He lowered himself to the ground beside her, a careful distance away but close enough.
“Thunder bothers ye,” he said quietly.
“Is it so obvious?” She managed a thin laugh.
“I havenae forgotten our time in the kitchen.” His tone was gentle. “I recall what ye told me then of how ye feared the storms.”
She nodded, then clutched her hands tighter as lightning flashed and she braced herself, eyes closed, for the peal of thunder that followed.
Recalling how he distracted her with his ghost story, he smiled to himself. It was clearly time for a wee bit of mischief to take her mind from the storm.
“By the way, that thing ye ate earlier? Ye were so eager to find out what it was made of?”
She glanced up with curious eyes, one brow arched. “Yes, and you promised to tell me.”
“Ye dined on a great Scots delicacy,marag dubh, something every good wifey kens how tae make.”
She clicked her tongue impatiently. “Yes. You told me the name, but what does this famous black pudding consist of?”
“Well… there’s a wee bit of lard…” She nodded. “And there’s oats. Maybe barley. Onions if ye’ve got them. And then…” He scratched his chin as if he was trying to remember the rest.
“There’s naught there that would cause me to choke.”
“Och, aye. I was almost forgetting the blood.”
“Wha—?” Her hand sprang to her mouth and she uttered a small, muffled squeal.
“Beef blood. Plenty of it. That’s what gives it the color…” He grinned, pretending to ignore her horrified yelp. “Mix it all in, and then?—"
She gagged, a horrible gurgling sound that threatened to bring up everything she’d eaten.
He couldn’t help himself. He laughed, a deep warm rumble he had no hope of disguising.
She gagged again. Loudly, this time.
“Och nae… dinnae ye dare… breathe, lass, breathe.”
He caught both her hands before she could panic herself into vomiting. They were delicate and soft in his great, calloused paws. He held her steady.
“Suck in a deep breath, like this…” He inhaled slowly, his chest rising. She began to mirror him but the thunder cracked again and she flinched so hard her shoulder brushed his.
He felt her touch as if it was another streak of the lightning flashing around them. Although this one went straight to his heart.
“Look at me,” He kept his voice calm, grounding her, steadying her. “Breathe. In… and out. Slow and easy daes it.”
She clutched his hands and he tightened his grip, giving her a lifeline, keeping the pressure steady as she breathed slowly in tune with him.
They breathed together until she finally released her grip on his hands.
“Better?”
“Yes. I feel much better thank you. You have no need to fear I will bring up themarag dubhall over you.”
“Good tae hear ye speaking the Gaelic,” he said with a laugh. “And glad me remedy worked.”
“Why deep breathing?” she asked softly.
“It helps,” he said. “With many of the things that beset us all. Fear, anger… loss.” His gaze flickered toward the flames. “It helped me when I was afeared of storms as a lad.”
