Page 34 of Desire of a Highlander

“Aye, but it would be nice to try it.” He nodded a farewell then walked off towards this latest crisis.

Elodie watched him go, wondering what exactly was happening between them. Because whatever it was, it felt increasingly difficult to ignore.

Chapter 8

It was still dark when the dogs started whining to be let out. Ronan turned over in his narrow bed and determinedly ignored the noise. A second later, he heard the scrabble of claws on wood, then a nose shoved into his face. Something hot and wet slurped against his cheek.

“Ugh!” Ronan cried, pushing Bran away. “Stop that!”

Bran thumped his tail against the floor and whined a little louder. Ronan sighed. With an effort, he pushed himself upright and rubbed a hand over his face.

“Ye are both two royal pains in the arse, do ye know that?”

The dogs merely wagged their tails a little harder, heads cocked to one side expectantly. Ronan yawned, trying to blink the sleep out of his eyes, and glanced around the room. His home, he knew, was humble by any standards. Attached to the smithy, it consisted of a single room which held a narrow bed, a table, two stools, a battered chest, and a hearth for cooking. That was it. Everything he owned could be packed onto Angus’s back within minutes. His family would be horrified by the life he’d chosen. His father would have stared at his home in outraged disbelief that one of his sons could fall so low. His mother would have tried valiantly to hide her concern. Bryce would have demanded to know where the rest of it was. Rian and the rest of his brothers...

No. Ronan pushed the thoughts away before they could take root.

The cottage might not be much. But it was his. He didn’t have to fight to keep it. Here, there were no carefully hidden knives waiting to be thrust into his back.

He reached for his shirt and pulled it over his head, shivering a little. The morning air carried a chill that spoke of autumn drawing closer, so he lifted his plaid from the peg beside the door and wrapped it around his shoulders before sitting on the edge of the bed to pull on his boots.

“Come on then.”

The dogs leapt to their feet and surged outside as he opened the door. Ronan followed, cold morning air washing over him as he stepped out into the dark. The eastern horizon was beginning to lighten but most of the settlement still slept with only a few wisps of smoke rising from chimneys. He glanced over to the doors of the smithy to check they were still securely fastened—he’d caught several children trying to get inside before—and a memory rose unexpectedly. He was perhaps ten years old, standing in the estate smithy watching old Padraig hammer a glowing iron bar. The blacksmith had tolerated Ronan’s constant questions with surprising patience and eventually had shown him how to hold a hammer properly.

The first nail Ronan had made looked more like a bent fishhook but he’d been absurdly proud of it. His father, however, had been less impressed.

“A future commander doesnae spend his days hammering horseshoes.”

Ronan could still remember standing silent while his father lectured him, his twin brother Rian sniggering in the background. Then his mother had intervened as she always seemed to.

“Let the boy learn,” she’d said gently. “It’s good for him to understand how things are made.”

His father had grumbled. His mother had smiled. And somehow she’d won.

He set off walking. This had become his habit—a quiet circuit of the Steading before the day’s demands began. Moving out into the woods beyond the village, he and the dogs reached the cliffs that marked the valley’s boundary and followed them around to one of the only two entrances into the hidden valley.

A young man stood watch there but straightened immediately when he spotted Ronan.

“Morning, chief.”

“Morning, Alec.”

“It was a quiet night.” The young man grinned. “Unless ye count Tam snoring loud enough to wake the dead.”

Ronan laughed. “I’ll add it to the list of threats.”

“Aye, it would be best if ye did. I swear it might cause a rockfall one of these days.”

Ronan exchanged a few more words with Alec and then continued on. He crossed the path and reached the cliffs on the other side, following them in a broad circle until he came upon the other entrance into the valley.

There he found Tam leaning against a tree. The beefy lad grinned when he spotted Ronan and flicked his mop of yellow hair out of his face.

“Time for breakfast, chief?”

“Aye,” Ronan said. “Off ye go.”

His grin widening, Tam turned and trotted off towards the village, calling for Alec to join him. Ronan watched them go, then followed more slowly. By the time he returned to the Steading, the sky had turned pale gold, throwing dappled light over the cottages and gardens, the livestock pens and barns.