Her cheeks warmed as she nodded and accepted his proffered arm.
“I wasnae for certs if ye would be here.” He ducked his head, as if he were shy to confess that information.
“I felt the same,” she admitted quietly.
“I am Torquil.”
She smiled. “I ken. Torquil MacGregor.”
His eyes widened.
“My brother told me when he…” She trailed off, leaving the sentence unfinished. She did not want to start their conversation by telling him that her brother warned her against him. She waved her hand in the air in dismissal. “I am Eilidh Hart.”
It was his turn to smile. “I ken.”
Her brows rose in surprise.
“My brother also told me of yer name. It appears we have all-kenning brothers in common.” He grinned broadly, showing off perfectly straight white teeth. His demeanor was charming. He was tall, much taller than her, she barely brushed his shoulders. He was lean and lithe, with bronzed skin that seemed to glow under the early afternoon sun.
As they walked, everyone around them seemed to fade away. It was only them. No one else.
Torquil gave her all his attention. “You play verra weel. I enjoyed yer performance immensely.”
Her cheeks heated. “Thank ye.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, suddenly feeling shy herself, something that was out of character for her. He wasn’t the first person to give her such a compliment, but for some reason, from him, it felt, different. More meaningful. “Ye do as weel. ’Twas hard no’ to notice,” she admitted.
He smiled warmly as he continued to lead her through the market.
“Though I must say,” Eilidh continued. “Ye play like a man hiding something. Secrets mayhap? Ye’ve an air of mystery aboot ye.”
Torquil’s face grew serious. “I’ve naught to hide. Can ye say the same?” He met her gaze, brows drawn down. “Ye play like ye are trying to forget. Is there aught ye would like to admit?” He gently nudged her shoulder.
Her eyes had widened at his revelation. How had he read her so easily in that short time that he had seen her?
“Forget may be the wrong word. Move forward. Ignore. Disappear,”she quietly said.
“For ye to disappear would for certs be a disservice to all of us that would miss out on yer beautiful music.”
“Ye are being overly generous.”
They stopped at a stall with heather mead. Torquil purchased two and handed her one, raising his in the air for a salute.
“To days filled with song, no matter the reason.”
They touched their cups together and took a sip of the delicious brew.
“Dinnae let anyone e’er break ye, Eilidh. Dinnae change. Ye are perfect, just the way ye are.”
Her cheeks flushed. She opened her mouth to respond, but a village elder interrupted them, a fierce scowl on his face.
Eilidh recognized him as someone who visited Hartsmoor often. He and her father would speak in hushed tones behind closed doors.
“I believe yer mama is looking for ye.” He pierced her with a pointed stare.
How would he ken such a thing? She did not appreciate the interruption.
Torquil cleared his throat. “I should be returning home. ’Twas lovely to see ye.” With a smile and a dip of his head, he walked away.
Eilidh watched him go, her cheeks flushed, and wanted naught more than to follow him to wherever his destination may be.
