Read Online The Road to Rowanbrae by Doris Davidson - Free Book Online Page A

she had ever dreamt about – tall and dark with twinkling eyes, broad shoulders tapering to narrow hips – and surely nobody could condemn her if she let herself enjoy his company?
    Eck Petrie had been fortifying himself with a dram, but when the music started up again, Mysie allowed Doddie to take her into position for a strip-the-willow. Some of the men tried to birl her off her feet, and she found herself skirling like the other women, but it was great fun, and when she glanced round, she saw that Jess was enjoying herself every bit as much, not surprising when her partner this time was Frank Mutch.
    At the end, Eck unstrapped his accordion and went to the bar for a large glass of ale to replace the sweat he had lost while his fingers had flown over the keys, and most of the other men did the same, ostensibly to get their breath back, but Doddie sat down beside Mysie. ‘Your cheeks are flushed,’ he told her, ‘but it mak’s you even bonnier. Oh, I wish you werena Jeems Duncan’s wife. I could easy fa’ in love wi’ you.’
    â€˜You needna bother,’ she laughed, but she, too, wished that she wasn’t Jeems Duncan’s wife.
    The next dance was a Scottish waltz, and she could scarcely bear the thrill of being so close to Doddie; he was so gentle, so romantic, she wanted to stay in his arms for ever. When the waltz finished, he led her outside without saying a word, not that she would have said no if he’d asked first, but every dark corner they found seemed to be occupied, little squeals of girlish delight warning them not to go too near. By accident, they almost stumbled over the farmer’s wife and Gavin Leslie, moaning in the last throes of ecstasy. It was like a death knell to Mysie, who hastily extracted her hand from Doddie’s and said, firmly, ‘We’d best go back inside, or somebody might see us, like we saw Freda Mutch.’
    â€˜Do you nae want to …?’
    â€˜Aye, an’ that’s the trouble. I shouldna be feelin’ like this when I’m wed on Jeems.’
    â€˜He’ll never ken.’
    â€˜Somebody might tell him.’
    â€˜There’s a lot o’ men’ll never ken what their wives are up to the nicht,’ Doddie murmured, looking at her with unconcealed longing. ‘Oh, Mysie, please?’
    Torn between attraction to him and fear of her husband, she whispered, ‘No, I canna.’
    â€˜I’ll nae force you.’ But he sounded disappointed. Inside, Mysie wondered if Jess had noticed her absence, but there was no sign of her, nor of the farmer. They were more than likely outside doing what she’d stopped Doddie from doing, and she wished that she’d let him, but it was too late now. He sat beside her again, telling her about himself, that his mother had died a few years ago and that his father lived near Fyvie. And she told him about her father’s death and her mother being cook at Tinterty. This made her remember that she hadn’t had a letter from her mother for some time, and made her resolve to write to her the next day. But, occasionally, an electric silence fell, during which their eyes met and locked until the confused Mysie had to look away, alarmed by the depth of her feelings.
    When the last dance was announced, Doddie looked at her in dismay. ‘Will you come ootside wi’ me again, Mysie?’ he coaxed. ‘I didna even get a chance to kiss you afore.’
    She went with him eagerly, not caring who saw them, and this time, most of the other couples having gone inside, they found a secluded spot behind the dairy. By the time the Findlaters found them, Mysie was on the point of succumbing to Doddie’s urgent pleading, and was almost angry at their interruption. Jake was swaying on his feet, but Jess met Mysie’s guilty eyes without a blush. ‘It’s time we went hame, lass.’
    Scrambling up, Mysie said, unsteadily, ‘Thank you for