24: NO ONE FRIGHTENS YE

DAVINA ARRANGED THE bouquets of meadow flowers carefully before the altar.

She then stepped back, her gaze traveling over the buttercups, daisies, and primroses.

The decorations were simple, yet they added a touch of much-needed color to the grey-stone kirk.

“Thank ye, Lady Davina.” Father Ross stepped up next to her, his kindly face creasing into a wide smile.

“The kirk will look welcoming indeed for this morning’s service.”

“The hills around Dun Ugadale are awash in wildflowers at present,” she replied, smiling back.

“I couldn’t resist gathering some.”

Voices reached them then, and Davina glanced over her shoulder to see locals walking up the narrow mossy path, between a scattering of gravestones.

It was Sunday morning—and the inhabitants of the broch and the village beyond were making their way to the kirk.

Leaving the priest to ready himself at the pulpit, Davina moved back and took her place at one of the long wooden benches that lined the kirk.

The musky scent of incense mixed with the fatty odor of tallow from the banks of candles flanking the altar filled her nostrils.

Something tugged at Davina then.

She’d have been surrounded by these smells daily if she’d been given entry to Iona Abbey.

Had Abbess Anna admitted her, she’d be a postulant right now, readying herself to become a novice.

But instead, here she was, living halfway down the Kintyre Peninsula amongst the Mackays, the MacAlisters, and the MacDonalds.

Father Ross had told her just a few days earlier that he was a Mackay, a cousin to the chieftain.

Indeed, she’d noted he had the same high cheekbones as the chieftain and his brothers.

And although the priest’s hair was white these days, she wagered it had been blond in his youth.

Shifting on the hard bench, Davina watched men, women, and children filter into the kirk.

Their voices were low, respectful, and most of them had made an effort to wash and put on their best clothes.

Davina’s mouth curved.

Two weeks had passed since her arrival here, and already she was starting to feel at home.

She made sure she got out for a walk every day; the fresh air invigorated her, and she never wanted to go back to locking herself away from the world as she had at Kilchurn.

“There ye are.” Bonnie slid into the pew next to her.

“I was looking for ye.”

“I went out early so I could gather fresh flowers for the altar,” Davina replied.

Her gaze shifted then to where the rest of the family entered the kirk.

Villagers respectfully stepped aside so that the laird, his brothers, and his mother could move to the front.

Among them, she spied Lennox.

She tried to catch his eye, to smile, yet he wasn’t looking in her direction.

Davina’s throat tightened.

Ever since their arrival, he’d been aloof.

Granted, he’d been occupied of late.

He’d joined the Dun Ugadale Guard, and he and his brother had been busy training recruits—but whenever their paths crossed, Lennox was painfully polite and made an excuse to leave her as soon as possible.

The day before, she’d even tried teasing him, yet he hadn’t risen to the bait as he usually would have.

When she watched him in the barmkin training with the other guards, he was as arrogant as she recalled, with the same swagger and grin that had once infuriated her.

But with Davina, he was distant.

I have offended him , she thought, turning her attention back to where the last of the villagers were taking their seats.

He’d insisted that wasn’t the case, yet his behavior spoke otherwise.

A heaviness settled within her then, shadowing her good mood.

They both knew that their physical relationship couldn’t continue here, yet she’d hoped they could be friends, at least.

But Lennox clearly wasn’t interested.

Stop fashing about him, lass , she chastised herself, irritated that her thoughts kept returning to Lennox these days.

Ye have a life of yer own to build here.

And she did. In the past fortnight, she’d been focused on learning the rhythm and routine of the broch and on finding ways to be helpful.

Sheena always seemed to have tasks for her, and Father Ross had welcomed her assistance in keeping the kirk tidy and appealing.

She’d also gone out with Bonnie to give alms to the poor and met many of the locals.

Indeed, she caught sight of some familiar faces among the locals this morning.

Graham MacAlister and his brood squeezed into one of the pews.

