Page 67 of The Highlander’s Tempting Touch

Through the windows, he could see that it was deep night, long past the time when everyone should be abed and asleep, save for perhaps a few of the guards, and maids who tended to evening tasks about the castle. But Niamh was nowhere to be seen, not even when he glanced through the door to the front room to see if she was in front of the fire. For a moment, all he could feel was a growing sense of fear and confusion as he bolted up out of the bed and stumbled over to his kilt. She cannae have…

Movement outside his window caught his eye. Alistair blinked, then relaxed as he spotted a familiar slender figure standing on the terrace that overlooked the gardens. He exhaled in a rush of air as the tension left his muscles and took a moment to breathe before he resumed dressing.

He’d feared for a moment that Niamh might have tried to return home, to her father, where she might be safe from feuds and curses. Or that, somehow, Fergus MacTavish had managed to kidnap her right out of her bed. Instead, it appeared that she’d only gone out to the terrace for some fresh air.

Alistair slid on a shirt, then padded over to the terrace door and through it to join her. The wind was bitingly cold, but not unbearable to him, and he could see that Niamh had taken the precaution of wrapping a robe and at least one blanket around herself. “Ye couldnae sleep?”

“Nay. I slept fer a short time, then woke in the dark.” Her voice was quiet and subdued, and Alistair found himself wishing that he might have some way of easing the weight of her thoughts.

“What troubles ye?”

“Many things. I havenae heard from me faither, and Samhain is coming. I had hoped he would at least write… but I’ve seen nay message. I wonder if I angered or upset him too badly fer him tae wish tae share Samhain with me. And I fear that some misfortune must have befallen him, that he hasnae even answered me letter home regarding the wedding, or the tradition we share.”

“Tradition?” Alistair moved closer to her, and she leaned into his shoulder with a sigh.

“Aye. We write letters tae me maither, tae send up in the Samhain fires. We tell her o’ our year, and the joys and worries we share. Every year afore this one, me faither and I have written the letters taegether. But this year…”

“This year ye’re far from home, and ye’ve nae idea if he kens what’s happening in yer life.” She seemed cold, so Alistair wrapped an arm around Niamh’s shoulders. “I wouldnae fret just yet. After all, ye ken how long it took us tae make the journey. ‘Tis true a messenger will move more swiftly, but ‘tis also true there are many things which will delay a man on the road, the weather nae the least o’ them.”

“I ken. But…” Niamh shivered again. “I am used tae having me faither, or me friend Grace, tae speak tae, tae share things with. Or at least exchange letters with. ‘Tis… difficult tae be otherwise.”

Alistair could only imagine. Being a laird was a lonely life much of the time, but he’d always had Ewan and Catriona, at the very least, to share his concerns with. To be alone, even if she was making a place for herself and settling in well as Lady MacDuff, must be difficult for Niamh.

“Ye ken ye can talk tae Catriona. And tae me.” He pressed a chaste kiss to her temple. “I ken ‘tis nae the same, but ye dinnae have tae try and shoulder everything alone.”

He tugged her into his arms and into an embrace, loose enough that she could step away if she wished, firm enough to offer what comfort he could. “Will ye tell me what troubles ye most?”

“I scarcely ken. There’s so much… I cannae think o’ everything, and I feel as if tryin’ would cause me tae start weeping and tae never stop. There’s so much I’ve lost, and so much I fear…”

“’Tis something I can understand.” Alistair spoke the words softly, recalling his unbridled emotions in that abandoned campsite, and the way he’d savagely attacked the captured sellsword. “When I realized that Fergus MacTavish was movin’ against me… against ye… I didnae tak’ it well. Kenning that, and remembering what he did tae the last woman I had a care fer… sometimes I cannae cope so well either.”

Niamh swallowed, but after a moment, she responded. “I didnae want tae be wed, but I dae want tae be a proper wife tae ye and a proper lady tae the clan. But there’s so much I dinnae ken, and… and there are things I cannae…I’m afraid o’ bein a disappointment, or worse.”

“Ye’d never be that, lass. Never that.” Alistair had a a good idea of what she hadn’t said in that regard, but he was willing to let it be. “I promise ye, Niamh, whatever fear ye have, whatever grief or regret ye face… I’ll help ye through it. Ye’ve only tae ask.”

“I ken.” Niamh leaned back against him. But… right now… ‘tis all so entangled… I dinnae even ken what I’d wish tae talk about.” She might have said more, but she was interrupted by a large yawn. She blinked, flustered by the gesture. “I…”

“Ye’re wearied.” Alistair lifted her into his arms, ignoring her yelp of startled protest. “And mayhap, ye’re tired and calmed enough tae sleep.” He himself was beginning to feel the weight of the day, and the lateness of the hour - along with a sneaking suspicion that dawn and the morning meal would come far too early for both of them. “Rest.”

“Only if ye dae as well.” Niamh held his arm. “Ye ken I dinnae like tae be alone.”

“So I dae, lass.” Alistair tucked her into bed, then slid in beside her and wrapped his arms around her. “Rest, Niamh. All yer worries and fears will be easier tae manage in daylight, I promise ye that.”

Ghosts, like the ones that haunted him, were the same way. He doubted he’d sleep easily or well, but if it comforted her, that would be enough for him. He could manage on a few hours of troubled sleep.

“Alistair?” Niamh’s voice was already slurring with sleep, but that didn’t stop him from answering.

“Aye?”

“Ye ken… I ken ye’re worried about me… an’ about Laird MacTavish, but… I’m here fer ye too.”

The words warmed his heart, gentle and sweet. Alistair smiled in the darkness, touched by her offer, even though the more cynical part of his mind whispered there was nothing she could do that would truly be of help to him.

“Thank ye. I’ll be sure tae tell ye when I need ye.” He exhaled, soft and slow, and relaxed into the bedding. “Now, go tae sleep. Rest.”

Niamh didn’t answer, but he felt her relaxing in his arms, and her breathing slowed and settled to a gentle familiar rhythm. Alistair closed his eyes, relaxed and determined to get whatever rest he could.

He was asleep, lulled by the gentle lullaby of Niamh’s calm and peaceful breathing, before a quarter of a candle-mark had passed.