Chapter Six
The sun dipped behind the hills, turning the forest a lovely shade of gold. Neither of them moved. They sat there, fingers entwined for a long time. Eilidh’s fingers were thin and long, but they still looked so tiny compared to his. He squeezed her hand and she blessed him with a lovely smile.
“I meant what I said earlier when I said ye were beautiful. Ye are. Anyone would have a difficult task in comparison. Yer playing is advanced and the best I have e’er heard, but…”
Beside him, Eilidh stiffened.
He squeezed her hand in reassurance. “But as phenomenal as ye play yer fiddle, it doesnae hold a torch to yer beauty.”
“Ye jest. I bet ye say that to all the lassies ye come across.”
Torquil could tell that she said that to deflect, but the look in her dark-blue eyes—longing, hope—told him that she wanted it to be true. He got the feeling that she did not receive compliments often. Which, if the way some of the villagers had spoken of her was any clue, he could see why.
“I would ne’er tell untruths about such things. I dinnae believe in being dishonest.”
Eilidh stood and walked around in a small circle, pacing the area.
His house was not far from here. Just on the other side of the hill. If Eilidh had seen it, she made no mention of doing so.
He watched her walk, seeing her in silhouette. A beautiful silhouette that he hoped never left his vision. The day was growing later and he kenned she would soon need to return home. But he wanted to stall her retreat as much as he could.
“Tell me aboot yer family. I ken ye are a Hart. But ken naught about ye or them, really.” He chose to ignore the information Evander had told him about earlier.
A look he couldn’t decipher crossed her face, but she masked it afore he could figure out its meaning. He waited, wondering if she would answer. After a long pause, she did.
“I have two brothers and two sisters, which ye are probably aware. My older sister, Moira, married this past year. So did my older brother, Rory.” She looked up at the trees.
“He would verra much enjoy this place. He has always spent more time hiking hillsides and scaling cliffs than stuck inside.” She smiled wistfully and Torquil could see that Rory meant a lot to her.
“When he married, instead of living at Hartsmoor with the family, or building nearby, he built a house deep in the highlands, far away from e’eryone on the Hart border.
He and his wife, Alana, are raising their family there. ”
“Sounds isolated, and beautiful.”
Eilidh’s eyes clashed with his and she nodded.
“’Tis perfect for them. My younger sister, Morven, is still at home, of course.
She is like the smaller version of my mother,” she chuckled, “if ye can see that. And then there’s Alpin, he’s the oldest and will be our next laird.
But we have many years ahead of us afore that happens,” she added quickly.
Torquil stood up and stretched. “That is what we always wish for. ’Tis hard to see yer loved ones move on.”
“Father is strong as an ox, he will live long, with my mother by his side, of course.”
“Of course. I didn’t mean to fash ye.”
She took a deep breath and clasped her hands together, as if cleansing herself from any unhappy thoughts of things yet to come. “How about ye? I ken ye have an older brother, aye?”
Torquil nodded. “My brother, Evander, and a younger brother, Callum. Our parents passed when we were young. I only have vague memories of them.”
Eilidh touched his arm. The gesture sending a jolt of electricity through his body. “I am sorry. I cannae begin to fathom a world without my parents.”
“Thank ye. As I said, ’twas long ago. Our Uncle took us in. When he passed, our cousin, Seamus, became laird in his place.”
“Ye’re cousin to Laird MacGregor?” she asked, surprise lacing her voice.
“I am.”
“Do ye live with him?”
He chuckled. “Nay. I am much like yer brother, Rory, I believe ye said his name was. I like my solitude. I can practice and play my lute whene’er I want and no’ fash aboot who I am keeping awake or bothering.”
“I can understand that. Ofttimes I have to leave Hartsmoor so I can practice in peace.”
“And that happens oft?”
“Aye. ’Tis what I am doing now.” Her cheeks flushed. “Or at least that is what my family believes.” She smiled slyly.
He stepped closer, unable to tear his eyes away from hers.
“Have I told ye how happy I am that ye found me?” Boldly, he took her hands in his and pulled her closer.
He wanted to kiss her. Needed to kiss her.
He began to lower his head to hers. “Tell me to stop,” he said softly, pausing to give her time to reject him, all the while hoping that she would not.
