Page 39 of Tair

Lochran smelled the laird’s woman the moment she crossed the threshold to his tower room, and set aside the piece of wood he was carving.

“Go and fetch some calming brew and food,” he told Ninian, who opened the door and nodded to Lucy before he left.

“I need to talk to someone who doesn’t want to use me to make Tair happy,” she said as she came in and sat down in one of the chairs by the hearth. “Would you be willing, Night Watch?”

He had been hearing the undertones of desire in her voice and the laird’s since her arrival at Gealladh. He also suspected she knew most of what happened was staged to make her believe the clan were dangerous brutes who cared only for their own petty desires. Dorchad would have throttled him for not doing the same, but the fact that she had come to him weighed even more on his conscience, such as it was.

“I do wish you both happy,” Lochran told her as he made his way over and sat in the chair across from hers. “If ’tisnae together, then apart. ’Tis what troubles you, the prospect of leaving the laird?”

“No, this began before I came here,” Lucy said. “I’ve already been victimized by a man who just wanted to use me for what I could do for him. I can’t go through that again.”

She told him of her former lover, and how he had kept pursuing her even after she rejected him. Lochran heard the fear underlying the bluntness of her tone as she spoke of the terrible choice she had been forced to make to save her client as well as her own life. What startled him was how she believed everything she had been shown before making her choice.

Someone had deceived Lucy Brooke into believing they could show her the future.

“I don’t know if I can return home to my time,” she admitted. “Justin may still be waiting for me. I could end up getting my client and myself murdered. So I have to find the cluet and see if it will help me. It seemed to like me. As for Tair, if we fall in love...” She stopped and shook her head.

“You reckon the laird shall stop you if you attempt to leave our world,” Lochran guessed. “Or he shall go with you to yours.”

“Dorchad couldn’t figure that out, but you have in one go.” She sighed. “I think if I do what everyone wants, and give in to Tair, it will make things go from bad to worse. I really don’t know what he’ll do.” The door opened, and she said, “Your guy is here with some refreshments.”

After Ninian set a table between them and piled mugs of brew, and plates of fruit, cheese and bread on it, he bowed and left again, closing the door behind him.

“Eat and drink whilst I ponder your dilemma,” he chided. “I confess, I admire you for choosing to protect the laird by denying him his pleasures. ’Tisnae the usual fine lady’s ploy.”

Lucy sipped her drink. “I’m not really a lady, but thank you. Also, I’m rather sick of being called a wench.”

“You’re clean and well-spoken. You think of others before yourself. ’Tis the mark of a particular sort of female, and no’ a wench.” She was miserable, he suspected, and unable to find a path to the future she had already decided on that would not wound the laird. “I cannae predict what our lord shall do if you make to leave us. I ken what I would.”

“You know how possessive he is. If he loves me, he’ll try to stop me. Or he’ll follow me, and leave the clan behind. I know how close you are, and how much you need Tair to keep everyone in line.” The words rushed out of her as if wrenched from a wound. “I don’t know what to do anymore, Night Watch.”

There were other matters weighing on her, and Lochran sensed she had become overwhelmed with them as well as trying to save Tair and herself. The fact that she had come to him to ask his counsel demonstrated her noble, selfless character, and even if she didn’t realize it, her loving attachment to his brother.

“Go and speak direct to the laird,” Lochran finally said. “Tell him all you’ve said to me, and what you yet conceal in your heart. Ask him to help you forge your path from here. I vow he shall.”

“Or he’ll toss me back in the dungeons for good.” She leaned both elbows on the table, and he heard the soft rasp of her rubbing her hands against her sleeves. “It’s all or nothing, right? If I stay, if I go.”

He reached across the table and took hold of her slender hand. “We all agree the cluet brought you here to fulfill a wish. What if ’twas Tair who made it?”

Lucy went still, and then laughed softly and squeezed his fingers. “That never occurred to me. Thanks, Night Watch.”

Lochran smiled until she left. He then reached for her mug and drank down the rest of her brew, which had grown as cold as the back of his neck. Senga had called the spot his dread patch, a thing he’d inherited from Rune. She warned him that any chill he sensed there meant danger was coming.

“Come and clear this away,” he called out to his steward before he walked out to stand at the battlements.

Even blind as he was during the daylight hours, Lochran enjoyed the warmth of the sun on his face. It reminded him of the long days he’d spent as a lad working alongside his lady màthair Senga in the doocot, where she had taught him everything he’d need to someday take over as the keeper of the birds. The familiar, rather dusty scent of the doves and their nesting boxes would blend with the freshening herbs Senga strewed each morn.

Here the air smelled different, more of the loch, the gardens and the forest. When he walked through the passages during the day he could tell which clansmen stood guard and which MacRune passed by him simply by their body odor. The vassals all smelled of their labors, sweat and warmth, but he’d learned to tell each one by subtler nuances. Even in her unwashed state Garia ever smelled of her lover, Halley, who spent every night with her in his arms.

Lucy Brooke smelled of flowers and greenery, as if she always carried a nosegay in her hands. That was part of what had drawn Tair to her, but not all. She possessed the same strength of will as the laird, and the boldness to forge her own path even here.

“I pity you, my lord,” Lochran murmured as he lifted his face to enjoy the warmth of a sun he could never look upon, else he truly go blind. “And envy you, too.”

Chapter Ten

That afternoon Lucy walked down to the dock where Garia told her the laird kept his boats to meet Tair. The stained, shabby dress and apron the maid had given her to wear were two sizes too big and smelled faintly of sour milk, which annoyed her. The slippers she had borrowed from the maid were too wide for her narrow feet, and flopped a little with every step she took. She had to be careful not to tread on the hem of the too-long skirt, too. From the familiar sound of heavy trudging behind her she knew who was shadowing her, and glanced back to confirm her suspicion.

“Come here, Beinn MacRune.” Lucy waited as the big man lumbered up to her with a distinctly sheepish look on his unscarred face. “Why are you following me this time?”