Chapter Six #2
His words struck something deep inside her. She wanted to argue, to insist she didn’t belong, not truly. But she did. Her family had lived on Skye for generations. Her blood ran with the roots of this land. To deny it would be a lie.
And she was tired of living like a shadow in her own home.
“Very well,” she murmured, finally relenting. “What do ye require?”
A grin broke over Tobin’s face, boyish and bright. “I’ve all I need. I’ll build a fire and camp over there.” He pointed to a patch of grass near the grouping of trees to the east. “Looks to be a fine spot. I would ask permission to draw from yer well, to water the horse, and for myself.”
“Of course,” she said softly, her gaze drifting to his mount. The animal stood patiently, laden with a bedroll, a pair of sacks, a bow with a quiver of arrows, and a broad sword. The young squire was clearly prepared for any danger that could come.
Once Tobin set about his tasks, she returned to the garden. But everything felt different.
The weight in her chest had lifted. The shadows no longer reached quite so far. She still glanced toward the trees now and then, but no longer with dread. With Teller close and the young man keeping watch, she could finally breathe, really breathe, for the first time in days.
And that small, fleeting feeling of safety? It felt like sunlight breaking through a storm.
Later that day, she invited Tobin inside for last meal. He agreed, bringing with him his weapons, which he deposited just inside the door. Perhaps because she’d met him before when he’d brought provisions, Ailith was comfortable around him.
When she placed a bowl of leek soup with small chunks of meat in front of him, Tobin’s eyes widened. “It smells delicious,” he said.
Ailith put a basket of freshly baked bread and a small pot of butter on the table and sat down with her own bowl. “Aye, it was my mum’s recipe. My sister and I make it all the time. Helps us feel closer to her.”
As they ate, she was able to garner that Tobin was an orphan whose parents had been killed during the MacLeod raids when he was but ten and two.
Hendry had happened upon him when he’d been digging for food from a farmer’s garden.
The warrior had not chastised him but had taken him back to where he was camped for the night and shared his food with the boy.
Then he’d taken him back to the keep to live.
“I have nae had an empty belly since,” Tobin finished his tale with a grin. “Sir Hendry, he has treated me better than my own da, who often beat me.”
It was easy to believe in Hendry’s kindness, especially when it came to the boy.
It seemed that he’d treated Tobin with the gentle authority of a man who understood being that age, lost and hungry for belonging.
And that was what made the betrayal cut twice as deep.
The man she had come to love had always shown kindness to everyone…
so how could he have been so careless with her heart?
“Whoever he marries will be a fortunate woman,” Ailith said, her tone light and casual, though her words held the weight of an unspoken need to know more about Hendry’s current life. She stole a glance at Tobin, hoping for answers he might not realize he was giving.
The lad nodded as he chewed, not the least bit suspicious. “If he ever courts one, I suppose he will one day. Hendry has nae courted a woman since I’ve known him.”
Her breath caught. “Truly?” she asked, feigning mild interest, masking the surge of emotion that rushed through her.
“That is surprising. Most of the laird’s warriors are reputed to be charming scoundrels, at least until marriage tames them.
” She added a soft laugh, meant to keep things light, though she wasn’t sure it sounded the least bit true.
But Tobin’s attention drifted. The curiosity that had sparked her line of questioning dulled as he turned the topic. Asking instead about her life in the cottage, about Teller and how she’d come to care for the pup.
She told him the tale, how a kindly old villager had gifted her the scrappy creature, the runt of a litter found in the woods.
Her voice grew warm as she described Teller’s first days with her.
How he’d shivered against her side and barked at falling leaves.
As she spoke, Tobin’s eyelids drooped, his full belly and the crackle of the fire pulling him into drowsiness.
“I think ye should sleep while ye can,” she suggested gently, her heart softening as he looked so young when drowsy. “Come nightfall, ye’ll need yer strength if we’re to keep watch through the night. Bring yer bedding in here, next to the hearth. There’s no need to build another fire just yet.”
The lad shook his head, rubbing his eyes. “Nay, I’ll set it up outside. I prefer it. But wake me before ye turn in for the night, aye?” He stretched with a yawn. “Thank ye for the fine meal, Ailith.”
She smiled as he stepped outside, Teller following close behind expecting an adventure.
Hours passed in quiet peace. The room dimmed, shadows stretching long.
Sleep tugged at Ailith’s limbs. She peeked through the door, the wooden hinges creaking softly.
Tobin sat on a fallen tree, hunched near the fire, its glow painting his face in flickering gold.
He spotted her and raised a hand; she returned the gesture, a small smile on her lips.
At least he was warm, she thought. Her own bedchamber lacked a hearth and with winter still a whisper on the wind, she hadn’t yet moved to sleeping in the front room. Until the cold came fully, she’d continue heating stones by the fire and tucking them under her blankets.
She lay down, the bed cool beneath her. Sleep crept in slowly, but her thoughts clung stubbornly to Hendry.
Why hadn’t he married?
Could it truly be, as Tobin claimed, that she’d been the last woman he’d courted?
Squires knew everything, their master’s moods, their secrets, even the women they fancied. She wanted to believe it, wanted to think she’d mattered to him in ways no other had. But it seemed too hard a truth to cradle without it breaking apart.
Teller let out a grumbling sigh in his sleep, a soft, sleepy protest. She reached out, fingers brushing over his coarse fur, her touch gentle, calming. A smile curved her lips.
“Loyal beast,” she whispered, her voice barely a breath. “Ye’d never leave me.”