Page 32 of The Finest Scottish Fate

“Thank you, I’ll be fine,” Evie told the healer, but a tenseness appeared to settle over her as she added hot water to the cup in front of her. “Mistress Martha recommended I drink these steeped herbs,” she said as the crone left the room. “Once you get past the initial twang, they’re not too bad, I don’t guess. Would you like some?”

“Nay, lass.” He seated himself across the small table and poured himself a tankard of ale. “This ale will suit me. I’d not put it past that old woman to poison me with her herbals.”

Evie arched her brows, seeming surprised before shaking her head. “Oh, I think she likes you. She had nothing but good things to say about you.”

“And do ye like me?” He feasted on the way the candlelight cast a golden glow across her skin. Her coloring was much improved from what it had been as they traveled.

“I don’t know you well enough to like or dislike you.” She nervously looked away, avoiding his eyes, a sure sign she was lying.

“Ye are safe here, lass. I promise.” He noticed the blood-red ruby on her finger. “I dinna recognize that ring from Mother’s collection.”

She stared at him, then touched the circlet on her crown and the necklace at her throat. “These belonged to your mother?”

“Aye.”

She went to remove them, but he leaned across the table and stopped her.

“Nay, lass. Ye do them proud. Mother is smiling down from heaven as we speak.”

Still frowning, she shook her head. “But I’m just a visitor here. I’ve no right to come in here and wear all these things as if I own the place. That’s just not right.” She gave him a pained look. “Your people will not appreciate this, and I don’t want to get on their bad side.”

“I already told ye that I do as I will here, and it is my will for ye to be dressed in every finery I can provide. I will see ye comfortable and happy here at Dubh Tower.” Happy forevermore, but he left that part unsaid. She was still too skittish, skittish as a red deer. “Yer joy is important to me, lass.”

“Why?”

He reached across the table again and touched her hand, almost groaning as a sense of completeness surged between them. “Tell me ye dinna feel that.”

“I can’t deny that,” she said ever so softly. “Because something tells me you’d know I was lying.”

He almost smiled. She already knew him as well as he knew her. But that worry in her eyes troubled him. “What do ye fear, lass?”

She slid her hand out from under his and sat straighter in the chair. An aloofness came over her. “You have no idea where I come from. You know nothing about me.”

Disappointed that she’d drawn away, but doing his best to understand, he folded his hands on the table in front of him. “Then tell me about yer Nashville. Tell me about yer life before I found ye on the sidhe hill after the storm brought ye to me.”

She eyed him as though weighing the goodness of his soul. “I’m not so sure that would be a good idea right now.”

Her leeriness stung like the prick of a thorn. “Ye’ve no reason to fear me, lass. I would never harm ye.”

“I don’t think you’d hurt me,” she said slowly, as if trying to sort through her thoughts and choose the perfect turn of phrase. “But I also don’t think you’d appreciate how I’d complicate your life.”

He huffed at her weak excuse. “Life is always complicated by one thing or another. What choices should be made? Which people to trust? Which path to take?” He wanted to reach for her hand again, but forced himself to hold fast. “Ye make things better here. All the scattered pieces fall into their proper places and create a whole whenever I look into yer eyes.”

“I think that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said about me.” She sipped her steaming herbal, made a face, then set it back on the table. “Mistress Martha needs to work on her flavorings.”

He slid a small crock from the center of the table toward her. “Honey often hides the gravest of sins, and a healthy dollop on yer bread or in yer drink keeps evil away. Mother always said so.”

She smiled, and her worries seemed to ease. “Granddaddy always kept bees because Grandmama loved honey.” She stirred some into her cup, took another sip, and nodded. “Much better.” But then she gave him a puzzled look. “Where do you keep the hives? Or do you bring the honey in from other places, or store it whenever you find it in the wild?”

“Bee boles are in the south-facing wall of the garden. When the weather’s not so dreich, would ye like to see them? The beekeepers are always proud to show them off, and we need to introduce ye to the bees.”

“Introduce me to the bees?”

“Aye, the bees must be told about all the comings and goings in a keep. ’Tis bad luck to keep secrets from them. They might leave or stop giving us honey. Bees not only bring us good fortune but are also a connection between the living and the dead. They travel back and forth between this life and the next. They must be honored as valued members of the clan.”

Her thoughtful stare gave him pause.

“What is it, lass? Tell me. I beg ye.”