Page 40 of Highlander’s Burning Touch

“I’m sorry that…” began Deva. Then she stopped. She didn’t know exactly what she was sorry for. Life with her father had made apologizing her default state.

The man in front of her laughed. “Why are ye sorry, lass. I should be. I wasnae there to greet ye, anyway, allow me to introduce myself, Rory, the Laird o’ Macaulay… an’, hopefully, yer new husband!”

* * *

“Do ye like what ye see?”

Laird Rory Macaulay stood back a little to welcome his new wife-to-be. Unsurely, she glanced up at him, her sapphire eyes flashing.

Watching from the shadows, Niven tried to quell the storm in his heart. It blew so hard it dwarfed the one going on outside.

His uncle had appeared, unannounced, shortly after their arrival. All Niven’s plans to put himself out of the way had collapsed just like that. Rory had been most insistent that he accompany him to welcome the new Lady.

“I—I,” gasped poor Deva, her pretty lips opening and shutting like a landed fish. A strange buzz burned through Niven’s flesh, the sight of her kneeling like that. He didn’t expect that she would be so formal, curtseying to a drop on the cold floor.

But now, her position afforded him a tantalizing glimpse of her bosom. Niven moved his eyes before he gazed too long at her sumptuous peachy humps.

“I didnae expect to,” began Deva, as Rory moved towards her with his customary briskness.

“Nae, nae, nae fash, lassie,” Rory said, offering her his hand. It tugged hard at Niven’s heart to watch him pull her up from the floor. Instinctively he wanted to rush in and be the one to help her up from her pose. But of course, he could not.

All he could do was stare as his uncle touched the lass, raising her up with his outstretched arm. Then, just for a moment, as his skin brushed hers, Rory flinched. It was only slight, but Niven noticed it.

And by the looks of it, Deva did too. Then, there was a split second’s pause as they stood apart, visibly embarrassed.

Eventually, Rory recovered. “It’s me who should be apologizing for nae being there, but, ah, there were things needed to be done, preparations,” he said, ushering her to come and sit down on one of the large, cushioned chairs that lined the room.

Deva looked a little apprehensive, the room was still dark, but with Allyth’s help, she made her way to the chair that Rory led her to.

“Preparations?” said Deva. Niven could only guess what was going on in her head. Briefly, their eyes connected. He had tried not to, but it was impossible for him to keep his gaze from her.

She was pure perfection. Inside, it began hitting Niven just how hard this ordeal was going to be. So, he had thought that he could just stay out of her way?

“Aye, preparations for our upcoming nuptials,” said Rory. He took her hand and kissed it lightly.

Niven found his stomach twist and turn. This was going to be tougher than he thought.

Gingerly, his uncle smiled and then seated himself beside Deva, albeit several feet away from her. Rory beamed genially at Deva. Then, seeing her hesitation, looked encouragingly.

“Although, um, of course, there’s no rush,” he added, his eyes flickering quickly. Niven wondered what was going on in his uncle’s head.

Was Deva not what he had been expecting? She certainly wasn’t what he had expected. It seemed no-one had known that the MacLean laird had such a beautiful daughter.

Or one so young. And it was this thought that surely must have been in the foremost of Rory’s mind as he glanced at his new bride. Niven couldn’t read thoughts, but he bet his sgian-dubh that Rory had been expecting someone rather older.

Deva’s eyes turned to the clock. Sensing her thoughts, Rory stood up.

“Of course. Ye’re tired,” he said, smiling gently.

“Nae, sir, I didnae mean to be,” began Deva. She was trembling. Niven felt a sudden urge to go over and comfort her. Was she cold or frightened of him?

“Nae, nae fash, lass,” motioned Rory. He dismissed her with a wave of his hand. “Ye’ve had a long ride, an’ I should leave ye in peace… anyhow, the clock, it’s yers.” he smiled gently at the look of confusion on Deva’s face.

Then, he stood up with a brief bow of the head. “There’ll be plenty o’ time to get used to things, lass,” he said softly. Niven could sense the hesitancy in him. It was like he wanted to approach her but didn’t know how to do it.

This was all very different from how the laird Macaulay usually was around women. Mostly by now, they would be laughing at one of his bawdy jokes. But Rory must have sensed that this wasn’t the right tack to use with such a refined lass as Deva.

He was probably right too. The laird’s previous wives had been somewhat older and definitely more self-possessed. The sight of a slight, unsure lass had knocked him for six.