Page 6 of Promised to the Ruthless Laird (Highland Whispers of Love #2)

CHAPTER SIX

T he next morning, the smell of roasting meat nudged Edin from the grasp of restless dream fragments. Her eyes fluttered open to find the early morning sunlight dappling the sand around her with shifting patterns of gold and shadows. The rhythmic crash of the waves in the distance remained a constant, but it was the warmth of the fire and the scent that pulled her fully awake.

She sat up slowly, brushing strands of dark hair from her face, and saw Finley crouched near the fire. He was turning a small skewer of sizzling meat over the flames. A smile tugged at his lips when he noticed her stirring.

“Ah, ye’re finally up,” he said, his voice warm. “I was wonderin’ if I’d have tae eat all this meself.”

Edin arched a brow, her voice still hoarse with sleep. “Eat it all, and I’d wager ye’d nae be movin’ much after.”

Finley chuckled, shaking his head as he adjusted the skewer. “It’s fer the both o’ us. Reckon we’ll need it if we’re tae make any progress today. Got some berries, too.” He gestured toward a small pile of red and black berries resting on a broad leaf beside the fire.

The sight of them sent a prickle of unease down Edin’s spine. She leaned forward, narrowing her eyes at the offering before turning her sharp gaze to him. “Ye’ve nae eaten any o’ those, have ye?”

He frowned at her sudden seriousness. “Nay, nae yet. Thought I’d wait fer ye tae wake.“

Reaching for the purple berries, Edin picked one up between her fingers and studied it closely. “If ye had, I’d be patchin’ ye up all day,” she muttered. “These arenae deadly, but they’ll make ye sick if ye eat enough. Yer stomach would curse ye fer hours.”

Finley’s expression shifted from mild amusement to slight annoyance as he watched her toss the berry aside. “I’ve been livin’ off berries and beasts since I was a lad. I ken what’s good and what’s bad, Edin.”

She snorted, crossing her arms. “Aye, well, if yer expertise tells ye they’re fine, then by all means, pop one in yer mouth and see how far ye get before the cramps set in.”

For a moment, Finley stared at her, then glanced at the berries, as though reevaluating his confidence. “Maybe I’ll pass,” he muttered. “Fer now.”

Satisfied, Edin sat back and stretched her arms, her joints stiff from the night spent on damp sand. “Good choice. We’ve a long way tae go yet, and I’ve nay intention o’ haulin’ ye through the forest if ye’re doubled over.”

He raised a brow at her, smirking. “Yer faith in me is inspirin’, truly. Tell me, dae ye have a knack fer herbs? Another one o’ those Triad tricks?”

At the mention of the Triad, Edin froze, her gaze darting toward him with sharp intent. “Hush, ye fool,” she hissed, glancing around as though the trees themselves might overhear. “Dinnae be sayin’ that name out loud.”

Finley’s smirk widened, and he leaned forward, his tone laced with mockery. “Och, aye, the mighty Triad, shrouded in mystery and secrets. Ye ken I’m nae so easily spooked, lass.”

She glared at him, the firelight reflecting a flash of light in her eyes. “Spooked or nae, keep yer tongue in check. I’d rather nae deal wi’ trouble because ye cannae hold it.”

His teasing expression softened slightly, and he held up his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. I’ll keep yer wee secret, if it means that much tae ye.”

Edin relaxed a fraction, though she kept her eyes fixed on him as she continued. “Herbs are me specialty,” she admitted, her voice quieter now, almost reflective. “I’ve spent years learnin’ what grows where and what’s worth harvestin’. There’s nay plant or berry in these lands I dinnae recognize.”

There was a faint pause before Finley spoke again, his tone curious but no longer mocking. “Years, ye say? Did the Triad teach ye that?”

Edin gave him a sharp look, but didn’t answer immediately. The fire crackled between them, filling the silence as she weighed her words. Finally, she sighed and said, “It daesnae matter who taught me. What matters is that I ken what I’m talkin’ about, and ye’d dae well tae listen if ye want tae keep yer insides in their proper place.”

Finley chuckled softly, his emerald-green eyes glinting with a mixture of respect and amusement. “Aye, fair enough. I’ll take yer word fer it. But ye’ll still eat the meat, aye? Got tae admit, it’s nae half bad fer somethin’ I caught just this mornin’.”

The smell of the roasting meat, rich and savory, was enough to make Edin’s stomach growl despite herself. She gave him a begrudging nod. “I’ll eat it. But it better be decent, or I’ll nae be lettin’ ye near a fire again.”

“Deal,” Finley said with a grin, turning the skewer again.

