Williamsons of the Nevis

 He had arrived when the hiring fair was in full swing, taking his place amongst the shepherds each holding a crook or a tuft of wool as a sign of their trade. Next to him, a group of cowmen with pails and dairymaids with milking stools chatted and laughed together, and further off housemaids held brooms or mops. There was a festive atmosphere, a great deal of flirting and joking and some red faces that betrayed early visits to the inn. The smell of sweat and steaming clothes assaulted his nostrils and his ears rang with the noise of shouting voices, laughter, and the screams of excited girls whose petticoats were menaced by the scissors of a jovial tailor. Standing on tiptoe Andrew tried to look over the heads of the crowd to find his brother Robbie who, because he was only seventeen years old and without a trade, could only aspire to a place as a general farm hand. Instead, he caught sight of the yellow  bonnet, and under the bonnet a pair of black eyes unflinchingly met his. A derisive smile played around the red mouth of Kathleen Morrison as she stood only a few yards away wagging her big wooden cooks' spoon at him across the sea of bobbing heads. Andrew's stomach contracted and the blood rushed to his head in a wave of desire that left him stunned. He could only return a weak smile, and knew as he did so that it made him look silly and inept. He dropped back on his heels but it was too late: in a second there she was, confronting him with a taunting grin.

"Oh, young Andrew Williamson, are you going to dance with me later?"

"Err... I can't come to the dance. My brother..."
"Oh yes, poor Tom. Isn't he any better? What a pity, you are so good looking Andrew Williamson; I'm just dying to show off with you. Do come!"
Andrew felt the flush rise to his face. The desire to take her wet shoulders in his hands overcame him and he raised them, crook and all, unable to speak. "Oh, he's blushing, poor boy. Don't worry, your reverend William Goldie isn't here. He's gone over to Leadhills".
At the mention of the minister's name Andrew's arms fell back to his sides and the crook rattled to the ground. As he bent to pick it up his face brushed her gown and he smelt the musky reek of her and when he stood up it was on trembling legs. "Never mind", she said. "If you can't you can't. There's plenty more who will. But if you change your mind you know where to find me".