A thought occurred to him a second later. What if she told someone where he was? His peace would be shattered by those who had bayed for his blood during the trial, coming and forcing him to fight, to kill. He was done with killing.
He frantically pulled on the only dry pair of hose he had left. With that done he ran outside, ready to hunt her down and stop her from blabbing.
What he saw startled him. She hadn’t run off. She was sitting on the stump of wood, the sunlight shining on her slowly drying hair. She looked like an angel. An angel who was using his spare knife to carve a hook into the end of his fishing spear.
He stood in the doorway and looked at her for a while. She hadn’t noticed him. He took in the view. The hose she had borrowed, the length of tartan cloth she’d wrapped around her chest in lieu of a dress.
Her hair was dark, cascading over her shoulders. He had never seen a woman with hair uncovered like that. Even the peasants wore basic coifs. She didn’t seem the least bit concerned that she’d lost her hat in the water. She was humming to herself as she worked.
She glanced up at him and he looked away, not wanting to be caught spying on her. “That should work better now,” she said, holding out the spear.
He doubted it. Then he examined the hook. “How did ye do that?”
“How did I do what?”
“Tis sharp as steel and done wi’ a blunt knife. How?”
She shrugged. “It’s not tricky if you know what you’re doing.”
For a moment Tavish didn’t know what to say. He examined the fishing rod again. “I must try it out. Wait there.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
He headed back to the loch. Standing on the shore, he peeled off the hose from his legs before edging slowly out into the water. He kept going until he reached the deep pool where the fish were most often found. He stood perfectly still when he got there, the only sound that of the curlews in the distance. There was not a breath of wind in the air.
This was his favorite time. When there was nothing but him and the Highlands. He felt part of the land and the loch. It was at moments like that he forgot about his past. He needed no one. Just the Highlands.
He didn’t move, waiting patiently, ignoring the growling of his stomach after so long without food. To his surprise trout began to circle around his ankles within minutes. He held the rod ready, taking a steady breath before thrusting down at lightning speed, spearing a fish and bringing it upward into the air.
It fought briefly to free itself from the hook before succumbing. He smiled to himself. The spear had worked perfectly. He’d have to get her to show him how she’d done it with such a blunt knife.
He dressed quickly. Then, with the fish in one hand and the rod in the other, he headed back, finding her gone from the stump. How could he have been so stupid? She just wanted him out of the way so she could make a run for it. Tell them all where he was hiding out.
He was kicking himself for his stupidity when he heard her humming inside the hut. He stuck his head in the door and marveled at what she’d done while he’d been away.
There had originally been a window when he’d first put the place together but he’d wedged a log in the sill during the last winter and never bothered removing it. She’d taken out the log to use as a second stool by the fireside.
She was sitting on the log with her feet outstretched toward the fire, light streaming in through the window. There was even a posy of flowers by the hearth, the scent of the flowers making the whole place smell like a meadow.
“You managed to catch a fish,” she said with a smile, nodding toward his hand.
“Aye, and you managed to go rummaging while I was away. If you’re looking for Princess Margaret’s locket you’ll nay find it in there.”
“I wasn’t looking for anything. I just wanted something to sit on while I get warm. Where do you sit?”
“The floor.” He gutted the fish before grabbing a spike from the hearth, skewering the trout. He set the spike over the flames and left the carcass to spit down into the burning peat, the smell of cooking fish soon overpowering the scent of the flowers.
“Are ye warm enough?” he asked.
“Yes, thank you,” she said, getting to her feet.
“Why did ye no swim?”
“Huh? Oh, in the loch? I can’t swim?”
“Ye cannae swim and yet ye went oot in the middle of a loch? Jings, ye must be daft in the heed.”
“I wasn’t planning to fall out,” she said, pouting like a child. “I didn’t realize I’d drifted so far, that was all.”
