by Madelyn Hill
“A helpful lass, you are.”
Helpful? Anger filled her. ‘Twas how folk viewed her, but there was so much more to her. And she never had the chance to show people. The men saw her as one of their own and the women tended to shy away from her. Mal always said it was because she was so beautiful the women were jealous, but she doubted it. There were many just as pretty as she was, more so. The new lady of the keep, for one.
She ignored Cam, hooked the bucket on the rope, and cranked until it dipped into the water. Mayhap she should gather two buckets. With the state of the clan and Gordon’s unexpected arrival and quick departure, one never kenned if more excitement was on its way.
She set the bucket to the side and headed toward the kitchen in search of another, finding one that would suit.
“Una, could you bring food for Auld Helen?”
Una grinned and waved from across the kitchen. “After I’ve seen to the midday meal.”
“Enough for a few days, if you’d please.”
The cook smiled. “‘Tis kind you are, Fiona.”
Heat flushed her cheeks. ‘Twas no bother to her. The woman had been like a grandmother to her and she loved her fiercely.
Just as she had a soft spot for many of the elderly in the clan. When she was a lass, she’d follow the older folk about the keep. Her mother was forever looking for her and more often than not, Fiona was tucked on the lap of one of the elder women, listening to a story. How she loved the slight, aged timber of their voices, their enthusiasm, how much pleasure it seemed to give them to share with her. When she’d look up at them, their wrinkled faces would brighten and they’d laugh and chat with her. It warmed her to think of it and she renewed her pledge not to let them go without.
After she gathered the buckets of water, she strode to Helen’s crofter. And stopped short.
“What the devil are you doing?”
Cam halted his axe mid-swing. Sweat glistened on his brow and dampened his liene. Her mouth gaped before she could stop herself.
A slow smile creased his face. “Chopping wood, lass.”
The water sloshed over the side of the bucket, wetting her skirt. She plunked them down and crossed her arms before her chest. “‘Tis my duty, not yours.”
“I wished to help.” He wiped the glistening sweat from his brow. Och, how his intense inspection vexed her as he trailed his gaze from her dusty shoes to her face. His smile widened. ‘Twas disarming how his dimples made him so charming and handsome when she wanted to loathe him.
She was at a loss of what to say as the low morning sun haloed his form. Tall, strong, aye he had a way about him, with his broad forehead and straight nose. His mouth often curved into a wide grin.
As he continued to assault the wood, Fiona stared, thinking if she glared at him long enough he’d vanish.
But the longer she kept an eye on him, the more she was reminded of their youth, when they raced the horses wildly across the glen. Mal was more competitive and would ride his steed into the ground to beat them. Cam would graciously lose, usually blaming his horse or that he’d eaten too much when he broke his fast, thus riding slower.
Many a time Cam would hang back as if watching over her, while Mal would dash into the distance without a backward glance. Then a warrior yell, sounding throughout the glen, would startle birds into flight.
“Head inside, Fiona,” Cam now said. “I’ll finish here.”
Gathering her wits, she walked around him, maintaining a wide berth. The woodpile was quickly replenished, but the man kept chopping.
“Where next?” he called just before she entered the crofter.
“Auld David, and after, to see Millie.” Then she realized what she’d revealed. Her restless sleep had weakened her. “Nay—”
Cam sent her a warning glance that held a bit of fire. Usually an easygoing man, the ire surprised her. “I’ll finish what I started.”
She huffed a sigh and entered Helen’s crofter.
“He’s a braw lad, Fiona. You should think about him, no’ our laird.”
She fisted her hands impotently. “Why does everyone need to speak on whom I should think about? The man is merely helping with the wood. ‘Tisn’t a proposal of marriage.”
Blast it, Helen’s words festered. She wanted to storm outside and yell at Cam for interfering with her duties once again. ‘Twas all she had and she didn’t need help.
The dear woman wagged her finger and shook her head as if Fiona had not a wee bit of sense. “Lass, you’ve a lot to learn about lads.”
