Chapter Eight
Torquil had worked hard to to hold back showing how furious he was at Eilidh for traveling so far in the dark, through potentially dangerous woods, alone, just to find him.
It was a grand gesture, indeed, but a heedless one that could have gotten her hurt, or worse, killed.
He was normally even tempered, but the risk she took could have had dire consequences, and he would never have been able to forgive himself. The thought of it had him fuming.
How she had not considered all the things that could have happened to her as she traveled here in darkness baffled him. Mayhap she had been fortunate enough to have never crossed someone ill-intentioned on her travels. To that, he thought her a very lucky lass.
But even with all the risks she took, he could not help but admire her tenacity and self-assuredness even more than he already did.
Eilidh Hart was strong-minded, strong-willed, and he was for certs that no one would ever be able to tame either of those qualities. Nor should anyone try. Any attempt to do so was destined to fail.
Arriving home in the early hours of the morn, he only wanted to fall into bed and sleep. But when he stepped inside his cottage, he was not alone.
“What are ye doing here, Callum? The hour is late, or should I say early.” Torquil quipped, but he was also exhausted and was in no mood for visitors at this time of night.
Callum rushed forward, his face serious as he ground out, “Are ye mad?” By way of greeting. He pointed to the door. “She is a Hart!”
“Were ye watching me?” Torquil sighed, trying to brush off the sting of his younger brother’s warning. Even so, he kenned the danger of what they were doing was real. “I am weel aware of who she is. Nor am I mad. Dinnae involve yerself in matters that doonae concern ye, little brother,” he warned.
“I beg to differ. Yer little rendezvous affects us all. ’Tis all of our concern if ye bring the wrath of the Hart down upon us, dinnae ye reckon?”
He was tired of being warned away from a woman by his brothers.
“Ye are being dramatic.” He grabbed two cups from the cupboard and filled them each with ale.
If he kenned Callum, he kenned that he would be here until well after daybreak.
He handed a cup to Callum and sat in a chair by the window and settled in for what he predicted would be a long conversation.
More than likely, one that neither of them would be happy with when the time came to part ways.
“’Twillnae be dramatic when the elders find out,” Callum spat. “They will see this as naught more than a betrayal. It doesnae matter how innocent ’tis. To them, they will want blood. Payment for yer traitorous ways. Think of the position ye are putting Seamus in.”
With a heavy sigh, Torquil admitted, “’Tis no’ innocent, brother.” He pushed his hands through his hair, shaking his head. “And I refuse to apologize for it. Whate’er the issues are betwixt our clans, they have naught to do with Eilidh.”
“Shite” Callum swore. “Mayhap no’, but she, and ye, will pay the price if ye bring us into a clan war.” He pushed his hands through his hair. “Torquil. Listen to yerself. Ye cannae possibly believe what ’tis ye’re saying.” His brother looked incredulous.
“Och, I mean it.” He took a long pull of ale, emptying the cup.
Staring into the fire, watching the flames dance reminded him of Eilidh.
His firebrand. “I have ne’er met a lass such as her afore.
She,” he paused, unsure if he should reveal his true feelings.
In the hopes of gaining Callum as an ally to help him sway those in his clan, he decided he had naught to lose and all to gain.
“She makes me feel, Callum. Feelings foreign to me. She’s passionate aboot music, life. Love.”
His brother’s eyes widened in shock. “Ye are smitten with the lass?” Callum shook his head in disbelief. “Nay, ye have passed being just smitten with her. Ye harbor true feelings for the Hart girl.”
“Eilidh,” Torquil said quietly.
“Pardon?” Callum asked.
“Her name is Eilidh. Not the Hart girl.”
Callum harrumphed and nodded as if he kenned the whole situation. “That is all that I needed to hear for my answer.” He took a deep breath as he looked around the cottage. “Nay good can come of this. Ye understand that, aye?”
“’Twill if we can change the minds of our cousin. Then his men will fall in line.”
“Ye are daft, brother. Ye are asking to change history for a lass. A lass that ye have kenned for what, a sennight? If that.”
“She is special,” Torquil whispered. “I could use yer support with this.” He was being sincere in his request.
Barking out a laugh, Callum met his eyes. “Brother, ye will need a whole lot more than just my support.”
“But I can start with yers?” It was a question that he wanted his brother to answer.
To ken that someone was on his side with this would mean much to him.
Whatever answer his brother gave him, whether it be aye or nay, would not deter him from pursuing Eilidh though.
Nay, that would still happen and he would fight tooth and nail to have her be forever at his side.
But to have his brother back him on this would provide support from someone he loved and respected.
Callum sighed, scrubbing his face. “I dinnae believe I am going to say this, but aye. Ye have my support,” he muttered.
Torquil breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank ye, brother. I mean it.”
Callum stood and shook his head. “Ye will do weel to remember that love and pride ne’er mix weel.”
And then he was gone. Alone, Torquil watched the flames a while longer.
He was surprised Callum had not remained.
He had fully expected his brother to sleep here and then leave in the morn.
It was just as well, with his brother gone, he could think of Eilidh with nay judgment.
Without his brother to jest and jab at him whenever his mind wandered.
However, he was happy for Callum’s sworn support and he wasn’t oblivious to the fact that said support did not fare well for his brother, either.
Pushing out of the chair, he made his way to his small kitchen and refilled his mug with ale.
Cool air rushed in when he opened the door to the cottage.
He found it funny that he had not noticed the nip in the air as he escorted Eilidh back home and when he walked back.
He had other things to occupy his mind. Like the feel of Eilidh’s lips on his. Her soft curves leaning into his body.
He grabbed his lute, and with his mug of ale, sat down on the stone steps. He set the mug down beside him and started strumming the strings as he let the chill in the air cool his skin.
Thoughts of Eilidh flooded his mind. She was everywhere he looked.
The midnight sky matched the blue of her eyes.
The rich, brown bark of the trees was the same color as her long tresses.
The rusty-red streaks matched the colored cap of the acorns that littered the forest floor.
He could hear her laugh carried on the wind as if she were nearby dancing as he played.
He could hear her music as if she were in front of him playing her fiddle.
A sound he always wanted to be surrounded by.
He didn’t think he would ever be able to get enough of Eilidh Hart. She would be forever on his mind.
Her laugh. Her music.
Her fire.
All the traits that made up Eilidh. He wanted them all. He wanted her.
Everything she was, he wanted. He couldn’t seem to let that—or her—go.
He began to play her favorite melody on his lute, the song floating through the night air, each note heavy with longing.
The same longing he felt for her. For a life that he dreamed they could have.
He sang her words, his baritone suiting the words perfectly.
Images of them performing the song together filled his mind’s eye.
It was not the first time he had had such a wish.
He was for certs that it would not be his last time either.
Nay, when he thought of his future, Eilidh was truly and deeply planted in it, playing an integral part in his happiness.
But even as his thoughts wandered, he kenned Callum was right—time was passing frightfully fast on their secret.
He would not say it aloud, as if doing so would make it that much more real.
But he refused to give up. And after Eilidh’s actions earlier this evening, he did not think she would either. The realization of that made him smile.
Somehow, some way, they would both fight for this together.
He looked up at the sky just in time to see a dreag, a falling star, traveling quickly across the dark sky.
It was easy to make a wish.
He could only hope that it would come true.