Chapter 13
Izzy looked back over her shoulder and waved at Oswin and Aiden as they disappeared into the distance. She was sad to be leaving. Here, in the monastery of Saint Bartholomew, she’d found a measure of peace, if only for so short a time. She’d felt safe, sheltered from the dangers and unpredictability of this time period. But now they were back out amongst it again, where there was no telling what hazards lay in wait around the next corner.
But, if she was honest with herself, she knew that this wasn’t the real cause of the way her heart seemed to be beating a little more rapidly or why her stomach kept churning.
No, the real cause of that was the big man sat beside her, so close that she could feel the hardness of his hip and thigh pressing against her, and feel the warmth radiating from him as though he was a hot coal.
How was she supposed to put up with this? It was torture.
She was mortified by what she’d done earlier. She’d kissed him! Kissed Magnus! What had she been thinking? She hadn’t been thinking at all. She’d just acted on instinct, reacting to the sudden flush of relief and pleasure at seeing him come safely back to her.
How foolish. Now they were stuck together, squeezed into a space that was far too small for any semblance of propriety, reminded with every bump and jostle of the cart just how close they were.
She’d been attracted to Magnus from the very beginning. How could she not be? He was devastatingly good-looking with his tousled curls, stubbled jaw and body like a rugby player. Ofcourseshe was attracted to him. What woman wouldn’t be? But that was all it could be. Attraction, nothing more. He was from a different time for pity’s sake, and as soon as she was able, she would be returning to hers. It was crazy to feel like this. Totally crazy. And now, being stuck this close to him was excruciating.
She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. His face was turned forward, gaze fixed on the road as they trundled along, a picture of indifference. But although he might look calm, his arm-muscles were taut and his hands, clasped together in his lap, were white-knuckled. Did he feel it too? Was she not just imagining the chemistry that crackled between them?
She really wanted to talk to him, but Sean MacTavish was crammed on her other side and the last thing she wanted was to have any kind of delicate conversation with the ruddy farmer listening in.
How long before they got to Torloch?
Luckily, MacTavish took it on himself to fill the awkward silence. He was a jovial companion, full of ribald jokes and outrageous stories, and as the countryside rolled by, kept up a constant tirade, unaware or uncaring of his companions’ reticence.
They did not move quickly. The mule pulled the cart with stoic determination, but fast it was not. Snaffles trotted along happily beside the cart, ranging out to either side nowand then whenever a new and exciting scent caught his attention.
The afternoon wore on, Izzy and Magnus riding in silence, MacTavish regaling them with local gossip and tall tales, as they passed through a wide fertile valley dotted with crofts and grazing sheep. The weather began to turn and the sunlight to turn weak and hazy through a blanket of clouds that carpeted the sky. But it stayed dry, for which Izzy was thankful.
Magnus pulled his cloak tighter around him. He seemed to be deep in thought, his brows furrowed and mouth set in a grim line. His arm brushed against Izzy’s as he adjusted his sitting position, sending an unexpected jolt of awareness through her.
“Ah! Look, there it is!” said MacTavish suddenly, seemingly oblivious to the undercurrents flowing between his two passengers. “Torloch! We’ll be there within the hour!”
Relief flooded through Izzy. All she could see of Torloch was a faint smudge on the horizon, but soon she would have some respite from this uncomfortable journey and a chance to straighten out her thoughts.
In fact, it took a little longer than an hour, and by the time they began passing into the outskirts of Torloch, the sun was almost touching the horizon. Like Hodwell, Torloch was a large settlement, almost a town, although she saw no monastery attached to this one. It hugged the shore of a large, still loch at the head of the valley, and as their road swung along the loch shore, Izzy spotted countless fishing boats bobbing on the waves, and men and women in theshallows, hauling in the day’s catch. Torloch was clearly a fishing town.
Despite the lateness of the hour, the place was bustling with activity. Fishmongers haggled over the price of fish in guttural voices, children ran wild in the narrow streets, their laughter catching in the wind, women in well-worn dresses hurried home clutching baskets of loaves or vegetables.
Finally, MacTavish pulled up outside a stout timber building that sat on an incline, its back to the bitter winds that blew in from the loch.
“Here we are!” he said. “Delivered safe and sound to Kearnan’s boarding house, just as I promised Abbot Oswin. And in time for supper, too!”
Magnus climbed down from the cart, making it lurch under his weight, and then held out his hand to help Izzy down. She took it, her small hand dwarfed in his, and stepped down onto solid ground. Magnus released her and turned to the farmer.
“My thanks, MacTavish.”
The farmer grinned. “Glad to be of service.” With that, he doffed his cap, clucked to his mule, and trundled off up the road towards his own croft.
Izzy looked up at Magnus. A quiet moment passed between them, filled only by the hushed murmur of the loch and the distant cries of the gulls.
“Magnus, listen—”
The door of the stout building swung open and a woman appeared in the doorway. She was middle-aged and sturdy, her hair escaping in wisps from a neatly tied bun at the nape of her neck.
“Ah! MacTavish has brought me guests from the monastery again, eh?” she called out to them, wiping her hands on her apron. “Are ye coming in or not? I’m just about to serve supper.” She looked at Snaffles and frowned. “Although yer hound will have to sleep in the stable. I dinna allow beasts in my dining room. Heb! Heb!” A lad came running from around the back of the building, quickly stuffing a piece of pie into his mouth.
“Aye, Ma?”
