Page 6 of Stealing a Kilted Heart

CHAPTER THREE

It was the kind of cold morning that left the petals of the winter flowers in Fia’s garden tipped with frost—the cornflowers and pansies that would soon wither with the first true cold. Inside the cottage, Bane tended to the fire, tossing another log in the fireplace as he brought a cup of steaming tea to her.

Despite the cold, it was a bright morning, sunlight bathing the room golden. Fia knelt before Colin, the young son of the skinner, who had come running to her as she was gathering herbs for her pastes and medicines, wailing as he clutched his knee.

“Ach, Colin, it’s only a scrape!” Fia said, reaching up to ruffle the boy’s dark hair. “Dinnae fash. We’ll clean it an’ dress it an’ ye’ll be good as new.”

The boy sat obediently on the edge of Fia’s working bench, idly kicking his legs. His cheeks were still wet with tears and he looked as though he was on the verge of another round of sobbing, but Fia quickly grabbed a small, wooden deer Tav had made for her when she was still a young girl and handed it to him, which seemed to keep his mind occupied enough to prevent him from crying. Then, she gathered everything she needed—clean cloth, warm water, and a healing paste, bringing it to the bench.

The entire time, Bane stood by the stove, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. Fia knew that look on his face. There was much he wanted to tell her, but he had been holding back ever since the night Callum had come to their cottage and had left her heart broken into pieces.

It had already been three days; three days in which Fia’s hatred and rage had burned as bright as that first night, like a wildfire that refused to die out until it had consumed everything in its path. She didn’t know how much more there was of her to consume; all she knew was that there was no end to it in sight.

“I can see ye starin’,” she grumbled as she started to clean the boy’s knee. “Dinnae ye have anythin’ better tae dae?”

“I could ask ye the same,” Bane said. “The past three days all ye’ve done is curse Callum an’ rip out all the weeds in the garden.”

Fia couldn’t deny that; it was true. The garden had never looked as immaculate as it did now, though in her fury and haste, some of her precious plants had suffered too from her overly enthusiastic hand. It was also true that she had been cursing Callum—a lot.

She couldn’t help it. He had wasted an entire year of her life. How was she supposed to simply move past it and not curse him daily?

“Well, perhaps if a lass had done this tae ye, ye would be doin’ the same!” Fia pointed out. “Wouldnae ye want yer revenge? I dae. I want tae embarrass him an’ humiliate him in front o’ everyone who doesnae ken what a snake he is.”

Even in front of Colin, Fia couldn’t contain her rage. Her voice trembled and her hands clutched the cloth tightly, the knuckles of her fingers turning bone-white in the morning sun. Out of all people, she thought Bane would understand. He had seen the toll this relationship—if she could even call it that anymore—had taken on her. He had experienced every sorrow, every instance of Fia excusing all and any behavior that hurt her, always striving to give Callum the benefit of doubt simply because she loved him so much. And all Callum had done was to betray that love.

Fia didn’t simply wish to hurt him, though. Humiliating him in front of everyone who considered him to be the perfect bachelor—and Fia knew there were many who shared this opinion—would not suffice. She had to make sure that as he suffered, she got everything she had ever wanted.

A part of that plan had already happened. By becoming the village healer, she was one step closer to her ideal life. Callum would find out soon enough, if he didn’t know already, and Fia hoped he would despise how well she was doing.

“Fia, I’m sure ye can find many a man tae wed who would so much better than him,” Bane said with a weary sigh. “Why even waste time on a man like Callum?”

“Because!” Fia said, unable to come up with a good enough reason at first. “Because he deserves tae hurt, too.”

Behind her, Bane said nothing. Just as she finished patching up Colin’s knee, the boy beamed up at her, his smile wide and joyful in a way only a child’s could be.

“I’m healed!” he declared, much to the amusement of Fia and Bane, who laughed with Colin’s delight. Swinging his legs, Colin shoved the little toy in Fia’s hands and then slammed right into her, wrapping his little arms around her waist. “Miss MacKenzie, ye’re like a princess.”

Fia couldn’t help but laugh once more, ruffling Colin’s hair. “Am I?” she asked. “Then ye’re me wee knight. Come, let us take ye home, yer maither will be worried.”

Colin looked up at Fia with pride at being bestowed such a title. He took her hand and followed her to the door, saying, “Ye should marry a laird, Miss MacKenzie. All princesses marry lairds.”

I should wed a laird. That’ll show Callum.

Fia imagined it, Callum finding out that the woman he had once claimed was so beneath him was marrying a laird. She could see it clearly; his eyes wide, his face a deep shade of red, anger and embarrassment gripping him so tightly he could hardly stand it. There would be nothing for him to do then. There would be nothing for him to say that could make Fia feel inferior to him, nothing that could hurt her.

If only it was that easy tae wed a laird.

With Colin’s hand in hers, Fia led the boy to the door, but before she could reach it, there was a knock. When she opened it, a large, imposing man with chestnut hair and piercing green eyes stepped inside without even waiting for an invitation. He was alluring in the same way that a rocky shore was alluring, the beauty of the cliffs and the boulders raw and rough, but he was such a solid and looming presence in the room that Fia couldn’t help but take a small step back, startled, putting Colin behind her back.

“Good mornin’, Miss MacKenzie,” the man said, his demeanor much gentler than his appearance. “Me name’s Magnus MacLeod, I come on behalf o’ Laird Stewart.”

Laird Stewart? What could the laird want with me?

“I’d like tae speak with ye regardin’ the position o’ the castle healer,” Magnus continued, and Fia could have sworn that her heart stopped in her chest. Could it be that he had come to offer her this position? But Fia had only just taken over from the old healer and, as far as she knew, the castle already had a woman who took care of the sick and the wounded. Why would they want her?

“I’ll take Colin tae his maither,” Bane said, stepping past her to take Colin by the hand. As he left, Fia gestured to Magnus to come deeper into the room and then proceeded to pour him a cup of tea, bringing it to her working bench. The moment they were alone, Magnus continued to speak.

“I’ll make it quick, Miss MacKenzie,” he said. “Our healer is overwhelmed by everythin’ that needs tae be done in the castle. I will ask ye tae nae share this with anyone, but there are also concerns regardin’ an attack, an’ we would like tae be as prepared as we can. Regardless o’ the possibility o’ an attack, we require yer assistance. Naturally, ye will be adequately compensated fer yer efforts.”