As they sat around the fire, Edin couldn’t help but glance at him now and then.

“Ye look like ye’ve never seen a man cook before,” Finley said without looking up, a tone of amusement in his voice.

“I’ve seen plenty,” she replied tartly, though she quickly shifted her gaze.

He chuckled softly, shaking his head as he adjusted the skewer again. “Well, let’s hope it is up tae yer fine standards, lass.”

“Fine standards?” she muttered. “I’d settle fer pretty much anythin’ right now.”

“Ye wound me, truly,” he said with mock offense, finally removing the skewer from the fire and blowing on it. He slid a piece off with his knife and handed it to her, his grin widening as she hesitated. “Go on, then. It’s nae poison, if that’s what ye’re thinkin’.”

She took the piece reluctantly, inspecting it before popping it into her mouth. The flavor was simple but rich. It was a far cry from the stale, hardtack rations she’d endured on the ship.

“Well?” Finley prompted, watching her closely.

She chewed slowly, her expression giving nothing away. Finally, she gave a small nod. “It’ll dae.”

“It’ll dae?” he repeated, feigning outrage. “That’s all I get after slavin’ over a hot fire fer ye?”

She smirked despite herself, tearing off another piece. “I’d nae want tae inflate yer ego more than it is.”

He grinned, taking a bite of his own portion. “Aye, but admit it, it’s better than ye expected.”

She didn’t respond immediately, focusing instead on the food in her hands. The warmth of the meat seemed to spread through her. The fire crackled between them as Finley watched her with a satisfied expression.

“Ye’ve a talent fer makin’ dae,” she admitted finally, her tone begrudging.

“High praise, comin’ from ye,” he said, clearly pleased. “Maybe I’ll teach ye a thing or two. Ye’d nae survive long out here wi’out someone tae keep ye fed.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I’ve survived wi’ less.”

“Aye, I’ll nae doubt that,” he replied, his voice softer this time. “But it daesnae hurt tae share a meal, eh? Even if ye’re stubborn about enjoyin’ it.”

She focused on tearing apart the remaining meat and did not answer. The quiet between them stretched, broken only by the occasional snap of the fire or rustle of leaves overhead. Despite herself, she felt the edges of her tension ease.

When the food was gone, Finley leaned back, resting on his elbows with a contented sigh. “Nae bad fer a mornin’, if I say so meself. A full belly and good company — what more could a man ask fer?”

Edin shot him a look, though there was no malice behind it. “If yer idea of good company is someone who’d sooner throttle ye than listen tae yer chatter, then ye’ve strange tastes.”

He chuckled, tilting his head to the side. “Maybe I dae. Or maybe ye’re nae as cold as ye want me tae think.”

She ignored the comment, tossing the last scrap of bone into the fire and wiping her hands on the edge of her cloak. “We’ve lingered long enough. If we’re tae reach Glenleg by midday, we’d best move.”

Finley groaned but pushed himself to his feet. “Aye, aye. Back tae the trail wi’ us. Though if I’d kent ye were such a taskmaster, I’d have stayed on the ship.”

“And missed yer chance tae prove yer culinary prowess?” she shot back, reaching for the dagger she permanently kept at her side, her fingers brushing against the small pouch she also always kept tucked beneath her cloak.

Finley grinned as he stood, checking for the sword still strapped to his waist and the small pouch of coins that had survived the water. “Come on, then, lass. Let’s see what else the day’s got in store fer us.”

“Let’s hope yer skills extend beyond roastin’ meat,” she muttered, standing and brushing sand off her cloak, her eyes flicking quickly over her gear one last time to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything. “We’ve still a ways tae go.”

Finley silently did the same “And where is it ye’re takin’ us, exactly? Or dae ye plan tae keep draggin’ me through the woods wi’out a word on the destination?”

She shot him a glare. “I told ye before. We’re makin’ fer Sgurr Fhuaran, though I expect ye ken nothin’ o’ it.”

His brows furrowed as he followed her onto the faint trail leading through the forest. “Sgurr Fhuaran? What business dae we have wi’ a bloody mountain? Ye’re nae tellin’ me we’re climbin’ it, are ye?”

Edin snorted, pushing aside a low-hanging branch. “Hardly. We’ll nae be climbin’ anythin’. The answers I need are in the woods at its base. That’s as far as we go.”

Finley’s expression turned skeptical. “And what answers would those be, eh? Some daft story about prophets or sorcery, nay doubt.”

She glanced over her shoulder, her eyes narrowing. “Ye think me a fool?”

