She waved her hand in dismissal and sat on the edge of her bed. “It doesnae matter anyhow.” She grew serious as she regarded her brother. “So, tell me, this To-Tor—”
“Torquil,” he supplied.
“Aye, Torquil. Who is he?”
“A MacGregor.”
She tilted her head back and let out a slow breath, praying for patience to deal with the dolt that was her brother.
“I understand that. Ye mentioned it already. So, he is a MacGregor. What, if aught, does that have to do with musical performance?”
“’Tis no’ his performance on the lute that fashes me. Moreso his clan.”
“There werenae any issues this eve. All was peaceful.”
“Sometimes, all is no’ as it seems. Ye ken the Harts and MacGregors arenae allies.”
She straightened. “But also no’ sworn enemies.”
“Only due to lack of evidence. They have caused harm to us, Eilidh. Ye were a wee lassie, but they emptied our storerooms one year. We had people starve to death that winter. Their blood is on MacGregor hands.”
“Ye just now said ye couldnae prove it was them.” She threw her hands up in the air. “I will ne’er understand ye men and yer constant need to fight and be at odds with each other. Just because ye dinnae agree with something they may or may no’ have done, doesnae mean that ye can ne’er speak to them.”
Alpin’s face reddened. “Members of our clan died. That is no’ a simple misunderstanding.” Alpin blew out an exasperated breath and pointed at Eilidh. “This. This is why I dinnae discuss such events with lassies. Ye dinnae understand the inner workings of clan rivalries and enemies.” He pushed his hands through his thick hair. “And I refuse to explain it to ye any further. I am here to do ye a favor.”
“Telling me to stay away from someone—a musician, mind ye—because you doonae like something he, nay, not he, but his clan has done, is absurd. I have played and performed with many musicians outside of our clan.”
“Lord above, ye are stubborn. Stubborn as a mule. I shan’t say it again, sister. Stay away from Torquil MacGregor. Ye will save all of us—on both sides—a lot of hurt.” He stomped to her door and pulled it open, but paused. “Be happy ye are hearing the warning from me. Da noticed how ye were looking at the MacGregor as weel. Be glad ’tisnae him in here speaking to ye of this subject. Now be smart afore ye start a clan war.” He slammed the door and she listened to his footsteps until they faded down the hall.
For a long moment, she stared at the door in disbelief.
Whatever in the world was her brother thinking? Did he not realize warning her away from something only tempted her to find out more about the man? What Alpin spoke of was horrible if it were true. It was so many years ago, that they could never be certain of who the culprit was. It seemed an overreach that such a grudge was still being held.
But, if it was them, how could she willingly ignore such a travesty?
Eilidh shook her head. She had never met the man and didn’t ken if she ever would. It was all a moot point.
She pulled her fiddle out of the case and stood by the warmth of the hearth. She was always thankful for her maid, Joan. The young woman always kept Eilidh’s chamber to the temperature she preferred. Even on the coldest of days, her private space was always warm and comfortable.
She replayed Torquil’s performance in her mind. Imagined them performing it as a duet for eager onlookers. Mayhap one day they would.
Taking a cloth, she wiped down her instrument, removing any remnants of dust or dirt that may have collected whilst she was outside earlier in the eve. Then she plucked at the strings, trying to mimic thenotes of Torquil’s song, and noticed one was beginning to fray. Just barely. She had no replacements. The string would last another performance or two, but…
She smiled, a devilish thought entering her mind.
In the morn, she would go to the market to see about purchasing new strings.
And mayhap Torquil would be there as well.
The strings were only an excuse. The task would get her out of Hartsmoor for the day and give her a chance to find Torquil.
*
The next morn,Eilidh woke afore dawn. Her excitement at going to market made sleep fleeting. Her mind was too busy running through all the possibilities of what the day might bring.
Would Torquil be there? Would he recognize her? Would he want to speak with her?
All of the questions kept repeating in her head, over and over again.
