Chapter Eight
Alana stared into the flickering firelight, her blanket pulled tightly up to her chin.
She had moved to the chair Rory had found hidden in the corner and moved closer to the fire so she could sit and warm her cold toes.
Around the croft, Rory worked furiously reinforcing the walls and windows to ensure the rain and wind couldn’t sweep through the cracks and negate the warmth the hearth was providing.
She watched him silently, tracking his movements and trying to understand the complex man he was proving to be.
For every positive trait she could identify within him, she could pair it with a negative.
Her mother had always told her that men were simple creatures.
As long as they had good food and a good lass warming their bed, they were happy.
Alana had hardly believed her mother when she’d told her such things afore. Her own father never really seemed happy—and Lord kenned that he always had a warm bed, and oft times it wasn’t her mother joining him there.
Personally, Alana found it disrespectful, but her mother always said it was the way of things. It made him happy and that was all that mattered. But what of her mother’s happiness? Did that not matter?
Even then, Alana kenned that was not the type of marriage she wanted.
If she were to be wed, she wanted it to be to a loyal husband.
One that only saw her. One that loved her for who she was.
One that would accept her faults. She kenned she was asking for a lot.
That her father was acting normally for men of certain standing.
But Alana didn’t agree with his actions.
Was it too much to ask to be loved? To be cherished in a way that no other would be when her husband laid eyes upon her.
She let out an audible sigh.
“’Twould seem ye are thinking hard o’er there,” Rory quipped as he packed bark into a crack in the wall near the door. “Do ye want to speak of it?”
She studied him. The anomaly that was Rory Hart. He was quite insightful for someone that seemed to be so nonchalant and aloof as he moved about the croft.
He saw everything.
“Nay. No’ really,” she answered quietly, gently rocking to and fro, a wee squeak sounding from the old chair with every forward motion. The noise breaking up the constant howl of the wind and pounding rain.
Once again, she puzzled over Rory as she watched him move about.
Despite his gruffness, the things he had done for her showed a different side of him.
A caring side that he guarded ferociously.
He’d taken her cloak and set it to hang on the iron hooks by the hearth so it would dry.
He’d turned his back so she could strip out of her wet clothes and slip into the few dry items she had.
Then he’d hung the wet items to dry as well.
He had fetched her blanket and handed it to her, urging her toward the rocking chair. He rummaged through the small cupboard in the corner and came away with tea leaves that he steeped in water that he had boiled on the hearth in a small pot he’d also located.
He handed her the tea when it was ready and then set back to work.
His kindness and caring shining through like a beacon in the darkest of nights.
The way he’d shielded her when they were outside. Even as she refused to enter the croft. Even as she complained about the state of the croft. The musty smell. The patience he’d shown her would have never been granted in her own home.
She shook her head, a scoff falling from her lips.
He must think she was spoiled.
She kenned he did. Their heated words earlier had stung. They still did.
While her father was not the most attentive father to her, Alana had never wanted for aught. If he didn’t provide what she asked, her brothers tripped over themselves to fulfill her wish. So, she supposed in that sense, she was spoiled.
Even so, she thought she had handled her current predicament well. All the hiking. The walking. The climbing. Sleeping outside on the bare ground.
None of that was aught that she was accustomed to.
But Rory? He loved all of those things. He lived for them. Breathed for them. It was as if the Highlands coursed through his blood.
“Why do ye like the Highlands so much?” She asked. Suddenly, the urge to ken and understand him better hit her strong. She wanted to ken his likes and dislikes. His dreams and desires.
Rory paused, his hand pushing against another crack he had just filled.
He turned and leaned against the wall, studying her.
His green eyes dark in the firelight. After a long hesitation he said, “’Tis their beauty.
I set my eyes upon the land around me and ’tis the most beautiful thing I have e’er seen.
As a lad, I was always outdoors. With four siblings, the castle could get loud, especially with e’erything else happening within.
If I was outside, I didn’t have to hear any of that.
I could take my leave and venture into the forest. Climb the trees.
