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Cicilia frowned at this but didn’t comment, taking Nathair’s offered arm and allowing him to lead her through the crowd. They would eat together at a small serving house, they’d decided, before returning later in the day.
She could feel the lion-like man’s amber eyes focused on her, along with a knowing smirk.
“An’ since when,” Nathair asked pleasantly, “Has he been Alexander? Nae ‘Laird’ anymore?”
Dinnae ye tease me, Leòmhann. Though frankly, ye’re more of a Sionnach, a cunning fox, rather than a charging lion.
She knew his nickname amongst the soldiers from the many men in Wauton who’d fought by his side in the last skirmish with the English. Unlike with Alexander’s dubious reputation, she’d only ever heard friendly speech and thoughts regarding Nathair.
One of those positives, despite his rough exterior, was that he was a remarkably intelligent man—an equal to the Laird. Young soldiers under his watch often found themselves caught in the act if they tried to shirk their duties, no matter how well they thought they were managing to sneak around.
An’ now he’s turnin’ that cleverness on me. The nerve!
Though, of course, she wasn’t really offended. In fact, she found it rather enticing to meet yet another mind that could barter with hers. Nathair was the kind of person she would want to keep around as a friend…if she didn’t strangle him first.
“Ye lost in thought?” he pressed as they sat at a table, and the serving girl brought them some ale.
“Just thinkin’ about yer exploits,” Cicilia admitted honestly. “I ken ye’re popular wi’ the lads around here—and the lassies, though perhaps for a different reason.”
Nathair snorted. “Och, ye’ve been listenin’ to rumors. Some truer than others, I’ll admit to that much. But I like to think I’m just a friendly sort o’ lad, is all.”
Cicilia smiled faintly. “But how is it that I hear about ye all the time as far out from the Castle as Wauton, yet I barely kent a thing about Alexander before he showed up at me door?”
The Man-at-arms considered for a moment, then shrugged. “Because that’s how he likes it, lass. Me friend has never been one for bein’ the center o’ attention, nae since he was a wee lad.”
He leaned forward, looking like he was debating something in his head, then nodded to himself. In a low voice, near a whisper, he said, “This action wi’ the purchases, it’s somethin’ he’s doin’ regularly for his people, ye ken. Especially thon poor folk at the castle homestead. But he doesn’ae usually do it so out in the open. He likes his privacy, does Alexander.”
An’ what makes me so different?
Unbidden, her mind flooded with the image of her hair covered in hay, Alexander’s weight pressing down on her, their breaths mingling and their bodies touching and—
Och, stop it, ye silly woman.
When she looked back at Nathair, he was smiling knowingly at her. Did he know? Had Alexander told him?
“Prithee, what causes your smile?” she asked, more defensively than she’d have liked. To her annoyance, it just made Nathair smirk.
“What could ye possibly think I’m thinkin’?” Nathair asked innocently.
She scowled at him, but there was amusement in it, too. It was so odd to her, in a fun way, to see how this easy-going jester of a Man-at-arms was somehow ever-serious Alexander’s best friend.
“I have somethin’ for ye,” Nathair told her.
Cautiously, Cicilia said, “Oh? An’ what would that be?”
He reached into his bag and drew out a very familiar book. Cicilia gasped, all but snatching it from his hand when he held it out.
“He told me to tell ye that nae body has read it,” Nathair said with a nod. “I jested that I’d read it before I gave it to ye, an’ he right near strangled me. I dinnae ken what’s inside, but from that look on yer face, ye want it?”
In a choked voice, Cicilia said, “Aye, please.”
Is it true that Alexander dinnae read it? But why would he do such a thing? Does his duty nae come first?
Nathair was watching her tuck the book away safely, and he gave her a much gentler smile. “Ye look confused.”
“I am, a bit,” she confessed. “I cannae seem to get a handle on yer friend. Every time I think I understand him, he changes again.”
Nathair didn’t say anything, just waited for her to continue—for which, if Cicilia was honest, she was quite grateful.
