Page 37 of Highlander’s Burning Touch

Niven’s eyes glimmered with feeling, but what was running through his mind, Deva could only guess at.

“Aye, so I do,” his eyes flashed pertinently. Deva struggled to wonder what was going on. Then smiling, Niven added.

“Just as well I got there in time to save yer wee head in the fight; brother!”

* * *

“Brother, we thought ye were daid!”

Fingal’s voice cut straight through the wind and pierced Niven’s ears. For a moment, he stood there in a dream. Then he came to.

“Daid? Och, Fingal, I think that’s a wee exaggeration,” said Niven, finally, his brain catching up with his eyes. Inside he kicked himself.

Why was he so surprised? He might have known Fingal would catch up with them sooner or later. Suppressed irritation bubbled up inside of him.

Damping down his frustration, Niven turned to his brother. “I told Dughall what happened,” he said, not wanting to elaborate. He didn’t want this conversation right then.

“I ken what happened, I just wanted to hear it from ye,” said Fingal pertinently. He cast his gaze across, first from Deva and then to him, making no secret of his question. And it wasn’t just about him.

Fingal’s eyes slanted up at Deva and then came back to him. Niven sighed. It was cold. It was raining. And suddenly, he was all out of patience.

“There’s nothing to tell,” he said briskly as he caught sight of Deva.

Yes. She was looking at him, her eyes full of curiosity. At some point, he would have to put her in the picture. But for now, his brain was busy figuring out some convincing explanation for why they had stopped for so long because that was the question that Fingal was really asking him.

“You were captured, it seems, by someone very powerful,” Fingal continued, making it plain there was more to be said.

Niven felt a stab of dread. It was as if he knew, somehow, all about the week he had spent with Deva.

There was a moment’s pause, giving the wind time to spin around the desolate valley one more time, dredging up a handful of grit to throw at them. It was like this landscape had got something personal against them.

“Well, come on, my lady,” he said, with a nod to Deva.

“Pleased to have met ye again, Miss MacLean,” said Fingal, slyly, looking at her.

Niven struggled to contain his frustration. Fingal had no business turning up like this and interrupting them.

Deva smiled, but Niven could tell she looked uncomfortable. Her eyes flashed to him as if waiting for some explanation.

Hastily, Niven looked up. “This is my brother, Fingal,” he said, remembering himself.

She nodded briefly at him but murmured beneath her breath. “I wouldnae have kent ye were brothers.”

Niven wasn’t sure what to say to this. Fingal was only his half-brother, but he didn’t like to be reminded of this.

Frustratingly, Fingal insisted on following them as he helped Deva mount her horse.

“Night is coming in,” he hinted, changing the subject abruptly.

“I’ve got all night to hear about yer tales, brother,” said Fingal cheerfully, but there was a look in his eye which told him that all was not well.

Only once they were back on the road was he able to resume his conversation with Fingal. This time on his terms.

As the dark clouds broadened until they filled the sky, he pulled closer to Fingal on the road. Deva was a little way back, and although Niven was providing an escort for her, he had allowed her to drop behind in order to speak, unheard.

Niven did not waste any time getting to the point. “So, then, brother, what was the idea of taking my place in the tournament?”

He spat the words out in an attempt to keep his voice low, but in so doing, there was no disguising the disdain in his voice.