Chapter Four
Torquil entered his quaint cottage and let the quietness envelop him.
It was his own private sanctuary. The fire had died whilst he was out and a slight chill hung in the air.
He pulled two logs from the rack he kept nearby the hearth and worked on getting the fire restarted.
Once the flames burned bright, he grabbed his lute and sat in the nearby chair.
Strumming his lute, he tried to recall the melody he had heard Eilidh play yestereve as best he could.
He kept at it until he got it right. As he played the song, he studied it, trying to learn all he could about Eilidh.
What had made her write such a song? He had meant it when he told her she played like she was trying to forget something.
If they had not been interrupted, he would have delved deeper and mayhap discovered what that something was. That elder made sure to put an end to whatever conversation they were having, though. His abrupt intrusion felt as if he had been watching them and stepped in at the most inopportune time.
Torquil kenned the unspoken warning to leave Eilidh alone. It was written all over the man’s face. That made two men in as many days that had warned him to stay away from Eilidh. Why? He took his leave without a fight, but that did not mean he would stay away. Giving up wasn’t in his nature.
He played the melody a few times afore he leaned his lute against the wall. He heard footsteps outside and immediately went for his sword.
His home was small. Secluded. Half tucked into a rocky hillside, that offered ample protection.
But with such a remote area with rock to the back and thick trees to the front, he did not get many visitors here.
Which meant one of two things. The person approaching was someone he kenned, or someone with ill-intent.
He would be prepared for either scenario.
The hilt of the sword clasped in his hands, Torquil waited on the other side of the door, holding his breath. He wasn’t much of a fighter, he much preferred the arts, but he could hold his own if he had the element of surprise. He had never had to test the theory, but he was for certs of it.
A crisp knock sequence—two quick knocks, followed by three more—sounded, and Torquil relaxed as he returned his sword to its scabbard.
His brother, Evander.
Due to the location of his home, and lack of visitors, Evander and he had agreed upon the coded knock when Torquil first took occupation of the ancient cottage.
If he wanted, he could live at the MacGregor Keep, like his brother.
His cousin would gladly have him, but Torquil had no interest in being surrounded by people all the time.
He wanted a place to himself. Alone. Where he could play his lute and practice his songs without an audience.
This small cottage was his perfect solitude.
Without waiting for a response, Evander pushed through the door and paused to look around the small space, as if he were surprised at the size. He did this every time he visited. Sometimes, Torquil wondered if his brother thought that the cottage would magically grow in betwixt his visits.
It wasn’t a lot, but it was all that Torquil needed, which wasn’t much.
“Brother,” Evander greeted. “I wasnae for certs if ye would be here or at the market.” He cocked his head as if waiting for Torquil to respond.
Torquil shrugged. “Weel, as ye can see, I am here. I was practicing.”
Ignoring his statement, Evander asked, “Did ye see the lass?”
This wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have with his brother. It was not any of his concern who Torquil saw or did not see.
“I shall take yer silence as admittance.” Evander looked around the cottage, sucking on his teeth. “Ye cannae stir any trouble, Torquil.”
“I dinnae ken what ye refer to, brother. “I havenae done aught.”
“Ye went to the market. To see her.” He held his hand up. “Dinnae deny it as I’ve already been told.”
Was the elder someone Evander had hired? Torquil rubbed his temples. That thought had never entered his mind, and a flash of anger had him clenching his fists.
“Are ye having me followed?” He didn’t need his brother telling him how to live his life and he for certs did not need tracking.
“Dinnae be daft. I doonae need to have ye followed to ken what ye were going to do.”
Torquil didn’t fully believe his brother, but he left that alone for now. “I didnae ken she would be there.”
“Bollocks.” Evander spat. “Ye cannae e’en believe yer own words judging by the look upon yer face.”
“’Tis no’ yer concern.”
His brother closed the distance betwixt them. “’Tis my concern in regards to our clan. Do ye believe Seamus will be happy to hear that ye are trolloping with a Hart lass?”
Torquil barked out a laugh, not letting the mention of their cousin bother him. “Trolloping? Ye have a way with words, brother.”
Evander poked him in the chest. “’Tis naught to jest aboot. The Harts willnae tolerate a scandal with one of their daughters. E’en the one with the loose reputation.”
“Dinnae speak of her in such an insulting manner,” Torquil growled, shoving his brother back.
Evander raised his brows in surprise at Torquil’s aggression.
“’Tis no’ my assessment. I am only referring to what I have heard.
’Tis no’ of importance,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand.
“What should be the focus is that we dinnae need to clash with the Harts at this time. We’ve avoided war with them so far.
Let’s no’ give them any reason to change their mind.
We may no’ be aligned, but we at least are enjoying peace betwixt our clans for now. Dinnae ruin it.”
Torquil put his hands up in defense as he took a step back.
“I dinnae ken what ye believe I will do, but I have no plans for causing any trouble with the Hart lass.” He didn’t want to say her name and have his brother believe that he had any feelings towards Eilidh—which he didn’t.
