by Katy Baker
His movements were strong and sure as if he’d done this countless times before. The hammer he wielded had a huge iron head that Thea knew she’d struggle to lift but Logan swung it as though it weighed nothing at all. She watched him for a moment and she noticed that this back bore many scars. Several were puckered burn marks but others look like stab wounds. How had he gotten them?
He dropped the hammer onto the anvil and then, picking up the bar of metal with both gloved hands, plunged it into one of the water vats. It hissed and steamed, sending up a great cloud of water vapor. Then he returned the bar to the anvil, straightened, and wiped his brow.
Thea cleared her throat loudly.
Logan spun. He snatched up the hammer, holding it like a weapon. Then, realizing it was Thea, relaxed, placing the hammer down on the anvil.
“My apologies,” he muttered. “Ye startled me.”
“I shouldn’t have snuck up on you like that. I did call you but I’m not surprised you didn’t hear me over this racket.”
He didn’t reply. He was breathing heavily from his exertion, his broad chest heaving under the leather apron. Her eyes locked with his and a tingle went down her spine.
A coal popped in the forge and Logan turned away, poking at it with an iron poker.
“I...wondered where you were,” Thea stammered. “You didn’t come into the cottage last night.”
“Nay,” he agreed. He nodded at a pile of rumpled blankets in the corner of the smithy. “This place makes as good a bed as any.”
“Now you’re just trying to make me feel guilty,” Thea replied, trying and failing to make her voice sound light. “I can’t turn you out of your own cottage, not after all you’ve done for me. You should have slept inside.”
An expression flashed across his face so quickly Thea could almost have convinced herself she’d missed it. It looked like fear.
“Nay, lass,” he said. “That wouldnae have been proper. I willnae have yer reputation besmirched. We aren’t married. It isnae right for us to share lodgings.”
Thea frowned. Damn it. She had to remember that attitudes were different in this time. Was that why Logan had slept out here? Over concern for her honor?
Logan shifted his feet, looking uncomfortable. “Did ye sleep well?” he asked at last.
“Yes,” she replied. He didn’t need to know that she’d fallen asleep on the hearth rug. “And Ailsa’s concoction worked a treat. My headache is all but gone.”
“I’m relieved to hear ye say that. Ye had me worried for a while.”
I did? Thea thought. He was watching her again. Her cheeks flushed and she took a step back. She cast around for something to say and suddenly remembered the broken chair leg.
“Do you have a hammer I can borrow? And some nails?”
He looked at her quizzically. “Whatever for?”
She crossed her arms. “You’ll see. You aren’t the only one who can use tools you know.”
He raised an eyebrow but then crossed to a rack and took down a hammer with a good leather grip and a handful of nails. He held them out to her. “Should I be worried?” he asked with a faint smile. “I’ve seen yer temper first hand, remember.”
Thea snorted. “Me? Temper? I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”
He held out the tool and Thea took it. For a moment her finger brushed his. She glanced up and her eyes locked with his. They were dark, unblinking, his lips parted.
Thea stepped back, clutching the hammer to her chest. “I...um...thanks.”
He blinked then cleared his throat. “Aye. Well. I’ll just finish up here then I’ll make us some breakfast.”
Flustered, Thea could hardly choke out the words. “Breakfast. Yes. Great.”
She turned away and hurried back into the house.
***
Logan banked the coals in the forge then stripped off his gloves and leather apron and hung them on a hook. Stepping outside he crossed to the water barrel and dunked his head into the icy water, allowing it to wash away the grime and sweat of his morning’s work.
He grabbed his shirt from a hook and pulled it on, tying the sash of his plaid over one shoulder. Then, taking a deep breath, he strode across the yard to the house. They would have a quick breakfast and then ride over to Rhodry and Ailsa’s croft. He and Rhodry would find Irene MacAskill and get some answers.
Simple. By the end of the day Thea would be gone, the short disruption she’d caused in his life would be over and he could go back to normal. He ought to be pleased about that. So why did he have an ache in his gut as though someone had punched him?