The farmer wore a sour expression as he nursed the bound stump of his right wrist—the hand he’d lost for thieving livestock.

His three hulking sons had the same look as their father, aggressive and resentful.

Unlike most of the congregation, they wore dirty and sweat-stained braies an d léines, and their boots were encrusted with mud from the fields.

However, his daughter, Rose, stood out amongst them.

She wore a fresh blue kirtle, and although the cloth was a little threadbare, the garment was clean.

Her face was composed as she took the last place at the pew.

Davina spied daisies in her hair.

And as she shifted back to face the altar, Davina noted that Kerr was watching Rose MacAlister.

His solemn face gave nothing away, yet the intensity of his gaze betrayed him.

He observed the lass keenly, as if willing her to look his way.

She didn’t.

Oh dear , Davina thought.

That’s a yearning that can go nowhere .

After witnessing the altercation before the gates of Dun Ugadale upon her arrival, and especially after he’d taken her father’s hand off, Rose would likely despise the Captain of the Dun Ugadale Guard.

Nonetheless, it appeared that he didn’t view her the same way.

The service began then.

Father Ross’s low voice echoed through the now-silent kirk as he gave his sermon.

Its focus this morning was on establishing harmony with one’s neighbors.

Davina knew his choice was no accident; earlier the priest had confided in her that the continuing discord between the MacAlisters and the MacDonalds worried him.

Indeed, Davina had noted how those two clans kept apart, even now inside the kirk.

It was a miracle that they attended Sunday service and suffered to be under the same roof.

“Ye shalt love God with all yer heart, and all yer soul, and with all yer mind—that is the first great commandment,” the priest intoned.

“And the second is that ye shalt love yer neighbor as yerself.”

Davina glanced over at the MacAlisters once more to see Graham’s heavy shoulders had hunched.

She wagered, even as god-fearing as he was, MacAlister wasn’t interested in hearing such wisdom.

The service ended with the taking of the sacrament, where each member of the congregation took a mouthful of bannock and a sip of wine before receiving a blessing from Father Ross.

Once again, Davina wondered what her life would have been like, had she been welcomed into Iona Abbey.

Relief washed over her then.

Of course, she was never meant to be a nun.

Abbess Anna had done her a favor by refusing her entry.

Instead, her new life at Dun Ugadale suited her much better.

They then filed outside into the late morning sunshine.

Davina smiled as she walked down the path toward the road that led back to the broch.

It had been an odd summer, spells of balmy weather interspersed with wild storms. One such storm had passed a few days earlier, flattening crops and turning the ground soggy—but the sun had returned, and Davina welcomed its warmth upon her face.

Outside the gate to the kirkyard, she waited for the others to catch her up.

Yet, instead of walking with Iver and Bonnie, she fell in next to Lennox.

“That was a fine service, was it not?” she said, favoring him with a shy smile.

She was hesitant to seek out his company these days, yet a stubborn part of her didn’t wish to let him retreat.

Whatever had happened between them, they could still rub along, couldn’t they?

“Aye,” Lennox replied with a soft snort, “although Graham MacAlister looked like he was about to choke on his tongue when Father Ross started going on about loving one’s neighbor.”

Davina’s mouth pursed.

“So, ye noticed that too?”

“Hard not to … the man’s glower could curdle milk.”

“I suppose it’s hard not be resentful when ye’ve lost yer right hand.”

Lennox’s gaze glinted.

“Well, he should have considered that before continuing to thieve sheep.”

Davina arched an eyebrow.

His response didn’t surprise her.

If MacAlister erred again, they’d stretch his neck.

Nonetheless, she doubted the farmer held the same view as Lennox.

They were walking through the village now, between squat stone bothies, where washing snapped in the breeze on clotheslines and fowl pecked in the dirt.

Goats bleated from enclosures, and bees buzzed around the profusions of flowering herbs surrounding the dwellings.

Davina smiled as she surveyed the village.

