Page 8 of A Dangerous Highland Affair

Suddenly, the door to the inn blew open again, this time sending in a wild stab of rain alongside the raging wind that threatened to knock drinks from the tables. Neacal turned his head to look at what had caused the commotion.

Instantly, Teasag twitched. “Is it them?” she asked, breathlessly, as he craned his neck to look out front.

It wasn’t very easy to see, the tavern was packed, with drinkers milling about, and just at that moment, the young serving lad appeared with their food. The lad faltered a moment, balancing the plates as best he could on in his arms. The strong blast of wind took him unawares, knocking him sideways and nearly making him drop the entire platter. Fortunately, Neacal steadied the lad, helping him to set the dishes down onto the table.

The lad smiled toothlessly and plonked down another dram of whisky with his pockmarked hands. Neacal couldn’t help flinching at the sight of his blighted hands and face. He hoped to God the lad was fully cured of whatever pox he’d been afflicted by! He had enough problems without adding the plague to them.

“There ye go, lassie,” said the lad, trying to catch Teasag’s eye. She wasn’t looking. Neither of them were. “Ye should eat it while it’s hot, yer in luck, this is the last one that cook’s doing tonight!” he said.

Having failed to get either of their attention, the lad sloped off. Then Teasag turned to Neacal, her blue eyes widening as the doors opened again.

“Is it him, the man who…,” she faltered, as a second gust of wind blew around the room.

“Nae lassie,” said Neacal, shaking his head and smiling. He still had half an eye on the door but was satisfied, for now. “It’s nae him, nae fash. An’ anyway,” he said, with a mile-wide grin. “Ye’ve got me to protect ye, so dinnae fash!”

“Och,” Teasag pouted, but she flashed him a brief grin. Then her eyes alighted on the steaming clootie pudding in front of her. “Dig in, lad,” she said, generously offering Neacal a piece.

Neacal didn’t stand on ceremony. He tore off a piece of the pudding and tried his hardest not to shove the entire thing into his face.

“Hungry?” said Teasag, eyeing him with amusement.

“A wee bit,” said Neacal. It was an understatement. He hadn’t eaten for two days. He was so hungry he was almost sick when the first morsel of food hit his stomach, and as it did, it gurgled loudly, making Teasag glance up at him.

“Och, ye are!” she teased him as they carried on eating. Then she set him with her sharp blue eyes. “So, then, Neacal, is this sort o’ thing normal for around here?” she asked as they cleared the platter.

“Uh?” Neacal said, caught off guard by her question. He looked up to see a twinkle in her eye. The clootie pudding had already restored her, and it was beginning to do the same to him.

He watched as she dabbed at the edges of her mouth with a cloth before she resumed eating. Neacal watched, captivated. He could watch this girl eat all day. There was something strangely sensuous about her.

She ate elegantly, but with an avidness that made it clear, she wasn’t going to let any of it go to waste. Then she drained the wooden quaich of its dram and sat back on the stood to observe him fully.

“I mean, is this place always like this—full o’ ruffians an’ braggarts?” she asked, her blue eyes penetrating his.

Neacal felt a throb pulsate within him, it was clear from her topaz stare that she was sparring with him, urging him on to tease her.

He looked at her playfully. “Should I take offense?”

“Och, I didnae mean ye!” said Teasag, then paused a minute as her eyes connected once more with his.

Neacal felt a rushing sensation go through him. There was something in the way this woman looked at him, which seemed to cut right through him. In a good way. He watched as she flashed him another of her comely smiles.

“Well, of course, I dinnae ken ye from Adam, so ye could be a scoundrel, but I rather meant the men from afore, I mean, they’re the ones that ye keep looking around for, aren’t they?”

Her eyes followed where he was looking around the hectic bar.

Neacal smoothed his brow quickly and gave his attention back to her. “Aye,” he said. “It dinnae hurt to be too careful!”

Then, he paused. “I mean, ye can trust me o’ course an’ ye dinnae need to fash about those other fellas…all talk an’ noo trousers if ye ken what I mean…I’ve got them in check…!”

Neacal said this smoothly, but as he poured another dram and offered it to Teasag, he had to work hard at controlling his features. Only half of what he said was true. He wasn’t worried about the rough farmer and his pig-faced friend coming back. It was the others, the ones who had brought him here, that occupied his mind.

“Well, it was the noo trousers part which rather bothered me if ye ken!” she quipped, with a quick smile. Then, she looked down to find her robe had come slightly undone.

Somewhere in the tussle of the fight, it had become loose, something that Neacal hadn’t liked to draw to her attention. But as her fingers got to work tightening the robe, he couldn’t help catching a glimpse of her naked shoulders and just the faintest outline of a pert bosom beneath. Swiftly, he averted his eyes before she could notice.

“Och, an’ I am pleased to hear yer nae a scoundrel,” she said quickly wrapping the arisaid tightly around her.

Neacal tried his hardest to look away, but it was hard. The lass’s comely shape stuffed underneath acres of baggy clothing was doing things to him. How he wished she could unbutton her clothing a little. Instead, Neacal content himself with tracing the outline of her statuesque frame from her loosely shaped dress and dreaming.