Page 31 of Desire of a Highlander

But it wasn’t to last. They began descending into the Steading’s hidden valley, and Ronan felt the familiar weight settle on his shoulders—the weight of people’s expectations and demands. As if in answer to his thought, a group of villagers spotted him and came hurrying over.

“Ronan! The barn roof is leaking!”

“The goats are loose again!”

“We need more room for the new arrivals!”

He gritted his teeth. He hated the way everyone looked up to him, expected him to have all the answers. His brief, effortless sojourn with Elodie out on the moors had only reinforced the fact. He had come here to live quietly, to escape the conflict and strife that had consumed his family. And yet, every day, conflict and strife seemed to draw closer and closer.

He didn’t answer any of their questions and merely pulled Angus to a halt, dismounted, then reached up to help Elodie down. She swung her leg over the horse’s back and slithered in a most ungainly fashion to the ground. It was clear she was no horsewoman. But if she was a noblewoman as Faye claimed, how come she didn’t know how to ride? And if she wasn’t a noblewoman as Ronan suspected, how come she had such expensive jewelry and such strange trappings? Who was Elodie MacNeil, really?

“Are ye listening, chief?” Andrew, one of the more outspoken of the villagers, said. “We’re running out of space. I dinna know where ye think we are going to fit all the newcomers who arrived yesterday.”

With a sigh, Ronan released Elodie and turned towards the growing crowd of villagers. As he did so, he caught sight of the door to his smithy. The warm, glowing heart of his sanctuary lay just within reach. He longed to step inside, close the door, and shut the world away—and to take Elodie with him.

But the villagers wouldn’t be silenced. The squabbling rose as somebody answered Andrew, and then everyone else tried to get their opinion in.

“Quiet! All of ye!” Ronan bellowed. “I willnae have this damned yammering!”

The shouts tapered off, replaced by murmurs. When the noise had quietened sufficiently, he nodded. “Now, one at a time. What seems to be the problem?”

They all began speaking at once. Ronan sighed. Herding cats must be easier than this. Finally, they all fell silent and stood looking at him expectantly. Ronan wanted to bark at them, wanted to tell them to let him be, wanted to snap at them to sort out their own damned problems. But he held his tongue. They were frightened, that was all. Frightened of the dangers that stalked the Highlands, frightened that those dangers might find them here, despite all their precautions.

He rubbed his forehead. “I hear ye. I know we need more space for the new arrivals. I’ll give it some thought.”

Elodie had been standing silently to one side, watching and listening. Now she stepped forward. “Can I speak?”

Ronan glanced at her in surprise, then nodded. “Of course.”

“We can’t house everyone immediately,” she said to the assembled villagers. “And in the short term, many of you are going to have to share.” She raised her voice over the grumbling this elicited. “But we can start forming a plan to rectify the problem. We have too many people and too few houses. The first thing we need before we can sort that out is information.” She pointed at two women. “You and you. I want you to spend the day making an inventory. I want you to tally how many people there are in the village and their makeup. How many families? How many adults? How many children or single people?”

The two women nodded, seeming glad to be given something to do. Elodie pointed at Andrew and another man. “You two are to go through the village and inspect all the abandoned buildings. I want a list of any that are repairable and what those repairs will require.” Her finger jabbed again. “You, you, and you. I want you to make an inventory of any and all locally available building materials: wood, stone, thatch. The rest of you I want to map out the village as it currently lies so we can work out the best place to build things like sewers, privies and the like.”

Her voice was clear, precise, and confident. “We’ll meet back here this afternoon and discuss our findings.”

Ronan watched in utter shock as, without a word of complaint, the villagers hurried away to obey her instructions. He whistled under his breath. “How on earth did ye do that?” he muttered. “And more importantly, can ye teach me?”

She shrugged. “People just need something to do. A purpose. Makes them feel useful.”

Angus suddenly nudged him from behind, making him stagger. “All right, all right,” Ronan said to the horse. “I know ye want yer saddle off.”

“And I suppose I ought to go and see what trouble the villagers are getting themselves into,” Elodie said.

“Aye. Perhaps ye had.”

But he lingered a moment more, staring at her, before forcing his feet to move and lead Angus away.

THE REST OF THE MORNING passed in a blur of activity. Elodie was soon being approached by villagers asking questions, giving her updates, wanting her advice. Elodie answered them all and then realized that somehow, without even noticing, she’d become a project manager all over again. But, she had to admit, this was way more satisfying. This time there were no budgets involved, no targets to meet, just people and tasks that needed organizing in order to benefit everyone. It was...refreshing.

Faye waved at her, signaling her to join her and a group of villagers who had gathered outside a cottage to grab a bite to eat. Elodie was only too glad to oblige. The cottage’s owner, a stout woman called Mary, had baked several fresh loaves as well as a big pot of stew for the workers.

Elodie accepted a bowl gratefully. The meal was hot, filling, and, much to her pleasant surprise, absolutely delicious. Around her, conversation flowed, and she was happy to listen rather than join in. It was the usual gossip. Husbands. Children. Whether they would get a good crop this year and what the weather might do over the next few days. It was all so very normal. And yet she found herself looking around for a certain blacksmith. He didn’t appear.

“Is Ronan not joining us?” she asked Faye.

Faye snorted. “He’ll be in the smithy. And when he gets involved in something, he often forgets to eat.”

“Oh.”