Page 75 of The Shape of Silence

“ʼTis a high honor,” he continued simply, “to protect what he values.”

The words landed heavily, and for a moment she could only stare at him.

Yes, she knew by now that Morggán liked her. Possibly cared for her in some deeper way neither of them had yet fully named aloud, and that hadn’t anything to do with what he thought he owed her. But Donnchadh spoke of it with such calm certainty that it made whatever existed between herself and Morggán suddenly seem larger and more visible than she had allowed herself to believe. More visible not merely to her, but apparently to others as well.

She wasn’t sure how she felt about that, either people knowing or people assuming things about her.

Donnchadh watched the understanding cross her face and, to her astonishment, broke into a rare grin.

“Ye really have been isolated too long, lass.”

The bluntness of it—the fact of the mostly silent Donnchadh speaking so familiarly with her—surprised her yet more.

“Honest to God, Donnchadh,” she admitted, lowering her gaze toward the snare in her hands, “every day I feel more like I’ve been living under a rock for ten years. I simply don’t know this world anymore.” Or at all. Good Lord, and wasn’t that the truth!

Donnchadh’s expression eased somewhat at the admission. Unlike Lucas, whose attention often made her feel examined, or Tormod, whose watchfulness carried the weight of long military experience, Donnchadh possessed a steadier simplicity she found increasingly easy to tolerate. He treated her neither as fragile nor strange, merely as someone presently under Morggán’s protection and therefore under his as well.

“Well,” Avery said after another moment, looping the repaired snare over her arm again, “you can’t follow me all day.”

“Laird says I will.”

“I want to take a bath.”

That gave him pause at least.

“As ye may, lass.” His tone remained perfectly matter-of-fact. “Tell me where and I’ll survey the area ere ye bathe. I’ll keep my distance while ye’re at it.”

Avery opened her mouth to argue against this plan, but closed it almost as quickly, having some sense that she wouldn’t sway the stoic Donnchadh from his duties.

“Best done now before the riders return,” he added practically. “The forest will grow crowded again near dusk.”

The loch was not large and sat deep inside the forest, almost near that place where she’d found Morggán’s horse. It fed the stream that was closest to her house and continued on well south, though she’d never followed its path outside the forest. In the early spring and late fall when the water was almost too cold, she sped through her bath, but generally at this time of year, she could withstand the loch’s temperature and might enjoy some leisure time in the water. Today, however, knowing Donnchadh waited—she didn’t for one minute fear he would be watching, sneaking peeks at her—she was compelled to wash, dry, and dress with more haste.

With her hair still wet, soaking the shoulders and back of her fresh shirt, she put on her short boots and made her way through the thick brush that flanked the pond. She was surprised to find Eòin fairly close, leaning against a tree, looking as if he was waiting on her. He straightened as soon as he saw her.

“How many people are involved in...this?” she asked, transferring her dirty clothes and her damp towel to her other arm.

“This?”

“Apparently, I need a personal guard now whenever I leave the house.”

Eòin shrugged, looking mildly embarrassed. “Orders, lass. Donnchadh wanted someone watching east and west—he’s out yonder.”

At that, he put his thumb and middle finger into his mouth and gave a sharp whistle. A moment later, another whistle sounded from across the loch. Aside from what she supposed was Donnchadh’s answering whistle, the noise also brought Charlie bounding through the brush toward her.

Avery resisted giving Eòin any more grief, but smiled briefly at the kid and started back to her house.

“How ye getting on, lass?” Eòin asked as he fell into step beside her.

He didn’t keep distance the way Donnchadh did, but she didn’t mind.

“With...what?” she wondered.

“Er, the armies near suffocating ye,” he clarified.

“Oh.” That. “I guess I’m getting used to it,” was all she could think to say, which happened to be closest to the truth. “Maybe knowing it’s not forever allows me to accept it.” She regretted the words almost as soon as they were said, hearing how it sounded. “Not that you and well, everyone except Kerr, I guess, aren’t very nice, but I prefer the quiet.”

“Kerr willna disturb ye, lass,” Eòin informed her, almost gleefully. “Tormod made sure of it.”