"I'm sorry if I frightened you yesterday during practice," he blurted. "I saw you in the bailey watching."
She halted, glancing back at him with caution, her green eyes wide. "Oh. Um… nay, m'laird. You did not frighten me."
"I wish you'd call me Neacal. Every time someone saysm'laird, I wait… expecting my father to answer."
She searched his eyes, then smiled. "Very well. I'm Anna."
He gave a nod, near rendered mute by her beautiful smile. "Anna," he said, relishing the excuse to say her name. The creamy, velvety-looking skin of her face lured him. How he wished he could stroke his fingers over her. Many months had passed since he'd last touched a woman. Och, how he had loved everything about women—their softness, their floral fragrances, the sweet taste of their kisses.
Anna's lips were full, lush and pink, just the type to entice any man. Neacal found, for the first time in eons, that he was fantasizing about kissing someone—Anna. He had gone crack-pated for a certainty.
"Do you miss your father?" she asked, startling him out of his outlandish fantasies. Her compassionate gaze made him want to speak the truth.
"Very much. He was a great man and admirable chief."
She nodded.
"Do you have any family?" he asked.
"A sister."
When she didn't elaborate, he said, "You met my sister, Maili, before she left with the MacKenzies and her new husband, Shamus."
"Aye, a lovely and sweet lady."
If Neacal were the man he used to be, he might say the same to her—that she was lovely and sweet—but he found those effortless compliments no longer rolled off his tongue with practiced ease. How he had taken everything for granted back then. He was a different person now.
She looked past him, the golden light of sunset illuminating her face and the vivid green of her eyes. "What a beautiful view," she whispered.
What a beautiful woman. He could not tear his gaze away from her long enough to see what she was talking about. Her skin was luminous ivory and her lips delicate pink. A lock of her blond hair trailed from her cowl. It looked silky and he craved rubbing it between his fingers.
"Do you not think so?" she asked.
He forced himself to send a quick glance over the loch toward the sunset. "Aye, indeed." He could not keep his gaze from venturing back to her.
She gave a shy smile. "Well, supper will begin soon and I must prepare for my performance."
He gave a brief bow. "I look forward to it."
She curtseyed. "I'll see you in the great hall."
He watched her until she disappeared from view, excitement racing through his veins. Damnation! What had just come over him? He turned as the sun dipped behind the orange clouds and dark islands in the distance. Hell, he didn't need a woman making his life even more muddled than it already was.
***
The next evening, after Anna finished singing three songs, the other musicians took over. She needed a reprieve from the crush in the great hall during thecèilidh. Neacal had also disappeared again, as he did half the time. Was he telling the truth about enjoying her singing? She wasn't so sure.
Still, anytime his eyes chanced to meet hers, her heartbeat sped along and she felt flushed.
Some wild and irrational part of her urged her to slip up to the ramparts again, for Neacal might be there, but…that would be madness. She'd best avoid him for many reasons. She must guard her secrets well if she wished to survive.
Aye, she would stay far from the ramparts and the tempting chief, she decided, savoring a small bowl of stew and a piece of bread in the kitchen. Most of the maids were in the great hall, carrying food or serving.
"Could I help you with anything?" she asked the cook after she'd finished eating.
Mistress Pottenger eyed her with a lifted graying auburn brow. "I thought you a singer rather than a kitchen maid."
"Aye, indeed, but I like to keep busy." Anything to keep her mind off the chief and how much she wanted to talk to him again.
