Page 18 of Stealing a Kilted Heart

CHAPTER NINE

It didn’t take long for the rain to subside. That very same night, the skies were clear, the stars shining brightly upon Castle MacGregor while a waxing moon bathed the courtyard in a pale glow. Knox found it impossible to sleep. There was much on his mind. Clan Gordon was on the move, he knew it in the way he knew the path of the wind, the rise of the sun, instinctively. He had no evidence yet as it was too soon for word to have come from his scouts, and yet something in his gut told him Laird Alastair Gordon was preparing for something big.

Why else would he nae negotiate? He doesnae want peace. He wants…

Knox didn’t know what Laird Gordon wanted. Clan Stuart and Clan Gordon had had several altercations in the past, battles for land and gold and dominance, which usually resulted in a victory for the Stuarts. Perhaps it was this which motivated him, Knox thought. With him as Laird of Clan Stuart, maybe Laird Gordon thought it was the perfect time to stage an attack, hoping that he could finally have a victory against them, but if that was his goal, then Knox would make sure the man was disappointed.

He could do this, he told himself. He had been preparing all his life for an emergency like this and now that it was on its way, he knew what to do.

Still, the worry plagued him, and the only thing that helped in situations like this was to take a late-night stroll in the castle grounds to clear his head. The crisp, chilly air calmed him, and so did the symphony of soft sounds around him—the breeze, the leaves that rustled as it passed through them, the shuffling steps of the guards as they patrolled the walls. It was better than the deafening silence of his chambers. It reminded him he was not alone in this.

His feet took him towards Effie’s cottage, where the air always smelled of rosemary and thyme and lavender, the scents mixing from the bushes and the flowers she kept there, in her personal gardens. He had always cherished that part of the castle. In the mornings, it bloomed with color, while at night the scents lingered, wrapping around him like a cloak.

Just as he rounded the corner, staring up at the starry sky, he caught sight of a figure from the corner of his eye. Dragging his gaze over, it took him a few moments for him to recognize it as Fia, who was sitting on top of a low wall that encircled the herb garden. In the moonlight, her pale skin seemed to glow, her hair shining golden as it fell in soft waves down her back. She had drawn her legs up, resting her chin on her knees with a cloak draped over her, and when she spotted Knox, she gave a small start before she seemed to recognize him.

Knox made his way towards her, leaning against the wall. With how they were placed, he had to crane his neck to look up at Fia, who seemed uncertain of what to do in his presence.

“Forgive me, me laird,” she said. “I’d stand tae greet ye but⁠—”

Her words were cut off abruptly as her gaze fell down to her body. It took Knox a few moments to understand what it was that she was trying to say, but then he noticed a bare calf where her cloak had ridden up just a little and he realized she wore nothing but that cloak and a nightshift underneath. Immediately, he averted his gaze, glad for the dark that hid his rapidly heating cheeks.

Why is she out here wearin’ only a shift an’ a cloak?

It wasn’t often that the presence of a woman left Knox struggling with speech. He liked to think he could keep his wits about him whenever a woman was near and past experiences with the fairer sex had been plenty of proof he was right. Now, though, in the soft light of the moon, with just him and Fia there, he found his mind wandering in dangerous territory, his imagination running wild.

It was not only unbecoming of a man of his pedigree, but also unfair to Fia, who had surely gone there for some peace and quiet, only to have Knox disturb her by lusting after her. And yet as much as he tried to avert his gaze, he caught himself staring at her again and again, unable to look away.

He should continue on his walk. He should just run a loop around the castle and head back to his chambers for the night, forgetting he ever even met Fia there.

“Can I stay or are ye expectin’ someone?”

“Who would I be expectin’?” Fia asked with a small, bemused smile.

Knox didn’t answer, as he didn’t want to appear overbearing, but a name bounced around in his mind. Bane. Though they claimed to be like family, Knox didn’t know if he believed that or not. From what he knew after subtly interrogating the maids the two of them, she had not been so young when his family had adopted her. Already fourteen and fifteen years of age respectively, it meant that they hadn’t grown up together like siblings and so he couldn’t help but be a little suspicious of how close they were.

“I’ll be honored tae have yer company, me laird,” Fia added when Knox neither spoke nor made any effort to move. At her words, he smiled at her and sat next to her on the wall, dragging his gaze over to the sky above them.

For a while, they were both silent, but Knox didn’t feel the need to say a single thing. If anything, he feared that speaking would ruin the moment, break through this strange and quick intimacy that had grown between them. It was a comfortable silence, one he very much enjoyed, tinted with the soft sounds of nature around them.

It was only a while later that he spoke again, as comfortable sharing the first thing that came to mind as he was remaining silent.

“I come here sometimes when I cannae sleep,” he said. “I didnae think anyone else would be here.”

“I didnae think anyone else would be here either,” Fia said. “Dae ye like tae look at the stars?”

“Och aye,” said Knox. “Me faither… when I was a bairn, he would show me all the constellations.”

With a soft hum, Fia raised her hand, tracing invisible lines among the stars as if to connect them. Knox watched the patterns her finger traced, but it was nothing he could recognize.

“That’s the wheat farmer,” she said, so plainly and casually that Knox began to wonder if perhaps there was a constellation he had somehow missed in the lessons with his father. “He takes his cart—” another pattern, this time connecting several stars next to the previous one— “an’ takes his bounty tae the moon. An’ then, there’s the fisherman, with his rod—”, this time her finger traced a large arc that reached close to the horizon, “who tries tae catch the fish from the loch.”

It was then that it became apparent to Knox that Fia was making up the constellations, as well as the stories that went with them. He laughed softly, impressed by her ability to come up with all that—or was it perhaps something her own father had taught her, making up stories for her to amuse her as a child?

“These are nae constellations I ken,” he said.

“They’re mine,” said Fia and when Knox glanced at her from the corner of his eye, he could have sworn there was a faint flush on her cheeks, as though she were ashamed of it. “I used tae look out o’ the window an’ make up stories when I was younger.”

It was a sweet detail about her life, one that sent a surge of warmth through Knox. He could imagine her as a young girl, looking up at a sky full of stars and giving them their names and stories. Even knowing the true constellations, Knox thought he would much rather hear what she had imagined, all the stories that she had to tell.