Gritting his teeth, he yanked the door open and stepped inside. Thea was kneeling on the floor, the broken chair upturned in front of her. She glanced over her shoulder as he walked in. She had two nails clamped between her teeth.
“Pass me the hammer would you?” she mumbled at him around her mouthful.
Logan stared at her, bemused. Then, when she gave him a flat stare, he picked up the hammer and handed it over. She took it without a word and turned to her work. Logan crossed his arms, watching.
“Ye are wasting yer time lass,” he told her. “The wood is knotted. It willnae take anyone’s weight, regardless of repairs.”
Thea took one of the nails from her mouth, held it against a piece of wood she’d braced cross-ways between two of the legs, then deftly nailed it in with three precise taps. Satisfied, she spun the chair around and hammered the other end of the wood to the leg on the other side. She righted the chair and carefully sat down on it. Her repair creaked but it held.
She grinned. “Ta da!”
She looked mighty pleased with herself and Logan couldn’t help the smile that pulled the corners of his mouth.
“It just needed a bit of TLC. These cross-struts will distribute the weight more evenly. It should hold now.” She looked him up and down and then frowned. “Although you might be better off using the other one and leaving this for guests.”
To Logan’s surprise, he felt a laugh bubbling up inside him. “As ye say, oh wise one. Where did ye learn such skills? Woodwork isnae the kind of thing noble ladies would normally be versed in.”
“My granddad,” she replied, her eyes turning wistful as though she was thinking of fond memories. “He was into DIY big time. When I was a kid, he taught me all sorts. I think he was happy to have a willing helper. We lived in a big old house that was slowly falling apart around us so when he got too old I took over trying to keep the place standing.”
Logan frowned. There she went again. DIY? What was that word? “So ye live with yer grandparents?”
Her smile faltered. “No. Not anymore. I went off to college. Then they died and I had to sell the house. It’s just as well as it was too big for me anyway. I was renting an apartment before I came here.”
There was an old pain shining in her eyes and it twisted Logan’s heart to see it.
“Would ye like some breakfast?”
“I would. Fixing chair-legs is hungry work.”
“Aye, nay doubt. I hope ye like porridge. It’s all I have.”
“Ah! Porridge! My favorite!” she said with a smile.
Logan fell into the routine he went through every morning. Only this time he was preparing breakfast for two. Thea said not a word as Logan busied himself by the fire but he could feel her watching him. He was acutely aware of her presence. The sound of her breathing. The tiny rustle of her dress as she moved. Did she realize the effect she had on him? He guessed not, which made it all the more potent.
Ye have been too long alone, he thought.
But it was more than that. There was something about Thea Thomas. She was unlike any woman he’d ever met. She was wild and reckless and brave. She held secrets about her like a cloak.
Ye are losing yer wits, he thought as he stirred the pot. The sooner ye send the lass on her way the better.
He served breakfast and Thea ate greedily. She had none of the dainty manners that he would expect from a noble
-born lady. She scooped up her porridge in great dollops and ate like she was starving, nodding appreciatively at the taste.
He sat down opposite her and pulled his own bowl over. How strange it felt to be eating breakfast with someone else! He was reminded suddenly of breakfasts in the castle. He would sit at the high table with his brothers and they would banter and make plans for the day whilst the Great Hall hummed to the conversation of his clan.
Lord, it seemed a lifetime ago.
He’d been a different man then. Laird Logan MacAuley had died that day by the stones as surely as if he’d had a knife rammed through his heart. Another man had emerged to take his place. Blacksmith MacAuley, a loner, living apart from society and avoiding all bonds of fellowship. As it must be.
Thea finished her bowl and pushed it back, rubbing her stomach appreciatively. “That,” she announced, “was possibly the most delicious breakfast I’ve ever eaten!”
He raised an eyebrow. “It was only porridge, lass.”
“Porridge tastes like the gods’ own ambrosia when you’re as hungry as I was.”
