Highland Song (4 page)

Suddenly noticing the telltale tracks of food dumpage on his plate, Leith picked up his plate and began to lick the sides clean. Colin dove for a piece of bread as his wife sat down and began scooping up the evidence on the sides of his plate as well.

Gavin had yet to speak another word; he was too befuddled. Their grandminny had been a wonderful cook, and Meggie even better. Och, but how bad could the haggis be?

“
Leith!” Alison scolded, frowning at her husband. “Though it truly pleases me you love my minny’s recipe, you have the most boorish manners, husband.”

Leith’s cheeks flamed. Having been reprimanded, he stopped licking his plate and set it down, looking sheepish. It was clean as a whistle. Brownie couldn’t have done a better job. Leith lifted both his brows as he peered at Gavin, and Gavin nearly choked on his laughter.

Next to him, Colin busily brushed at his own plate with a piece of bread, removing all traces of haggis and then shoving the evidence into his mouth as though he couldn’t get enough of it. He tried to smile around the hard lump in his mouth, but couldn’t quite manage.

Seana blinked at her husband and smiled prettily. Apparently pleased that he had devoured his supper so quickly, she lifted up a spoon and dipped it into the haggis, bringing up another heap. “Would you like some more?” she asked Colin.

Mouth still full, Colin quickly lifted a hand, refusing, but couldn’t speak to say so and too late, a lump of gray mash plopped down upon his once spotless plate. “Thank you,” he said, once he was able. But the look in his eyes was glum.

Clearly, Gavin had chosen the wrong night to come home to sup. He reached out for a piece of bread, reminding himself what a blessing it was to have plenty of victuals, no matter what any of it tasted like.

His thoughts reluctantly returned to the girl he’d met at the edge of the woods. Where was she now? Did she have plenty to eat? Now that the summer was waning, the night would bring a chill. Was she warm enough in his green tunic? He frowned suddenly, thinking that likely not. She didn’t even have a tartan.

“
You’ll be wantin’ plenty of ale wi’ that,” Colin suggested low, once he had finished chewing his mouthful of bread.

Uncomfortable with all eyes fixed upon him, Gavin glanced about the hall.

The manor had never looked so gay, despite that the festivities were over. The fire in the hearth burned brilliantly, even if it did smell like burnt haggis. But the candles smelled like the MacKinnon’s beeswax instead of pitch or tallow and burned bright and yellow, without the smoke that usually billowed into dark stains upon the walls. The rushes were fresh at his feet, and the dogs were perfectly behaved, waiting in one corner of the room with better manners than Gavin had ever known them to have—sitting on a carpet—a carpet Gavin had never seen before. Though Brownie, his own mutt, looked sad, staring at him longingly over outstretched paws. She whined pitifully.

For some odd reason, Gavin felt like whining, too. And it had nothing to do with the prospect of eating his mound of haggis. Or the fact that he had no idea how to find that girl again. Nay, it was a lonely feeling deep down that had been growing in intensity over the past months—a feeling that only seemed to lift when he thought of the girl.

He wondered where she had gone, and remembered suddenly that there had been no signs of Brownie’s dirty paws upon his bed and he determined that Seana or Alison one must have kept the dog out of his room. He frowned over that, thinking of the approaching winter.

Good thing he was moving soon.

His brother’s wives were still staring at him expectantly, smiling beauteously.

Feeling the pressure intensely, Gavin ventured a small bite of the bread, certain it was the lesser of the two evils. His teeth scraped the surface. “I met a girl,” he said casually, despite his earlier resolve not to mention her.

Both women perked, their attention suddenly diverted from his plate.

Colin stopped shoving the haggis along the sides of his dish and Leith set down his tankard of ale.

“
Really?” Leith asked.

Gavin glanced at Seana, hoping that she would know who the woman was. “Aye. She was tiny and lovely, with flaming hair and shining green eyes.”

Seana laughed. “Maybe she’s one of the fair folk,” she quipped and winked at him.

