Page 4 of The Highlander’s Tempting Touch

“Och, I cannae believe ‘tis so late already!” Niamh checked her hair once more, ensuring that the plaits that bound it back from her face were neat and even, then turned and scooped up the parchment list she’d been perusing a moment before. “I’d best be hurryin’ or Grace will be addin’ ‘Cannae be on time’ to me list!”

The thought made her chuckle, even as she folded the parchment and tucked it away. Every year, she and her best friend, Grace, met at the Autumn Equinox Festival to talk and share their respective ‘list of sins’. Though it had long since become a source of amusement between them, for the two girls, it had a second, far more important purpose.

The list was all the things they’d each done over the year to avoid being considered marriageable material. They were both determined to be spinsters – Grace wished to defy her cruel, greedy uncle, and Niamh had no wish to face the expectations that came after marriage.

She was rather proud of her list this year. She’d managed to step on the toes of no less than a dozen hopeful young men at dances, gotten drunk three times, and committed a host of other improprieties that had turned aside the interests of every man her father had attempted to introduce her to.

Now in her twentieth year, she only had a few more years before she would be considered too old to be a wife to anyone – unless some widower who already had heirs decided he wanted a gentle young caretaker in his later years.

But that was a concern for later. For now, she was going to meet Grace, and the two of them could enjoy sharing their respective lists before they went to explore the festival together.

Grace had said she would be waiting near the minstrel’s platform, in the little patch of woodland that stood behind it. With the tensions of recent years, Grace was shy of wandering the fair alone. A single word would reveal her English parentage, and they’d had folk take offense more than once.

It wasn’t Grace’s fault, and she’d no part of the fighting, and yet, people could be suspicious and cruel. Niamh increased her pace at the thought.

She was so intent on making her way that she didn’t see the man stepping out of the smithy stall until she crashed into him.

Niamh staggered, dropping the roll of parchment as she stumbled. Then a firm hand caught her elbow, and she found herself looking up into the amused eyes of the man she’d just run into.

He was tall, and as well-muscled as any of her father’s warriors, if not more so. His midnight-hued hair was bound firmly at the nape of his neck in a warrior’s tail, leaving a clear view of piercing green eyes and a strong, square jaw. At her appraisal, one eyebrow rose, a small smile quirking one corner of the stern-looking mouth before he spoke. “In a hurry are we, lass?”

Niamh colored. “’Tis nay business o’ yers, but I’m on me way tae meet a friend, and I dinnae want tae be late.”

“So ye’d rather be rude instead, is that it?”

“I didnae intend tae run intae ye!”

He made a soft noise, like a muffled laugh. “Och, I ken that, but ye’ve neither apologized, nor given yer name or any other courtesy.”

She hadn’t, that was true, but she didn’t feel like admitting it. “Ye’ve scarce introduced yerself either. And ye’ve nae call tae be holdin’ me so close.”

“Well, when a lovely creature such as yerself runs intae me without so much as a ‘by yer leave’, I cannae help being curious and wantin’ tae ken more about her.” His gaze flicked downward. “Och, and what’s this?”

To Niamh’s horror, he bent down and picked up her list, which had not only fallen to the ground, but unfolded as well. He read the first line with a smirk on his face. “Niamh’s list o’ sins, is it?”

“Give that back tae me!” She grabbed for the parchment, but he flicked it out of her reach with a grin. “That’s nae any o’ yer business.”

“Och, and why nae? I could add tae this list o’ misbehaviors.” He pretended to scrawl something in the air. “Is rude tae strangers, mayhap? Or perhaps ‘inclined tae collide with random men’?” He glanced at the list again. “Though, I’ll own yer list seems quite long enough already.”

Niamh felt as if her cheeks were afire, and she was acutely aware of the festival goers who were watching with amusement. “If I give ye me name and an apology, will ye give me back my list?”

“Aye.”

“Very well. I’m Niamh Cameron, and I’m sorry fer runnin’ intae ye.”

He smiled and deposited the folded parchment in her hand. “Yer apology is accepted, though I cannae say I’m sorry for our collision. Be that as it may…” His hand cupped her chin as he leaned closer to her. “Me name is Alistair MacDuff, and I’m very pleased tae meet ye.”

Niamh flushed and pulled away from his hand. “Och, I dinnae recall givin’ ye permission tae touch me in such a manner, sir. And ye’ve taken liberties enough, reading me list.”

Alistair smiled. “Aye... I’ll own I’ve been a wee bit forward with ye, me lady, but truth is, ‘tis been a fair long time since I met such an intriguing lass.”

“’Tis been some time since I met so bold a rogue, and yet I dinnae see it as a reason fer bein’ uncouth and improper,” Niamh retorted.

One dark eyebrow rose, a teasing smirk tugging his stern mouth. “And yet, yer list would lead me tae believe yer the sort tae like a bit o’ rogue in yer menfolk.”

“Then ye’re fair deceived, fer in truth I’d like nae any sort o’ man at all, and the list…” Niamh stopped before she revealed that particular secret. “The list contains me reasons why I feel nae any sort o’ man should want me.”

“Is that so? Perhaps I should beg another look, fer I didnae see aught that was so objectionable. But then…” Alistair smiled, and Niamh felt her heart skip a bit in spite of herself. “I confess I admire a pretty lass with character and a ready wit.”