Scotch Swords, Muskets and Love

Most striking about his appearance though was his face. His jaw was angular and his chin sharp; both were meticulously shaven, although thick sideburns adorned the sides of his face, nestled on either side of strongly-defined cheekbones. A tall, straight nose stood proudly above a small yet sensual mouth, and piercing blue eyes looked out from beneath finely-shaped, hawk-like eyebrows. His long black hair was tied behind his head in a pony-tail.

“Good afternoon sir,” Susan said, trying to retain her composure as she began to feel a flush of rather pleasurable heat ripple over her skin. “How can I help you?”

He looked up at her, and as their eyes met it seemed that his pupils dilated, and she could see that he had gasped in a short, swift breath of air at the sight of her green eyes, which matched his in intensity. Still, if he was feeling some sort of attraction – which she strongly suspected he was – he made an effort to conceal it.

“My lady,” he said in a smooth, deep voice. “I hope that you can indeed help me.”

His eyes, she noticed, were filled with a deep and quiet sadness, and this seemed to intensify as he walked up to her. He opened his satchel and took out a beautiful dress, and placed it gently on the counter.

“That's a finely-made dress,” exclaimed Susan as she picked it up with her long, slim fingers and examined it. “Whose is it?”

The man looked down and bit his lip; it was obvious that he was repressing some deeply painful memories.

“It... it was my fiancée’s,” he managed to utter. “She passed away from a fever six months ago. Two weeks before our wedding.”

Susan felt a pang of sadness bite into her heart.

“I'm so sorry to hear that,” she said.

The man nodded, keeping his eyes on the ground.

“Thank you for your sympathy, my lady.”

“You can call me 'Susan',” she said. “And may I have the pleasure of your name?”

“Robert,” he replied. “Robert MacDonald.”

“Once again, I'd like to say that I really am sorry about your fiancée. May God rest her soul. But how would you like me to help you with this dress? Does it need adjusting for a new lady in your life?”

He shook his head.

“There is no new woman in my life.”

Susan's heart beat a little faster at this revelation.

“I'm, uh, I'm sorry to hear that.”

“The truth is, I've fallen on hard times. I borrowed some money from a powerful nobleman, and I was going to use that money to expand my business-”

“What is your business, if you don't mind me asking?”

“I'm a horse breeder. I own – well, owned – a stud farm in the Highlands. But last winter, an extremely harsh winter indeed, a number of our best horses died from the cold. So, I had to borrow money to buy more horses so that I could revive the business. However, the night after I borrowed the money, someone broke into my house and stole all of it. I was left with nothing – no money, no horses, and now my lands will be forfeit to the nobleman, as I cannot repay the debt.”

It was a sad and tragic tale indeed, and Susan couldn't help but sigh and shake her head sadly.

“I'm now trying to sell everything of value that I own. After I have enough money, I will go to the ships and buy passage to the New World. Perhaps a fresh start there, in America, will help me get over the mess that my life has become here.”

“I'm so sorry to hear that,” commented Susan. She was sorry in more ways than one; she felt a sudden and stinging sense of disappointment that this man was to leave Scotland forever – especially since the more they spoke, the more she could feel a bond growing between them.

“Will you buy this dress from me?” asked Robert, looking up at her now and locking his beautiful, sadness-filled eyes into hers.

“I'd love to, but like you, our business has fallen on hard times. I... Well, let's just say an evil man duped my father and I out of a lot of money last year.”

Robert nodded sadly. He picked up the dress, folded it up with gentle care and put it back in his satchel.

“I thank you for your help nonetheless,” he said, turning on his heels to leave the store.

Susan felt a quick burst of panic.