Much as Neacal hated to admit it, he did not want to get on without her. He'd missed her and not just because of her singing. Though he wished her to look into his eyes, she stared down at the dog. Again, he found himself jealous of the attention she bestowed upon the beast, not to mention the physical contact and affection… which he craved for himself.
"Everyone speaks of how much they love your singing. And I do, too, of course."
"You are too kind," Anna said, hoping the faint light of gloaming hid the blush of pleasure that covered her. Chief MacDonald certainly was a charming flatterer when he wanted to be.
She couldn't believe he had chased after her. Although his interference annoyed her, it also gave her an unexpected thrill. He'd obviously noticed her absence at the castle. This was a new sensation for her. Since she'd begun her life on the road, she'd tried to blend in as much as she could, so no one would take special notice of her. She had no choice but to earn a living singing, but she didn't enjoy the attention. Once she was finished performing each night, she wanted to retreat to the shadows and disappear.
Wanting to stare at Neacal in the twilight and delve into every detail of his captivating appearance, she forced herself not to. Instead, she glanced up the hill at the cliffs she'd intended to hide in earlier when she'd heard him approaching through the rocks. But she now saw 'twas not cliffs but massive upright stones. "What is that?"
"Clachan nan Sìtheach,"he said. "I would show it to you but I need to get you back to the castle before dark."
"I'm not going back," she blurted, staring him eye to eye.
"Why not?" he demanded, his expression turning annoyed.
She dropped her gaze and stared at the ground. "I… would rather not say."
"What happened that is worse than the risk of being taken hostage by a band of outlaws?"
Word getting back to Blackburn. She would rather die than be captured by him.
"Do you ken what they would do to you, lass?" Neacal growled low. "'Tis too horrible to think about."
She nodded, knowing he was right. Still, she was not going back to wait as a lamb to slaughter. She had not survived this long by being afraid to strike out on her own.
After a long moment, he must have reached some decision, for he said, "Come. I'll show you the standing stones. Hold onto my arm."
Was this some trick? Anna eyed him critically. Would he toss her over his shoulder and force her back to the castle?
"You don't trust me?" he asked, still waiting, his elbow extended toward her.
"Of course, I do." He'd saved her life, after all. But that didn't mean she wanted to tell him her every secret. She laced her arm through his brawny one. Even though he wore a doublet over his shirt, the defined muscles beneath the layers of fabric were obvious. Clinging to him, she found it easier to move among the rocks and low-growing bushes of gorse and heather.
"Are you not chilled?" she asked. "A cool wind has been blowing this eve and I'm glad for my thick cloak."
"You call this cool?" He shook his head. "Dunn and I often swim in the icy loch."
She shivered at the thought. "How on earth do you tolerate that?"
"I've grown used to it. The cold water improves the constitution and strength. I've done it since I was a lad."
"I admire your fortitude," she said dryly, though she did indeed admire everything about him, especially his strength, resilience and bravery, his gentleness and good heart. "Tavia said you also like to run and climb mountains."
"Aye, it increases endurance during battle."
She had seen the men dashing back and forth across the bailey and along the loch's shore as part of their training, at his behest, no doubt. He was a stern taskmaster when it came to readying his soldiers for battle.
Most clans had a runner or two, a man who carried messages, sprinting through glens and over hills and mountains. Such men trained every day to build up their stamina to quickly deliver missives for their chiefs, traveling over perilous terrain too dangerous for horses. Though she had never heard of a laird who had trained like a messenger, she could believe it, given his tall, lean and muscular frame. He obviously demanded more of himself than he did his men.
As they reached the crest of the hill, she could not believe the height of the monoliths before her. "They're stunning," she whispered, the wind carrying the sounds away.
"Have you seen a standing stone circle before?" he asked.
"A very small one with short stones. Naught like this. 'Tis impressive." She glanced around, counting thirteen stones. The tallest must have been at least twelve feet.
Neacal led her inside the ring. "My sister loves it here. Years ago, when no one could find her at the castle, I knew she would be here."
"Did your clan build this?"