“If ye think that was good, ye should try Old Magda’s cooking up at the castle. If there is a better cook in all the Highlands, I’ve never heard of her.” He clamped his mouth shut as soon as the words were out of his mouth. Curse it! He had to be more careful.
“The castle?” she asked. “You mean Dun Ringill? Ailsa told me about it. You’ve been there?”
“Aye,” he answered quickly. “I sell my wares there sometimes.”
“Like that sword you were making this morning?”
He glanced at her. “Aye, like the sword. Although normally it’s less grand things. Horse-shoes. Bridles. Tools. That sort of thing.”
“And yet you live out here alone, miles from the castle. That doesn’t make much sense to me. Surely you’d do better living closer to where your customers are?”
Logan shifted in his seat. Aye, he thought. It would. But that’s not possible. Not for me. He shrugged. “I’m the best blacksmith in the district. People will travel the extra miles for my services.”
He said it without bravado. It was a simple statement of fact. His master, Albus, had been renowned all over the Highlands, and Logan had been his best apprentice. There had been raised eyebrows when Logan’s father had apprenticed him to a simple blacksmith. What need had the heir for such a trade? But his father had believed in ensuring each of his sons was trained in more than just leadership. So for him had come blacksmith’s training, for Camdan soldiering, for Finlay, music. Their father’s foresight had become more important than any of them could have imagined.
“What about ye?” Logan asked, trying to turn the conversation away from himself. “Ye keep insisting that ye are no lady and work as a—what did ye call it?—a ‘photographer’? What is that?”
She frowned. “How to explain it? I make pictures. I came to Scotland to make pictures of your landscapes and wildlife. People are very interested in that sort of thing in my homeland.”
Logan leaned back in his chair, trying to make sense of what she was telling him. “So, ye are a painter?”
“Something like that, I guess,” she said, nodding. “Although I never expected my assignment to end like this.”
She met his gaze and he saw a flash of fear in her eyes. She was a brave lass, trying to appear confident when inside she must be reeling. How would he feel if he was lost in a strange land, surrounded by people and ways he didn’t know?
Logan pushed back his chair with a loud scrape and collected up the dishes. “Tis time we were on our way,” he said. “The sooner Rhodry and I ride out, the sooner we will find our errant meddler.”
Once breakfast was cleared away Logan saddled Stepper, swung Thea up into the saddle, and climbed up behind her. He nudged Stepper onto the trail that led to Rhodry and Ailsa’s croft.
As they moved he tried not to think about the fact that by tonight Thea would be gone.
Chapter 7
Thea felt better than she had in days. The concussion seemed to have faded and she was filled with energy. As she and Logan rode along the gently rolling trail, the wild hills to the right, the sighing sea to the left, she found her head continually swiveling from side to side, taking it all in. It was a beautiful morning, so different to the night she’d arrived. A gentle breeze blew in from the sea, bringing with it the smell of sea-salt and the haunting cry of gulls.
The breeze brought goose bumps to her skin and filled her lungs with its freshness. Logan’s hard chest pressed against her back and his arms formed a protective cage around her, promising he would not let her fall. Every time the horse jolted, their bodies came into contact and each time it sent a warm tingling right through her.
Alive, she thought suddenly. I feel alive. More alive than I’ve felt in a long time. It must be because I’m going home today. That’s the only explanation.
Something caught her eye and she pointed. “Puffins!”
The little black and white birds with their rainbow beaks were popping up out of their burrows all along the hummocky ground to their left.
“Aye,” Logan replied. “They nest all along here.”
Thea watched, transfixed. If only she could get her camera out and snap them! And look! Cormorants and terns, kittiwakes and fulmars filled the cliffs ahead of them, calling so raucously they cut through even the sound of the waves. Oh, my, Thea thought. This is a photographer’s heaven!
“It’s beautiful,” she breathed.
“Aye,” Logan agreed. “When I was a lad, we used to scale these cliffs to try to get a look at the chicks. I soon learned my lesson when a fulmar spit all over me. Ye have never smelled anything like it!”
