Chapter 4 #3
“How old were you when you learned to play?” she asked.
“I was ten and two.”
She rested her head against his shoulder and tilted her head so that she could look up at him. “What made you decide to learn?”
He shrugged.
She rolled her eyes at him. “I wish you would answer a question once in awhile, Ewan. What are you afraid of?”
“I’m not afraid.”
“Then why won’t you tell me?”
He sighed as he remembered his childhood. The place he’d been relegated to in his family. He seldom ever ventured that far into the past. There was truly nothing much there worth remembering.
But for some reason, he found himself answering her question.
“The lute belonged to my brother, Kieran. He’d bought it so that he could write a poem for the lass who held his heart that particular month.
He’d attempted to play it, then found himself in love with another lass and left the lute in his room to gather dust. I snuck it out one day while he was off frolicking and taught myself to play it. ”
“Really?”
He nodded.
“Why? And don’t you dare shrug again.”
His lips twitched at her tone. “I don’t know. It just seemed wasteful to have it there with no one to care for it.”
“Do you like music?”
“It’s all right. I’d rather make my own though than listen to someone else.”
“Oh, I’m sorry if my singing bothered you.”
“Nay, Nora. I like the sound of your voice.” Ewan cringed inwardly as those words left his lips. It was a confession he’d rather not have made to her. No doubt, she would now make even more free with her talking.
Nora knew she should move away from him and yet she couldn’t bring herself to do it. This was so peaceful being in the circle of his arms. If she were at home, or around any other person, she wouldn’t dare do such a thing.
Still, it felt so right to be where she was. Looking up at him and the way the sunlight glinted against his dark hair. No man could ever be more handsome.
“Even when I talk too much?” she couldn’t resist adding.
He glanced at her, then glanced away. “We should probably start back on our journey. I’d like to be at the castle before dark.”
Reluctantly, Nora got up.
Ewan helped her back on the horse and then handed her the lute. He mounted his own horse.
Nora rode behind him while she held the lute carefully in her arms. The last thing she wanted was to have it damaged in any way.
“How long do you think it will take me to learn to play?” she asked.
“I suppose it depends on how much you practice.”
“Should I practice every day? How much do you practice? How long did it take before you were any good? You said you taught yourself so how did you learn without anyone to teach you?”
Ewan winced as her questions assailed him, but deep down inside he was relieved. In truth, he had been concerned by her earlier quietness. Now she was back to her normal, chattering self.
They rode for several hours before they neared the meadow where he normally rested his horse when he made this trip alone.
Today, his favorite spot underneath the large oak tree was already occupied. Damn. He’d have to find them a new place to settle down for a rest.
Ewan was leading her away from the small group of people who were eating when an older man waved to them.
“Greetings, my lord. Would you and your lady care to pass the midday meal with us? We’ve plenty to share.”
Ewan sized them up. It was an older man, two younger ones and a woman. They appeared harmless enough. Either peddlers or gypsies of some sort judging by their covered wagon and bright clothes.
The woman had hair as black as jet and eyes that were slanted like a cat’s. The older man held the same dark skin, but his hair was all gray.
Nay, there would be no harm in resting with them.
“What say you, Nora?”
“I think it would be pleasant to pass a meal with someone who will do more than grunt at my questions.”
He grimaced at her.
“Or give me that look,” she added.
Ewan accepted the invitation. He helped Nora down and noted the way she continued to clutch the lute to her as if it were a precious babe. It was all he could do not to smile at her actions.
How could anyone derive so much pleasure from so cheap a gift?
The youngest of the men came forward to help him tend the horses. His skin was almost as dark as a Saracen and his black hair was curly and thick. He wore a green shirt with a red sash knotted at his waist.
“My name is Bavel,” he said, extending his arm.
Ewan inclined his head and shook the man’s proffered arm. “Ewan MacAllister.”
Bavel indicated the older man who had waved him over. “That is my uncle Viktor, and my cousins Lysander and Catarina.”
Ewan nodded at each of them in turn while Catarina quickly befriended Nora.
“What brings you to MacAllister lands?” Ewan asked Bavel as the man moved to rub down Nora’s mare.
“Just passing through.”
“Are you peddlers?”
“Entertainers. There’s a fair in Arrowsbough that we’re headed to.”
Ewan fell silent as he fed and watered his horse. Nora’s easy laughter and chattering filled his ears as she and the others talked.
“Have you traveled all your life?” she asked Catarina.
“Aye, since the moment I was born.”
“Where all have you been?”
“Everywhere.”