Page 7 of The Highlander’s Tempting Touch

“I dinnae come tae market days often. Me clan isnae the closest, and I wouldnae be here had I nae been passing through from attending tae business elsewhere.”

She’d known he wasn’t from one of the neighboring clans, and his words turned her suspicions to certainty. They also revealed more information.

He was too prosperous to be a farmer, and the colors he wore suggested he was no messenger, so he was either a well-off tradesman, or he was a member of the upper-class clansmen. He’d not introduced himself as a laird, but that didn’t prevent him from being an heir, a secondary heir of a cadet line, a war leader, or a member of a laird’s council.

Charming as he was, she wasn’t sure she dared allow herself to get involved with such a man. Especially if he wasn’t willing to do her the courtesy of permitting her to choose a day for their meeting, when he knew she had a prior engagement at the moment.

She regarded him. “Ye implied that ye might be callin’ on me in the future, if ye won our wager. How did ye plan tae manage that, if ye have nae intention o’ being near me home?”

A rueful expression crossed his face. “Och, ye have me there.” He regarded her with a steady gaze, “I’ll own, I hadnae thought that through.”

“Then ‘tis somethin’ ye’d best be considering. In the meantime, as I’ll have tae refuse yer offer, I’ll permit ye tae claim it as a forfeit. And I suppose, if ye manage tae think yer way through the tangle afore ye, then I cannae prevent ye from calling on me.”

“Well, if ye’re so adamant, then I suppose ‘twould be churlish o’ me tae press ye, and I’ve tested yer goodwill enough this past candle-mark.” Alistair sighed. “Will ye at least tell me where ye live, then?”

“Laird Cameron is me faither.” Alistair blinked. Niamh smiled sweetly at him, then turned and lost herself in the crowd before he could form any reply.

Me faither is the laird. I dinnae ken if that will be deterrent or nae, but it surely surprised him.

CHAPTER FOUR

Alistair watched Niamh walk away with a small smirk on his face. He knew she wasn’t as indifferent to him as she seemed. He’d seen the blush on her cheeks and heard the slight yearning in her voice. She might not have thought well of him, not at first, but she wasn’t indifferent to him.

His hand went to the ring at his throat. He’d forgotten he was wearing his first wife’s ring where she might see it. Fortunate that she’d accepted his explanation without question. Wooing the lass or not, there were some things he wasn’t ready to talk about.

He’d made enough of an impression to receive her invitation to call upon her. There was no reason he couldn’t let things end there for the day. He could enjoy the festival, perhaps find a trinket to present as a gift when he visited and wait for the morrow.

That was the sensible thing to do. He knew as well as any man that, no matter how hurried the courtship was intended to be, there were few women who could be properly wooed in a day. And Niamh Cameron was not one of them.

Even knowing that, he found himself trailing the lass, following her at a leisurely pace as she slipped through the crowd. With his height, he had little difficulty keeping her in sight, the pursuit was made even easier by her gleaming auburn hair – an unusual color and shade, and all the more unusual when paired with her pale skin and slim figure. To say nothing of her well-made dress and the Cameron tartan that served as a sash.

He wondered why she was so set on meeting her friend without an escort. It seemed odd, unless of course she was meeting a man. There was nothing in her demeanor that had suggested she had a lover, and the list he’d caught a glimpse of argued against the presence of a suitor. Still, he wasn’t prepared to rule anything out.

If she has a lover already, how should I handle it? ‘Twould be almost impossible tae interfere without revealing her faither arranged a contract with me, and she’ll certainly resent me fer tak’ng her from a chosen partner – be it a true bond or merely a light-o’-love turn about the village.

On the one hand, it didn’t sit well with him to separate the lass from someone she might have a genuine bond with. On the other, her hating him for such a thing could only protect both of them. And surely, she’d understand if her father explained things to her.

Alistair shook his head. He didn’t even know that it was a male acquaintance she was meeting. It might be a village girl or a servant that she was fond of. Rumor had it the Lady Cameron had died in childbirth. It wasn’t unheard of for a lass raised without a mother to form close bonds to female servants or village women. Anyone who could and would fill the void left by the lack of a mother’s love.

If that was the case, perhaps he could convince the woman, whoever she was and whatever station she held, to relocate to MacDuff Clan. That might make the whole process of moving easier for the lass – whenever they reached that point.

Alistair followed Niamh to the minstrel’s station, then beyond it. He frowned as she slipped off the main path, heading for a copse of trees a little way back.

What on earth can she be doin’ there? Dinnae tell me she’s managed tae summon one o’ the Fair Folk!

That was unlikely, but a motherless lass would be the sort to tempt such figures, if ever they’d existed and still walked the earth.

Niamh slipped through the trees, into a small clearing. Alistair felt his eyes widen as he spotted a slender, cloaked figure amid the trees. Then Niamh gave a soft cry of delight and darted forward. “Grace!”

The figure embraced her, hood falling back to reveal shining golden hair and eyes the color of the sky. “Niamh! I was afraid you were not coming!”

“And sorry I am tae be late, but there was a bit of a brawl…” Whatever else she said was lost amid the roaring in Alistair’s ears.

Now he knew why Niamh hadn’t wanted him to meet her friend, and the truth was worse than he’d imagined.

The lass Niamh embraced with such evident joy was very clearly not a clanswoman, but an English lass... and by her appearance, nobility at that.

Niamh felt almost faint with relief when she spotted Grace waiting amid the trees. Her friend was always a bit shy and nervous about being alone when they attended the festival, and with good reason. Not only was Grace blessed with beautiful, fine features and eyes like a robin’s egg, but one word from her would inevitably betray her English upbringing.