“Welcome,” Leathen responded before turning back to his work.
“This way,” Bridget murmured. She was acutely aware of Bruce’s eyes on her as she led them back to their horses. “I can show ye where tae store yer horses first. They look as if they could use a rest.”
“They rode hard,” Bruce responded, patting the horse’s neck.
She ducked her head, realizing she was curious to know what his hand would feel like patting her arm, and led them to the stables, gesturing to the two empty stalls.
“We have plenty of feed here,” she stated as she showed them the stores. “Brushes and blankets over there if needed. Once ye get done, I will show ye tae yer lodgings.”
The two men got to work on their horses, and Bridget stood by, watching them interact with each other as if they were truly related, the murmur of their voices far too low for her to hear their words.
Not that she wished to hear their words. They were strangers that would be gone after a few days—perhaps a week—once they had a few good meals and a place to rest their heads. She had seen it before. Wanderers was what she had coined them, restless souls that couldn’t find a place that made them content. She was very content here, and her anxiety grew steadily as she thought about the McPearson visit and how her father was likely to lose the farm. After all, the representative could just take the farm from under them with the mere threat of a fight.
Her father wouldn’t put up innocent blood to save a parcel of land. No, he would die trying, and then it would fall on Bridget to make the next decision on his behalf. She was his only heir, the only Wright who had a claim to this land as her father did. While she wouldn’t want to give it up either, Bridget would do what was best for the tenants in the end. After all, a piece of land was just that: land. If she didn’t have her family and friends to share it with, it meant nothing.
Of course, Bridget would never tell her father that. He breathed the land, and if he knew she didn’t feel the same, he would be disappointed in her.
“All finished.”
Bruce’s voice startled her out of her thoughts, and Bridget cleared her throat, finding the Scot eyeing her. He had his pack slung over his shoulder, and this close, she saw how he towered over her, the well-defined muscles of his arms against his tunic.
God, she had never been so enticed by muscles before!
“Th-This way.”
5
Irvine followed behind Bridget as she led them down another path toward a hut, attempting not to stare at the gentle sway of her long hair as he did so. He had noticed the faint flush on her cheeks during their interaction with Leathen Wright, who just happened to be her father.
It wasn’t what Irvine would have preferred, nor had he preferred to start their friendship by lying as he had. His mother would have hit him on the back of the head for that, but it was necessary in order to understand the hostility.
He also knew that Irvine wasn’t happy with their current situation either, but it was either lie to them or have swords rammed in their guts and their bodies thrown into the moors. The hatred was deep for his clan, which worried Irvine even more.
Bridget stopped so suddenly that Irvine ran into the back of her, reaching out at the last moment to keep them both from falling to the ground. Irvine’s arm clamped around her waist, and he pulled her against his body.
“Careful now, lass,” he told her, attempting to ignore the way her softness pressed into his hard planes.
“Ye ran into me!” she called out, struggling against his grasp. Irvine let her go, and she put some distance between them, her chest heaving. “Did ye do it on purpose?”
“Nay, lass,” he replied, his cheeks burning. “I didnae run into ye on purpose.” He couldn’t tell her what he had been thinking of to take his attention that way.
Bridget cleared her throat. “Well then. Right this way.”
Malcolm smirked, but Irvine ignored him as he followed Bridget to a small hut not too far from the barn. “This hut has been abandoned for a few months,” she explained as she pushed open the door. “We keep it aired out. Ye should find it comfortable enough.”
“Aye, it will be fine,” he stated, giving her a small smile. “Thank ye.”
“I will come back tae get ye after ye’re settled,” Bridget replied. “And show ye the stables.”
She escaped before Irvine could say another word, leaving the two Scots at the doorway.
“Wotever are ye doing, Irvine?” Malcolm hissed. “This is not the part of the plan.”
Irvine looked around before pushing his friend into the hut and shutting the door. “Be careful with yer words. Ye never know who might be listening.”
Malcolm swore, raking a hand through his hair roughly. “Ye should have told them who ye were and started the negotiations immediately.”
Irvine scratched his chin thoughtfully. He hadn’t anticipated the abrupt reaction that both Bridget and her father had to his family, to his clan. “He wasnae going tae listen tae me,” he said. “We would already be on our way back tae the castle if I had told him who we were.”
