Free The Road to Rowanbrae by Doris Davidson

Petrie’s wife’s sayin’ aboot you an’ Doddie Wilson?’
    An iron band clamped round Mysie’s heart. ‘Oh! You ken she spreads terrible lees aboot folk … what was she sayin’?’
    â€˜Tell me the truth, if you dare, an’ we’ll see if she was tellin’ lees or no’ .’
    â€˜Me an’ Doddie just went oot for a breath o’ fresh air,’ she murmured, but he cut her short.
    â€˜I’m nae daft, wumman. There’s just one thing he’d ha’e ta’en you ootside for, an’ I’m askin’ you, did you let him?’
    â€˜No, Jeems, I swear to God I didna.’ Her conscience, however, wouldn’t let her stop there. ‘I let him kiss me, that’s a’.’
    Setting the two pails on the floor with such force that the water slopped over, he leapt across the room and punched her in the stomach, making her double over, winded. He stamped out without waiting to see if she got her breath back. Doddie was in the big byre at Waterton when Jeems burst in. ‘Aye, Jeems, what brings you here …?’ he began sociably, but the other man’s scarlet face and wild eyes told him that this was not a social call.
    â€˜You ken fine what brings me here! What you an’ my wife did on Saturday nicht, that’s what brings me here. Christ, man, the whole place is speakin’ aboot it, an’ laughin’ at me ahin’ my back. Just kisses, she tell’t me, but I’m bloody sure you didna stop at kissin’ her, you horny bugger.’
    Doddie met his furious eyes steadily. ‘It was Mysie stopped at kissin’. I’d ha’e ta’en her in a minute, if she’d let me.’
    Jeems’s fist shot out and landed heavily on Doddie’s mouth. ‘You bugger o’ hell! You tell me that to my face, dae you?’ The second blow caught the young man on the side of the head, and when Doddie still didn’t retaliate, Jeems roared, ‘Oh, aye, you maybe think you’re a great man wi’ the weemen, but you’re nae man enough to stand up for yoursel’.’
    Wiping the blood from his mouth, Doddie said, quietly, ‘You’ve a right to be angry. I shouldna ha’e kissed your wife, but I’d a puckle drinks in me an’ she’s the bonniest lass I ever saw. It’s nae excuse, but it’s the only ane I can gi’e you.’
    Thwarted of a sparring match, Jeems struck out again, shouting, ‘No, by God, it’s nae excuse, an’ I’ll tell you this, if ever I catch you near her again, I’ll kill you!’ He made for the open door, then turned to issue one last warning. ‘Nae man mak’s a fool o’ me an’ gets awa’ wi’ it!’ Watching him going out, Doddie took out his handkerchief to dab his face, and had the small satisfaction of seeing Jeems blowing on his knuckles to ease the pain in them.
    Mysie looked up fearfully when her husband returned, his ugly face made even uglier by a sneer of victory. ‘That’s sorted Doddie Wilson oot,’ he crowed. ‘He’ll nae kiss ony other man’s wife for a lang time.’
    â€˜What did you dae to him?’ she whispered.
    â€˜I punched him stupid, an’ he just stood an’ took it, the big jessie that he is.’
    Mysie knew that Doddie was not a jessie – he had proved that by his passionate pleas and by his hardness against her, which she had felt even through the layers of clothing between them – but it would be wiser to let her husband believe that he had come off best. She was sure of one thing, though – her life would never be the same again now that she’d discovered what love was, for it must be love she felt for Doddie Wilson. Why else would her heart sing the way it did and her innards twist with desire as they had never done for Jeems?

Chapter Five
    If only Sandy was more like his brother, Mysie