While Helen had experience, she didn’t ken how Cam made her feel when he took it upon himself to complete her duties. As if Fiona failed at yet another thing. The inability to make Malcolm see she was the wife for him ate at her pride. And now a man, who thought she needed help aiding those she cared for nearly every day, was making matters worse.
“Wet the tea and sit a while,” Helen said.
Fiona held a sigh. It wouldn’t hurt to have tea with Helen. The woman had done so much for her. She ensured the door was open, stoked the fire, then set the water buckets in a safe area, lest Helen trip on them again. After she hung the kettle on the hook near the fire, she gathered some biscuits and set them on the small table.
The thunk of the axe outside seemed to echo in the small crofter, reminding her Cam was still completing her chores. She bristled, determined to ignore him.
“Now, my Andrew was a strong lad,” Helen started. “And such a handsome man. Och, the lasses chased after him well into our marriage.”
Fiona snorted. ‘Twas the way of it when there was a handsome man about. “How did you keep them away?”
Helen cackled with laughter. “Weel, with one particular lass, I slapped her face and told her I’d do worse if she dared approach my husband again.”
Fiona chuckled, finding it easy to imagine the woman doing such.
“But it didn’t matter, you ken. I kept my man happy at home.” She wiggled her brows. “If you ken what I mean.”
Heat flushed her face. “Aye, Helen. I ken.”
At times she wondered if she could make a man happy. She might not admit it to others, but Fiona knew of her own contrary and wee bit stubborn nature. Grumpy, was what Malcolm used to say. If he’d only shared her love, she’d never be grumpy again.
“Now, lass. Tell me how we’re going to find you a husband.”
“What?” Fiona abruptly stood. Panic tightened her chest. “I’m not looking for a husband.” Now that Mal was wed, there was no other upon which she’d pin her hopes and heart.
“Since the laird is happily wed,” Helen shrugged, “you must be looking elsewhere.”
Narrowing her gaze, Fiona attempted to determine if the woman was trying to vex her or merely curious. The way she inclined her head to the side as she stirred honey into her tea made Fiona think ‘twas only curiosity. But there was a hint of a twinkle in Helen’s rheumy gaze. She’d a mischievous sense of humor and when she was younger, Fiona recalled the auld woman playing pranks on her dear friends.
Instead of chastising, Fiona furrowed her brow. “I must see to the others.”
Helen chuckled, a mix of rusty laughter and cragged cough. “You can run from me, lass, but you can’t run from yourself.” She coughed again.
“Be sure to add honey to your tea,” Fiona urged as she crossed the threshold. “And if your cough worsens, let me ken.”
The woman nodded, but still had a full grin on her face. ‘Twould be more mischief from that one, Fiona knew.
Och, the fireplace. As she left the crofter she searched for Cam. He must have tired of cutting wood. Thank God. She found a ladder and dragged it to Helen’s home.
After she leaned against the crofter, she slowly made her way up and peered in the chimney. She’d need a broom.
>
As she started to descend, the ladder slipped. “Och,” she cried as she felt herself fall.
“Watch yourself,” Cam said as he caught her.
His strong hands steadied her, wrapped around her, held her tight.
Her skin burned from his touch and her heart ratcheted within her chest.
“What the devil, lass? You could have hurt yourself.” He held on to her as if he never wanted to let go. His gaze searched her face. “Are you well?”
Her breath caught in her throat. He’d saved her life. Dear God, she hated to think what would have happened if he wasn’t there.
“Well?”
“Thank you,” she mumbled as her heart settled and stopped pounding against her chest.
He chuckled. “‘Tis all you can say?”
Heat infused her as his strong arms tightened around her. She tried to tear her gaze from his dark eyes, but couldn’t. They pulled her in with a mix of browns and golds. “You can set me down.” Even though she didn’t want him to. For the first time in a long while, she felt safe.
