Chapter Ten #2
They washed in the burn and once they were clean, they made gentle love under the shade of the trees. This time, they took their time, exploring each other’s bodies. Reaching their climax together, whispering their wishes of their forever to each other.
Later that night, long after Eilidh had returned to her home, Torquil lay awake, listening to the sounds of the trees sway in the wind. He replayed the afternoon he had spent with Eilidh over and over again.
It was hard for them to part ways. Neither of them wanted to.
He wondered if he would ever be able to claim her openly without sparking a feud betwixt their clans. Both of his brother’s warnings still loud in his head. But rival clans had come together in peace over such things in the past.
They had also gone to war over such things.
He turned on his side, punching his pillow in frustration at the predicament he found himself in. How life wasn’t fair. How he had been presented with the perfect lass, but could not keep her.
*
“Ye have been quiet these past few days, Torquil. What ails ye?” Evander asked.
The three brothers had gathered for a meal at MacGregor Keep. Torquil had greeted his cousin, when he entered afore taking a seat at one of the tables in the middle of the Great Hall. The room was loud, boisterous, with all the warriors and help supping at the same time.
He took a long pull of ale afore he responded to his brother’s inquiry. “Naught ails me. I have been busy with my music.”
Callum choked on the ale he had just swallowed, resulting in a coughing fit that drew attention to them.
Torquil slapped his brother’s back, giving him a look of warning when their eyes briefly met.
“’Tis plenty of ale and food for all, brother.” Evander stated, and Torquil breathed a sigh of relief that his brother had not noticed aught suspicious with Callum’s untimely coughing fit.
“Ye ken,” Evander said, holding up the crust of bread and pointing it in Torquil’s direction. “There is a local lassie that enjoys music verra much. I should introduce ye.”
Torquil shook his head. “I politely decline yer offer, brother. I have no interest in such pairings.”
“Come now. She is of marrying age and unclaimed. Ye are of marrying age and also unclaimed. I am for certs that Seamus would agree to such a union.”
Torquil ground his teeth. It irked him that he could not say that he was committed to Eilidh. In his mind. In his heart, he was. And it was impossible that this lass Evander spoke of could even hold a small flame to Eilidh’s beauty and caring personality. Nor did Torquil care to find out.
“I am no’ interested,” Torquil repeated.
Evander nudged him. “Och, the nights must get lonely out at yer cottage. Do ye no’ long for a bonny lassie to warm yer bed?”
Och, he did. But the person he wanted warming his bed was not anyone he would find on MacGregor lands.
“Nay.” Torquil did not expand on his answer.
His brother, though, oblivious, kept pushing. “Ye already have a lass.” He slapped his knee and chuckled. “Och, I should have kenned. Of course, ye do. Why wouldnae ye? Ye are a MacGregor and we MacGregors ne’er want for aught.”
Torquil fought the urge to roll his eyes at his brother’s ridiculous statement. Mayhap that was the case for Evander, but it had not been for Torquil. Nay, he had never kenned what he wanted, what he needed, until he laid eyes upon Eilidh Hart.
Hart.
If only she possessed any other surname. Things would be so much easier.
“I shall take yer silence as confirmation. Which village lass have ye been occupying yer time with? Is she bonny? Come, brother. Dinnae be so secretive.”
“’Tis no’ a village lass,” Torquil ground out.
Evander rose an eyebrow with curiosity.
“Nay? Is she a keeper?” He took a bite of roasted hare and chewed for a moment afore continuing. “That is good. ’Tis time ye settled down. I am for certs Seamus will give his blessing.”
Torquil had to fight a bitter laugh. “I am no’ settling down with anyone. Are ye daft?” Torquil’s words were infused with anger, more so than he wanted.
Evander put his hands up in defense. “Easy now. I only tease.”
Torquil pushed back from the table. “I should get back to my cottage. I have much to do.” He spun on his heel and exited the keep’s walls. Outside, he drew in a deep breath and let it out on a long sigh.
He was sure his brother meant well, but it was hard to have such discussions when he could not speak the truth.
