Page 24 of Desire of a Highlander

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

No, he thought. Ye were thinking very clearly. Just not about anything ye are willing to tell me. Who are ye, Elodie MacNeil?

His eyes dropped to her wrist where the strange timepiece had been. It wasn’t there now though, only lighter skin to mark where it had been. So, she’d removed it. Why? he wondered.

She fiddled with the sleeve of her dress. “This place,” she muttered. “It’s so... different to everything I’m used to. I’ve never been anywhere like this in my life.”

If Faye was right and she was a noblewoman, then of course she would never have been to a place like this. It would have been far below her station. Yet he suspected that wasn’t what she meant.

He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. “Aye, well, ye aren’t the only one. I’d never been to a place like this before either. When I first came here, there was almost nothing. An abandoned croft, a few crumbling walls. And Faye, of course.”

“She was here first?”

“Aye. I staggered into the valley half-starved. If she’d not taken me in, I’d likely be bones in a ditch somewhere.”

Elodie gasped. “Why? What had happened to you?”

He answered with a shrug. “Life.” He didn’t elaborate. The memories were old and unwelcome. “This was a prosperous village once, long ago. But as the moorland encroached it became more difficult to farm and was eventually abandoned. When I arrived, there was only Faye, living here alone. She’d found it several months before, ever since she....well, ever since she had a need of finding somewhere new.” He didn’t elaborate on that either. Faye’s past and her reasons for being here were not his to share. “I helped repair the roof and the walls of Faye’s house. Then rebuilt and repaired the smithy. After a few weeks another family arrived. Then two more.” He spread his hands. “Folk kept finding us. One cottage became five. Five became twenty.”

“And now?”

“Now apparently we’re a village.”

That earned a real laugh from her and he found himself absurdly pleased by it. The easy humor drained away, leaving something quieter between them. Ronan wanted to say something reassuring but words had never been his strength. He’d always been better working with iron than people.

“Listen, lass—”

The door banged open and Eamon hurried in carrying a leather pouch.

“I got the nails!” Noticing the heavy silence, he looked between the two of them. “Er... should I come back?”

“No, don’t worry,” Elodie said quickly, stepping up to the door. “I...I’d better let you get back to work.”

She paused at the threshold and looked back. For a moment, their eyes met. Then she was gone, leaving cool morning air and the faint scent of wood smoke behind her. Eamon watched her walk away and then turned to Ronan with a grin.

Ronan took the pouch of nails and tossed one at him. “Hand me the hammer and keep yer mouth shut.”

Eamon did as he was told, though the grin lingered long after the hammer changed hands.

THE EVENING SUN WAS beginning to sink behind the cliffs that sheltered the valley, painting everything in shades of gold and amber as Elodie walked back through the village. Smoke drifted lazily from chimneys and from somewhere she could hear the sound of laughter.

It was little more than a day since she’d arrived but already this place felt different. Less strange. Less threatening. More...normal. Perhaps that was simply because she’d been so distracted by helping the refugees today that she hadn’t had the time to think about anything else.

Or perhaps it was because of Ronan Campbell.

Despite all her efforts to the contrary, she found herself thinking about him more and more. The more she learned about him, the more questions she had. A blacksmith who owned a horse fit for a nobleman. A man who carried pistols and swords but preferred repairing farm tools. Someone who seemed uncomfortable with leadership and yet somehow managed to hold together an entire community of refugees.

And then there was the way he looked at her sometimes, as though he was trying to solve a puzzle. Which was fair enough, she had to concede, considering she was doing exactly the same thing.

Up ahead, she spotted Faye emerging from one of the barns carrying a large wicker basket filled with small glass bottles and stacks of dried herbs. The healer staggered a little under the weight.

“Here,” Elodie said hurrying forward. “Let me help.” She took one side of the basket, helping to take the weight.

Faye frowned at her. “Ye are supposed to be recovering. Have ye forgotten ye took a whack on the head only yesterday?”

“I’m fine,” Elodie replied. “Due to your expert care, obviously.”

“Hmph. Flattery will get ye nowhere.”