Despite the tension between some of its inhabitants, it had an air of prosperity.

“Any word from yer father?”

She glanced back at Lennox, to find him surveying her.

Davina’s expression sobered, and she shook her head.

“Did he ever reply to the letter ye sent him?”

“No.” His mouth twisted.

“In truth, I thought we’d see him before now.”

Her belly tightened.

“Well, I did tell ye otherwise.”

Lennox’s gaze narrowed.

“Aye, but I believe, deep down, ye expected him to ride here.”

Davina swallowed.

She had. Despite everything, she missed her father.

She sometimes worried about him and wondered how he was faring.

When her mother was alive, she made sure he didn’t eat too much salted pork and drink too much mead.

Over a year earlier, Davina had warned him that he’d end up with gout, yet he didn’t seem to care.

“I’m relieved he hasn’t,” she replied after a lengthy pause—and she was.

“No good would come of it.”

Silence fell between them then before Lennox asked, “Ye are happy here then, Davina?”

She nodded, glad that he’d changed the subject.

“Aye … Dun Ugadale has welcomed me … and Bonnie and yer mother have allowed me to make myself useful.”

“I heard Cory yesterday,” Lennox said, inclining his head, “boasting that the spence has never been so well organized. He says ye spend hours in there, taking stock and sorting.”

Warmth rose to Davina’s cheeks.

She hadn’t realized Lennox had been asking questions about her.

“Ye know I wish to find real purpose here,” she reminded him softly.

“Bonnie is often too busy to deal with the spence … and yer mother terrifies the servants.”

Lennox laughed, the rich sound carrying through the air.

Up ahead, Iver and Bonnie glanced over their shoulders, their gazes alighting on them.

Lennox waited until they’d turned back before he cast a quick look over his shoulder, as if to make sure Sheena Mackay wasn’t shadowing him.

“She terrifies everyone,” he replied, grinning.

“But not ye, I’d wager.”

Davina snorted.

“I wouldn’t say that.”

She and Sheena had developed an ‘understanding’ over the past two weeks.

Nonetheless, the woman was as prickly as a hedgehog and could be cutting at times.

“No one frightens ye, Davina,” he said softly, a teasing edge to his voice now.

“Not even Lucifer himself would.”

Davina’s smile returned.

She couldn’t believe she’d missed being teased by Lennox Mackay, but she had.

Lord, I must be going soft in the head.

Meeting his eye, she inclined her head.

“Ye make me sound like a shrew,” she replied.

“No.” His gaze met hers.

“Ye are a warrior. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone with such an independent spirit. Ye don’t need anyone else to be happy, do ye? Just as long as ye have a purpose, ye are content.”

She raised her eyebrows.

“Now ye are making me sound selfish.”

“No, ye are self-possessed … an attractive trait indeed.”

Davina’s pulse quickened, heat flushing over her.

There was an intimacy to his gaze, one she hadn’t seen since that fateful night at Inverneil.

It brought back torrid memories—of his hands on her, his mouth tracing across her skin, his shaft buried deep inside her.

Swallowing, she tried to ignore her body’s swift response.

Curse it, she’d thought all of that was behind her.

She’d spent the past fortnight looking ahead, not behind.

She loved living here and didn’t want to put it in jeopardy.

Lennox shouldn’t have looked at her like that, and she shouldn’t hold his gaze so boldly.

Others would see.

Cutting her gaze away, Davina focused on the high walls that encircled the broch.

“Are ye happy to be home, Lennox?” she asked then, desperate to turn the conversation away from herself.

“Aye.”

When he didn’t elaborate, she chanced another look in his direction.

He was watching her, his expression now inscrutable.

“Ye don’t find yerself restless, wishing for a different, more exciting life then?” she teased.

“No,” he said, breaking eye contact with her, and focusing his attention on the road instead.

However, there was an odd flatness to his voice when he continued, “I’m satisfied with what I have.”