Eilidh was not like the other girls he had met in the village. None of them could even begin to compare to her.
He missed her. He had not seen her since the afternoon they had spent together, exploring each other’s bodies.
What would life look like if they could be together?
He imagined Eilidh living with him in his cottage.
Their cottage. They’d enjoy a quiet life, writing songs and making music together.
During the warmer months they would travel to play their songs.
When they weren’t traveling, their days would be filled with the normalcy of everyday life.
Eilidh tending to the garden, whilst he chopped wood.
Their nights filled with their music and lovemaking.
And children. He had never really thought much about having wee ones. But with Eilidh, he wanted lots of bairns. Daughters that looked as beautiful as their mother and were equally or more talented, if that were even possible. Hearty sons that would grow to be strong.
By the time Torquil arrived at his cottage, he had imagined their whole life ahead of them. But then reality hit, and he remembered the odds that had been stacked against them being together in any other way than in secret.
MacGregor.
Hart.
Aside from the underlying strife betwixt the two clans, she was the laird’s daughter.
He was only cousin to the laird.
He held nay title. Nay position of wealth.
The image he had built in his mind faded away.
It was impossible. They were impossible.
*
Two days later, Torquil was strumming his lute in the glen that held so many memories—and reminders of what could never be, when movement caught his attention.
Eilidh.
He turned to the movement as a deer stepped into the area. The doe looked at him cautiously, sniffing the air. Sensing nay danger, she began to graze.
Torquil watched her for a long time, until, the doe’s hunger was satisfied, she turned and disappeared into the trees, leaving him alone with his thoughts once again.
With a sigh, he pushed off the ground and walked home. He had just reached his door when he heard a noise and spun around.
This time, it was Eilidh. He swallowed hard. The lump in his throat at seeing her limiting his ability to breathe.
“I found ye,” she said quietly, toeing the ground with her boot, an action he now kenned she did when she was nervous. Her fiddle case slung over her shoulder as it almost always was.
He wanted to run to her. To gather her in his arms and tell her how much he missed her. How much he wanted her to stay. But he could not. To do so would bring the wrath of both of their clans down upon them. He cursed. Angry with himself for letting him take advantage of her.
She closed the distance betwixt them, and smiled widely, as she looked at the exterior of his cottage. “So, this is where ye live? ’Tis beautiful.”
He scoffed. “’Tis small and inadequate.” For a moment he wondered if he was talking about the cottage or himself.
Her brows furrowed, a frown forming on her face. “Is something amiss?”
“Nay.” He shook his head. He should turn her away. Tell her to return home and not come back here. But he could not. Not with her blue eyes boring into him. The expression on her face begging for the reason of his sudden change in attitude. It made him miserable.
He dipped his head to her fiddle case. “Are ye ready to play?”
Her eyes twinkled and with a wide grin, nodded her head.
Against his better judgment, he invited her inside, offering her a drink.
She accepted the ale and took a sip afore setting the cup aside and opening her case to retrieve her fiddle and bow. “What song shall we play?” she asked, her eyes dancing, her excitement contagious.
He lifted his lute and sat by the fire. “How aboot we create something of our verra own? A new song that no one has heard.”
She smiled. “A brilliant idea. Ye start the opening notes, and I will join.”
He thought for a moment and then began, strumming soft and slow, initiating a ballad that he put all of his emotions into.
The sadness that he could not have what was sitting right in front of him.
The anger at those that were in the way of his happiness.
The sorrow that he would have to let her go.
Eilidh joined, the solemn cries of her fiddle the perfect balance. They fed off of each other, pouring their hearts into the song.
When they finished, they sat there silently for a long time. Neither of them saying a word. Contemplating their circumstances.
Eilidh stood. “I should go afore I am missed.” She packed her instrument away and turned to Torquil. He couldn’t hide the pain he was feeling. “I ken that what we did was forbidden. But ken this, Torquil MacGregor, I dinnae regret one second of it. I would no’ take it back for aught in the world.”
And she left.