Page 205 of Tales of Highland Loyalty

"Wheesht!" he chided, desperately racking his brains to end this conversation. He had never spoken of Ainslee to the captain, and he felt certain he would laugh at him.

Women were playthings, distractions, to the captain. In all the time Malcolm had known him, James had never been with the same lass twice.

And neither had he, now he thought of it. Not since Ainslee.

"Ah come on, I can see when a lad makes eyes at a lass," James said, his eyes snaking at Malcolm.

"Awa' an' bile yer head, I do nae!" Malcolm protested, but James just laughed.

"An' when a lass makes eyes at a lad!" he added. Malcolm nearly blushed.

"She does nae," he said, his heart leaping a bit. Did she really make eyes at him? His hopes raced. "But if she does, then, well, ye cannae blame the lass!"

Malcolm grinned, pretending it was no big deal, but it didn't wash James just looked at him.

"She's a comely lass, but ye've got yer work cut oot," he mused, with a side shot to Malcolm. "Tis as if she is testing ye... or something..."

"Och, tis naething. She's a bonny lass, but tis all," said Malcolm, trying to deflect him. "An' if we have a bit o' slap an' tickle in the meantime, then braw. If nae, well, there's other fish in the sea!"

Lowering his head, Malcolm gulped his drink, then poured another. The heat of the dram rushed him, burning his cheeks. He was giddy, warm... Glancing nervously, he gaged James' face.

Had he bought this?

"Fannybaws," said James, unflinchingly. He refilled both their drams, yet again, although Malcolm could not recall drinking the last one.

Already, the room was spinning. His aching head told him he already had more than enough already, and yet, Malcolm needed more.

James' steely gaze filed through him, watching him closely.

"Ye bum's oot the window, laddie!" Malcolm protested, but he knew it was no good.

James shook his head, smiling. "Mal, laddie, I can tell when a lassie's tongue is hanging oot her mouth... nae mind aboot yers, something goes on there, so ye might as well tell me whit?"

Mal squirmed. This was embarrassing. He had never admitted to having feelings for a lassie before. Shifting uncomfortably, he tried to summon the words.

But before he did, James shot in.

"Well, she's a braw lass, an' definitely worthy o' the attention," said James, unexpectedly. "If she was mine, I wouldnae let her go..."

Malcolm looked up, sharply. This hadn't been what he expected. James' head bobbed at him cheerfully.

"Aye, lad. The Ainslee lass, an' her comely friend... they're the marrying kind..., och, o' course if I was the marrying kind, that is!"

James winked, making Malcolm laugh. Then, a scuffle from the back of the barn made them silent.

Putting his finger to his lip, Malcolm bade James to silence. For a moment, they listened; every creak and scraping in the darkened blacksmith's barn.

A light padding of feet across the room made Malcolm hold his breath. Fearing it was Ainslee - or worse still, her dad - Malcolm tensed.

"Ainslee?" whispered Malcolm, his eyes battling the dying light.

A sliver of fur wrapped around his leg. Malcolm nearly leaped out of his skin. A soft purring was encircling him.

Malcolm, whose heart had not stopped thumping, breathed deep. "Och, ye mangy flea bitten wee thing!"

James laughed hard.

"That's nae way to talk to yer better half," he jested. But then he caught Malcolm's eye.