The Golden Harrow Tavern

“You are my friend,” he insisted warmly and put his hands back on her knees, “Therefore…it is my problem as well.”

How could he help her come to terms with their situation? How could he guide her away from this infatuation - for that was all he thought it was, a fleeting and passing emotion. In time, she would look at him and wonder what she was attracted to. Perhaps in time, he would look at her and wonder how he could have let her slip through his hold, regret his fidelity to Mary. However, he did not consider the latter anymore - only how he could help her.

"Some time away from you. Then I shall return and go; how could I possibly ever of liked you." Did it help to tell him what he wanted to hear. That if I went away I would come back with a fresher mind and a new fancy. "You touching my knee doesn't help me. I wish I didn't find you so alluring; I can't even name a single thing I find attractive of you." The attraction was we were both similar to one another's life. He made me feel wanted rekindled my old self.

He listened intently to her words, but part of him doubted the verity of what she spoke. How he hoped that she spoke the truth…however, there was a quiet and dark part of him that liked the idea of her fancy for him; part of him that was flatted and where his imagination danced closed to what would happen if he dared to reciprocate.

James accordingly dropped his hands from her, tilting his head endearingly to catch the direction of her gaze, “Do you want me to leave you?"

I turned to him placing my hand on his knee this time. "No as I would miss you! You may not miss me but be rest assured I will endure many sleepless nights thinking of you." I didn't want him to reciprocate his feelings or anything like that. It was more just about me have a sexual awakening to him I was in too deep than I thought. I found the need to explore him like a tasty Ale from Somerset. Letting the new taste and texture explode on my tongue; relaxing my body to its affects.

"I hope not!" he replied with a gentle chuckle, barely noticing that her hand rested upon him for so tentative was her touch. He could not - no matter how much thought he should - regret knowing Isabel. To be sure, things were complicated now but whether he liked it or not - they were stitched together by the binds of friendship...even if they were a little tangled and untidy.

"As long as I do not haunt you dreams," he added playfully, "Then I shall be content."

I ruffled up his hair like a sister would do gently pinning back his hair. We were both tangled in a web me; pushing him more and more into the weaved web. It was like the dance of a bull I dangled the red cape in front of him. Making him go this way and that; trying to keep him in my company for as much as possible. He didn't like it I made him uncomfortable I was like a fire work giving of unannounced sparks. "Am I allowed one last hug before we part."

He smiled and stood up, taking her hands into his and gathering her off the cold ground, “I don’t see why not,” he replied and looked into her eyes - gratified to see they were no longer filled with tears.

Would he miss her? he wondered as he stretched his arms out at either side of him. Perhaps when he visited the tavern and no longer saw her, perhaps when he looked from his bedroom window and remembered how she had waited for him in the maze…perhaps when he wore the shirts she would fashion for him. He suspected it would be in the gentle river’s flow that he would remember her most - the colour of her eyes, the same as the water after a storm.

Gently wrapping my arms around his neck; resting my head against his broad shoulder. My fingers fell down his back clinging to the leather that he wore on top of his shirt. I would miss him like a graze against my ribcage. Once I was gone and if he didn't me miss me I would then only then move on and forget all about him. I inhaled that musky scent which smelled of men shiny beads of sweat; fighting off my temptation.

He rested his chin upon her hair with a sigh, feeling her hands trace down his back like rain. Her fingers like gentle drops of rain over his doublet. James noticed the smell of fresh air upon her, as if she had been strolling through the woods all day - not confined indoors like nobility normally were. Finally, he admitted to himself that he would truly miss her. It was simply that James was used to wanting the things that he could not have…Isabel was now one of them.

"If you want me to stay then tell me. If I could I would take you with me but it's against the law to kidnap a king." I held his face in my hands letting my eyes scan every inch of his face. On the right hand side of his cheek was a tiny freckle on the same side of his body; were another two down by his neck. My thumb traced his lips as I held my breath watching him. "What I feel for you isn't sexual. Yes I think of you sexually but it's more of a self pleasing effect. A bit like when I was younger."

He smiled at her words. Even if he could have travelled with her - would he? To England, no; James would only go beyond that border when he took that flimsy crown from the English King’s head. Yet, perhaps another land - across the sea and beyond the world they both lived in. Then, he thought, they might go away…but that was not now and they were not different people.