Gavin tried again. “No… but she was... er... well, painted…”

Seana frowned. “Painted?”

“
Aye, tattoos,” Gavin clarified, waving a hand around his chest. “She had them everywhere.”

Seana’s gaze followed the circular movement of his fingers across his chest, her brow furrowing a little deeper. “Everywhere?”

Realizing suddenly where he was pointing, he indicated his arms instead. “Aye, well ye know... her arms, legs, face...” Her breasts, too, of course, and the memory made him flush. “She was blue,” he finished uncomfortably, and cleared his throat.

Alison screwed her face and repeated dumbly. “She was blue?”

Gavin frowned. “Well, her tattoos.”

“
Sounds to me like a bluidy Pecht,” Leith suggested, “Though their ilk have not been seen in an age.”

“
Fie on you two—Pechts and faeries!” Alison scolded. She turned to Gavin, giving him her full attention. “So, tell me, where did you meet this… blue… painted lady?” she asked, making polite conversation.

Gavin winked at Seana. “Out near where Seana used to live… with her Da.”

Only Seana knew what he was doing out there and she was sworn to secrecy—at least until he was ready to reveal his secret.

“
Oh,” Alison said, and attempted to split off a piece of bread. Her nails found no purchase and she glowered, inspecting the rock hard object in her hand. “What were you doing all the way out there?” she asked, though a little distracted now. She knocked the piece of bread discreetly upon the table, peering circumspectly at Seana.

Gavin had the distinct impression that Seana was responsible for the bread as well—poor lass. She was accustomed to cooking over an open flame, for she and her Da had never had many conveniences.

He glanced from Seana to Alison and then from Alison to Seana. As far as his own house was concerned, he wasn’t quite ready to tell anyone. Not yet. So he lied. “I was checking the potstill.”

Alison sounded even more perplexed. She stopped inspecting her piece of bread rock. “Och, but I thought you didna approve of Seana’s
whiskie
?”

Gavin cast Seana a beleaguered glance, hoping she did not take offense. “I dinna disapprove, I simply dinna want to drink it for myself. Anyway, I was oot there... near... so I decided to check on it... for Seana—that’s all.”

Seana peered down uncomfortably at her plate. She remained silent, avoiding everyone’s gaze, and Gavin thought she might be uncomfortable abetting a lie.

Now it seemed it was Colin’s turn to be confused. His haggis suddenly forgotten, he studied Gavin’s face. “What were you doing out in No Mon’s Land, brother?”

“
Och, Colin! That is
not
no man’s land!” Seana argued at once. “It is
my
land! I do so wish you’d stop calling it that! If you must know, I asked Gavin to check on the potstill for me,” she lied.

“
In any case,” Gavin continued, feeling guilty for Seana’s sake. He peered at Leith, who was studying him now as well. “That’s where I saw her.”

“
Who?” Alison asked absently as she tapped her biscuit again upon the table.

The dammed thing sounded like a bluidy hammer—Christ, but a mon could split his teeth on that.

Gavin set his own biscuit down on his plate, abandoning it. “That’s what I was hoping Seana might know…”

“
Do you at least know her name?” Seana pressed. “Mayhap she is of the MacKinnon’s? And Broc Ceannfhionn sometimes has cousins who wander by on their way up the bluff.”

“
Well, nay.”

Colin’s brows furrowed. “Nay, she was not a MacKinnon? Or nay ye dinna know her name?” he persisted.

Gavin cast his brother a glare. “Now, why would I be askin’ aboot the lass if I knew from whence she hailed? Nay, I dinna know her name!” he said, losing patience.

“
Why not?” Leith persisted.

Gavin was beginning to feel as though he were in the middle of an inquisition. “Because I didna ask is all!”

“
Why not?”

“
Och, because I was distracted!”

Colin slid Gavin a knowing grin. His brother knew him too well. Still he asked, “By what?”

Gavin’s cheeks heated and he said defensively, “By the potstill, o’ course!”

