The Highlander’s Tempting Touch

Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

T he next day…

“Och, I cannae believe ‘tis so late already!” Niamh checked her hair once more, ensuring that the plaits that bound it back from her face were neat and even, then turned and scooped up the parchment list she’d been perusing a moment before. “I’d best be hurryin’ or Grace will be addin’ ‘Cannae be on time’ to me list!”

The thought made her chuckle, even as she folded the parchment and tucked it away. Every year, she and her best friend, Grace, met at the Autumn Equinox Festival to talk and share their respective ‘list of sins’. Though it had long since become a source of amusement between them, for the two girls, it had a second, far more important purpose.

The list was all the things they’d each done over the year to avoid being considered marriageable material. They were both determined to be spinsters – Grace wished to defy her cruel, greedy uncle, and Niamh had no wish to face the expectations that came after marriage.

She was rather proud of her list this year. She’d managed to step on the toes of no less than a dozen hopeful young men at dances, gotten drunk three times, and committed a host of other improprieties that had turned aside the interests of every man her father had attempted to introduce her to.

Now in her twentieth year, she only had a few more years before she would be considered too old to be a wife to anyone – unless some widower who already had heirs decided he wanted a gentle young caretaker in his later years.

But that was a concern for later. For now, she was going to meet Grace, and the two of them could enjoy sharing their respective lists before they went to explore the festival together.

Grace had said she would be waiting near the minstrel’s platform, in the little patch of woodland that stood behind it. With the tensions of recent years, Grace was shy of wandering the fair alone. A single word would reveal her English parentage, and they’d had folk take offense more than once.

It wasn’t Grace’s fault, and she’d no part of the fighting, and yet, people could be suspicious and cruel. Niamh increased her pace at the thought.

She was so intent on making her way that she didn’t see the man stepping out of the smithy stall until she crashed into him.

Niamh staggered, dropping the roll of parchment as she stumbled. Then a firm hand caught her elbow, and she found herself looking up into the amused eyes of the man she’d just run into.

He was tall, and as well-muscled as any of her father’s warriors, if not more so. His midnight-hued hair was bound firmly at the nape of his neck in a warrior’s tail, leaving a clear view of piercing green eyes and a strong, square jaw. At her appraisal, one eyebrow rose, a small smile quirking one corner of the stern-looking mouth before he spoke. “In a hurry are we, lass?”

Niamh colored. “’Tis nay business o’ yers, but I’m on me way tae meet a friend, and I dinnae want tae be late.”

“So ye’d rather be rude instead, is that it?”

“I didnae intend tae run intae ye!”

He made a soft noise, like a muffled laugh. “Och, I ken that, but ye’ve neither apologized, nor given yer name or any other courtesy.”

She hadn’t, that was true, but she didn’t feel like admitting it. “Ye’ve scarce introduced yerself either. And ye’ve nae call tae be holdin’ me so close.”

“Well, when a lovely creature such as yerself runs intae me without so much as a ‘by yer leave’, I cannae help being curious and wantin’ tae ken more about her.” His gaze flicked downward. “Och, and what’s this?”

To Niamh’s horror, he bent down and picked up her list, which had not only fallen to the ground, but unfolded as well. He read the first line with a smirk on his face. “ Niamh’s list o’ sins , is it?”

“Give that back tae me!” She grabbed for the parchment, but he flicked it out of her reach with a grin. “That’s nae any o’ yer business.”

“Och, and why nae? I could add tae this list o’ misbehaviors.” He pretended to scrawl something in the air. “Is rude tae strangers, mayhap? Or perhaps ‘inclined tae collide with random men’?” He glanced at the list again. “Though, I’ll own yer list seems quite long enough already.”

Niamh felt as if her cheeks were afire, and she was acutely aware of the festival goers who were watching with amusement. “If I give ye me name and an apology, will ye give me back my list?”

“Aye.”

“Very well. I’m Niamh Cameron, and I’m sorry fer runnin’ intae ye.”

