Highland Fire. Hannah Howell
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Название: Highland Fire

Автор: Hannah Howell

Издательство: Ingram

Жанр: Историческая литература

Серия:

isbn: 9781420105940

isbn:

СКАЧАТЬ dearling, ye arenae still sulking o’er my giving ye a wee morning kiss, are ye?” he asked her as she sat down across the fire from him.

      “Nay, and I dinnae ken how ye can call what ye did no more than a wee morning kiss. Aye, and look so sweetly innocent as ye do so.”

      “Ye think I am sweetly innocent, do ye?”

      “Jester. Ye ken verra weel I dinnae think that. I just said ye looked so.” She accepted the bowl of porridge he gave her, muttering, “Thank ye, rogue.”

      “Your opinion of me rises and falls with startling rapidity.”

      “And ye are vain if ye think I trouble myself to form any opinion of ye at all.”

      He chuckled, and Moira smiled faintly. She was startled at how easily and quickly she had returned to her old ways, to that sharp tongue her guardian had found so infuriating. What her father had always lovingly referred to as her spirit had never fully died, simply retreated, softened, and grown quiet. Although she was not really surprised that Bearnard had not beaten it out of her, despite how she had feared that at times, she was amazed at how swiftly it had reasserted itself.

      As she cleaned out their dishes and put them away, she decided she liked how it felt. There was danger and definitely discomfort in the situation she found herself in now, yet she had never felt so free, almost lighthearted. It was going to be hard to return to life with Sir Bearnard, a life filled with fear and wariness. She shivered with apprehension at the mere thought of it.

      She glanced at Tavig, who was making certain the fire had completely gone out. There was a danger in thinking too much about her life with Sir Bearnard. It would make her increasingly susceptible to Tavig’s talk of staying with him, of marriage, fate, and destiny. Life with the Robertsons was so miserable that she could easily forget all the good reasons for staying away from Tavig and not grabbing what he offered her. Now that she knew how much better she could feel when out from beneath the shadow of Bearnard’s heavy fists, it would be even easier to cast aside common sense and stay with Tavig. With far more regularity, she was going to have to remind herself why a match between them would be dangerous.

      For the short while she was with him, however, she intended to enjoy her newfound freedom. She knew all too well that she might never taste it again. Tavig probably had no idea of the gift he had given her, but she was deeply grateful.

      “Are ye ready to go yet, lass?” he asked as he picked up their supplies.

      “Aye.” She sighed a little dramatically as she followed him. “’Tis a shame we cannae find a shorter way or learn how to fly. I dinnae suppose ye have a cousin who lives nearer.”

      “Nay.” He glanced up at the sky then flashed her a smile. “’Twould be nice to fly. Easier on the feet.”

      “Much easier. Tavig, since ye live near here and Mungan lives to the north, what were ye doing so far south?”

      “I had the foolish idea of going to speak to the king. Although I didnae meet with the king himself I did talk with one of his men, a mon close enough to the king to ken what I would be told. He said I should go home, gain what aid I can from my other kinsmen and take care of the matter myself.”

      “Ye would think the king would be interested in seeing that such feuds and battles ne’er got started.”

      “He has too much to deal with already. All of his attention is fixed upon the border lairds and the English. ’Tis a contentious area. As I was headed back, planning to go to Mungan, I was nearly caught by Iver’s men and then discovered your ship. I felt I would be safe out at sea as long as I remained disguised.”

      “And then Sir Bearnard and I came along to ruin your escape.”

      “Nay, ye didnae ruin it. Mayhap added a few days, but no more. I told ye—we are fated. I just wish fate had thought of a gentler way for us to meet.”

      Moira frowned when he briefly looked her way. “I fear I dinnae hold as strong a belief in fate as ye do.”

      The look of amused disbelief he cast her way irritated her. He was right to feel she was making an empty boast, but he did not have to be so openly cocky about it. In this case, however, fate had made a very large mistake in throwing her and Tavig together. Fate did not always arrange a happy ending for the people whose lives it directed, either. Since she had not told Tavig about her own special “gift,” he could blissfully accept the workings of fate. Somehow she was going to have to maintain the strength to fight what Tavig kept saying was their destiny.

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