Spellbound: The Awakening of Aislin Collins (19 page)

As soon as he said the words, I felt the
world around me turn into a haze. He was carrying me back to the
port. Back to civilization and away from him. I buried my face into
his neck and tried to savor every last moment we had together. My
heart broke at the thought of our parting, but then it happened, as
though he had never been there in the first place. I was standing
with all the bustle of the port around me. I heard his voice in my
ear.

“Show them these fabrics and say you were
shopping for your wedding, they are for your gown.”

I looked down into my arms to find the most
luxurious white silk I had ever seen, bundles of it, along with
lace and moray. I stood in the middle of the port staring in
admiration at the material that I now possessed. I had never held
such fine fabric before. This must have cost a fortune.

“Aislin! Where have you been?” Abigail
yelled, as she and Becky came running up to me.

“Shopping,” I said dreamily.

Becky looked at me with a quizzical face, but
then her expression changed to amazement when she surveyed the
fabric that I was holding. Abigail looked at my possessions with
envy.

“How did you afford all that?” she demanded
as her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“My father gave me money in case I saw fabric
for my wedding,” I lied.

“Why did you not show me that fabric? It is
more suited for someone like me,” she pouted.

I ignored her as we made our way toward the
carriage.

“Your hair is a mess,” Abigail said, as she
trailed after me.

I hastily smoothed down my hair and swore I
heard Greer laughing. I tried to contain a giggle myself.

As we came close to the tavern, Zachariah
came out of the doorway. He was being supported by a shabbily
dressed woman. She obviously worked at the tavern for a specific
purpose. He did not see us, but Abigail and I watched as he kissed
her passionately and paid her for her time. Abigail looked repulsed
and dropped a few of her purchases on the ground. Becky quickly
picked up the items and took the rest from Abigail, who stood
motionless as she observed her brother in the glow of reality for
the first time.

“Aislin, I am so sorry,” she gasped, as she
watched her brother still consorting with the prostitute.

Behavior of this sort was expected of
sailors, not of the mayor's son and certainly not brazenly in
public.

I realized that this one act could be my
escape from having to play these games with Zachariah ever again. I
waited for Becky to see me swaying, and then I thrust the fabric
into her hands and let myself fall to the ground.

I heard gasps from onlookers and the rushing
of feet as people came to lift me up and bring me water. Somewhere
in my head, I heard Greer, “Smart girl,” he laughed.

Zachariah rushed to come to my aid. He was
stumbling and swaying as he slammed into people and pushed his way
through the crowd, “What is wrong with her?” he asked Abigail in a
disgusted voice

Abigail rounded on him, she started hitting
him and screaming, “You are what is wrong with her, you horrible
boy! You broke her heart. She has fainted from seeing you with that
prostitute!”

The crowd that had gathered around us was
murmuring under their breath. Rumors were already circulating.
Women from our town were amongst the shoppers, and I knew that
Burlington would know of Zachariah's conduct by nightfall.

“Can you sit up?” Zachariah asked me as he
leaned down at my side.

The smell of alcohol was permeating off him,
and the scent of the whore's perfume was fresh upon his clothing. I
thought to use this in my favor. I sat up with great care and
forced tears into my eyes.

“Get away from me you unfaithful brute,” I
bellowed at him.

“Do not talk to me like that, you ridiculous
wench!” he yelled back, swaying as he stood. He was far too drunk
to control his manners.

The crowd gasped at his harsh response.

“I was shopping for my wedding dress,” I
whimpered, as I dropped my head into my hands and pretended to
weep.

Abigail helped me up and treated me as though
I was extremely fragile. “How could you do this to her?” she hissed
at him, as she wrapped her arms around me.

Zachariah was walking away from us and
towards the carriage, “Get in the carriage. We're going home.”

“I do not want to go with him,” I said in a
feeble voice.

Becky was holding all my things and Abigail
was looking helplessly at the carriage. “How else would you get
back to Burlington? It is too dangerous to walk and it would take
too long.”