He admired her musical talent. That she was beautiful and intriguing had naught to do with it.
“Be sure to keep it that way,” Evander said gruffly. “I dinnae want to have to bring any of this information to Seamus. He has enough to fash aboot.”
Torquil gave his brother a bored look then started to examine his fingernails. Hopefully his brother would get the hint.
With a click of his tongue, Evander nodded. “I mean it, Torquil. The Hart lass is off limits.” He spun on his heel and exited the cottage, slamming the door behind him.
The warning from his brother hung heavy in the air, making the inside of the cottage stifling.
So much so, he needed to get out. He needed fresh air.
He waited for some time to allow Evander to get far enough away to ensure they did not cross each other’s paths.
After a fair amount of time, he grabbed his lute and left the cottage.
He walked through the woods, restless. His mind running with scenes that could happen if he did not heed Evander’s warning.
He felt as if he were strung as tight as one of the strings on Eilidh’s fiddle.
He could hear her laughter in his ears, a soft, musical tinkle that he found he liked very much.
When he watched her perform, he could feel the fire of her passion for her music.
He blew out a breath and kicked at a loose rock that was in his path.
The sound of rushing water filled his ears and he was surprised to find that he had walked the distance to the burn. He had not realized he had traveled so far.
Wildflowers grew in colorful bunches close to the water. The bright colors promising a warm summer. One of the deep-green flowers that bloomed was the same color of the ribbon that Eilidh had weaved through her braid last eve.
He sighed. Everywhere he looked, there was some sort of reminder of a lass that he barely kenned. One that he had been warned to stay away from by his brother, and one he had been dismissed from by an elder, who shot him a wordless warning in his old, watery eyes.
But, even with those warnings. With those signs. He kenned that he would soon see Eilidh Hart. The feeling settled deep in his bones and that was how he kenned it was true.
He dropped onto the ground near the wildflowers, plucking one of the green blooms, and tucked it behind his ear afore he once again began to play Eilidh’s song.
Over and over, he repeated the song, the melody, until it was etched in his memory, as he lost himself in the story and he captured her essence in sound.
Overhead, dark clouds eventually blew in, blocking the sun with the threat of rain, and forcing him to pack up.
Torquil pushed off the ground and headed back home.
The idea of getting soaked with rain was not appealing, so he hurried his steps, and beat the first drop by mere moments.
No sooner had he set his lute down and shut the door, then the skies opened up and fat raindrops began to fall, playing a steady rhythm on the thatched roof of his cottage.
Adding another log to the fire, he watched the flames for a few minutes. Listened to the crackle blend with the drops of the rain. The sounds blending into a beautiful, natural harmony.
He poured himself a cup of ale and thought of how events from one day could change everything.
His life, up until last eve, had been uneventful.
He wrote songs and played his lute wherever he could.
Then he would return to his cottage to sleep and then repeat the cycle over again. He was happy with his quiet life.
But then he saw her, and somehow, without a word spoken, his world had shifted. And he wasn’t sure he wanted to set it to rights.
Dreams consumed him that night as he slept. Dreams of a bonny lass. Light freckles dusting the bridge of her nose and tops of her cheeks. Long hair that he wanted to wrap around his fingers. A forbidden lass that he couldn’t get out of his head.
He dreamt of a duet that they shared. A song they had written together.
Performed together to an eager crowd desperate to hear it.
He dreamt of her fingers caressing his skin.
Brushing through his hair. And finally, he dreamt of her lips meeting his in a devastating kiss that knocked him to his knees and left him speechless.
When he woke, frustration filled him. All that he had dreamt of the night afore was naught that could come to fruition. Eilidh Hart could not be his. Would not be his. It mattered naught whatever fancy he was feeling about the lass right now. He should forget her.
He needed to forget her.
At the basin, he splashed his face with the cool water, hoping the shock would knock some sense into him.
It did not.
He felt as if there was a tug of war going on betwixt his head and his heart. For a lass he had just met, no less.
But, she was a Hart and not his to have. His head kenned that, but his heart disagreed. If Eilidh Hart walked through his door right now, he would not hesitate to wrap her in his arms and kiss her breathless.
“Shite.” He cursed to the empty room as he sat on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees as he cradled his head in his hands.
His brother’s warning kept repeating over and over in his head. Stay away. Leave her alone.
But could he?
Nay, he didn’t think so. It was such an odd feeling considering he had never seen or met the lass afore last eve. A chance meeting and it was as if his universe had shifted, consuming him.
But should he?
Aye. His brother was right, he should stay away.
He would skip the market today. Instead, he’ll go to the ridge and practice his lute surrounded by nature.
Flowers, leaves, trees, and whatever wee animal dared to come about.
The same way he had filled his days afore he had ever lain eyes on Eilidh Hart.
But as he strung his lute afore he left, he couldn’t push the thought out of his mind, that mayhap, just mayhap, fate would intervene, and Eilidh would make her way to him.
The thought was daft, he kenned that. But it did not stop him from dreaming.
Would he be lucky enough to see her again?