Page 49 of The Highlander’s Tempting Touch

They took a break for the noon meal and returned to work not long before the wood-cutting party returned. Niamh was elbow deep in rubbing herbs into a haunch of venison when Alistair happened to cross the courtyard, on his way toward the castle proper. He paused, and Niamh looked up to see what had arrested his attention.

Their eyes met, and Niamh felt as if tiny, dancing sparks of energy were snapping between them, an invisible connection that sang a song for their ears alone. She felt heat rising to her cheeks and looked away, suddenly abashed.

Was it really so strange for her to want to be involved with the affairs of the clan? Had he thought she would just stand aside and do nothing while everyone else worked? Or was there something else that had caught his eye, and she had simply happened to be in his line of sight.

She looked up again, but he was already walking away, or else being dragged, by his brother Ewan. She wondered what they were up to, then dismissed the thought.

Alistair had his own tasks to perform, as she did. If there was something important going on beyond his Samhain duties, he could tell her later in the privacy of their bedroom.

For now, she had meat to tend to, stories to hear, new traditions to learn,. She was starting to feel she was no longer an outsider. She might not be accepted by everyone, but she was no longer a stranger in a strange land. She had kinfolk, in the form of Catriona. And she felt she had friends, to guide and help her on her way. And that, Niamh felt, was quite enough.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Alistair spent the remainder of that day avoiding Ewan, save for the evening meal. Given that he spent the day in his study, and Ewan spent most of it in the armory as ordered, it was easier than it might otherwise have been.

Still, the work he managed to get done didn’t stop him from brooding on how to handle his brother. Nor did it stop him from thinking about his relationship to with and who else besides Ewan might have seen, as well as what should be done.

The prudent thing would be to draw back from her, physically and emotionally. And yet, there would be suspicions if they began sleeping in separate rooms, and questions. Besides, there were Niamh’s nightmares to consider. Even for the sake of prudence, he wasn’t sure he could be cold enough to leave her to endure such terrifying dreams alone.

And, if he was perfectly honest with himself, he didn’t want to draw back from her. He’d grown fond of the auburn-haired Lowland lass. And after all their time on the road, he’d gotten used to her presence in the evenings. And yet, his growing attraction to her, and his deepening emotional attachment, was precisely the problem. Both of them would lead to the activation of the curse, as Ewan feared. And what would happen to Niamh if the curse was fulfilled?

Despite it being constantly on his mind, he had no answers by the time he retired for the evening. His stern reticence bothered Niamh, he could tell, but she asked him no questions, and he gave no explanations.

The next morning, he and Niamh shared a quiet meal in their rooms before separating for the day. Niamh joined the women of the clan for their Samhain preparations, while Alistair retired once more to his study. He’d been there for a little less than a candle-mark, looking through the harvest reports from various villages on his clan’s land, when the door opened to admit Ewan.

Alistair studied his brother’s face. Ewan looked tired, with dark smudges under his eyes and a slight reddening that suggested he’d over-indulged in drink the night before. A bruise blossomed on his chin, though it was less severe than Alistair might have expected. “Ye see Catriona fer that?”

“She saw me durin’ supper, and had me tae her cottage directly after, with a lecture fer bein’ a fool.” Ewan’s voice was low and slightly slurred, but his eyes were clear. He wasn’t drunk, but his jaw was clearly causing him some pain.

“Surprised she didnae seek me out tae give me one.” Catriona wasn’t about to let a little thing like the fact that he was her laird stop her from giving him a scolding, if she thought it was deserved.

“I didnae tell her who hit me, nor why.” Ewan shrugged. “She said if me head was that hard, she’d like as nae find out from who came tae seek something fer a bruised or broken hand.”

Just as well Alistair had hidden his bruised knuckles from both the healer and his wife then. Alistair studied his brother’s face. The admission that he’d not told anyone who he’d fought with was an apology of sorts, and perhaps as good as he was going to get.

Alistair sighed. “’Tis nae a matter o’ nae wantin’ tae tell ye what’s going on, or thinkin’ I’m too good tae speak tae ye on the matter. But ‘tis a tangle, and one I dinnae feel comfortable speaking about, nae until I’ve unraveled it in me own head.”

“At least tell me ye’re nae plannin’ aught too reckless.”

“Nae planning anything, save how tae keep our clan safe and fed, and tae make sure everything is prepared fer Samhain. If ever we needed a blessing from the spirits and the Fair Folk, then ‘twould be now, with MacTavish on our borders, and the state o’ our coffers.”

“Aye. Speakin’ o’ that… we’ve nae lost enough o’ the arsenal in the armory tae need tae purchase more weapons, but ‘twas a close thing. If the smith cannae smelt us some new axe heads and blades, then we’ll be in a spot o’ difficulty.” Ewan scowled. “And we need a number o’ new staves for axes and bows as well.”

“We can look tae gathering likely wood fer the staves when we go out hunting wood fer the bonfires.” Alistair made a mental note to seek out some likely ash wood, maybe some oak as well. Those types of wood made the best staves, if they were properly harvested, trimmed and treated.

“Aye. And I think we might dae well tae hunt a little more game. Nae fer Samhain, perhaps, but so there’s less butcherin’ needed among the clan.” Ewan offered the suggestion in a quiet voice still, but the tension was gone from his shoulders, and Alistair knew that, even if everything wasn’t completely well between them, the worst of the breach from their argument had been mended.

Alistair nodded. He’d seen the reports himself. There was enough livestock to go around, but the clan would better prosper if they could spare a little more of it for breeding. “Aye. But we dinnae need a full hunting party.”

“Nae. I was thinkin’... ye and I could go. Get some smaller game. An’ mayhap one more deer each, so long as ‘tis an older buck or the like.”

“’Tis a good idea.” Alistair agreed. A little more meat for the winter wouldn’t hurt, and only one or two more deer wouldn’t cull more than the herds could withstand, especially if they hunted older animals, past the prime of bearing or siring young.

A glance out the window showed the weather was turning gray and dismal, with a promise of either snow or rain. Or a slurry of the two, which was the worst weather imaginable as far as Alistair was concerned. There was nothing more irritating than trying to ride through something that couldn’t make up its mind whether it wanted to freeze, or just drip coldly down the back of one’s cloak.

“Taemorrow, then, if the weather isnae too foul tae be stirrin’ in.” Alistair glanced at the time, and noted it was nearly time for the noon meal. “I’ve nae much more work tae be doing. What say ye tae callin’ fer a meal and some mulled wine or cider from the kitchens, and a game o’ cards or chess between us?”

A small half-smile crossed Ewan’s face. “Only if ‘tis cards. Ye always beat me at chess. And cider would be better - I’m more o’ a mood fer it, after drinking a bottle o’ wine last night tae work through me own stupidity.”