Page 46 of Highland Flame

“Does Lord Rook have a nice faither like mine?” asked Avianca, making Cam feel awful now for ever having suggested that the monk find her a good home. Yvaine was right. The girl was his responsibility, no matter if he liked it or not.

“Lord Rook’s father is the King of England,” the monk explained. “Since the king ordered his triplet sons killed at birth, I wouldn’t call him nice. I would say your father is much nicer than Lord Rook’s, my dear.”

Cam kept thinking of his situation with Avianca. Was it right to bring the little girl back to the clan, when Cam wasn’t even married? After all, she wasn’t just his child, but also the child of a common whore. Perhaps the clan wouldn’t accept that. Or it would be too inconvenient for everyone to tend to her when he went out fighting. Since she’d already lost her mother, would Avianca be able to accept it if he died on the battlefield, protecting his clan? If so, she’d really be an orphan.

Confusion wracked his brain, and doubt crept back in. Mayhap he’d made his decision too quickly. Perhaps he still needed time to ponder things over. He didn’t want to put anyone of his clan in an awkward position. Avianca deserved a good family with caring parents, after what she’d been through. Especially after losing her mother so early in her life. But would she really be happy with him, or would she regret it as soon as she got older? Mayhap she’d just run away like he did when he was a child.

“Thank ye for the kind words, Brathair Gillies,” he said. “However, I dinna ken if I deserve them.” His eyes fastened to the child, his heart about breaking for her as he started thinking that mayhap any parents would be better for her than him. “I’m no’ exactly sure I am a nicer faither than King Edward at all.”

*

“What did yemean earlier when ye said ye might no’ be a kinder faither than King Edward was with his bastard triplets?” Yvaine was melting beeswax in a bucket of hot water, preparing to make taper candles since her workshop was now set up and functional.

“It doesna matter,” said Cam. “Show me how to make candles. It all seems so interestin’.”

“All right,” she said, eager to show the Highlander her skills. “I have only been doin’ it for a year – that is, the time I was married to Dun. Still, I learned a lot by watchin’ him.”

“Then I’ll learn by watchin’ ye as well.” He reached out and cupped her chin, softly stroking her bottom lip with his thumb. It made Yvaine feel special. For such a rugged Highlander, he was the gentlest, kindest man she’d ever met.

“I think the wax is just about ready,” she told him.

“Do ye make candles from tallow, too? I think I ken more about makin’ them from animal fat. Like, dinna use pig fat or it will really smell.”

She giggled. “All tallow candles stink.”

“Aye, but those made from cattle and sheep fat are no’ quite so repugnant.”

“I see that ye do ken a little about this skill, after all.”

“That’s everythin’ I ken. That and how to light a fire.” He flashed her a smile that made her feel warm inside.

“I would hope a Highlander would ken how to make a fire.”

“Ye tell me.” He dropped his hand from her chin, slowly running it down her chest. Then he took the tip of one finger and made lazy circles over her nipple until she could see it getting taut right through her clothes.

“That’s enough.” She pushed his hand away. “We keep that up, and I’ll never get any candles made. Now watch out, because I am comin’ through with hot wax. Ye’ll have to move to the side. Unless ye want the hair pulled right off yer arms, I warn ye no’ to splash any on yerself.”

“I’ll be careful,” he said, stepping back and giving her a wide berth.

“First, I want to explain that there are two guilds for chandlers. Either the Tallow Chandlers’ or the Wax Chandlers’ guilds.”

“I see. So, ye belong to the latter,” he said with a nod.

“Aye, but it wasna always that way. Before I married Dun, he made tallow candles. I am the one who found the customers, especially with churches, that allowed us to start makin’ wax candles instead.”

“It’s hard to believe all that wax comes from bees,” said Cam, looking down at the bucket. “I suppose if ye run out, ye can just mix in a little tallow, right?”

“Wrong! Never,” she exclaimed. “It is a serious offense, and one can go to prison for that. I found Dun doin’ it more than once and was afraid that if it was discovered, we’d end up behind bars. I always dumped those batches.”

“Guid thing,” said Cam. “It would be terrible to go to prison. Especially for a bonnie lassie like ye.”

If only he knew what he was saying. Yvaine looked over to a bruise on her arm. “Dun used to punish me for dumpin’ the mixed wax, even though I was probably savin’ his life.”

“I wouldna have done anythin’ to help him if I were ye,” said Cam. “Mayhap ye should have let the cur be arrested or thrown in prison. Or even be killed.”

“Oh!” she gasped, wondering what Cam would say if she told him that she was glad the man was dead. He must have thought that his words upset her, because he ended up apologizing.

“I’m sorry, lass. It was wrong of me to speak that way about the dead. I only meant that he had no right to hit ye.”