Eilidh snapped her eyes to Morven’s, her nerves suddenly making her stomach feel unsettled. “What?”
“Have ye got a boy ye fancy?” She clapped her hands excitedly. “Och, tell me. Is it someone I ken? Tell me who ’tis,” she demanded.
“There is no one. I fear yer mind is wandering and coming up with stories again,” Eilidh teased. “I think ye would make a wonderful bard,” she repeated, trying to draw her sister’s attention away from the goings-on in her private life.
Morven gave her a droll look as she cocked her head to the side. “Dinnae play with me.”
But Eilidh refused to speak any further on the matter and Morven,thankfully, finally, gave up. They collected more leaves than flowers, but Morven was happy with what they had gathered, and they walked back to Hartsmoor with a basket full of items for Morven to dry.
During supper, as she, Morvin, Alpin, and their parents gathered at the dais to eat, her father addressed her.
“Eilidh, where have ye been sneaking off to, girl?” His voice was gruff.
Eilidh jumped, her fingers tightening around the cup she was holding. Had he found out?
Her mother gave him a look of warning, and placed her hand on his arm. The gesture relaxed him a little, but he still waited for an answer, his eyes boring into Eilidh’s.
She moved food around on her trencher, her appetite lost. “The usual places, practicing my fiddle for the upcomingceilidhs. The glen mostly.” The lie felt heavy on her tongue and her stomach twisted into a tight knot with guilt.
Morven looked at her curiously, but Alpin studied her with suspicion on his hardened face, his eyes narrowed whilst he assessed her. As if he kenned she was hiding something.
“I am glad that ye are perfecting yer craft, Eilidh,” her mother spoke. Lillias had always been the water to Arthur’s fire. “Ye will show those that speak ill of ye that they doonae possess the talent in their whole being that ye have in the tip of yer pinky finger.” Her mother spoke confidently, as if she had all the trust that Eilidh spoke the truth.
She appreciated her mother’s compliment, but it made the twists in her stomach turn into a stabbing pain.
Supper could not finish soon enough, and once it had, Eilidh quickly excused herself. She needed to get away. Away from all the questions. The inquisitions.
Away from her family.
She did not understand the sudden interest in her endeavors now. No one had had any concerns afore.
It had to be that elder. How had she not noticed him afore now?
That night Eilidh waited until the castle was quiet and stealthily made her way out into the moonlit night. With her fiddle case slung over her shoulder, her heart pounded erratically in her chest until she was a safe enough distance away from Hartsmoor. Only then did she take a deep, steadying breath.
She hoped that the night was late enough that whoever seemed to be watching her lately would be snug in bed fast asleep.
The seldom used path that led out of the belly of the castle was not well kenned and bypassed the on-duty guards at the gate. She had used it many times to slip away. This night was no different.
An owl hooted in the distance and she nearly jumped out of her skin. For the first time since she had left, she realized how foolish her desperation to see Torquil was. Not so much seeing him, but the steps she needed to take to do so. Her actions were madness, but she needed to see him. To feel his touch.
What if she came upon someone untoward with unsavory actions on their mind? She pushed away the thought. She wouldn’t allow herself to think about how careless she was being.
The trip went faster this time now that she kenned where he lived. Well, not the exact location, but she kenned it was near where they had met the day afore.
She had not yet reached the area she had met Torquil previously when a figure stepped on to the pathway a few lengths ahead of her.
She stiffened, her breath caught in her throat, her fingers wrapping around the hilt of the dagger she had belted to her side. The moon had passed behind a cloud and the figure was partially obscured by trees so that she could not see who it was. Her pulse raced as her mind screameddanger.
The thought of turning around and running back toward home crossed her mind. But she could not get her feet to move either forward or backward. It was as if her boots had rooted to the ground.She looked around, searching for any places that could offer a hiding place. Mayhap the figure did not see her.
She cursed quietly. Of course she could be seen, just as she could see them.
The figure advanced, and Eilidh willed her feet to move, but they would not comply. Curses. Her body chose the absolute wrong time to not comply. Her breathing quickened and she squeezed her eyes tightly shut. She had been daft to attempt such a rendezvous at night.
“Eilidh?”
She nearly collapsed at the familiar voice calling her name as relief flooded her.Torquil. She was safe. “Aye,” she finally said, her voice shaky.