He smiled and deposited the folded parchment in her hand. “Yer apology is accepted, though I cannae say I’m sorry for our collision. Be that as it may…” His hand cupped her chin as he leaned closer to her. “Me name is Alistair MacDuff, and I’m very pleased tae meet ye.”

Niamh flushed and pulled away from his hand. “Och, I dinnae recall givin’ ye permission tae touch me in such a manner, sir. And ye’ve taken liberties enough, reading me list.”

Alistair smiled. “Aye... I’ll own I’ve been a wee bit forward with ye, me lady, but truth is, ‘tis been a fair long time since I met such an intriguing lass.”

“’Tis been some time since I met so bold a rogue, and yet I dinnae see it as a reason fer bein’ uncouth and improper,” Niamh retorted.

One dark eyebrow rose, a teasing smirk tugging his stern mouth. “And yet, yer list would lead me tae believe yer the sort tae like a bit o’ rogue in yer menfolk.”

“Then ye’re fair deceived, fer in truth I’d like nae any sort o’ man at all, and the list…” Niamh stopped before she revealed that particular secret. “The list contains me reasons why I feel nae any sort o’ man should want me.”

“Is that so? Perhaps I should beg another look, fer I didnae see aught that was so objectionable. But then…” Alistair smiled, and Niamh felt her heart skip a bit in spite of herself. “I confess I admire a pretty lass with character and a ready wit.”

“Then ye’re looking in the wrong direction, fer there’s many a fairer lass at this festival, and plenty o’ them with more wit and grace than meself.”

“So ye say, mlady, but I prefer tae judge fer meself. One man’s dross is another man’s gold, and I think ye gleam bright indeed.”

Niamh felt herself blushing under the compliment. “Then yer eyes or yer wits are addled. Or else, ‘tis a joke ye intend to tell.”

“Nay jest. And nay addled wits, nor too much mead and ale, if that’s what yer thinkin’, me bonny lass.” Alistair tipped his head. “But if ye think I jest, then perhaps a wager? Spend the day attending the festival with me, and if I havenae indeed convinced ye by sunset o’ me sincerity, then claim a forfeit if ye like. But if I have, then ye’ll give me leave tae call on ye again.”

It was an intriguing offer, but Niamh shook her head. “Nay. I cannae. I told ye afore, I’m meeting a friend, and I promised tae walk the festival with her.”

“A friend’s a bonny chaperone, since ye think me a rogue.” Alistair stepped closer. “Walk the fair with me, lass. I can promise ye a day ye’ll enjoy, and one ye’ll remember fer many Autumn’s tae come.”

Niamh had no doubt he spoke the truth. But she also feared what his sincerity might mean for her own resolve. She opened her mouth to refuse him.

At that moment, a group of men, some half-dozen at the least, came staggering out of the nearby tavern, cursing and stumbling. The last was shoved from the building by an irate looking man that Niamh recognized as Seamus, the tavern keeper. “Dae yer brawlin’ and boastin’ elsewhere! I’ll nae have broken tables and chairs here, nor knife holes and flyin’ blades in me tavern, making the sensible folk afeared! If ye cannae act like proper clansmen, then dinnae come back until ye’ve regained yer wits!”

“Ye’ll regret losing our coin!” One of the drunken men was a bit more belligerent than his fellows.

“I’ll nae, fer I’ll save more than I’ll lose in nae havin’ tae replace me crockery and furnishins.” Seamus retorted. The tavern door closed firmly in the faces of the drunkards.

One of the men muttered something to a nearby clansman wearing the tartan of a different clan. Niamh was too far to hear what was said, but the effect was immediate. The second man let out a snarl and made a drunken swipe at the speaker, and the festival lane was soon embroiled in a brawl.

She’d scarcely registered the chaos heading her way when Alistair swept her up and behind him, putting himself between her and the tangled knot of flying fists and barely intelligible insults. Niamh scowled at his back. “What are ye daeing?”

“I couldnae leave so fair a lass in danger o’ bein’ harmed by these louts.”