Swim in the loch. Climb the mountains.” He smiled wistfully, his eyes distant, staring off out the window.
“No one expected aught from me.” He shrugged.
“I’m the second brother. All the responsibility fell upon my older brother, Alpin’s, shoulders.
Outside, surrounded by nature, listening to the tweets of the birds, the hoots of the howls, the cries of the hawks, I felt blissfully alone.
The splash of fish in the loch when I swam was a welcome sight.
The scents of pine and heather blanketed me in a warm hug.
” He huffed out a laugh. “It probably sounds silly to ye.”
“It doesnae,” she said hurriedly, straightening in the chair. “Yer descriptions sound lovely, actually. Where I am from, the trees are fewer, the land more barren. And I am usually tucked safely inside of my home.”
“I am for certs there is beauty to be found there as weel. Though ’tis no’ as green and lush as the Highlands,” he smiled teasingly, and Alana’s heart ticked a wee bit faster at his look.
“Ye are right. I have to admit, the landscape here is,” she paused, searching for the right word. One that would encapsulate the full description of what she was thinking. “’Tis breathtaking,” she said finally.
A huge smile broke out on his face, making his eyes twinkle in the firelight. He acted as if she had just given him the greatest of compliments. “Now ye are understanding. Breathtaking is the perfect word for these lands and why I love them so. What do ye miss aboot yer home?”
The question caught her off guard. It was unexpected and she didn’t think he was interested in her and the things she liked.
“The openness of the land. The sky that goes on and on with no end in sight. ’Tis calm, predictable. Which my life was until no’ that long ago. My betrothal? That was aught but predictable.”
He pushed off the wall and approached her. Reaching out a hand, he tenderly tucked a loose tendril of hair behind her ear, letting his fingers linger on her jawline, causing her to shiver. “That must have come as a shock for ye.”
Worrying her lip betwixt her teeth, she broke their gaze and nodded. “’Twasnae aught that I could have predicted. I had ne’er thought my father would do such a thing. Or that my mother would agree to such a union. The day I found out, it stung as if I had been slapped.”
Rory frowned, his eyes darkening. “I dinnae think that parents should use their children as bargaining tools.”
Alana chewed the inside of her cheek afore answering. “Daughters are good for naught more than that.”
His eyes snapped to hers. “Dinnae say such things. Ye are worthy of much more than that.”
She shook her head. “To my family and my clan, I am no’,” she said sadly. She didn’t make the admission to garner his sympathy. She was only stating that she understood her position.
Taking her hands in his, he pulled her up to standing.
The blanket slipped down as she stood, but Rory being the perfect gentleman didn’t let his eyes roam below her face.
She was fully clothed, and all her most private parts were covered, but the smock she wore was thin and she was for certs that he would be able to see the outline of her body through the material.
“I would ne’er want my daughter to have such an outlook on life. She will ken her worth and ’twillnae be how I can use her as a bargaining chip.”
His words meant so much to her in that moment.
Tears threatened. Without thinking, she wrapped her arms around his waist in a hug.
For the briefest passage of time, Rory stiffened against her, but then relaxed and surrounded her with his warmth as he returned her embrace, resting his chin on her head.
His huge arms engulfed her. In that moment she felt treasured. Protected. Safe.
They stood that way for a long time. Not moving. Just enjoying the moment of the strength of each other’s arms.
Later, as they settled into the one bed the croft offered, they laid closer than ever, but didn’t touch. Not yet.
What was she thinking?
Not yet.
Not ever.
She and Rory could never be together. Whilst she may not ken all that being laird entailed, and the decisions that, as laird, her father needed to make.
However, she was for certs that defying this order would not only condemn her clan to poverty and leave them unprotected from attack, but it would also bring harm to the Hart clan.
Or worse yet, war. She would not be the cause of any such ramifications.
As Alana drifted off to sleep feeling safe, warm, and content, she kenned that the feelings she was beginning to harbor for Rory would not be easy to forget.
And she didn’t ken how she was going to survive when he left her on the doorstep of her betrothed and walked out of her life forever.