Page 19 of Highland Spy

“Aye, Daughter,” said her father. “I think the king would like to hear about the poor, lost souls.”

“Nay, Faither. No’ tonight,” said Bridget. “We need to get some rest. Besides, if we take the book out of the bag, it might get wet and ruined. Why dinna ye close yer eyes and try to sleep?”

“Sleep,” repeated her father, yawning and laying back.

“A few minutes of shut eye sounds guid,” said Logan, reaching for his wife. “Let me warm ye up, Wife.”

Rhoswen giggled as Logan threw the wet plaid over their heads and the sound of kissing was heard from beneath it. Caleb ignored them, only wishing it were him doing that with Bridget as well.

In a matter of minutes, Bridget was at his side, no longer using his plaid for cover. She stood there in just her shift with her arms crossed over her breasts. Since her shift was wet, he could see the swells of her breasts well beneath the cloth. Just as he thought, she was not the young girl she pretended to be, but rather a full-fledged woman. He groaned inwardly, and looked the other way. His desire for her only grew stronger now.

“Can I sit by the fire with ye?” she asked. “My faither is already snorin’ and it sounds as if Logan and Rhoswen are . . . busy.”

“Whatever ye want,” he said, clearing his throat as she settled herself next to him. It felt odd to be sitting next to each other in not much more than their underclothes. Caleb would rather be under the plaid with Bridget, being busy as well.

“What do ye ken about this place?” she asked, her eyes scanning the area and settling on the fog outside the cave entrance. “Do ye think we’re in danger at all? My faither seems to think there are dead souls all around us.”

“Some people say the souls of those killed never left here,” said Caleb, breaking up kindling and tossing it into the fire. He and Bridget both sat there staring into the flames.

“So it’s haunted then?” she asked.

“Nay. I dinna believe in ghosts,” Caleb grunted.

“What about Blackbriar Castle on the Isle of Kerrera?” she asked. “I thought ye and Ethan saw the ghost that was once a woman thrown from the tower.”

Caleb didn’t want to scare Bridget, so he decided it best to talk about something else instead. “Tell me about yer family, Bridget.”

“My family?” She seemed surprised that he was interested. “What do ye want to ken?”

“Do ye have siblin’s?” he asked.

“No’ anymore.” Despair covered her face.

“What do ye mean, lass?”

She picked up kindling, snapping the twigs and throwing them into the fire as she relayed her sad story to him. “I’m sure ye noticed that my faither is an auld man.”

“Aye,” he answered, waiting for more.

“I had three aulder brathairs that I never kent.”

“They died?”

“Aye,” she answered, sadly. “In battle, before I was born. I never even had a chance to meet them.”

“Och, I’m sorry, lass. I suppose they died fightin’ for the king?”

“Aye, they died fightin’ for King David,” she explained.

“David?” His head snapped up in surprise. “Dinna ye mean Richard?”

“Nay,” she told him. “My brathairs were quite a bit older than me.”

“I’ll say. How old are ye, lass?”

“I’m three and twenty years of age.”

“Ye are?” His eyebrows arched. “That’s a year aulder than me. I never would have guessed yer age. Why are ye no’ married?”