Good.
“I see ye now,” she said, breathing hard. “Beneath the charm … ye’re a self-centered cur. A man of poor character. I was nothing but sport to ye, wasn’t I?”
She watched her words strike, watched him flinch.
“No,” he replied hoarsely. “I—”
“If ye have any respect left for me, ye’ll treat me like a stranger,” she cut him off. “Let me rebuild my life.”
He stared at her as if she’d just slammed a fist into his gut.
For a heartbeat, she almost softened. Then she remembered his silence.
Her arms locked tighter across her chest. “Is there anything else?”
He shook his head, stunned now.
She stepped around him and walked back insideThe Shepherd’s Crook.
25: CONSEQUENCES
“THAT’LL DO FOR today, Fiona. Ye must be dead on yer feet by now.”
Glancing up from where she’d just put another brick of peat on the fire, Fiona looked over to see Eithne emerging from the kitchen, carrying two earthen cups. With a sigh, the innkeeper settled herself onto a nearby chair and placed them on the table.
“Come. Sit for a wee while. Ye’ve certainly earned a cool ale.”
Fiona huffed a tired breath, brushing off her hands. Indeed, she had—although she’d deliberately kept busy all evening, avoiding her own thoughts, avoiding meeting anyone’s eye, avoiding thinking about the future or the past. Being busy kept her rooted in the present, and that was the way she liked it.
Still, she could tell from Eithne’s face that the woman wanted to know a little more about her, and that was understandable.
Moving across to the table, Fiona settled herself into the chair opposite. She took the cup and lifted it to her lips, drinking deeply.
That was better. She hadn’t realized how thirsty she was.
It was stifling in here, even with the fire burning low. Weariness hit her all at once, heavy and insistent, pushing her down into her seat. She’d been living on her nerves ever since leaving Dounarwyse. Now, it felt as if everything inside her was giving way. All she wanted was to crawl into bed, pull up the covers, and wish the world away.
Eithne watched her with frank curiosity, her blue gaze assessing. “So,” she asked quietly, “how is it that ye know Ailean Maclean?”
Fiona stiffened. Of course, she should have expected this. It was unusual for a man like him to show such interest in a woman like her, and after asking to speak to her privately, he’d set all the ears and tongues in the tavern flapping and wagging.
Curse him. She left scandal behind, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t follow her. The folk of Ardnacross would discover her shame soon enough.
It was a cruel twist of fate that his father had banished him to the very place she’d chosen as refuge. In a village this small, there was no avoiding him. And no avoiding the gossip that would follow.
Her belly twisted.What a mess.
Drawing in a steadying breath, she considered the story she would tell. She was loath to admit the truth; she’d no wish to be cast out again. Eithne seemed kind, but even kind people had limits.
“I did some work at Dounarwyse for a short while,” she said after a pause. “Lady Maclean commissioned me to work on a tapestry. That was a year ago. And I met the chieftain’s son briefly during one of his trips home from war.”
“He seems quite taken by ye,” Eithne said with a knowing smile.
Fiona’s cheeks warmed. “Perhaps. But the man is an incorrigible flirt. I try not to encourage him.”
“Well, I can see why the lasses favor him. He’s braw indeed,” Eithne replied, eyeing Fiona in a way that made her suspect she saw right through her. “I remember him from his last couple of visits, but he seems a little different this time.” A faint line appeared between her brows. “Troubled. Subdued.”
Fiona shrugged as if she had no notion why that might be.
