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Once they arrived at the bustling market town, they made their way to an open-air stall, hoping to break their fast with hot sausages and bannocks.

The stout woman in charge of the sausages looked Aileen up and down, casting a disapproving look over her britches and untidy hair.

“Where did ye two come from?” she said, narrowing her eyes “Ye look like the devil’s spawn.”

Seeing Aileen straighten her shoulders and stand tall, Maxwell placed a gentling hand on her arm as she drew in a sharp breath, preparing to make what he had no doubt was a stinging retort to the woman.

“Aye, good lady,” he said using a pleasant tone accompanied by a sweet smile at the woman. “I’ve often told me wee wifey that she should look more like a lass than a lad. But she does like her britches.” He gave the woman a wink and she visibly wilted under the sparkle in his blue eyes.

Aileen huffed and walked away, pausing to purchase some apples from another stall while Maxwell, having sweet-talked a smile out of the sour-faced woman, joined her with his bounty of a good serving of the peddler’s hot sausages and bannocks.

They found a quiet spot under a tree to break their fast.

Aileen couldn’t contain a snort of laughter. “I didnae ken ye could charm the birds out of the trees and soothe the crankiest of old harridans.”

Maxwell couldn’t resist teasing her. “Which old harridan did ye have in mind? I thought I’d been soothing ye ever since the night we met in Ullapool.”

“Och. Ye’re nae funny, Maxwell.” She laughed at his cheek, despite herself. “Ye kent well what I meant.”

He laughed with her and they settled to breaking their fast with a sense of merriment that had long been missing from their exchanges.

They made short work of the little feast and once they’d brushed off the crumbs, they were ready to face their journey again.

“I say we head west from here. It will make it harder for Sutherland’s soldiers to find our trail if we avoid the sea from now on. We can make it to Torridon in two or three days if the weather holds and we meet no further mishaps along the way.”

Aileen nodded. “Aye that’s a plan. From Torridon we can sail the sea loch and along the coast again.” She looked around nervously, aware of the curious stares of the villagers.

“We’ll be recalled as strangers if anyone comes seeking us.” She dipped her head, not wishing to allow anyone a clear view of her face. “We need tae call ourselves by lowland names. I ken this burgh belongs to the Laird Ross. He’s nae friend tae Sutherland, but I dinnae ken if I’d meet wi’ his favor either.”

“Mm. Mayhap the Lord doesnae favor pirates.”

She offered a wry grin. “Mayhap.”

“Turnbull.”

“What dae ye mean?”

He chuckled. “That’s a fine Lowland name. Let us from now on become William and Alice Turnbull, of Dundee, two servants in search of a master.”

“Aye, William. And are we wed?”

“Indeed Alice, we’re nae braither and sister.”

She laughed. “I’ll be yer wee-wifey again.”

He looked at her with his penetrating blue gaze. “Mayhap we’d best find a pretty gown fer ye tae wear instead of those britches. That old wife will recall ye as a witch in yer trews if anybody comes asking.”

She sighed. “But they are so much more comfortable than a kirtle.”

“And mayhap we should make yer hair look less like a bird’s nest than it is right now.”

She tossed her head, glaring at him. Nevertheless, she undid her braids and ran her fingers through her hair, untangling it and smoothing it so that it fell over her shoulders and down her back.

They found their way to a hawker selling all kinds of implements from hoes to scythes, as well as a selection of garments. Among his wares they found a blue gown that was a fit for Aileen’s tall figure. After they’d gone beyond the crowded market, she slipped into a secluded spot in a small woodland where she stripped off the britches and replaced them with the gown.

“Very fetching, I must say.”

She growled. “Ye may keep yer mouth closed.”