Thea laughed. The thought of a young Logan covered in fulmar spit was enough to make mirth bubble up in her belly. “Oh, I would pay good money to see that! I bet you were incorrigible as a child.”
“I was naught of the sort,” he said in a mock-haughty voice. “I’ll have ye know I was a model child.”
She turned her head to look at him and found he had a serious expression on his face but there was mirth dancing in his eyes. Logan didn’t smile much but that didn’t mean he was serious all the time. She was beginning to be able to read the slight quirk of his lips or the look in his eyes that betrayed his amusement.
They made good time and were soon riding up to Ailsa and Rhodry’s croft. As Logan pulled the horse to a halt in the barnyard, the door to the cottage opened and a gaggle of children came pelting out, followed more sedately by their parents. The children swamped Logan, all clinging to his legs and crying, “Uncle Logan! Uncle Logan!”
He hefted the youngest on his hip and ruffled the hair of the others. “Here now! That’s quite the welcome! I hope ye have been behaving for yer ma and da!”
Thea stared, astonished. The last thing she’d expected was for Logan to be good with children. It hardly fit with his dour, loner demeanor. But the way Ailsa and Rhodry’s children clustered around him, it was obvious they adored him. Who the hell was this man?
Logan put down the child and turned to Thea. He held out a hand to help her down from the saddle. Thea swung her leg over and slid clumsily to the ground. The children fell silent, staring up at this stranger with wide eyes.
“Children,” Logan said. “This is Lady Thea Thomas. She’s going to be spending the day with ye today. She’s a visitor from far away across the sea and I know ye’ll take good care of her while yer da and I go out riding. Isnae that right?”
The children nodded silently, obviously wary. Ailsa stepped forward and swept Thea into an embrace.
“Ye are looking better already, my dear!” she said. “There is more color in yer cheeks.”
“I feel much better,” Thea confirmed. “Thanks to you.” She winked at the children. “Your mother is a miracle worker. She fixed my broken head. I have much to thank her for.”
The children’s eyes widened further at her strange accent and stared up at her in fascination.<
br />
“Ye talk funny,” a blonde girl said. “Where are ye from?”
“Hush, Anna!” Ailsa said. “It’s rude to say such things!”
“That’s okay,” Thea laughed. She crouched down so she was on eye-level with Anna. “I’m from America. It’s a place beyond the wide sea. There we have magical things called pizza and doughnuts. If ye like I will tell ye a story about it later.”
Anna’s face broke into a smile. “Aye! A story!”
Rhodry shook his head at Thea. “Ye’ve done it now. They’ll be pestering ye for the rest of the day. Ye willnae get a moment’s peace until they’ve pried every scrap out of ye.”
“I don’t mind that,” Thea said, smiling. “It’s the least I can do for all your help.”
“The morning is wearing on,” Logan said. “We had best be moving.” He approached Thea and stood looking down at her. “We’ll return as soon as we find Irene and some answers.”
She watched dumbly as Logan and Rhodry mounted up and galloped away, the thunder of the horses’ hooves soon disappearing into the distance.
***
Thea found she had little time to worry about Logan and what he might find. As soon as the men had ridden off Ailsa introduced Thea to her children who soon got over their shyness and began chattering so fast Thea could barely keep up with them.
Mary, Ailsa’s mother, was sequestered in a chair in the corner when they entered the cottage, the clack-clack of needles filling the air as she knitted.
“Ma, this is Thea. The one who’s visiting Logan?”
Mary’s creased face broke into a warm smile and she set aside her knitting and patted the chair next to her. Thea sat down and Mary took her hands in hers. Her skin was warm and dry, reminding Thea suddenly of Irene MacAskill.
“Ah! So ye are the one who has our Logan in such a spin, my dear! Come, let me take a look at ye!”
It was hard to pinpoint exactly how old Mary might be. Lines creased her face and the skin on the top of her hands was spotted with age but vitality still shone in her eyes, along with a fierce intelligence.