She opened her mouth.
He waited for her to speak. But she did not. Instead, she lifted her face to his in invitation. One he gladly accepted. He closed the distance, tentatively capturing her lips, savoring the taste of her. The kiss was soft, slow. An exploration of what could be.
He had never experienced such a kiss. Of course, he had not kissed many lasses afore Eilidh, so he didn’t have a vast knowledge of what made a kiss great. But the way his body roared to life, especially when she leaned into him, told him that this was a kiss to remember.
Eilidh broke the kiss, pulling back. Her chest heaved, and she looked unsure of herself. He searched her face for a clue as to what she was feeling. He waited, just as unsure as she was.
But then, she tangled her hands in his hair and pulled his head down to hers, their lips crashing together. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer, until she was flush against his front. And still it wasn’t close enough.
His tongue teased the seam of her lips, wanting entry, that she thankfully granted him, and he plundered her mouth. Their tongues performing a forbidden dance to a wicked tune only they could hear. The heat from their bodies intensified, searing each other with every touch. Every stroke.
It was madness.
They both broke the kiss at the same time, panting heavily. Guilt suddenly consumed him.
“I am sorry, Eilidh. I shouldnae have taken such liberties. I respect ye more—”
“This is madness,” she cut him off, placing her palm against her forehead. It was as if their thoughts had collided as well.
He nodded. “I ken,” he replied solemnly.
She rushed to him, taking his face in her hands, her dark-blue eyes boring into his. “I dinnae mean it in such a way. ’Tis madness how quickly my feelings have grown for ye. ’Tis no’ right. No’ natural.”
He darted his tongue out and wet his lips. “I ken. But I wouldnae change a thing.” He waited for her response. Her reaction. To see if she would turn him away. His stomach was in knots at the very thought.
She answered him by pressing her lips to his once more, sighing into him as he deepened the kiss. Spinning her around, so her back was against the tree, he kissed her as if she were his salvation. The only one with the ability to save him from himself.
This time, when he broke the kiss so they could catch their breaths, he rested his forehead upon hers. “This is indeed madness.”
“We shouldnae do that again,” she whispered breathlessly.
“I ken,” he agreed. Could he not think of another answer? He sounded like a dolt to his own ears.
“But I want to,” she admitted, capturing his lips once again. He let her explore his mouth with a groan as he gave in to her. Hell, she could ask him to take his dagger and stab himself straight in his heart with it and he would. He was mesmerized.
She stepped back, her cheeks flushed, her hair mussed where he had pushed his fingers through her braid. Looking to the sky, she said, “I must go. Afore it gets too late and my da sends out a search party.”
Torquil kenned she was right. But he did not want to let her out of his sight.
“Is it wrong that I doonae want ye to go?”
She shook her head, looking down shyly. “Nay. I feel the same. But I cannae delay any longer.” Gathering her fiddle and bow, she placed them in their case and slung it over her shoulder.
Torquil watched, transfixed and unable to move from his spot. “Until we meet again?” He asked, his voice hopeful.
Eilidh smiled. “I fear that ye have ruined me for anyone else with those divine kisses.”
He closed the distance betwixt them and tucked a stray tendril of hair behind her ear. “I willnae apologize for that.”
“I wouldnae want ye to,” she countered. She rose up on her toes and placed a featherlight kiss upon his lips and walked toward the path that would bring her back home.
“Will ye be safe walking home?”
She turned and smiled. “Aye. ’Tis something I have done plenty. Have nay fear. Until next time, Torquil MacGregor.” She spun and disappeared through the trees and Torquil fought the urge to run after her. To escort her home.
But he could only imagine what wrath that would bring about for Eilidh with her family. It would not sit well with his own family, but he could take whatever punishment that may be thrown at him. He didn’t want Eilidh to have to face aught because of their actions.
What they were doing was wrong. Evander was right when he said Seamus would be furious. He would be. Whenever his cousin did find out, Torquil fully expected a harsh punishment would be doled out. But even the threat of that wasn’t enough to keep him away from Eilidh.
He stood there for a long while, watching the trees where she had disappeared, afore making his way back to his cottage. He grabbed his lute and walked home. His steps light and heavy at the same time. Kenning that what they had done would have consequences that neither of them wanted to face.