He ignored her demand and brought her into Helen’s crofter. Then coughed. “I will look at the chimney.”
“I can do it.”
His brow lifted. “Aye, I saw how you took care of the chimney.”
The nerve of the man. “Let me go.”
“Lass, are you all right?” Helen asked as she stood and offered the chair.
Cam set her down. “She slipped off the ladder.”
Her hand flew to her mouth. “Och, lass.” She hobbled over to peer at Fiona. “You should have let the lads take care of it.”
“I can do what any lad can.”
Helen smoothed Fiona’s hair from her face. “I ken. But sometimes we have to let them manage the hard work so they ken they’re needed.”
Fiona cast her eyes heavenward. “Aye, Helen.” Although she didn’t believe it. When had she needed a man to help her? Every day, she set out and did what was required for the elders. Chopping wood, cooking meals, wetting tea. There was nothing she wouldn’t do for them.
Cam chuckled. “She thinks she can do it all by herself.”
Helen swatted Cam. “Aye, she’s a strong-minded lass.”
“I ken.”
“I’m sitting right here!”
They laughed.
“Right you are, Fiona. Stay a bit and let Cam fix the chimney.”
Cam eyed her, his gaze unreadable. “I’ll be back in a thrice.”
She sighed when he left. The man befuddled her and there was a certain discomfort when he was near. ‘Twas as if she’d become aware of every breath he took, where his gaze led, and what he was about to say.
‘Twas foolish, she kenned, especially since he was so bothersome. Truly, she’d do well to stay away from him.
“Now lass, he’s a fine man. A fine man, indeed.” Helen tutted as she poured some tea. “If only I were a wee bit younger, I’d set my cap for him and you’d be on his mind no more.”
“He has no interest in me.” Fiona kept an eye on the door, waiting for it to open, for Cam to enter and say the chimney was fixed.
“No interest, aye? The lad didn’t take his eyes from you. When he carried you in here, I thought he was about to ravish you, lass.”
“Ravish?” Fiona tried to ignore the squeak in her voice. The woman was losing her mind. Cam was . . . Cam. He had no care for her except to chastise her whenever possible.
The woman grinned. “Aye, when a man has the look of hunger in his eyes, there’s only one way to sate it.”
“By eating, I assume,” she retorted wryly.
Helen laughed and slapped the table. Tea cups rattled against saucers and tea dribbled over the rims. “Och, lass. You’re witty.”
“So I’ve been told.” Truly the woman must be a bit addled today. Why would she think Cam wanted to ravish her? All he did was save her when she could have been hurt—or worse. He was doing his duty as a clan warrior. He’d do it for anyone who was about to fall to their death.
“Now, you need to let him tend to you, lass. Men like to be needed as I said. It makes them feel manly. And if you’ve a chance, a wee kiss will encourage the lad.”
A kiss? “You’re mad.”
A soft chuckle eased from the auld woman. “Nay, lass. You’re mad if you don’t want to kiss a lad such as our Cam. He’s a fine, fine man.”
Heat rushed over her cheeks. Kiss Cam? Nay. ‘Twould be foolish to even think he’d want to kiss her.
The door eased open. “‘Tis finished, Helen.”
Fiona glanced about the small crofter and saw the smoke was clearing as the fire drew properly in the fireplace.
“Thank you, Cameron. ‘Tis glad I am you saved our fair Fiona and fixed me chimney.”
Had he heard what Helen said? Fiona searched his face. Those dark eyes returned her stare, but otherwise didn’t reveal anything.
He bowed. “‘Tis my pleasure, m’lady.”
“Och, go on with you.”
Fiona grinned as Helen blushed and tittered like a young lass.
She stood. “I’m off to visit David.”
“Fiona, stay a while.” Helen patted the table. “We’ve more to chat about.” Her gaze flitted back and forth between Cam and herself.
She’d just bet Helen wanted to chat. More likely, the auld woman plotted to play matchmaker.
Helen sweetened her smile. “Cam, would you like some tea?”
