Page 33 of A Dangerous Highland Affair

“Aye, it’d be a farm, o’ all sorts o’ animals, nae just yer daft sheep,” continued Neacal, looking at her sideways.

The worst of the terrain had subsided, making the walking easier, but the intermittent rain meant traversing the glen was still much harder than it should have been.

Teasag looked at him archly. “Ye’ve got something against sheep, haven’t ye,” she said sharply, with a quick aside to him. “E’en in this short time I’ve ken ye - I can tell that. What’s it all aboot, were ye savaged by a ram as a bairn?”

She couldn’t keep the smirk from off her lips, and pretty soon, Neacal was facing her, his face contorted in faux outrage.

“Och, laugh if ye want to! Ye should ken what it is like living up here in the Highlands, wi’ naught but sheep for company. I didnae see another human child until I was six!”

It was just banter, and Teasag knew this, but she couldn’t help delving in deeper all the same.

“Aye, makes sense,” she said, pretending to frown. “I can tell from the way ye ran from that barmpot ram in the toon ye’d suffered some childhood trauma!”

Neacal laughed. “I didnae run,” he said. Then he conceded. “Well, ye’d have run too if that muckle great bawbag had been gunning for ye…!”

He paused a moment, as the pair of them shared a glance, but then it was gone, as the put-upon brown mare harrumphed a little and swished her tail angrily.

“Aye, the cartman blamed the daft walloper for breaking his cart,” said Teasag, more for a distraction against the uncomfortable atmosphere rising between them.

Even though the wilds of Scotland were trying hard to blow through them, it still felt as if there was nothing but themselves in the whole universe.

Teasag looked at Neacal. “Wheesht,” she said. “I didnae have ye doon as a farmer,” she said, with a grin.

“So then, dare I ask what ye did have me doon as?” he replied, a twinkle beginning in the corner of his eye.

Teasag just pouted. All things considered, it might be best not to answer this one. In her head played a million scenarios featuring Neacal—but not one of them as a farmer. Let alone a sheep farmer!

“I dinnae ken,” said Teasag, slightly embarrassed. “But then, ye’ve nae told me what it is that ye do,” she glanced back at him with a questioning smile. In one fell move, she had swiftly deflected the attention back onto him. Still, even as Neacal smiled, she could tell he was finding ways of bringing the conversation to a close.

“Och, it’s nae important,” said Neacal, in such a dismissive way that it made Teasag wary of questioning him further. Realizing that he had been a tad hasty, Neacal smiled at her. “I mean, ye ken how it is,” he said vaguely, staring off into the gray mist.

Teasag sensed he was hiding something, but she wasn’t sure what it could be. For a short while, they continued on, plodding through the sodden countryside, Teasag seated atop of the weary brown mare and Neacal following on foot.

She watched as his open ghillies splashed through the wet grounds, sending muddy water all the way through them. She was just on the verge of offering him the horse for a while, thinking that her boots at least were sturdier than his, when he suddenly spoke.

“It’s nae use, anyhoo,” he said wistfully, still staring out into the distance.

Teasag looked at him, unsurely.

“What isn’t?” she asked softly. For the first time, she was aware of a change in his mood. It was as if a helplessness had overcome his usually confident shoulders. When she turned back to look at him, it was to see him turn his face sadly towards hers.

“Naething’s certain, is it?” he said sweetly. His words seemed melancholy, but now his expression had changed, a little. Neacal met her eyes with his trademark glimmer. “I mean, I ken the farm willnae happen, just like I willnae have bairns, nae marry, nae do all those things that happen to ordinary folk…”

As he spoke, Teasag felt a jolt through her heart; the sadness in his voice carried, even as his face smoothed to a grin. She could see that he was merely putting a brave face on it. Inside, her head was spinning.

“But, what do ye mean, ye can nae have bairns or marry?” she asked softly.

Neacal just brushed her off with a grin. “Just what I said,” he said, looking around as if for a way out of the topic.

“Are ye unwell?” she asked, aghast. The look on Teasag’s face was such a picture that Neacal just laughed.

“Dinnae be daft,” he said. “Just that some things are nae meant to be…”

His voice drifted off mysteriously, leaving Teasag with the apparent impression that a line had been drawn under the conversation.

In her head, she was still battling with what he had said. I willnae marry, those things happen to ordinary folk… Turning it around inside, she wondered what he could have meant. That he couldn’t get married, or that he didn’t want to?

Either way, as daft as it was, something cold passed through her heart. He had sounded so certain. And now, he had shut down the conversation, which made it seem that he was, at least, serious about it.