Page 9 of His Secret Highland Bride

Her thoughts of kissing were disrupted by her uncle’s angry laugh.

“If you think to run off for most of the day, think again. I’ll not have to wait on my supper tonight. You’ll stay here.”

“If you force me to stay in this house all day, you’ll find me gone before your supper to never come back again.”

“Your father should have tamed that mouth of yours.”

“Real men do not need their women tamed,” she said, though low enough he couldn’t hear her.

Her father had attempted to make her more docile. Or rather encouraged her mother to do it. Since Lindsay was not the son he’d wanted, he rarely had time for her. She wondered why she cared so much about disappointing him further by calling off another betrothal. “I’ve packed you a few bannocks and a bit of cheese for your nooning.” She handed him a small bundle of cloth.

With a grumble of what she decided to think of as thanks, he and the boys left the cottage to head to the field where they’d spend the day gathering peat for a few coins. Hopefully, this time he wouldn’t spend all of their earnings on whisky.

When the cottage was as good as it would get, she eagerly left for Shane’s home on the edge of the woods. She had to focus on not hurrying her steps. It wouldn’t do to break into a run just to get there faster. As she stepped onto the shaded path that would lead her to Shane’s cottage, she was greeted by a scraggly, gray dog with a happy face.

“Well, hello there. Who might you be?”

“I named her Treun,” Shane’s voice called from the shadow of the trees, causing her to jump. “Sorry to startle you.”

She offered a smile and crouched down to pet the little dog, who shied away but allowed a few pets as her tail wagged her appreciation.

“Hmph.” Shane’s grumpy sound frightened the dog. She ran a few yards away, where she felt safe. “She hasn’t let me pet her.”

“Are you certain Treun was the right name for her?” She didn’t think of the word “brave” when she took in the skittish pup in front of her.

“Aye. She may be little, but she does what must be done even if it scares her. We should all hope to be as courageous.” As was normal, she saw shadows of secrets and pain in his eyes.

“I thought bravery was not being frightened of things.”

He shook his head. “Nay. Ye cannot be brave without fear. It doesn’t take much courage to face something you’re not afraid of.”

She nodded. “I never thought of it like that.”

“What are you afraid of?”

“Well, spiders.”

“Of course. Only the daft don’t fear the wee monsters.” He added a shiver for effect, and she laughed. “Certain times of the year, I used to make Ronan check my bedding so as not to have one of the filthy buggers crawling on me while I slept.”

She considered his question again. What was she afraid of? Her biggest fear at the moment was being forced into marriage to the new laird. She wouldn’t know the man to see him, but she’d seen the old laird and the laird’s youngest son, a large man with a fierce scowl who looked as if he’d sooner eat a person than speak to them.

But she couldn’t tell Shane that fear, for then he’d learn the rest of her story. He’d know she wasn’t a maid sent to help a family member but a laird’s daughter promised in marriage to be lady of the castle. She no longer feared Shane would use the information for his gain. She didn’t think he would tie her up and ransom her off for money. Yet she still didn’t tell him the truth. This was better. They were friends, equals.

She smiled and answered with her second biggest fear. “Eels.”

“Eels? You do not like to eat them?”

“Eating them is fine. I don’t like to look at them. They are horrible creatures.”

He chuckled, though not in a way that made her embarrassed for sharing with him.

“What about you? What else are you afraid of? Surely, something more than spiders.”

He seemed almost surprised by her question, but he should’ve assumed she’d have asked the same of him. He twisted his mouth as he thought, and she wondered if he was settling on something else as she had. Eventually, he answered. “Fire.”

She didn’t need to ask him to explain. He went on without her prompting him.

“When I was a wee lad, a fire started in my room. A spark from the fire on the rug, probably. I woke when the room was full of smoke and the fire cut off my way to the door. I screamed, and my da came in with a bucket to douse it. I was afraid to sleep alone after that. And I still dream of it, being trapped.”