He raised his hands defensively. “I’m just sayin’ — there’s plenty who believe the old tales, but I’d nae have pegged ye as one o’ them.”

She exhaled sharply through her nose, turning back to the trail. “Are ye done? Or will ye be carryin’ on like an old woman all day?”

He grinned, falling into step behind her. “Aye, I’m done — fer now. But if yer grand schemes land us in another death trap, dinnae say I didnae warn ye.”

The two fell into a tense but companionable silence, the sounds of the forest enveloping them as they walked. Birds chirped in the distance, and the faint rustle of leaves overhead blended with the soft crunch of their boots on the trail.

“I ken better than tae believe in tales spun tae frighten bairns,” she said firmly after a pause, her voice sharp. “But nae all stories are false. Some hold grains o’ truth if ye’ve the wit tae find them.”

He considered her words for a moment, then shook his head with a wry chuckle. “Well, as long as we’re nae scramblin’ up the side o’ a mountain, I suppose I’ll follow. Though I’ve nay idea why I’m trustin’ ye after yer plan got us near drowned.”

Edin stopped abruptly, spinning to face him with her hands on her hips. “The weather isnae foreseeable,” she said, her tone more clipped than she intended. She immediately regretted the sharpness in her voice, but it was she who had suggested taking the ship and now she couldn’t help but feel the sting of her misjudgment. Her gaze flicked away, unwilling to let him see the hint of embarrassment in her eyes.

Finley raised a brow, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “Lass, we were near fish bait. If that’s how ye plan, I’d rather take me chances wi’ the berries.” He eyed her curiously. “What exactly is it we’re after, Edin? Ye’ve told me naethin’, and I’m beginnin’ tae think ye’re makin’ it up as we go.”

Edin kept her eyes on the path ahead. “I’ve told ye enough.”

“That’s nay answer.”

She sighed, finally stopping to turn and face him. “There’s information I need, and it’s found near Sgurr Fhuaran. That’s all ye need tae ken fer now.”

His gaze lingered on her, searching for cracks in her stoic exterior. “Yer secrets dinnae bother me much,” he said after a pause. “But if ye lead me into some madness wi’ witches or prophets, I’ll nae be thankin’ ye fer it.”

“I’ve nay use fer witches or prophets,” she replied coldly. “And ye’d dae well tae mind yer tongue about things ye dinnae understand.”

He tilted his head, studying her. “So quick tae defend somethin’ ye claim nae tae believe in. Makes a man wonder.”

Her eyes flashed, but she didn’t rise to the bait. “If wonderin’s all ye’ve got tae dae, then we’d best find a village soon. At least there, ye can pester someone else.”

He laughed, the sound warm and unguarded. “Fair enough, lass. But ye cannae deny, stoppin’ at Glenleg — or any village we pass — would be wise. We’ll need supplies, maybe even horses, if we’re tae cover more ground.”

Edin didn’t argue. “Aye. A village would serve us well.”

Their pace quickened as the sun climbed higher, its light filtering through the trees in pale, golden streaks. The path wound gently downward, the scent of damp earth and pine filled the air, mingling with the faint, briny tang of the distant sea.

Edin’s thoughts drifted as they walked. She replayed the events of the past weeks, piecing together the fragmented puzzle that had led her to this moment. Despite his constant teasing and stubbornness, she was grateful for his company during this mission, although she wasn’t fully ready to admit it to herself.

“Ye’ve gone quiet,” Finley remarked, breaking her reverie.

“I’m thinkin’,” she replied curtly.

“Dangerous habit, that,” he teased, though his tone held a hint of seriousness.

She glanced at him, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “If ye spent more time thinkin’ and less time flappin’ yer gums, ye might find it’s nae such a bad habit after all.”

He laughed again, the sound echoing through the trees. “Ye’ve a sharp tongue, Edin. I’ll give ye that.”

“And ye’ve a thick skull,” she retorted.

The banter carried them forward, the tension between them easing as the morning wore on. By the time the sun hung high overhead, they’d reached the edge of the forest. The trees thinned, revealing rolling hills that stretched toward a distant village, its thatched roofs clustered like a scatter of stones at the base of the valley.

Finley stopped, shading his eyes with one hand as he surveyed the landscape. “That’ll be Glenleg,” he said with a note of satisfaction.

Edin followed his gaze, her heart lifting slightly at the sight of the village. “Then we’re closer than I thought. If we make good time, we’ll reach the woods near Sgurr Fhuaran by nightfall.”

“Provided we dinnae keel over from hunger or exhaustion first,” he added with a grin.

She rolled her eyes. “Come on, then. Let’s see if Glenleg’s got what we need.”