“I do want you to stay,” he said deeply, his voice came out deep and horse as her finger brushed over his lip, “I won’t force you though and I will not beg. If you stay - it will be your own will that keeps you here...not me."

Their were brief moments when I felt he pulled me so close to him only to be brought back to reality. I wanted to kiss him now to give him a little taste of me an ever lasting scent. Riddled with frustration I pulled him towards me; hands wrapped tightly around his white shirt. My hands moved smoothly across his chest; resting firmly on his ribs. "I am a happy lass because of you James. Everything was grey and their you come my white wee cloud oozing with glee."

There was something about that moment which was different. The breeze had gone, the murmur from the tavern was silenced - not even the birds sang. All was quiet as the land eventually gave way to the night, the sun entirely gone and the moon upon the horizon. Her forehead was nearly at his chin, her hands upon his thin linen shirt.

Quite suddenly - even a surprise to James - he pressed his lips against her forehead, for just one moment. As quick as he had done it, he took a step away from her, "Go with my blessing, Isabel," he said honestly, a smile on his lips, "Write to me," he said, hoping with the greatest of sincerity that she would, "At least so I know you have arrived well."

He glanced behind him to the castle. His thoughts drifted to Mary and then back to the present, "Good night, Isa."

James tumbled down the great hill upon which the castle stood, running fast with the vigour and speed of a young man. The afternoon was bright, everything was yellow and it was so warm, he wore only his shirt - sleeves rolled past his elbows, neck open wide with the linen tucked messily into his breeches. He'd left Mary in bed and hadn't bothered to change into his court clothes after his bath, the sun shone too brightly and called him outside.

The common folk lined the fields, taking a day off from their toil. The were doted about the land in little clusters while the nobility remained under the shadow of the castle - hiding from the sun beneath their parasols or in their rooms, like Mary. Finally, he reached the tavern - having run all the way. He paused for a brief moment outside and fixed his shirt, running his hands through his dark hair before walking into the tavern.

The windows were all open and it was empty, the floor was gleaming clean and the tables and chairs neatly arranged, "Isabel?"

"Is that a musket in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me." I was of course jesting with the poor man. After his confession in the letter I was not sure how on earth to greet him. For once in my life I was speechless and this rarely happened. My palms were pressed down against the unvarnished banister. The tavern didn't smell like a tavern it smelled fresh from the agile wind blowing swiftly inside. My unruly hair was kept down it curled and frizzed basically had a mind of its own. The sun was out; but it didn't threaten us with ungodly heat leaving us to wonder what on earth was going on. After all, this was Scotland days like this was a rarity.

He playfully glanced down to his breeches, hands on his hips. He’d come without any weapons, perhaps folly but he was in a hurry. His dagger, pistol and sword were tucked away in his room. He was quite unprotected. James a raised brow as he looked back to Isabel and with a mischievous grin he replied, “If you think it comparable to the size of a musket then I am flattered,” he said.

“How is the cottage?” he asked approaching her. Suddenly he questioned how he should act, what he should say? What exactly had he penned in that letter he wrote with a pitcher of whiskey near him in the black of night. It would have been the truth, yet, perhaps a little more than he had cared to reveal. She seemed different too, last they had met she was in his arms immediately and now she kept a polite distance. He sat down on a stool and maintained the distance.

I regarded his presence with curious eyes and sneaky glances. He was a free man; no leather or heavy weapons hung around his waist. He was; as always a simple man easy to pleased. It showed this time and I had to dig my nails deep into the banister. A rising urge to furiously run my fingers through his brown locks could bring me down on my knees. "I have only seen one and you know that story." A twinkle gleamed in my eye as I made my way down the stairs. I had heard his news as that night the tavern was practically drunk dry. He wasn't and never would be mind but I liked the thrill of chasing him. It left me feeling invincible as though we would always be terrible flirts to each other. As I reached him I placed my knee on the spare bit of wood. My hand gently colliding against his hair as I tucked a strand behind his ear. "I haven't been back since we were last their to lonely."

“I’ve never stayed for more than a night,” he replied, “Too depressing. Amongst all the things you want but can never truly have."

