Wild Highland Magic (The Celtic Legends Series Book 3)(19)

“I didn’t think so,” she said into his silence, “but if you’re feeling so hearty, there are other ways to hurry your healing. Today we’ll take a walk to the height.”

“Listen to you,” Niall said. “Da puts responsibility in your hands and suddenly you’re a tyrant—”

“And aren’t you the one lording over us from the end of the table?”

“I’m man of the house now, and I won’t be going on some idle walk—”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of taking you away from carving, Niall. You stay here and whittle away.” She tilted her head to a boy who’d sidled up beside her. “Seamus will be coming along with Lachlan and me.”

Niall did not look happy about this. Since the first night Lachlan had spent dinner with the family, Niall had taken it upon himself to follow Cairenn into the sickroom whenever she brought Lachlan his meals. Her brother loitered while Cairenn changed his dressings. Against his baser instincts, Lachlan had welcomed the young man as a reminder of his better intentions—and his promise to her father.

But the forced inactivity and Cairenn’s frequent nearness made Lachlan half-mad with frustration. Niall’s complaints about lugging water and the patter of frequent rain upon the thatch had brought to Lachlan’s mind this idea for a sluice.

“Come, Lachlan,” she said, squinting beyond him to the sky. “There’s a skift of rain coming, I can smell it. We’d best go now.”

Lachlan eyed the boy who would be a chaperone in Niall’s place, a half-grown hulk of a man-child who didn’t look like he’d be paying nearly as much attention as a wary sibling. Lachlan’s blood surged despite his better intentions, but he couldn’t come up with an excuse not to go with her.

She turned on her heel and headed toward the fort’s wooden gate. Ignoring the glowering face of her brother, Lachlan set out after her, not watching the sway of her bottom. He didn’t watch the way the breeze pulled at her sleeve as if to tug it off her slim shoulder. He didn’t notice the way streaks of mud stretched across her sweetly curving hips where she’d wiped her hands, probably after tending to the cows this morning.

The stout hulk of a boy raced ahead, twirling and stumbling and half-dancing like a child set free of his tutor. They followed him through the cow-fields toward the rocky higher places. Lachlan hadn’t been out of the courtyard since they’d carried him up the hill to the sickroom, and though he could see the world through the window, being surrounded by all this openness disoriented him.

Up ahead, the boy had already half dismantled one portion of the rock-pile fence to make it low enough for Cairenn to step over. Lachlan strode ahead to join Seamus picking up the fist-sized stones.

“You shouldn’t be doing that,” she said as she hurried up from behind.

“My arm will be limp as an eel if I don’t use it.”

“If my da—”

“Is he here, lass?”

“No, but if—”

“Then it’ll be our secret.”

He dropped to one knee to ease the stretch of his back. The stones were gritty and cold in his grip. Already the walk had done him good, for he could taste the salt in the air and smell the rain clinging to the grass. Even his ears seemed sharpened, for he heard not just the roaring of the ocean but also the lowing of the cows in farther pastures and the screech of a gull as it wheeled on an updraft.

Cairenn passed over the rock wall and Lachlan helped the boy seal it up behind her. He could tell the woman had something on her mind by the way she concentrated on the path as if it would lead to answers. Her back was stiff, her shoulders tense. As he caught up to her, he resisted the urge to recapture her attention by running a finger down the furrow of her back. She was a woman meant to be held and gently mussed and kissed until her lips swelled and she breathed her deepest wanting.

Enough.

He curled his hands into fists. This would end badly if he didn’t lighten the air between them.

“It’s a fine, lovely day, wouldn’t you say, Cairenn?”

“I would, but it’s not the fine, lovely day you’re staring at.”

So she’d noticed. No doubt it was his staring that had made her tense. They’d never be easy around each other if they didn’t talk about this thickening awareness between them.

“Talking about the weather,” he said, “is just my way of saying what I’m thinking without saying it.”

“So it’s a lie, then?”

“It’s not a lie, lass. Just an easier way of letting my thoughts be known.”

“If you want your thoughts to be known then you should speak them. Loud and clear so that everyone can hear.”

“The world would be full of fighting and fury if everyone spoke so.”

“So what you’re thinking will shock me?”

He gazed at the far horizon as he sought a way to get out of this mess of his own making. “I’m saying your father wouldn’t like it much.”

“Wasn’t it you who just reminded me he wasn’t here?”

Caught as sure as a fish in a net. “He’s a good man, your father. He saved my life, I owe him my respect.”

“Yet you allow your thoughts to run free about things you dare not speak.”

“Come now, lass. A man’s thoughts are best kept to himself when he’s walking with a lovely woman.”