Page 33 of Highland Fire

“Ye are a good mon, Robert. I thank ye,” Tavig said, taking Moira’s hand and leading her down the road that ran straight through the village. “I will try to save ye some ale,” Tavig called over his shoulder, grinning when Robert laughed.

“Are ye sure he can afford to be so hospitable?” asked Moira. “His clothes mark him as a poor mon.”

“Aye, he isnae as poor as some, but, as with many who live their whole lives in these wee villages, he doesnae have much.” He glanced at her, smiling faintly at her frown. “That troubles ye, does it?”

“If he is poor, asking him to give us a bed and food may be unkind. He may not have it to spare, but courtesy requires him to offer it.”

“He has enough to feed us and give us a bed for the night.” He kissed her cheek. “And he will be weel rewarded for the kindness he has shown me o’er the years. When my troubles are cleared away, I mean to improve Robert’s circumstances greatly.” He watched her closely, slowly smiling when she said nothing. “What? No reminder of my impending doom?”

“I see no need to keep repeating myself,” Moira said, ignoring his soft laughter.

She knew why she had stopped constantly mentioning the hangman’s noose that awaited Tavig. Moira was sure that he knew why as well, but she ignored his wide grin. The thought of Tavig hanging had troubled her from the start. Now it made her almost physically ill, her stomach knotting and her heart pounding painfully with fear. Her feelings for Tavig had reached a depth that compelled her to try to share his hopeful outlook on the future. It was difficult, however. Since the death of her parents and her long years under the brutal guardianship of Sir Bearnard, her optimism had grown very weak.

Tavig stopped before a tidy thatch-roofed house. A plump woman with graying brown hair and bright brown eyes cheerfully greeted him. Moira shyly returned Mary’s hearty greeting when Tavig introduced her to the woman as his wife. She felt a little guilty for lying to this woman who so cordially welcomed them into her home, proudly introducing her five children. It seemed an unkind way to repay the woman’s kindness. Moira allowed Tavig to do most of the talking, knowing she could not lie as smoothly as he could.

For a moment, as Mary served them ale, bread, and cheese, Moira wondered if that particular skill of Tavig’s ought to worry her more. He was spinning a tale of their meeting and their marriage with ease, almost as if he believed it himself. Despite that, she did believe the things he told her. If he declared something was the truth, she accepted it as such. Moira decided he saw the lying he indulged in now as just another way to keep them safe. She just hoped she was not being foolishly blind, letting her heart and their perilous circumstances mislead her.

Tavig asked Mary for a bath and, before Moira could protest, Mary agreed. Moira was briefly torn between refusing the bath because she did not want to add to Mary’s work and aching for a long hot soak. Even as she apologized for the inconvenience, Moira finally accepted the offer. She did not even mind that she would have to take her bath in an old wooden vat in the cow shed. It was private and sheltered from the wind. Moira began to shed her clothes even as Mary walked out of the shed.

The sound of Moira humming a ballad in a soft, sweet voice greeted Tavig as he entered the cow shed. He smiled as he quietly approached the vat. She was soaking in the hot, soapy water, her head resting on the rim and her wet hair hanging down the outside of the tub. He found her intense pleasure in something as simple as a hot bath delightful.

Her eyes were closed, allowing him to reach her side unseen. His desire for her rose swiftly as he watched her, even though the soapy water hid most of her slim form from his gaze. Grinning, he dipped his hand into the water, and splashed a little of it on her face. Tavig laughed when she screeched softly with surprise, crossing her arms over her chest and sinking deeper into the water. A moment later she scowled at him.

“If ye try to tell me ye are here to milk the cows,” she said, “I willnae believe you.”

“I would at least make sure the beasties were in here ere I tried that lie.” He trailed his fingers through the water, observing her blushes with ill-hidden amusement. “I have already bathed and dressed. Dinnae ye think ye have been soaking in that vat long enough? Ye will wrinkle like some old shirt.”

“That minor affliction will be weel hidden by my clothes.” She shivered, cursing inwardly over her water choosing such an awkward moment to cool. “Now that ye have assured yourself that I havenae drowned in this tub, could ye please leave? I need to dry myself and get dressed.”

“I thought ye might need some help getting out of the tub and in drying off,” he said as he held up her drying cloth. “It could be awkward for ye to climb out safely when ye are slick with water.”

“I believe I can accomplish that without your kind assistance.”

Tavig leaned closer, kissing her lightly on the mouth. “I can stand here waiting a lot longer than ye can abide sitting in that chilling water.”

“Rogue,” she muttered, knowing he was right. She was already tired of soaking in the water. “I dinnae suppose I can trust ye to close your eyes?”

“Nay, I dinnae suppose ye can. ’Tis too much to ask of any mon, loving.”

“I was just asking ye to behave like a gentlemon.”

When he just grinned, she cursed softly. Since they were lovers, she was not sure why she was feeling so modest. She decided that standing up with only the dim shadowy light in the cow shed to hide her nakedness was a little bold for her tastes. It was clear that Tavig was not going to allow her to succumb to that pinch of modesty. Taking a deep breath, she slowly stood up.

Chapter Ten

As Moira stood up, Tavig felt his breath catch in his throat. Even the irritation on her face could not dim her beauty. The water gave her soft skin an inviting sheen. He did not want to hide any of her with the large drying cloth he held. She was a feast for his eyes, and he savored the way his body responded with desire for her. When she shivered slightly, he pulled himself out of his fascination and wrapped the cloth around her. He picked her out of the vat, pulling her into his arms.

“This isnae the way to get dry,” she murmured as he brushed his lips over hers.

“Mayhap not, but it will help ye get warm.” He traced her collarbone with light kisses. “’Tis certainly making me all asweat.”

She giggled, slipping her arms around his neck. Tavig groaned softly as he kissed her, lifting her in his arms and carrying her to a soft mound of hay. Tossing the large drying cloth over the hay, he eased her down on top of it, then covered her body with his. The way she welcomed him into her arms told him she wanted him as much as he wanted her. He hastily yanked off his shirt, murmuring his pleasure as their flesh met.

“Tomas!”

Tavig barely acknowledged the shrill female voice calling out his assumed name. Moira’s gasp of shock and the sudden tensing of her body warned him that they had been interrupted. He sat up, turning to look toward the door of the cow shed. Cursing inwardly as Moira frantically wrapped herself in the drying cloth, Tavig glared at the woman who had so rudely put a halt to their passion. He sat up straighter, shielding a blushing Moira from view.

“What are ye doing in here, Jeanne?” he demanded, furious that the voluptuous brunette had appeared before he could warn Moira about her.