Their gazes held for a moment.
“This means I have a business here.” She pulled a face then, her excitement dimming. “Although Beth won’t like this. She’ll be beelin’ when she hears I’ve stolen her work.”
“Och, she’ll get over it,” Diarmaid said, waving the idea away. “I’ll see if I can sweeten her up a bit. The widow’s been soft on me for a while. Maybe I’ll take her out for a meal and some ale atThe Shepherd’s Crook.”
“But ye’d better do it on my evening off,” Fiona replied, smiling at his plan. “Ye won’t sweeten her with me serving ye.”
He nodded. “Good point.”
She studied him for a moment, smiling. She really was growing fond of Diarmaid.
“Speaking of days off … I’m not working atThe Crookthis eve. How about I spend the afternoon working in yer garden, and then I make ye a hearty supper?”
He waved her away. “Ye don’t have to look after me. I know I look like a helpless case, but I muddle through. I can feed myself.”
“Maybe,” she said firmly, “but ye’ve been kind to me, and I want to show ye my thanks.”
He averted his gaze, embarrassed. “Very well, lass. If ye insist.”
Fiona hummed to herself as she chopped onions and added them to the iron pot that sat over the hearth inside Diarmaid’s messy bothy. The onions started to sizzle in the hot lard, and soon their savory aroma filled the musty-smelling space.
She cast a critical look around. This place needed a woman’s touch. Dirty clothes were strewn everywhere. The rushes underfoot crawled with vermin and were in desperate need of being replaced. But she wouldn’t tell him so though; she didn’t want to appear pushy.
She’d spent the afternoon weeding his garden, and it barely looked any different from before she started. But when she had some free time, she’d continue her work.
Because she’d meant her words to him earlier. His offer had touched her. The people of Ardnacross were indeed welcoming her these days.
Ye had friends at Dounarwyse too,she reminded herself.
That was right, she had. She wondered then how Tay was faring. He was of a similar age to Diarmaid and almost as prickly. Her lips curved as she recalled seeing him at work with wee Midge. She would have liked to see him again, and Stu too. She hoped the lad wasn’t getting into too much mischief.
“Ye look as if ye’re enjoying yerself,” Diarmaid observed as he ducked under the low lintel, firewood in his arms.
“I am,” she replied. “It’s been a while since I cooked a meal for anyone. And I must admit, as much as I enjoy working atThe Shepherd’s Crook, it’s good to have an evening off.”
Her mood shadowed. She did enjoy working at the tavern, but the incident a few nights earlier had left a sour taste in her mouth.
And although she appreciated Ailean coming to her rescue—because it had been clear from the moment Jock’s huge arm had locked around her waist that she wasn’t getting free without help—things could have turned very nasty.
Ailean could have been hurt.
Those men had a dangerous edge to them. And even though they’d retreated from the tavern, neither had looked beaten.
In the days since, worry had gnawed at her. It felt like unfinished business.
“Ye’re thinking about that fight, aren’t ye?” Diarmaid asked.
Fiona jerked out of her reverie, embarrassed he’d read her so easily. “Aye,” she admitted. “I don’t want to be the cause of trouble here.”
“It wasn’tyethat was the trouble,” he replied, scowling.
Fiona nodded. Once again, that nagging sense of unease tugged at her.
Stop yer fashing, lass, she told herself.Everything is finally going well for ye … just enjoy it … and don’t sabotage things this time.
She left Diarmaid’s bothy later than she’d planned. The pottage and oatcakes she’d made had turned out well, and the carpenter had been grateful. Afterward, he’d brought out a bottle of homemade bramble wine, and they’d shared a cup each by the fire.
As he’d loosened up, Diarmaid told her about his life. He’d lived in Ardnacross since birth, and Moira had been the onlywoman he’d ever been with. He’d fallen in love with her at fourteen and finally made her his wife just after his eighteenth birthday.