“I do not care.”

“I can take you,” a soft voice said.

Abigail froze in her spot and stared at the
man who offered me safe passage. Greer had worked his way through
the crowd and was now standing near Abigail.

“I am going that way, and I would be happy to
escort you home safely. You should not have to ride with such a
scoundrel.”

Abigail looked longingly at Greer. I looked
away from him so that I would not blush and tried to hide my
excitement at his offer. He took the fabric from Becky's arms.

“I will get a carriage,” he said.

Zachariah had turned around and was strutting
back to the scene, “She will go with no one but me!” he shouted
over the crowd at Greer.

“Are you her husband?” Greer asked.

“Not yet,” Zachariah sneered while coming
face to face with Greer. Zachariah was a few inches shorter and
looked feeble in comparison.

“Well if she is not your wife than you have
no authority over her. So back off little man,” Greer warned in a
cool voice, as he stared down at the drunken boy.

“Do you know who I am?” Zachariah
prodded.

Greer threw his head back and laughed, “I do
not care who you are. You are obviously nothing more than a drunken
twit and a swine. Now run along home to your mother and leave this
lady in peace.” Greer took my hand and pulled me through the
crowd.

Zachariah lunged for me, but Greer stepped
between us.

“The wedding if off Zachariah, I can assure
you that my parents will not allow a man of your character to marry
me,” I said boldly as the crowd erupted into more whispers at my
words.

He said nothing, but turned and stomped off
in the direction of the carriage. Becky and Abigail followed
behind, leaving us amongst the dispersing crowd.

An old man walked up and tapped Greer on the
arm, “If you can wait for a while, I can give you both a ride back
to Burlington in my carriage. I have a few more merchants to barter
with, so it will be a few hours.”

“Thank you,” said Greer. “That would be very
kind of you. I can pay you for your service.” Greer reached into
his pocket to compensate the man.

The little man smiled and pat Greer's arm,
“No need son. Just see that the girl finds a place to rest and heal
from her pain. Love can cause the worst wounds of all,” he toddled
off in the direction of the merchants, leaving Greer and I to
entertain ourselves for the upcoming hours.

I had never been alone with him for more than
a half hour, and I felt my stomach fill with butterflies as he took
my hand and led me to the tavern.

“I am sorry to bring you to such an
establishment, but I think that some food will do you good.”

The tavern was a dingy place. Crowded with
sailors and businessmen, and adorned with colorfully dressed women
that hung all over the customers and laughed loudly at their jokes.
I felt rather out of place and clung to Greer's side. He ignored
the brunette who sauntered over and offered him a drink, and he
found a quiet table in the back corner. She followed us as we
seated ourselves, “So sorry that I stole your boyfriend,” the woman
said to me in a nasal voice. She was smiling at me with an impish
expression. Her front right tooth was badly chipped and her skin
looked yellow against her tattered pink dress.

“I am not sorry,” I replied, “You can have
him.”

Her expression melted into disappointment and
confusion. No woman from Burlington to Philadelphia could
understand my animosity toward the wonderful Zachariah Marthaler.
She thought that she had stolen a prize and a consolation of my
despair was in order. Little did she know that I would give him to
her freely.

Greer ordered wine for both of us, and a stew
for me to eat. He looked at me with great curiosity as I sat
quietly, not sure of what to say.

“Does it bother you to see Zachariah with
another woman?” he finally asked.

“No, why would it?” The question seemed so
odd to me. I had never thought of being jealous. In fact, I was
relieved.

“He dishonors you by his conduct.” He pushed
the wine towards me, encouraging me to drink.

“I do not care what he thinks, or what anyone
else thinks for that matter. If I loved him I suppose it would
bother me, but he means nothing more to me than any one of these
patrons,” I said, while pointing around the room.

As I did so, I noticed how many women were
staring at Greer, and I realized that we had been without each
other for a many lifetimes.

