Page 23 of The Highlander's Captured Bride
He grabbed her waist, lifted her hand and spun her, “We did it! We did it!” Not even caring that curious eyes were on them, Ethan had to celebrate. They had nay found the woman, but they had won half the battle.
Violet was giggling and her feet were kicking, “Let me down, let me down, I’m getting light-headed.”
Grinning, he let her down, but did not pull his hands from her waist. “Ye were right,” he said, eyes liberally taking in the emotions that chased across her face and her sparkling eyes. “Thank God ye were right.”
“I’m as surprised as ye are, to be truthful,” she murmured. “I never expected to—” she shook her head wryly then smiled. “At least we got clarity on this. Ye should tell yer faither, but leave me name out of it.”
“I willnae,” Ethan stressed. “This was all because of ye. Ye should be recognized for it.” Pausing, he added, “It’s because of yer faither, innit? Ye’re scared of how he would react.” He did not have to wait for her nod to plow on. “This is what I’ll dae, I’ll tell me faither everything, he can be trusted to keep our secret, but yer faither will only ken that ye and I went riding out.”
“I’d appreciate it,” she sighed, lashes fluttering as her body lost its rigidness and her head bowed a little.
His hand lifted, aiming to cup her face in his hands and feel the softness of her skin under his rough fingers but caught himself at the last moment and dug his hand into his hair instead. Pulling away, he forced himself to be calm, “I ken our duty for today is done. Let’s get home. I ken we have had enough action for today.”
Violets head cocked to the side and her eyes ran over his face in an assessing sweep, “Is something wrong?”
“Nay.”
Yes, there is, ye fool!
“I just…cannae fully believe that we found the woman. It’s going to take me a while to let it all settle in.” His words were a part lie and part truth, and he hoped she would hold onto the truth.
Nodding, they picked their way back to the tavern with a growing stiffness between them. Ethan felt he had upset her. Looking at her with fleeting glances, he did not see the distress on her face, but he felt it. By the time they arrived at the tavern and untied the horses, he felt the guilt began to settle on his chest like a cannonball.
She got on the horse with ease and he felt bereft that he was not able to help her. They rode out and took the road to Sellek, with the same uneasy quietness between them.
“Dae ye mind if we find that smithy to make sure that Davidh said he works at?” he asked, shooting looks to her. “And then we can stop for a while to eat? Are ye hungry?”
“I am,” she replied calmly.
He felt that she was drawing away, but he did not know what to do to get her back. Even when they arrived at Sellek, he was still stumped on how to bridge the divide between them. They took the cross street from the main and went to the near end and took a wide dirt track towards a brick structure with black smoke rising in rings from the chimney.
The acrid smell of burning iron and peat made his nose wrinkle in distaste. Sliding off his saddle, he glanced at Violet who was looking around with interest. The smell did not even seem to affect her. Then again, she had admitted to being around peat.
Sighing internally, he went to the door and thumped on the wooden door with iron hinges. He stepped away and pressed a hand to his nose. Hard thumps had him step away even more. The door was tugged in and warm air spewed out. A stocky man in a thick leather apron and gloves came to the door, wiping a smeared cloth over his sweating face.
Dark beady eyes squinted at the sunlight. “Can I ‘elp ye, lad?”
“Aye,” he said, “Does David O’Bachnon work here with ye?” Ethan asked.
“Who wants to ken?” the man asked warily.
“Ethan MacFerson, son of Laird MacFerson,” he said. “Mister O’Bachnon said this is where to find him if we need him.”
He could see the notions running through the man’s mind, that there would be business from the lairdship. “Aye, Master MacFerson, it is where he works. Good lad too, very canny and handy with all he does.”
Nodding, Ethan turned to look over his shoulder at Violet. “All right, if I need him, I’ll send for him. Good day to ye…?”
“Diarmid, sir,” he tucked the rag into a pocket on his apron. “Diarmid Black.”
Bowing his head, “Farewell, Mister Black.”
Going to his horse, he mounted it and nodding his last goodbye, he gestured for Violet to follow him and they rode off. “At least he spoke the truth. Let’s find a place to eat.”
“Somewhere with grass,” Violet said, “and under a tree.”
She sounded calm but Ethan was still apprehensive that he had put her off. She did not sound or act how he thought she felt. Riding off they came to a copse of trees away from the road. The overarching limbs of the trees were interlocking with each other and covered a spate of thick grass.
“I ken we can stay here for a while,” Ethan
