Page 49 of The Highlander's Fake Wife
Arthur’s family continued to offer their good wishes as he started for their horses. He offered a hand Olivia’s way, helping her up onto Airgiod’s saddle while he went for Òr. “Ye ready fer this selkie?”
She wasn’t entirely certain, but Olivia nodded regardless.
25
The journey would take a total of two days, so long as Arthur could keep their pace fairly consistent. Olivia didn’t seem against riding for long periods of time, and Arthur took full advantage of that, stopping only to water the horses or partake in a quick bite to eat.
If anything, his selkie seemed to thoroughly enjoy passing by the scenery at such a quick pace; wide swatches of sandy beaches began to dip back into the sea, forcing the pair up the cliffsides that grew more and more sheer with each passing hour. Eventually, the coast all but vanished beneath the trees, and those trees soon broke out into expansive moorlands filled with rolling hills racing to climb the highest into the sky. A different sort of chill filled the air, one that tasted fresher and far more crisp than the familiar salt and humidity of the sea, and Arthur took note of Olivia’s shivering form.
“Did ye sleep yer way throughout wintertime, lass?” he teased. “I daenae think I’ve ever seen a highlander so poorly made fer the cold.”
Olivia shot him a playful scowl, snapping her reins as she raced ahead of him, Maesie and the pup close on her heel. Bellowing laughter escaped Arthur’s chest as he urged Òr on as well, and the afternoon was spent trying to win the unspoken race between the pair. It came to an end once the moon’s sliver appeared in the darkened sky, both breathless and bantering as to who had been the proper victor.
Eventually, a proper fire was built and pushed the nighttime aside, Maesie and the pup happily chewing away on the bones and meat scraps of whatever beast Arthur had found running around the moors. He gave the skewer a quick turn, watching Olivia as she worked to strip leaves off of a few handfuls of heather flowers she’d managed to locate. “Ye really do ken yer way around the wilds,” he marveled softly.
“Och, nay,” Olivia chuckled lightly, setting the stems aside and sprinkling the leaves and petals into a small, bubbling pop set into the coals. “I daenae think I would last very long on wild teas.” Her soft smile flickered against the firelight, hand tucking her own blazing hair behind her ears as she glanced around the campsite, as if seeking for conversation. “So…me maither seems to have taken a shine to ye.”
“Aye,” Arthur agreed. “We…talked a bit last night, before she came into ye room.”
Olivia nodded, grasping a strand of hair once more before braiding it unconsciously. Arthur desperately wanted to offer his services, but things still felt off between them. There wasn’t much chance to converse while riding, but now, with the quiet of the night crowding around them…it was impossible not to think back on it.
“She thinks I’ll be quite the husband,” Arthur continued. “Promising not to leave ye a widow, an’ all.”
Olivia visibly grimaced.
“I understand why ye insisted we dinnae fib,” Arthur chuckled awkwardly. “The way yer maither looked at me–’twas like I offered her paradise itself!”
“You did, in a way,” Olivia said softly, fingers still weaving her hair. “Maither’s always been worried fer me future, but especially now with me braither an’ faither gone. She wants me protected once she’s gone, and…” her voice trailed away, waving a hand in Arthur’s general direction.
Arthur let out a quick breath. “I’m sorry, selkie.”
“Nay, let’s–” Olivia’s breath hitched, braid abandoned as she shook her head. “Let’s leave the subject in the past. I daenae wish to appear upset when I meet yer companions.”
Fair enough.
“It’s…Laird and Lady Marsden, aye?”
Arthur nodded, pulling the meat from the fire and testing the skin lightly. “Rose is who the celebration is for.”
“Wee Rosie, yes!” Olivia grinned, giving her pot of steeping heather a quick stir. “Flora’s gone on and on about her–aye, Arthur, she sounds like such a sweet lass.”
“She is,” Arthur agreed. “A bit of a spitfire, though. Daenae be tricked by her gentle gaze; she uses it to get what she wants out of adults.”
“Ooh, I’d give her whatever she wanted regardless,” Olivia giggled. “It has been a long time since I saw one her age; ’twill be a nice change of pace.”
Arthur began to strip bits of meat for their meal, offering Olivia a portion as he let the nagging thought in the back of his mind come out. “Did ye nae leave yer keep often, Olivia? Ye seem well-versed in some aspects o’survival an’ combat, but in other areas…”
“I seem completely lacking?” Another chuckle came from Olivia, though it sounded more lifeless than before. “Aye, well…Faither wanted to ensure the MacCulloh’s future was secure. I needed to remain safe, familiar wit business o’the keep. Foraging, archery–I had to beg to learn those things.” She nodded slightly, ladling the freshly-brewed heather tea into travel mugs and handing one to Arthur. “Yer wee selkie tended to stay in the shallows. Seeingthe coast, the moorlands–’tis all brand new to me. Maesie still startles me at times,” she added, grinning sheepishly.
Arthur considered her words carefully, realizing just how much danger the poor woman was in that first night he’d found her. If their paths hadn’t crossed, would she have gotten completely lost? Would she have starved? And, God forbid someone with ill-intent had discovered her…? “When this is all over, did ye maybe…” he paused, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I mean, Nathan said we had quite a few spare pups this breeding season. If ye like Maesie so much–I mean, I could show ye how to keep yer own hound trained properly.”
Olivia’s eyes immediately lit up at the proposal. “Ye really mean it?”
Arthur nodded curtly. “Ye’ll still be within me territory once we part ways. That makes ye me responsibility, and I ensure me kinfolk are safe.”
Olivia’s smile softened, and she stared down at her steaming cup of tea. “That’s nay an excuse to simply visit after our ‘betrothal’ is finished…is it?”
Maybe it was. A little bit.