“There’s guards at the festival. They’ll have heard the ruckus.” Her father’s guards were quick and strong, and she was confident they’d arrive to handle the matter before it got too out of hand.

“Aye. But until they arrive, permit me the honor o’ protecting ye.”

Niamh grimaced. She couldn’t say she disliked having Alistair’s protection, nor could she deny the tiny shiver of delight that passed through her at the knowledge that he was willing to stand between her and a gaggle of rowdy drunkards.

However, none of that changed the fact that time was passing, and she was surely late to meet Grace. That was vexing enough to cancel any enjoyment she might have felt in being watched over by such a handsome clansman. “If ye’d only left me well enough alone, I’d be far from here and in nay need o’ protecting.”

Alistair turned. “Are ye so sure o’ that? There’s more than one place taeday selling food and drink, and I’ll wager this isnae the only brawl the festival will see - or has seen already, if the time the guards are taking tae arrive is any indication.”

He might have been right, but Niamh wasn’t going to concede the point to him so readily. “Be that as it may, I’d nae be at risk o’ bein involved in this one if ye hadnae delayed me.”

“Mayhap, but ye’d also nae have anyone tae help keep ye safe.” He smirked at her.

Niamh glared back. “I never said I was in need o’ any such thing!”

As Alistair was about to respond, one of the men staggered out of the melee and slammed into him. Before Niamh could quite understand what was happening, she was backed up against the wall, Alistair’s hands planted against the stone on either side of her face. It was only when he shifted his weight to plant a boot against the drunkard’s gut and shove him back toward his fellows that she realized how close she’d come to being knocked down, perhaps even trampled.

Alistair gave her another of his crooked half-smiles. “Are ye so sure o’ that, lass? If I hadnae been between ye, the fool might have done ye harm. ‘Twould be a shame tae damage such a bonny face.”

Niamh’s cheeks felt hot as coals, her face flushed by her embarrassment and by the sensation of having a man so close to her. Alistair hadn’t made any move to straighten, and she could feel the warmth of his breath ghosting across her face, smell the scent of spiced meat and mulled cider he’d consumed earlier in the day. “I…”

Her words trailed off as her eyes met his. Deep, glittering eyes that held a sheen like the emerald she’d seen in one of her mother’s rings, many years ago. They were mesmerizing, and Niamh looked away.

Looking down, she noticed a sturdy leather cord about his neck, from which hung a simple ring bearing a tri-corner eternity knot. The ring itself was far too small to fit a hand such as Alistair’s. Daes he have another lass he’s interested in?

The idea that he might be a rake, and simply toying with her stung more than it should. She raised her head to confront him about it, only to pause as he bent to murmur in her ear. “Ye say ye dinnae want protection, and ye’re angered that I’ve apparently delayed yer meeting with yer friend. But can ye really say ye object tae me company?”

“I cannae say I asked fer it, nor that I welcome it overmuch, yer current protection o’ me notwithstanding.” Her voice was quieter than she meant it to be.

“Why nae let me accompany ye? I dinnae mind having yer friend walk with us. And I’m sure ye’ll nae find me company lacking.” His smile deepened. “Besides, there’s our wager tae be concluded.”

“I’ve said it afore, I never agreed tae any wager.” Niamh hissed the words.

“But ye never refused it either.”

“I…”

Whatever she had intended to say was drowned out by a roar of sound as something happened within the melee. She started to lean forward to see around Alistair’s shoulders, when someone shoved, or fell, into his shoulder.

Caught off guard and off balance, Niamh stumbled, then froze as something brushed her cheek. Her head turned, just as Alistair shifted his weight.

Their lips met, and Niamh’s cheeks flamed crimson and all thought ceased as she tasted the spices on his mouth, felt the soft, slightly rough dryness of his lips, gently caressing her own, light as the edge of a bird’s wing. Then she came to her senses and she jerked backwards. Her hand rose to deliver a stinging slap to his jaw. “You rogue! I never gave ye permission tae kiss me!”