your shirt?” she asked, holding out her arm. He was bare-chested, and she was certainly an odd sight in his big shirt that reached to her knees.
“I have another one,” he said, motioning his head back up the hill. “Now go, you’ve taken up enough of my time.”
“And mine as well,” she said, annoyed at his attitude that she was being a nuisance. Quickly she turned and started down the hill, and all the way down she thought about nothing but what was going on between James and his uncle about the marriage. Was it money? In her experience in the tenements, everything seemed to come down to money or sex, or both. So what was behind Angus McCairn’s insistence that his nephew marry?
“I’ll find out,” she whispered aloud, then started composing a letter to her mother in her head.
But when she reached the bottom of the steep path and looked at the split path, all thoughts of her mother left her. To the left was that dirty house that needed months more of work to make it habitable. To the right was the village. Were the cottages full of women knitting sweaters that they sold in Edinburgh? What could she learn from these people that she could take back with her to New York?