Page 42 of The Highlander's Alluring Spy
Magnolia blinked a few times. “Er…how do I leave my Englishness outside, exactly?” she asked in a low voice.
Nathair laughed, a hearty laugh that he felt in his chest. He felt a lightness that he hadn’t in a long time, even while he worried about the coming winter.
From yer new friendship, nae doubt. And nothin’ else.
The two of them followed Ewan inside. The hut was tiny. A small bed sat in one corner with a thin blanket. In the center of the room was a little table with some chairs haphazardly arranged around it. There were some cabinets and a box for his clothes, an empty fireplace, and a grubby window.
A basket of food sat on the table. Nathair knew that the locals kept Ewan fed, bringing him something every day. It relieved him; the old man couldn’t take care of himself and was too stubborn to accept any further help.
Ewan felt his way to the table and sat down in one of the rickety old chairs. Magnolia and Nathair followed suit.
“So, Miss English Nanny. Dae ye have a name?” Ewan asked, turning his head blindly in her direction.
Magnolia looked briefly alarmed, but she simply nodded. “Yes, I’m…my name is Magnolia, sir.”
“Hmph. Very fancy-like. Proper English. Dae ye got another one?” the old man demanded, folding his arms over his chest.
“Mr. McLeod, please,” Nathair said gently, trying to remind the man of his manners.
“It’s all right. Elaine and Bernie Reid call me Maggie. You’re welcome to as well if you find it more palatable,” Magnolia said. “Do you live here alone, Mr. McLeod? Is there anything you would like us to bring you?”
Ewan’s face unfurled into a toothy grin. “Och, aye, och, aye, I ken it now. Ye might be English, but ye’ve got a big Scots heart beatin’ in that chest. Nae wonder he’s smitten.”
“Magnolia is me daughter’s nanny, Mr. McLeod,” Nathair reminded him gently, though he had to admit a particular pleasure at the slight blush on Magnolia’s cheeks.
“Och, lie to yer castle staff, lie to each other, lie to yerself if ye must, but dinnae waste yer breath lying to me, Beithir. I’ve kent yer family since me an’ yer Grandfaither were lads. I ken when a lad is smitten.” The old man harrumphed and tapped his forehead. “Or dae ye think because I’ve shriveled away yonder, I’ve forgotten a’ about the needs o’ man?”
Magnolia was determinedly looking away, now, and Nathair couldn’t tell if he felt more embarrassed or amused at Ewan’s insistence. For her sake, he pressed on rather than arguing further and allowing the hermit to dig his heels in further.
“We came to talk about the winter, Mr. McLeod. It’s comin’ harsh this year, and we’re runnin’ low on supplies. I ken the clan listens to ye near as much or even more than they listen to me. Have ye heard anythin’?” he asked.
“Are we to starve to death, then?” Ewan asked, sounding supremely unconcerned by the prospect. “Nay. The young’uns willnae allow it. Dinnae ye worry yerself, lad.Chan eil tuil air nach tig traoghadh.”
‘There’s nae flood that willnae subside’. If only I could be tha’ positive.
“What’s that?” Magnolia asked. “Was that Gaelic?”
Ewan turned his blind eyes to her once more. “Aye, that it be, lass. Maggie, was it?”
“Yes, sir,” she said.
“Maggie, tell me true. Dae ye care for wee Beithir?” Ewan asked her. “I willnae talk more until ye answer.”
Nathair’s heart thudded, and he turned to see her reaction. She simply smiled and said, “Of course I do. He is a good employer, a great Laird, and an increasingly dear friend.”
“Aye, and ye’re a diplomat,” Ewan laughed, clapping his hands together. “And his bairn? Elaine?”
“What o’ Elaine?” Nathair asked him.
“I care for Elaine very much, too,” Magnolia said, and Nathair’s breath stuttered at the pure honesty in her statement. “She is a brilliant child, good and kind and pure. I would do anything to keep her safe and happy. Just the same as how Nathair would do for her and for his people.”
That seemed to be the right answer to whatever strange game Ewan was playing with her. “Right, then. Let me tell ye somethin’, Maggie. When the winter comes, I’ll be the first among the deid.”
Magnolia was already shaking her head before he finished speaking. “Nonsense. Nonsense. Nobody needs to die. We will find a solution—”
“Has His Lairdship telt ye how bad things are? How bad they really are, I mean?” Ewan leaned across the table, and Nathair felt a tight discomfort in his stomach. He knew Greta Reid had told her some of it, but he had the feeling Ewan would not be so gentle.
“Tell me, then,” Magnolia said, looking the old man full in the face.
