The two women stared each other down, and as the moments slid by, she could have sworn that disappointment flared in Beth’s eyes.
31: YE STOLE UPON ME
AILEAN WAS LAYING stones upon the wall on the top floor of his tower when he spied Fiona climbing the hill beneath him.
Stilling in his work, he watched her make her way up the path, her blonde curls bouncing. A smile tugged at his lips.
A pleasant surprise.
He’d enjoyed seeing her at the mill a few days earlier and had taken the opportunity to commission some work from her. On the way back, they’d stopped at the tower, and he’d shown her through the chambers. There, he’d used a measuring stick and marked it with a knife so she had the height and width of the windows right.
It had been a companionable morning, one he hadn’t wanted to end.
The tower had felt empty after she left.
And now, here she was.
His gaze tracked her. She wore a becoming dove-grey kirtle that hugged her curves. The morning was chill, a biting wind gusting over the hills and ruffling the surface of the Sound, and she pulled her woolen shawl tight about her.
But as she drew closer, he marked the hunch of her shoulders, the hard set of her jaw.
She was upset.
His brow furrowed. He didn’t like seeing Fiona out of sorts. The cautious hope in her eyes at the mill had warmed him. He wanted her smiling again. If something was wrong, he’d fix it.
He set down his trowel beside the mortar bucket, brushed off his hands, and hurried down the spiral stairwell to meet her.
They met in the courtyard by the well.
“Morning, Fiona,” he greeted her with an easy smile. “What brings ye—”
“Yepaidthem,” she cut in. Her eyes were slits of fury, her cheeks flushed. “Diarmaid and the miller. Ye bought them with yer coin.”
His heart kicked hard against his ribs.
Shite.
He cursed under his breath. “I told Diarmaid not to tell ye.”
“He didn’t. Beth got it out of him and shouted it across the market. Now all of Ardnacross thinks I spread my legs for ye for favors.”
He flinched. “I never said—”
“Ye didn’t need to!” Her fists clenched at her sides. “People can imagine plenty on their own. In telling everyone, she painted a fine picture of how I seduced ye at Dounarwyse and ruined us both.”
A sick heaviness settled in his gut. He took a careful step toward her. “This is the last thing I wished for, Fi,” he said roughly. “I was only trying to help ye.”
“Why?” she cried. “To get back in my good graces so I’d tumble ye again? Ye bastard!”
Panic tightened his throat. “No.” He stepped closer, and she retreated at once. “Ye’ve been through enough because of me. I wanted to ease things for ye. To give ye a start.”
“Liar! Ye were trying to ensnare me!”
He swallowed. He was losing her. Every word only made it worse.
“Find someone else to make yer window sacking,” she snapped. “HireBeth. She feels sorry enough for ye.”
His pulse thundered. This was it. She was leaving.
