Page 6 of Scot of Deception
This explains it. Couldnae he have said so sooner?
The Farquharsons were good allies of the Stewart Clan, and it was no wonder they had been invited to the wedding. If Blaine had been sent as their representative, then that could only mean he was from a noble line—perhaps not an heir to the lairdship himself, but surely the son of someone important. Their lands were also close to the Mackintosh lands, and the only road leading from their keep to Clan Stewart passed through Mackintosh territory, so luck had brought them together at just the right time for him to save Kathleen from those savages.
“I’ve been tae the Farquharson lands,” Kathleen said, remembering her brief travels there with her father. It must have been a great occasion—another wedding, perhaps, or some sort of celebration which had required her presence. It had been a while since then and she couldn’t quite recall the purpose of her visit, but she could recall having a great time. “It’s a very bonnie place.”
“Och aye, that it is,” Blaine agreed. “When did ye visit? I imagine we would have met each other there.”
Kathleen thought so too, but she was certain she would remember a face like his. But Blaine seemed to be a good decade older than her by the looks of it, with the crow’s feet that appeared around his eyes when he smiled and the faint lines on his forehead. She doubted he would have given a young girl much attention. Had they met briefly back then?Had she not given her much attention either, too preoccupied with her peers to spare him a second thought?
“It must be over a decade now,” she said. “I was a very young lass back then.”
“I see,” said Blaine, nodding slowly as if to himself. “Then perhaps our paths never crossed.”
Perhaps it was better that way. Kathleen would rather Blaine know her as the woman she was now than the girl she had once been. She doubted she had even come of age when she had visited Clan Farquharson, while he had most likely been in his twenties.
“Dae ye ken me faither, then?” Kathleen asked. “Laird Mackintosh?”
“Aye, I ken him,” said Blaine. “I’ve met him afore.”
“An’ me cousins?”
“Nay, I cannae say that Ihave.”
“An’ Fenella?”
Blaine turned to look at her, dragging his gaze off the road slowly, the corners of his lips ticking up in amusement. “Nay,” he said. “Dae ye always ask so many questions?”
Heat creeped up Kathleen’s neck, all the way up to her face. She snapped her mouth shut and moved her gaze to the road, but Blaine only laughed softly.
“I didnae mean tae offend.”
“Nay offense taken,” Kathleen assured him.
And yet, as they rode together down the path, their horses side by side in a leisurely pace, she kept the rest of her thoughts to herself.
CHAPTER FOUR
Even for a seasoned rider like Kathleen, the seemingly endless hours of the journey wore her down before they reached the next town. They had passed several villages on their way but decided not to stop, as the day was still young and Kathleen wanted to reach Castle Stalker as soon as possible. Yet, after a long few hours of riding, they both needed a good rest—even if just for a short while.
Just off the path, they found a small clearing that seemed to have been used by other weary travelers, as there was a makeshift pit in the middle of it, just big enough for a fire. Kathleen followed Blaine there, the golden afternoon light falling on the trampled grass and the shrubs that surrounded the clearing, making their leaves glow.
It was an unusually bright day, and yet the chill still seeped through Kathleen’s clothes, all the way to her bones. As she sat by the roots of a large tree, Blaine quickly gathered somewood and lit a fire with the kind of speed and ease of someone who had done that very thing countless times before.
Kathleen couldn’t recall a single time when she had had to light her own fire. Whenever she was cold, there was always a maid or, if she was traveling, a guard or servant to light it for her.
Now, she watched Blaine through the flames as he sat at the other end of the pit, pulling out his blade. At first, she almost recoiled, wondering why he would need it, but then he began to sharpen it with slow, methodical movements, his rhythm almost hypnotizing. The entire time she watched him, he never once looked up, though Kathleen couldn’t tell if that was because he didn’t notice her or because he was simply ignoring her.
He was clearly a warrior and if she had learned anything from her cousins, it was that warriors had a sense for those around them. They knew when they were being watched, they knew when something was amiss.
So he’s simply ignorin’ me.
Kathleen was not particularly used to that. She was a social girl, someone who liked to talk—too much, according to her father. But Blaine, though sitting right next to her, seemed so distant that she didn’t even know how to begin to reach him.
With a sigh, she leaned her head back against the trunk of the tree, her gaze roaming around the clearing. Some of the bushes around them bore berries, but she didn’t know if they were edible. The fire crackled pleasantly. The birds flitted from branch to branch, twittering happily.
Then she noticed a tear in her cloak.
When her gaze fell on it, she cursed under her breath and thumbed it, frowning to herself. When had that happened? And where would she find thread to fix it?
