Page 44 of Highlander’s Burning Touch

“It’s me,” said Allyth, and without waiting for another minute, opened the door.

Cursing under her breath, Deva laced together the stays as quickly as she could before giving Allyth her most displeased look.

“Och,” she tutted. “Do ye nae ken how to knock?”

“But I have been knocking,” said poor Allyth. She came over to where Deva was struggling with her stays and helped her to lace them.

Then, she assisted with her arasaid and dress before fastening her headdress on securely. It took some time, but eventually, Allyth teased the remainder of Deva’s curls down behind her French hood and covered them with black crepe and a veil. Finally, she attached the coif and paste, getting them to the correct angle before stepping back.

“I think that’ll do,” said Deva. She had been somewhat surprised by Allyth and her insistence on getting dressed so quick. And it had got in the way of watching what was going on.

Biting down her suppressed irritation, Deva turned her hooded head towards the window. But there was nothing. Unsurprisingly, in the time Allyth had been fiddling with her hair, Niven had ridden off.

Deva screwed her eyes up and tried to see, but it was impossible to tell. Frustrated, she turned to Allyth.

“Och, what’s the rush?” she said as Allyth fussed around her. She brushed her aside as she came close to fasten something. “It’s early, yet…”

“Early? Miss, it’s gone noon! Everyone’s waiting for ye!” said Allyth, her face in a mild panic. Deva suppressed a giggle rising in her throat.

“Noon?” she said uncomprehendingly. It seemed impossible that it was that late. Stirring herself, Deva looked at Allyth. “Noon? Why did ye nae wake me?”

Deva’s head span in a daze.

Allyth gave her a look. “I’ve been trying to, miss, but ye didnae hear me! Ye need to get down there, quick sharp. The laird wants ye!”

“I’m nae doing it!” Niven’s eyes flashed angrily at Rory. By now, they were in the main hall now. It had taken some persuasion for him to get this far.

He had tried leaving, but his uncle had caught up with him and forced him to go back. Already, Niven wished he had not listened to him. Why was Rory so adamant about this?

Just about managing to keep a lid on himself, Niven glanced back at Rory. “There’s a lot to be done!” he said. “Even if ye dinnae ken it!”

It was a lie. In actual fact, he didn’t even know what he was going to do when he got to the far end of the Macaulay lands. He just needed to get away, from here, from his uncle, and definitely, from Deva.

But Rory wasn’t having any of it. He quickly shooed the eavesdropping guards away and shut the door. “But I have barely seen ye since ye got back, lad!” he growled.

And now, the laird moved over towards him, concern in his eyes. “I mean, are ye alright? What happened to ye?”

Niven rolled his eyes. He really didn’t feel like going through all this again.

“I told ye,” he said snippily. He could hear the resent in his own voice, and deep down, it made him feel bad. Rory had done nothing wrong. His concern was understandable.

Biting down his annoyance, Niven gave his account of what had happened. When he got to the end of his – abridged – tale, he stopped.

Then, there was a pause for what felt like forever as the laird digested these facts. A minute or so passed, as Rory’s inscrutable blue gaze was upon him. Then, finally satisfied, Rory gave a sigh.

“I see,” said Rory. He looked at him very measuredly. “An’ ye’re sure yer fully recovered?” he asked, looking Niven up and down.

Niven held the desire to swivel his eyes some more. Finally, he brought himself to answer. “Sure,” he said.

But even as he said it, Niven knew it was not true. He wasn’t sure he had recovered. At least, not really. His wounds had healed, but the poison had gone to his heart.

Once again, the urgency of his situation dawned on him. He simply had to get away from Deva and the Macaulay castle if he were to maintain the clan’s honor.

“Good,” replied the laird brusquely. “Because I was beginning to wonder.”

Rory paced the length of the vast hall, something that Niven found uniquely irritating. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop picturing Deva and Rory together. The horror of their impending wedding loomed largely. Rory was old enough to be her father. Niven was not sure he could even watch her marry him.

Niven stood, thinking of imminent reasons to leave the clan for good. But he couldn’t come up with a single one.