Page 14

Chapter

Fourteen

T hankfully, her brother had gone hunting with their host after they’d broken their fast. Avelina had grown weary of his warnings and looks and judgments, as if she’d not already been judging herself since meeting Niall.

While the chieftain was having inquiries made, insisting they remain as guests in his keep in the meantime, he’d offered Avelina a maid, who had even brought a fresh gown that morn.

Though the fit was not perfect, she was grateful for it, though she had no notion of its origins.

The maid knew only that she’d been made to fetch it from the laundress.

Lifting the gown so she may walk easier, Avelina made her way to the garden behind the keep, which she’d been encouraged to explore.

It seemed they would be here at least a day or two, and though she would dearly love to practice with her bow, Avelina was fully aware such an activity would be frowned upon.

She approached the most vivid violet fairy flowers Avelina had ever seen.

Bending down, she took the petals in her hand, the color in stark contrast to her palm.

Though she loved them dearly, Avelina had never been able to keep flowers alive well, the gardener jesting often about her inability to do so.

But she adored them in her bedchamber, and as Avelina pulled the petal to her nose and breathed in deeply, she could almost forget the situation she found herself in currently.

Almost.

It was difficult to fully forget what she and Niall had discussed last eve.

’Twas even more difficult to forget his lips on hers.

Avelina closed her eyes. She could almost feel them now, gliding across her own.

His tongue, sweeping inside her mouth and claiming hers. Niall’s body pressed against her.

Avelina’s eyes flew open.

Somehow, she’d sensed him.

Standing near the garden’s entrance, his arms crossed in front of him, the very man of whom she’d just been thinking stood there. Watching her.

Pulling her hand away and standing, Avelina otherwise did not move. Though they were alone now, anyone could come upon them, the garden a wide-open space.

“You are not hunting?”

“With your brother? Nay.”

He made his way toward her, his presence looming with each step. For such a large man, larger than most, he moved quickly.

“A new gown?”

“Offered to me by our host.”

“Beautiful, as always.”

The compliment rolled off his tongue so easily she did not rebuke it as hollow as she did with most men’s compliments of her. The sincerity of his words made Avelina’s cheeks flush with a pleasure she could not deny.

“Thank you,” she said simply, unable to cease looking at his lips. The simple truth was Avelina wanted him to kiss her again. To distract herself, Avelina said, “Tell me of yourself.”

The request seemed to take him by surprise. Niall laughed, a rarer sound than Avelina would have liked.

“There is much to tell. What would you wish to know?”

“Hmm. I wish to know why you do not smile as often as your brother.”

“I do not?”

“Nay, you do not.”

It seemed as if he were about to say something but stopped.

“Tell me,” Avelina pressed. “I would know the reason.”

“Perhaps there is naught to tell.”

“Before she passed”—Avelina crossed herself—“my mother said my ability to understand others was my greatest strength.” Smiling, she added, “I believe ’tis my ability with the bow and arrow.”

“Perhaps it is both. Will you show me?”

“Show you?”

“I was on my way to the training yard when. . .” He stopped.

“When?”

Niall’s jaw clenched. His eyes narrowed just slightly.

She would not accept his reticence.

“When?” she prompted again.

“When I inquired as to your whereabouts and was told you were here.”

Even knowing ’twas not likely a coincidence that Niall had come to the garden, for him to confirm as much made her smile. In turn, he smiled back.

“Perhaps you will also tell me the story you held back earlier.”

“You believe there is a story to tell?”

“I do.”

“Hmm. Perhaps there is. And perhaps I will tell you, depending on your aim.”

“Ahh, a contest, then?”

“Aye,” he said as they began to walk side by side. “A contest.”

“If I hit the bullseye in five tries—”

“Three.”

She could do so in one. “Three,” she confirmed. “You will tell me the story.”

“I wished to visit the training yard this morn but did not.”

“Then I am happy to accompany you.”

