Chapter Three #2
Eilidh turned and gave the woman a quick hug afore leaving the kitchens and making her way outside, thankful that she didn’t run into any of her siblings, or her parents.
The trip was uneventful, but Eilidh had an eerie feeling someone was watching her.
Whenever she looked, to see if she could catch whoever it was, there was no one to be found.
She was beginning to think she might be going mad.
Though, more than likely, it was whoever her da had tasked with following her.
She tried not to let it bother her overmuch, but she still found it frustrating that her parents would not trust in her ability to keep herself safe.
The market was bustling when Eilidh arrived in the village a short time later.
She smiled as she watched tots running around chasing each other, a cacophony of screams and laughter left in their wake.
Villagers bartered to garner a better price on the wide variety of items available for purchase.
Vendors shouted whatever wares they were selling as she passed by the colorful stalls.
Calling out to her, hoping to get her to approach.
She smiled kindly as she passed, but her eyes were not on the items for sale.
Instead, her eyes scanned the crowd, looking for one person in particular. He had to be here. Deep down in her bones, she felt they had made a connection of sorts the previous eve. He had to have felt it as well. Hadn’t he? The way he had watched her. His smile. Aye, he felt it, too.
Considering whatever past their two families had, he obviously could not go to Hartsmoor, and she for certs could not go to wherever he was from. She kenned he was a MacGregor, but she did not ken where their lands were. Nor did she ken if he lived there. Mayhap he was only visiting.
It made sense that if he had any interest in seeing her, that he would come to the village market and hope she was thinking the same. She sighed and kicked at a loose rock, sending it rolling off to the side.
Mayhap she was putting too much hope in believing their feelings matched.
She walked on as her eyes continued to search the crowd.
A few stalls ahead were the vendors that catered to musicians and their instruments.
That was where she could purchase new strings, or whatever else she might need.
The bow she currently used had been purchased from one of these vendors.
It was made of the finest cherry wood which fit her hand perfectly.
The bow was unique and one the vendor had acquired on their travels abroad.
She had paid hefty coin for it, but she did not regret her decision.
Eilidh liked the sound it produced and the lightness of it. She was also proud that no other fiddler had one similar. At least not one she had crossed paths with as of yet.
Eilidh paused, her breath hitched in her throat.
There. Four stalls ahead, she saw him.
Torquil MacGregor.
She paused her approach.
He was speaking to a lute merchant, who was showing him something that appeared to capture his interest considering the way his attention was focused on the merchant as he spoke.
As if he felt the weight of her stare, Torquil looked up. From the distance, their gazes met—again—but this time, he said some parting words to the man he was speaking to, and approached Eilidh.
Her heart skipped a beat and her palms were suddenly damp. She took a deep breath to settle her nerves and waited as he drew closer.
“Milady,” he said in greeting when he caught up to her. “I am pleased to see ye here.” He bent in a bow and swept his arm out. “Would ye care to walk the market with me?”
Her cheeks warmed as she nodded and accepted his proffered arm.
“I wasnae for certs if ye would be here.” He ducked his head, as if he were shy to confess that information.
“I felt the same,” she admitted quietly.
“I am Torquil.”
She smiled. “I ken. Torquil MacGregor.”
His eyes widened.
“My brother told me when he…” She trailed off, leaving the sentence unfinished. She did not want to start their conversation by telling him that her brother warned her against him. She waved her hand in the air in dismissal. “I am Eilidh Hart.”
It was his turn to smile. “I ken.”
Her brows rose in surprise.
“My brother also told me of yer name. It appears we have all-kenning brothers in common.” He grinned broadly, showing off perfectly straight white teeth.
His demeanor was charming. He was tall, much taller than her, she barely brushed his shoulders.
He was lean and lithe, with bronzed skin that seemed to glow under the early afternoon sun.
As they walked, everyone around them seemed to fade away. It was only them. No one else.
Torquil gave her all his attention. “You play verra weel. I enjoyed yer performance immensely.”
Her cheeks heated. “Thank ye.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, suddenly feeling shy herself, something that was out of character for her.
He wasn’t the first person to give her such a compliment, but for some reason, from him, it felt, different.
More meaningful. “Ye do as weel. ’Twas hard no’ to notice,” she admitted.
He smiled warmly as he continued to lead her through the market.
“Though I must say,” Eilidh continued. “Ye play like a man hiding something. Secrets mayhap? Ye’ve an air of mystery aboot ye.”
Torquil’s face grew serious. “I’ve naught to hide. Can ye say the same?” He met her gaze, brows drawn down. “Ye play like ye are trying to forget. Is there aught ye would like to admit?” He gently nudged her shoulder.
Her eyes had widened at his revelation. How had he read her so easily in that short time that he had seen her?
“Forget may be the wrong word. Move forward. Ignore. Disappear,” she quietly said.
“For ye to disappear would for certs be a disservice to all of us that would miss out on yer beautiful music.”
“Ye are being overly generous.”
They stopped at a stall with heather mead. Torquil purchased two and handed her one, raising his in the air for a salute.
“To days filled with song, no matter the reason.”
They touched their cups together and took a sip of the delicious brew.
“Dinnae let anyone e’er break ye, Eilidh. Dinnae change. Ye are perfect, just the way ye are.”
Her cheeks flushed. She opened her mouth to respond, but a village elder interrupted them, a fierce scowl on his face.
Eilidh recognized him as someone who visited Hartsmoor often. He and her father would speak in hushed tones behind closed doors.
“I believe yer mama is looking for ye.” He pierced her with a pointed stare.
How would he ken such a thing? She did not appreciate the interruption.
Torquil cleared his throat. “I should be returning home. ’Twas lovely to see ye.” With a smile and a dip of his head, he walked away.
Eilidh watched him go, her cheeks flushed, and wanted naught more than to follow him to wherever his destination may be.
“Why would ye do that?” she asked, her voice laced with irritation.
The elder tracked Torquil’s retreating frame. “’Tis best ye get home,” he said in a low, gruff voice, ignoring her question.
Was he the man that was following her? Or was he just a friend of her father’s trying to make inroads in Hart affairs.
Eilidh rolled her eyes, unphased by the way he glowered at her. Why couldn’t the men of her clan just let her be?
She dared a final look at Torquil, and then begrudgingly made her way back to Hartsmoor, thinking of how and when she could see Torquil again.