Page 110 of Sighs of the Highland Wind
“I-I’m sorry,” Norah gasped, shaking her head. “Did I do something wrong?”
Tearlach shook his head, smiling at her fondly. “No, love, nothin’,” he replied. “The fault is no’ yours. I was afraid that I would never be able to stop if I didnae tear myself away. Ye have nae idea the strength of a man's passion sometimes. Especially this man.” He gazed at her pleadingly, begging her to understand.
Norah was hurt at having been pushed away, feeling rejected again. So much for her dreams of being married to Tearlach, having children with him and growing old together. They were nothing but foolish fantasies, and the need he had for her was only for the fulfillment of his bodily needs. She nodded slowly and turned away again, trying to turn her mind to practical matters.
“I must cook you something,” she said tonelessly. “You must be starving. Sit down and rest for a while.”
“Do you need any help?” he asked, suddenly restless. He needed to be useful, since he did not want to be even more of a liability than he had already been.
“Thank you, no,” Norah replied, coolly. “I can manage on my own, thank you.”
In his present frame of mind, her answer sounded to him like a rebuke, but he did as he had been bidden and sat down where he had a good view of her. He watched the effortless, capable wayshe did things with admiration. Norah had been brought up a gentlewoman, and this kind of work was completely outside her realm of experience, yet she was handling it with ease, as if she had been doing it all her life.
When she had chopped the meat and vegetables, she fried them in lard, adding herbs and salt as she went along, then she poured some stock on them and left the mixture to cook.
In the meantime, despite Norah refusing his help, Tearlach had made himself useful by bringing in logs from the woodpile outside to stack beside the fire. Despite herself, Norah admired the play of the bulging muscles in his arms as she remembered the feeling of safety they had given her.
While she was waiting for the stew to cook, Norah kept herself busy around the cottage. She began to sweep the dirty straw off the floor then went to fetch clean dry straw to scatter on the ground, then she began to dust all the shelves on which their food was kept. Lastly, she emptied the bucket with all their household rubbish in it into the midden outside.
She had done everything she could to avoid speaking to or looking at Tearlach, because she did not want to engage him in conversation again, for that might lead to more kissing, and she was not sure if she could resist him a second time.
Suddenly Tearlach could stand the awkward silence no longer. “Norah - dae ye accept my apology?” he asked desperately. “I cannot leave ye knowin’ that ye hate me. I know that what I did was stupid, an’ I must go back an’ make amends to my family, somehow, but I have to know if ye can forgive me.”
Norah sighed and passed a hand over her eyes. “Tearlach, the past has come and gone and we cannot change it. I am sorry too,but all we can do now is go forward. You cannot go back to your family because it would put them in danger, and you cannot stay here for the same reason.” She paused, gathering her thoughts, then looked up at him.
“It makes no difference whether I forgive you or not, Tearlach. I don’t matter here. Your family does. You should be asking them for forgiveness, but you can’t.” Then, abruptly, she changed the subject. “Go and wash before we eat.” She took a rough piece of thick linen from the shelf and threw it at him. “Dry yourself with this, and make sure nobody sees you.” Then she turned her back on him again.
Tearlach looked at her with a mixture of helplessness and indignation for a moment, then left. He cautiously crept down to the water, stripped off his clothes, and waded into it, washed every part of himself, and ducked his head under the loch’s freezing surface. He had often washed in cold water before, but had never immersed himself in it, yet he reveled in the icy, painful burn, as if he was punishing himself for his sins as a flagellant would with a whip. He deserved the discomfort. He deserved that and much more, he thought, for being the kind of loathsome creature that he was.
At last, he climbed out of the loch and dried himself with the scratchy linen towel, then headed back to the cottage. He was still shivering when he arrived to find that Caitrin had joined them again.
Her old, seamed face broke into a wide smile when she saw him. “What have ye been doin’?” she asked in disbelief. “Tryin’ tae drown yourself?”
“Bathin’ in the loch,” he replied, trying to keep still, even though his teeth were chattering and gooseflesh had erupted all over his skin.
“I dinnae usually put my whole self in at one time,” Caitrin chuckled. She whipped the towel out of his hand, pushed him inside the cottage, then unceremoniously shoved him into a seat by the fire and began to vigorously towel dry his hair.
Tearlach gave a token cry of protest then gave up the fight and allowed his thick mop of hair to be thoroughly tossed and tousled so hard that not a drop of extra moisture would have dared to stay in it. When Caitrin had finished, she fetched a bone comb and began to tug it through the knots in his hair left by her previous ministrations. It was so painful that Tearlach had to grit his teeth to keep from crying out, but he endured it, then sighed with relief when she had finished.
“Well, ye look much better, if I say so myself!” Caitrin observed, smiling in satisfaction as she stood back to admire her handiwork. “Does he not, Norah?”
Norah looked up briefly. “Yes. Much better,” she said, her voice completely devoid of feeling.
Caitrin frowned and wondered what had happened while she had been away. She noticed that Tearlach was still shivering and dropped a blanket over his shoulders to warm him up, then she went to bring the bowls of stew to the table.
“The village is still full o’ talk of the redcoats,” Caitrin told them. “But it seems they have got tired o’ this place an’ gone to bother somebody else. I hope they dinnae come back!” Her voice was a growl.
“It is the most excitement there has been here for a long time,” Norah observed. “But we could do without that kind of fuss and bother. Everybody was scared to death.”
If her words were meant to make Tearlach feel guilty, they succeeded. “I have caused enough trouble for both o’ ye,” he said firmly. “I will leave as soon as it’s fully dark.”
“Don’t be stupid,” Norah snapped. “You would never be able to cover any distance on foot. There might be a moon, but it’s still too dark to see more than a few yards ahead of yourself.”
“I will leave at dawn, then,” Tearlach suggested. “I have nae wish to cause ye any more trouble, Mistress Caitrin. Ye have been much kinder to me than I deserve, an’ every minute I stay here means more danger for you.”
Caitrin flicked a frowning look at Norah before turning to Tearlach again. “Ye are welcome to stay as long as ye need, Tearlach,” she said earnestly. “You are a true Scot an’ I will dae whatever I can for ye. Anyway, it is a pleasure tae have a man about the house again. It feels more homely.”
Tearlach smiled warmly and put his hand over hers on the table. “Thank ye, sweet lady, but I cannae do that. If I am found it is no’ only me they will punish, but you too. I will leave an’ you will both be safe again.”