He looked down at the table he sat near, running his thumb over a mark in the wood. It looked like a set of eyes, two perfect ovals looking up to him. He recollected the memory of her in his shirt, in that cottage. Her hair wet and smelling of the rain, her lips so near to his but never really touching.  What would the wooden eyes upon the table they say if they could speak? he wondered. What judgement would they make upon his character, what would they say of him coming to her like this, of him continuing this dance?

“I’m going to be a father,” he finally said, breaking the silence, “Mary is…I’m…I didn’t know if you had heard."

He didn't feel regret about it - far from it. He'd never known joy like it when Mary told him. He had freely spoke of it the night before and felt proud of Mary. Yet telling Isabel, he felt guilty - as if it was some strange sort of betrayal.

"Yes; I heard we actually run out of ale and whiskey." I glanced outside wishing to be outside than to be stuck indoors listening to this conversation. "I guess that puts a lot of things into prospective for us both." My body shrank away from his perches myself on the edge of the bench. "Would you like to go and spend some time outside with me beneath the long grass." I wanted to be outside feeling the sun on my face the wind in my hair and to just be in his company. We could be other people for the day; no duties just two people free. I wondered if things would be like this when we were older.

James laughed almost bashfully and ran his hand through his hair. He had been received a series of blurred recollections of the night before all morning, he remembered one particular incident with the fountain in the gardens that almost caused him to chuckle aloud, “Indeed, I think everyone - including me - is suffering for it today.”

He took a breath and stood up. He felt that he had to be honest with Isabel and confess, however there was a reluctance on both her part and his to continue the present topic. There would be enough talk of fatherhood and children in a few months.

“Yes. It doesn’t feel quite right being in here during the day,” he said, “Where to?"

Today would be an adventurous day just like all those times when I was younger. Except I wouldn't make him drop his pants like my childhood friend. "A stroll through the field up into the woods and then, dear one you can teach me how to fish." I wasn't one to sit and have a picnic. I wanted to be running the land like a wild horse consumed by nature. Our friendship had consisted of me constantly trying to kiss him! Poor man he most certainly was kept on his toes in my company. Standing I stretched my arms out and above my head. Before skipping over to where he was standing giving him a slap on the back. "Ready chum."

James almost felt like he was paying court to her - coming to her on a warm afternoon, collecting her from her lodgings to wander with her amongst the fields. He had never courted a girl before, he had never needed to. In the past, before Mary and when he was free with his love, he saw himself as a charming romantic. Usually a few warm glances, a dance or perhaps lips brushing against a girl’s soft cheek were enough to seduce them into his arms. Love was always assured for James, if only for the night or perhaps days and months for those whom he had truly grown fond of. This dance between friendship and something more was different, something he had never known. James had never been promised to another but felt the pull of someone else. His usual charm and grace wouldn’t work with Isabel, he couldn’t manipulate her affections or inspire lust with a glance…she was entirely different.

“Ready,” he replied with a bright and quick grin, offering her his arm.

I wrapped my arm around his looking up to him as I did. Take me away from here -- my eye's spoke of words; my mouth could never say. I suppose our friendship would always be hazy and unclear at times. But it was far from the usual boring friendships that others hand. We made each other happy as we were exactly the same as one another. I didn't need to become or try to be his mistress in a way to feel that connection that came with the act. "Ready and alert! If you are lucky I might keep my hands to myself too."

James meandered away from the tavern with Isabel, eventually moving his hands to slide into his pockets. He began to wonder what he would do if Isabel suddenly clung onto him, scratching at his skin as her lips begged for a response from his. Would he have the strength to push her away, would he want to? The had been too close in the cottage, he had wanted her to much then. Perhaps it was the separation which caused the ardour of his feelings or the way she tiptoed about in his shirt. Regardless, he was determined not to succumb to the tempting dark desire that Isabel provoked. He looked at her from the corner of his eye, there was a gentle smile upon her lips as if she knew a secret that he did not, “Tell me more of England,” he said finally.

"I have a friend whom lives in England she greeted me and we had a lovely catch up." Skeptical of his motives which is something I would never thought I would say. I decided to stay back at the tavern keeping my guard up around him for the first time. Our friendship seemed to be based on fantasies that could not or would not happen. The dance that we led on many occasion was growing tiresome. Same old tune same old dance different day.