“Why would ye do that?” she asked, her voice laced with irritation.
The elder tracked Torquil’s retreating frame. “’Tis best ye get home,” he said in a low, gruff voice, ignoring her question.
Was he the man that was following her? Or was he just a friend of her father’s trying to make inroads in Hart affairs.
Eilidh rolled her eyes, unphased by the way he glowered at her. Why couldn’t the men of her clan just let her be?
She dared a final look at Torquil, and then begrudgingly made her way back to Hartsmoor, thinking of how and when she could see Torquil again.
Chapter Four
Torquil entered hisquaint cottage and let the quietness envelop him. It was his own private sanctuary. The fire had died whilst he was out and a slight chill hung in the air. He pulled two logs from the rack he kept nearby the hearth and worked on getting the fire restarted. Once the flames burned bright, he grabbed his lute and sat in the nearby chair.
Strumming his lute, he tried to recall the melody he had heard Eilidh play yestereve as best he could. He kept at it until he got it right. As he played the song, he studied it, trying to learn all he could about Eilidh. What had made her write such a song? He had meant it when he told her she played like she was trying to forget something.
If they had not been interrupted, he would have delved deeper and mayhap discovered what that something was. That elder made sure to put an end to whatever conversation they were having, though. His abrupt intrusion felt as if he had been watching them and stepped in at the most inopportune time.
Torquil kenned the unspoken warning to leave Eilidh alone. It was written all over the man’s face. That made two men in as many days that had warned him to stay away from Eilidh. Why? He took his leave without a fight, but that did not mean he would stay away. Giving up wasn’t in his nature.
He played the melody a few times afore he leaned his lute againstthe wall. He heard footsteps outside and immediately went for his sword.
His home was small. Secluded. Half tucked into a rocky hillside, that offered ample protection. But with such a remote area with rock to the back and thick trees to the front, he did not get many visitors here. Which meant one of two things. The person approaching was someone he kenned, or someone with ill-intent. He would be prepared for either scenario.
The hilt of the sword clasped in his hands, Torquil waited on the other side of the door, holding his breath. He wasn’t much of a fighter, he much preferred the arts, but he could hold his own if he had the element of surprise. He had never had to test the theory, but he was for certs of it.
A crisp knock sequence—two quick knocks, followed by three more—sounded, and Torquil relaxed as he returned his sword to its scabbard.
His brother, Evander.
Due to the location of his home, and lack of visitors, Evander and he had agreed upon the coded knock when Torquil first took occupation of the ancient cottage. If he wanted, he could live at the MacGregor Keep, like his brother. His cousin would gladly have him, but Torquil had no interest in being surrounded by people all the time. He wanted a place to himself. Alone. Where he could play his lute and practice his songs without an audience.
This small cottage was his perfect solitude.
Without waiting for a response, Evander pushed through the door and paused to look around the small space, as if he were surprised at the size. He did this every time he visited. Sometimes, Torquil wondered if his brother thought that the cottage would magically grow in betwixt his visits.
It wasn’t a lot, but it was all that Torquil needed, which wasn’t much.
“Brother,” Evander greeted. “I wasnae for certs if ye would be here or at the market.” He cocked his head as if waiting for Torquil to respond.
Torquil shrugged. “Weel, as ye can see, I am here. I was practicing.”
Ignoring his statement, Evander asked, “Did ye see the lass?”
This wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have with his brother. It was not any of his concern who Torquil saw or did not see.
“I shall take yer silence as admittance.” Evander looked around the cottage, sucking on his teeth. “Ye cannae stir any trouble, Torquil.”
“I dinnae ken what ye refer to, brother. “I havenae done aught.”
“Ye went to the market. To seeher.” He held his hand up. “Dinnae deny it as I’ve already been told.”
Was the elder someone Evander had hired? Torquil rubbed his temples. That thought had never entered his mind, and a flash of anger had him clenching his fists.
“Are ye having me followed?” He didn’t need his brother telling him how to live his life and he for certs did not need tracking.
“Dinnae be daft. I doonae need to have ye followed to ken what ye were going to do.”
Torquil didn’t fully believe his brother, but he left that alone for now. “I didnae ken she would be there.”
