Page 81 of Highlander’s Burning Touch

“Nae, I mean afore,” said Deva, with a quick glance to Niven. She was still shaking. He wanted so much to comfort her properly. A wrench went through him that he had let this situation continue and shame her so.

“But how?” asked Rory, genuinely confused.

Deva sighed and tried to explain. “We didnae ken who the other was… sir when we met. Niven didnae ken I was a laird’s daughter, an’ I, well, I didnae really ken who he was either… just that he had an uncle who was laird…”

Her voice trailed off as she struggled to make sense of their story. “I didnae have any reason to think he was yer heir or that I would shortly be married off to ye…”

She stopped abruptly, then fixed Rory with her most perfect gaze.

“Ye must ken, we never set out to hurt ye,” she wept. A cold sickness prickled in Niven’s throat. He wished he could do something to make this all alright, to erase the humiliation she had suffered. But he could not.

And as for Rory himself, it was impossible to read how he was feeling. Niven had never seen his uncle like this before. One minute, livid, the next moment, impervious.

Now Rory looked at Deva, keenly, an imperceptible expression on his face. “So ye met him afore the joust – but how?”

Niven opened his mouth to speak, but Rory waved him away. “I want to hear it from ye,” he said to Deva.

On the spot, Deva nodded. “He was injured,” she said, reaching into Rory’s eyes with her own, “In the woods near my father’s castle… I found him an’ nursed him back to health…”

A glint of recognition came into Rory’s eyes. “Ah,” he said, “When ye say injured, ye mean…?”

“He was attacked,” said Deva, recounting their history calmly, “By some brigands in the lands. I helped pull him low an’ took him back to a cottage which was on the lands, to bring him back to health…”

Rory raised an eyebrow. “Ye did more than just that…” he remarked.

Deva looked at Niven as if unsure of what to say. She paused for a while before Rory’s eyes met her, bidding her continue.

“Well, after that, it…” she said, breaking off, “When we met later, at the tournament, we were horrified…but it was too late…”

“I see,” said Rory, icily. Niven longed to see what he was thinking. Now an ice-cold calm had descended upon him. He wasn’t used to seeing his uncle so glacial. Tensely, Niven waited for some small signs.

“Come with me,” beckoned Rory.

Niven did as he was told, but with his guard up. He was glad that his uncle had stopped grilling Deva for now and just prayed she would be spared his ire.

“Uncle, it wasnae,” began Niven, trying to explain how this wasn’t Deva’s doing. But Rory just snapped.

“Haud yer wheesht, I’ve heard enough son,” he said. Then, he eyed the open glen, gazing into the whitening horizon.

A huge gust of snow lambasted them, almost toppling Niven off his feet. But just as Niven’s thoughts were racing, it seemed that Rory’s were calming down. At last, his face cleared of its anger, and now he looked with concern.

“Well then, this is a fine mess, isnae it?” he said grimly.

Then, Rory beckoned to Niven a little stiffly. He walked with him a while until they were out of earshot from Deva.

His uncle looked at him intently.

“Niven… I was… going to have ye banished – sent away, from the clan,” Rory said, his blue eyes glassing over.

Niven felt his heart leap. Before he could add anything, Rory looked at him.

“But I changed my mind. I’m nae going to send just ye away from the clan… I, I want ye to go wi’ Deva, an’ her maid, an’ make a life for yersel's out of the Highlands…” Rory paused, “It’s nae safe here, for either of ye…”

Chapter Twenty-Six

“Niven, why won’t ye just tell me what’s happening – where we’re going?”

They had arrived back at the castle. Rory had gone on ahead somewhere, making “preparations,” whatever that meant. Something was afoot, and no-one was telling her anything.