And despite herself, Fiona’s interest stirred. He looked happier here than she’d ever seen him. Relaxed.
“Why?” Arabella asked, clearly stupefied by his response.
His cheek dimpled as he smiled at his cousin. “It’s good, honest work, Bella.” He paused then. “I’ve always liked building things … working with my hands.”
His gaze flicked to Fiona once more, and heat rolled over her. They both knew what the man could do with his hands. She didn’t need reminding.
A heartbeat followed before he spoke once more. “And where are ye off to?”
“Just a walk,” Arabella replied, not seeming to notice the charge in the air, as if a thunderstorm had just rolled in. “It’s stifling inside.”
“Don’t go too far,” he said, brows drawing together. “Or I’ll come and fetch ye.”
Arabella waved him off.
His attention slid back to Fiona.
“I haven’t seen ye in a while, Fi.”
Her heart kicked. She wished he wouldn’t address her so informally. So intimately. “I’ve been busy.”
“All she talks about is that tapestry,” Arabella laughed. “I had to drag her away from the loom.”
Fiona tugged at Arabella’s arm, irritation spearing her. “Well, let us be on our way.” She didn’t want to come across as rude, but she really couldn’t linger here. No good would come from it.
They moved forward. However, Fiona made the mistake of raising her gaze once more. The men were staring at pretty Arabella, but Ailean was focused wholly on Fiona.
He smiled—warm, intimate.
And her belly somersaulted.
13: LONG, LAZY SUMMER AFTERNOONS
AILEAN DUG THE trowel into the bucket of mortar, scooping up just the right amount before placing it upon the stacked-stone wall he’d been helping build.
“That’s right,” the older man working next to him instructed. “Move yer trowel like so. Always level it well before the next stone goes on.”
Ailean nodded, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his arm.
It was another blistering day. He could feel the skin on his bare shoulders and back prickling under the force of it. But once again, with a sky so clear and the sun so warm, he had no intention of remaining indoors. Helping re-thatch the tavern roof had only taken a day or two. After that, he’d joined the team of men mending the granary wall next door.
It was good work. Honest work. As he’d told Arabella.
Over the past few days, he’d felt more settled than he had in a long while. He could almost forget the dark cloud that hung over him: the impending trip to the Isle of Lismore, to Castle Coeffin, where Sorcha MacDougall awaited. By all accounts, the lass was a beauty. Sweet-tempered too. The perfect match. And he’d be helping his clan out massively by wedding her.
But he didn’t want to.
In truth, he didn’t want to go anywhere near Castle Coeffin.
And while he was out here, working alongside men he’d grown up with, he could pretend it wasn’t looming on the horizon. Just a fortnight hence.
The clip-clopping of horses’ hooves made him look up then, just as he was about to reach for another of the smooth stones they were using to rebuild the wall. His gaze alighted upon a couple on horseback—a man and a woman.
His parents.
Spying him, his father raised a hand in greeting. However, his lack of a smile made Ailean’s gut tighten. Things between them had grown increasingly tense of late. Ever since that conversation, the day after Bealtunn, resentment had simmered in Ailean’s gut. He didn’t appreciate his father making plans on his behalf, and with the passing of days, he found he couldn’t let the matter settle.
His father had no right.