“Did you ever love another?” I asked. The
thought of Greer with another woman did indeed make me jealous…and
rather sad.

Greer's expression shifted from relaxed, to
angry and rigid. He looked at me for a long while without blinking,
without moving. “I have never loved anyone but you, and there was
no other after your death.” His voice was stern and defensive.

I felt my cheeks grow crimson and I lowered
my gaze to the table. I had hurt him with my question and found
myself fiddling with my napkin, “I am sorry. It is just that you
said that you have been alone for so long. I see the way women look
at you and . . . ” I could not finish my sentence for fear of
making things worse.

I watched as his hands wrapped around mine,
the color of our skin was almost identical and I realized that his
skin was now pale. I lifted my gaze to meet his.

“There has never been anyone but you,” he
said softly.

My food came and the bowl was dropped in
front of me by Zachariah's mistress. The hot stew splashed onto my
face and dress.

“Oh so sorry miss!” she sneered sarcastically
as she walked away,

Greer took the food away from me and left the
table. Within moments, he came back with a fresh bowl of stew.

“She probably spit in that.” He handed me the
bowl, “She is sick. I would not risk you eating anything that she
touched. This came directly from the kitchen.”

“How do you know she is sick?” I asked,
before I dipped my spoon into the hot stew.

“I can smell it. Her blood is tainted with
disease,” he said quietly.

I tasted the stew. I was surprised at its
goodness and I was astonished at my hunger. Greer ate nothing, but
played with his wine glass and watched me contently.

“Is it difficult for you to find food?” I
asked between bites.

My question seemed to come as a surprise to
him and he shifted in his seat with discomfort.

“It is getting harder now that winter is
setting in. Most of the large animals are migrating and it does not
leave much for me.”

“What will you do?” I worried that he would
need to leave if food sources became too scarce.

“I will make due,” he smiled, “I am
resourceful when I need to be.”

“You are pale . . . are you feeling alight?”
I asked in concern.

“I have not eaten in a while, but I am fine,”
he insisted.

I offered him some of my stew but he politely
declined, “Where do you live?” I asked.

“I have been staying on the outskirts of
town, renting room and board. I am planning on moving into town
soon, before the first winter storm comes.”

“Will you be close to me?” I felt hope
welling up inside me.

He looked concerned, “Yes, but I do not know
how our interactions will be . . . It all depends upon
tonight.”

“Tonight?”

“I will talk to your father about your
wedding arrangement and see if I can sway his hand towards
accepting my proposal.” He looked anxious and I felt his grip on my
hand tighten just slightly.

The butterflies in my stomach were fluttering
so hard that I could not eat anymore. I was trying my best not to
show how happy I was, not in front of all these eavesdropping
strangers. Even so, a smile slipped passed my guard.

Greer was smiling too. His nose crinkled a
little and his teeth shone perfectly white—they almost sparkled. He
was so handsome, so perfect, and he loved me.

“Are you done eating?” he asked. I nodded and
we stood to leave the tavern.

“Where will we meet the gentleman who is
giving us passage home?” I asked.

“He walked into the tavern only minutes ago.
He is sitting over there,” he pointed to the far end of the room.
Greer's back had been to the door the whole time.

“How did you know he entered the tavern?”

“I could hear him. He has a limp. It gives
his gate a distinct sound.” He took my hand into his, gathered up
all my fabrics and purchases, and made his way to the old man.

The man waved happily at us and then bade us
to follow him out of the tavern and to a small, enclosed carriage.
It was pulled by two beautiful brown horses whose breath looked
like smoke in the cold dark air.

Greer lifted me into the carriage, loaded all
our possessions into it next, and then finally found a place next
to me. He was far too big for the tiny seats and I sat on his lap
to allot him as much room as possible. Neither of us complained
about this arrangement.

We were completely alone in the carriage as
we were driven back to town. I rested my head upon his shoulder and
he wrapped his arms tightly around me. The night air was frigid and
I clung to him for warmth, although I found that his body did not
radiate heat the way mine did.