She was happy for him to accompany her as well.

After asking a servant to have the maid fetch her bow and arrow, they spoke of the hunt, of the inquiries the chieftain was making, but one thing they did not speak of as they made their way around the keep to the inner bailey was last eve’s discussion.

Avelina could not raise the topic. What did one say? Last eve, when we broached the subject of marriage, ’twas in jest, aye?

Except, she had not been jesting. At least she had not last eve.

So strong was her desire to be with him, Avelina would likely have agreed to their union.

Which was as ridiculous a notion when she woke as it had been before.

Her brother would never allow it. Her clansmen would not accept it.

Nor would his, Avelina assumed. The chief’s son and second-in-command simply did not marry a MacKinlay.

She knew it well.

And yet, as Niall spoke, she could not force thoughts of kissing him from her mind. Giving her virginity to a man she did not intend to marry might be, in this particular situation, less scandalous than the marriage alternative. But Avelina did not wish for that either.

“You are lost in thought,” he said as they approached the training yard. The sounds of shouts and swords clashing reached their ears now, and Avelina was glad for Niall’s presence. She’d never before trained anywhere but home.

“I am,” she admitted, though could not admit the subject of those thoughts.

But perhaps he knew already, for as Niall gazed down at her, ’twas not difficult for her to think he might be having similar notions. In fact, she was sure of it.

Her heart raced.

Avelina’s feet felt as if they were no longer on the ground. How dearly she wished for him to kiss her again.

With a low groan, a sound quite pleasing to her ears, he shook his head.

Somehow, she understood.

A longing. A frustration. A confusion she felt deeply as well.

Neither of them spoke again until they were in the training yard. Niall had spoken to one of the men and freed the target they would use. As if on cue, a young boy ran to them holding Avelina’s bow and quiver up to her.

“I was asked to bring these to you, m’lady.”

She thanked him, accepting the single carved bough bound in leather. Its string made from twisted sinews, the bow fit comfortably on her shoulder as Avelina removed an arrow. She wasted no time binding the arrowhead into a notch in the shaft, its barbs preventing premature withdrawal.

“Does it worry you that you’re being watched?” he asked.

As she expected, it did not seem customary for a woman to be here in this yard.

And indeed, Avelina was being watched. But with little else to occupy her—the standard pursuits of needlework and embroidery not of interest to her, and their household run smoothly by their steward who cared little for Avelina’s interference—she’d taken to learning how to wield a bow and arrow.

Typically, in an actual training, Avelina would utilize a series of targets at varying distances set up on a range specifically designed for archery training.

Today, however, she was not quite training but showing her skills.

To a man she wanted to impress, even if she should not.

That very man now backed away even as the crowd grew.

He’d given her three shots, but Avelina wanted to use just one.

At this distance, she could easily hit the center of the target.

However, her pulse was not quite as steady as it should be.

Closing her eyes, she forced herself not to think of him.

His nearness or his visage. The look he’d given her back in the garden, as if he wanted to kiss her as much as Avelina wished it. She’d think of none of that.

Consider only the target.

She opened her eyes.

She ignored the spectators and focused solely on where she must hit. Naught else mattered. Her brother had told Avelina often that whatever she focused on would have her notice, and so she looked at just one spot.

Pulled back.

And released.

The moment Avelina’s finger opened, she already knew the mark would be a hit. When it did, right in the center, she was little surprised. But apparently, most of her onlookers were, as they began to cheer and congratulate her.

“I suppose,” a deep voice at her back said, “I owe you a story, lass?”

When she looked at him, Niall was actually smiling.

“I believe you do,” she said, lowering her bow.

“Well then.” He gestured for them to leave the training yard together. “Shall we find a private place to talk?”

A private place.

To talk.

Avelina took a deep breath, not daring to hope for more. And yet, her body knew what her mind refuted. It came alive, readying for their “talk,” and Avelina was simply done fighting it.