Page 1 of Married to the Icy Highlander
1
“Ifear that I will never get the scent off me hands.” Ceana tried and tried to scrub the scent of peat and citrus from her hands, but it was everywhere. “The more time I spend over those vats, the more the scent of whiskey seems to fuse to me skin.”
Blaine, her lifelong friend, looked at her from where he sat at the front of the single-horse cart taking her back home. She had just finished delivering one of the largest batches of whiskey that her family had ever sold.
Laird MacTristan was a regular customer, but they had seldom delivered such large quantities to the castle. Ceana thought that it was likely due to the man accompanying her home that she had been given such a boon. Befriending the Laird’s brother certainly did come with perks.
“I dinnae ken why ye think that’s a bad thing, Ceana.” Blaine laughed as they drove into the village.
With the fat coin purse in her pocket, the gentle rocking of the cart… Despite her half-hearted complaints, Ceana was in a bright mood.
The past year had been nothing short of a trial for her. It took her months to learn how to run the distillery on her own. It was not as if her mother and her younger brother, Peter, did not help in every way they could, but she was happy to shoulder this burden on her own.
She was of the humble opinion that she was doing a fine job of it.
“It may nae be a bad thing, but a lass hardly wants to smell like a warrior’s favorite drink now, does she?” she said with a laugh as they pulled onto the long dirt road that led to her family’s small cottage.
“I suppose nae,” Blaine conceded. “But smellin’ like a warrior’s favorite drink is bound to secure ye any husband ye choose.”
Ceana sighed. “Subtle.”
Blaine tried to hide his guilty expression, and failed.
“Did me maither put ye up to this? She’s been askin’ when I am goin’ to get married for a month now. She couldnae get an answer, and now she sends ye? I have half a mind to push ye off this cart and into the mud!” she threatened as she playfully bumped his shoulder with hers.
Blaine laughed and had the decency to at least pretend to flinch away from her as he pulled on the reins to slow his horse. “Maybe she did! I dinnae ken! I am innocent!”
“Since when do ye care whether I am married or nae?” She eyed him suspiciously.
“Since yer maither bribed me with one of her sugar pies,” Blaine admitted, flinching even harder as Ceana giggled and hit him in the arm.
“Terrible!” She jumped off the cart before it had even stopped rolling, not caring how muddy her skirts were going to be as a result.
“Wait! Wait, Ceana!” Blaine called after her, stopping the cart and leaning over, his elbows resting on his knees. “I do mean to help ye look after yer family, ye ken?”
Ceana softened, her hands dropping to her sides as she nodded. “Ye have been a great help, Blaine. And a great friend, for that matter.”
“But is there anything else I can do to help ye? I wish to. I ken ye dinnae like to ask for help… but it isnae always a bad thing.”
“I ken.” Ceana waved a hand dismissively. “Dinnae fash, Blaine. I am perfectly capable.”
She turned on her heel and strolled toward the cottage before he could see the look on her face. He called after her, but she could not focus on his words when her blood was pounding in her ears.
So long as she didn’t face her problems, she was all right.
So long as she did not think about how much her feet hurt, or how tired she was, or the aches and pains… Or her mother’s worry and diminishing appetite, or the way her dresses were now so loose on her naturally petite frame, or the fact that she had smaller portions at supper…
Her mother may not think that anyone noticed, but Ceana certainly did.
No, she couldn’t focus on those things, or else she wouldn’t be able to keep going.
If she stopped… she was terrified to think of what might happen to her family. Her mother and brother were her whole world. She couldn’t let them down. She wouldn’t.
“Maither! Peter! I’m home!”
Ceana unlatched the door and stepped inside, only to see a snagged hole in the sleeve of her dress. She only had two. Muttering a soft stream of curses, she started to look for her embroidery tools to patch up the hole in her sleeve.
That was going to take time out of her day that she simply could not afford to waste, but what other choice did she have?