Seana continued to play along. “Well, so… how was it?”

Gavin blinked, feeling dizzier now than he had in the girl’s presence. “How the hell was what?”

Now even Seana narrowed her eyes at him. “The
whiskie
, Gavin! The
whiskie
!”

Suddenly, Alison dropped her biscuit and slapped a hand to her forehead. “Och, I’m so verra confused!”

Leith turned to put an arm around her shoulders and offered her a kiss upon the cheek. “That makes two of us, my dear.”

Colin, the cur, merely lifted a brow and his grin spread wider. “Seems to me as though you’ve been in the sun too long, little brother?”

“
Indeed you have,” Seana rushed to add. “Your face is the color of beets!”

Colin tapped her on the nose, and said, “That, my lovely wife, is called a virgin’s blush.” And he turned to give Gavin a knowing wink.

For the quip and for the wink, Gavin gave Colin a sour look, and having had quite enough of their ribbing, he raked his chair back from the table, certain that this conversation could go nowhere productive. “I dinna believe I am hungry after all,” he said and gave Brownie a whistle before quitting the hall.

The dog bounded after him.

“
Bastard,” Leith said, but without meaning.

“
What do you suppose that was all about?” Alison asked once Gavin had departed.

Colin stared at the door from whence Gavin had gone. “Were it not for those bluidy vows of his, I would think our dear brother was in lust.”

Alison screwed her face. “Nay! Not Gavin!” she assured.

“
Och,” Colin argued. “I vow that boy’s blood is as red as mine.”

“
Aye, well, he might be your little brother,” Alison rebuked with a lifted brow, “but Gavin hasna been a boy for quite some time in case ye havena noticed.”

Seana gave them all knowing smile and shrugged. “Could be he got into the
whiskie
,” she said softly.

 

Outside, the moon was high and full, illuminating the courtyard well enough for Gavin to see behind the little chapel, where he spied lovers kissing beneath the moonlight, their legs obscured by the rising mist. From this distance, he could only see their silhouettes, but couldn’t make out who it was. It didn’t matter, seemed everyone had found someone but him.

He sat with his back to a stack of logs and Brownie laid dutifully at his feet. Petting the dog’s back absently, he tried not to think of anything at all.

Sometimes, it did a mon good to clear his brain and feed his soul—never mind his belly, grumble though it may.

He had no idea how long he sat there, but Seana appeared at his side. “You must be starved,” she said quietly, surprising him. Sometimes, it seemed she was made of mist, so silently did she appear. Must be a consequence of living in the forest, without the benefit of protection, and having to fend so long for herself, Gavin thought.

She wrapped Leith’s tartan about her shoulders and sat gingerly upon the pile of logs beside him.

Gavin shrugged. Indeed, he was hungry, but he planned to sneak back into the kitchen after everyone was asleep, so as not to hurt anyone’s feelings—most especially not Seana’s for he had grown to care for the lass.

“
Ye look lovely in Brodie colors,” he told her and meant it. “It suits you.”

Seana lifted her shoulders, hugging the blanket possessively and smiling warmly. “Thank you, dear Gavin.” She tilted him a look, confessing, “The haggis was bad, I know. But I’m afraid me and Da made do with much simpler fare.”

He gave her a sympathetic look. “Do ye miss him still?”

She nodded. “Nary a day goes by that I don’t, but I know he’s still out there somewhere… watching o’er me.”

“
It’s good to have faith,” he said, though he couldn’t seem to find any for himself these days. “Dinna fret, lass. For a time, even Meggie burned everything after Grandminny Fia passed.”

Her tone was hopeful. “Truly?”

“
Aye, my brothers and I were doubled over for weeks with hunger pangs. We worked through supper and snuck into the kitchen when the moon was high. And Colin, the bastard, hoarded all the bluidy bread—the one thing Meggie knew how to do right.”

Seana giggled at the image he presented—all three brothers sneaking about in the middle of the night for victuals. “The Colin I know has always been a wee bit of a brat,” she agreed.