She’d left that guilt behind.
Ailean was waiting for her.
“I hope he paid ye well?” he greeted her, raising a dark-auburn brow.
“Aye.” She patted her fat coin purse. “And he’s ordered another fifty sacks by spring.”
He grinned. “A regular customer, eh?”
She nodded, moving over to where Broc waited with the cart. Untying him, she started back up the path.
Ailean fell in next to her.
Irritation fluttered up. The man was more difficult to shake this morning than a barnacle.
Things had shifted between them following the attack though. A thawing of sorts. She didn’t want it to be true, yet she’d felt it.
She wanted to cling to her anger, but she could feel it draining away like water through her fingers.
Weak woman, she chided herself, clenching her jaw as she walked.This is what got ye into trouble in the first place. And it had been. When it came to Ailean Maclean, she was soft clay in his hands. And when he was this charming, this helpful, he was near impossible to resist.
But resist him, she would, for he’d proven that he’d bring her nothing but trouble.
She was happy here in Ardnacross. It wasn’t the fragile happiness she’d found at Dounarwyse, which had been more about escaping her old life and throwing herself into a new one. No, the contentment she’d found here was real, and she didn’t want anything sullying it.
Halfway up the path, they reached the sack Ailean had abandoned. He heaved it up on his shoulder and continued at her side.
They walked in silence for a while.
“I hope ye aren’t too busy at the moment,” he said finally.
She glanced his way, frowning. “Why not?”
“I have a job for ye … if ye wish?”
She observed him warily, noting the way the light breeze ruffled his hair. The hot summer had tanned his face and brought up freckles on his skin. They made his fern-green eyes even more penetrating. “Aye?”
“I need sacking for the tower windows.” He paused then, gaze glinting. “I plan to be sleeping in a bed chamber on the first floor by the time Yule arrives.”
She relaxed slightly, relieved he didn’t seem to be flirting with her. “How many?”
“Ten for the moment … I’ll pay ye five silver pennies for the lot.”
Fiona frowned. “That’s too much.”
He met her eye, his expression serious now. “It’s a fair price. Yer skill is worth it.”
Flustered now, she looked away and cleared her throat. “Very well … I accept.”
“Good … will ye come up and take measurements when ye have time?”
She glanced his way once more to find him studying her. His eyes were warm.
“We’ll pass yer tower on the way back to the village,” she replied, deliberately adding a brisk edge to her voice. “I might as well make a stop and do the measurements then.”
He nodded, although the smile he favored her with made her treacherous belly somersault. And somewhere, deep inside, more of the ice that encased her heart melted.
“There she is … thethief!”