“No, he doesn’t,” Fiona said as she stood.
His jaw flexed and his black brows pitched downward. He rubbed the back of his neck, yet kept his keen gaze on her. “Don’t I?” he challenged. “Seems I’ve a mind for some tea. Do you have any biscuits, Helen?”
Helen clapped her hands. “Aye. Fiona, fetch the biscuits.”
Fetch the biscuits? The woman was determined. She sighed and looked for the biscuits. A quick peek over her shoulder revealed Cam watching her yet again with a bemused grin on his face.
Och, the man—he had no right to stare at her so. His eyes darkened and his mouth quirked up at the corner. His arrogant gaze revealed enjoyment of her discomfort.
She set the biscuits on the table. “I’ve wood to stack and then I’m off to see David.”
“Fiona.” Cam’s tone held a warning.
“I’ve duties, Cam. I don’t have time for biscuits and tea.”
He leaned back onto the chair and crossed his arms before his chest. His dark gaze never left her and guilt shifted up her spine. Aye, she was being a boor. But the man—and Helen, too—pushed her to something she didn’t want. Truly feel something she didn’t want. Cam wasn’t the man for her.
“I’m going to finish stacking the wood.” If Cam and Helen spoke of her, she’d hear it and be able to put a stop to it.
Outside Helen’s crofter, Fiona grabbed one piece of wood after the other. Stacking them neatly, she was nearly finished when she turned and saw Cam leaning against the doorjamb. He straightened and strode to her with a cocky grin on his face, then held out his hand. She stared as if she didn’t ken what he wanted. In truth, she didn’t.
“I’ll finish the wood.”
She frowned and pulled back the piece of wood, cradling it as if holding the sweetest bairn. “No need. Go and train. Play with your sword.”
Another step forward and he was close enough to touch. Heat rushed to the spot where his strong forearm brushed against hers. She swallowed and glanced up at him. Tight lines bracketed his broad mouth. She took in the man, the sharp angles of his face, those dark eyes and even darker hair. A lock slipped onto his forehead and he blew it aside.
“Play with my sword, you say?” His husky voice swept over her and nearly curled her toes as she waited for him to say more.
He dragged his finger along her jaw. She flinched, not because she didn’t want him to touch her, but because the gentleness surprised her. His eyes narrowed, but before he moved away, she tossed the wood to the ground and gripped his hand.
“Aye, Fiona?” he said as he lifted his brow. The expectation filling his gaze worried her.
She loosened her grip. “I . . . I don’t ken.”
He laughed. Och, ‘twas a sound which wrought grand memories—warm and familiar—of childhood times. Easier times when there wasn’t a rift between her and Mal.
She shook her head. “Nothing.”
Though he gave a brief nod, she didn’t miss the disappointment that flashed in his gaze and tightened his mouth. Her stomach clenched and guilt filled her once again.
“I’ll finish here. Go and see Auld David.”
His tone was flat and she kenned she’d hurt him. She opened her mouth to say something, offer an apology—anything. But nothing came to mind.
He bent and picked up the wood she’d tossed aside. Then he stacked it and began setting the other pieces.
“Well? Don’t you have duties?” His sarcasm wasn’t lost on her.
With a sigh Fiona headed to Auld David’s crofter.
Chapter 3
He’d give her a few minutes and then bring the wood to the rest of the crofters. Fiona took on too much and rarely, if ever, asked for help. ‘Twas a kindness in her others didn’t see as often as he’d like. Aye, she could be fierce, but mostly because she was loyal to the core and defended others when the need arose.
Cam glanced at the thatched roof, glad the chimney was clear and Fiona hadn’t broken her neck in order to fix it. While she and Helen were talking, their conversation eased up the chimney and reached him. He’d heard their patter—all of it. Their discussion had made him smile. Fiona had a way with the elders; ‘twas endearing. And he couldn’t help but fall a bit in love with dear Helen for championing his cause.