Page 18 of The Highlander’s Fake Wife (Legacy of Highland Lairds #4)
Olivia wanted to argue with him, insist that she was fine, that she wasn’t having a moment of weakness over something so…
so silly. But her voice wouldn’t come, and in truth, the double layer immediately soothed her mind with a comforting warmth.
So, Olivia simply nodded her thanks, tucking her knees against her chest to fully envelop herself. “C-Could ye stay fer a moment?”
She felt childish for asking. And yet, Arthur immediately sat down beside her, arm wrapping around her as he brought her in close.
An immediate sigh of relief escaped her lips, and suddenly, the chill of rain was nothing compared to the heat of his body.
She shifted closer into his side, fully enveloped in his cloak, his embrace, the scent of salt and musk she was beginning to grow familiar with. Comforted by.
Even after the ups and downs of her day so far…Oliva was certain she would have chosen it all again in a heartbeat.
Olivia’s reaction had completely taken Arthur by surprise.
She’d turned so pale so quickly, and he was convinced if he hadn’t moved to help her when he did, she very well might have crumpled to the ground.
They had taken to setting up a makeshift camp after that, finding a good clearing with plenty of tree coverage to avoid the consistent drizzling weather.
He’d managed to coax a fire from a few not-so-damp branches, and took a seat across from Olivia, who had remained silently cocooned in the layers of cloak.
It had been an amazing shot, and Arthur was certain Olivia would have jumped for joy after finally hitting that apple.
Arthur sighed lightly, the unfamiliar squirm of guilt tying up his insides once more.
What was he supposed to say in this position?
What could he say? Wasn’t it his fault Olivia was in such a terrible state, after all?
“‘Tis nae yer fault, Arthur.” Olivia unexpectedly spoke up, as if able to read his mind. “There really was a moment I–I was so proud I’d done it, but I just…” she paused, clearly uncomfortable with a passing thought in her mind as she tightened her grasp around his cloak.
A few drops of rain managed to slip through the forest canopy, and Arthur wiped his face. “Ye daenae have to explain, selkie.”
“Nay; ye tried very hard fer me sake, today.” Olivia inhaled sharply, wrestling with the thoughts in her mind before exhaling slowly.
“Ye tried fer me since we met, actually. And, it was incredible to experience, but I just…” Another breath.
A further tightening of her grip. “I’m worried about me maither. ”
Ah.
“When I hit that apple, I just,” Olivia shook her head. “I couldnae stop thinking about the keep. The men who died, my maither’s fate. If–if something happened to her, and–I’m just out here, shooting apples and being ridiculous–!”
“I understand, lass,” Arthur reassured. “Ye dinnae have to explain.” He sighed, lightly adding afterwards, “Yer maither wouldnae think ye’re being ridiculous.
Ye’re learning to defend yerself; any parent would want their daughter to learn to protect themselves.
And, I promised to find her and bring her home, and I’m not a laird to break promises so easily. ”
Olivia let out a quick breath, tugging a strand of ruby hair loose from her makeshift hood before beginning a thick braid.
“I just–I wish I dinnae feel so helpless! To kinfolk I thought I could trust are nay more, and the clan I thought to be my enemy are–?” another irritated huff.
“Yer sister was the closest thing to a friend I’ve had in–in years! ”
“Ye had nay one back in yer clan?” Arthur asked.
Olivia shook her head, settling her forehead against her knees hidden beneath the cloak.
“I daenae think they were honest with me. Being the laird’s daughter…
it’s hard to tell who genuinely liked me, and who liked me title.
‘Twas worse with men,” she chuckled bitterly.
“Especially as I got older. Only saw me as some flower to protect–‘twas why I begged me faither to let me learn archery.”
Arthur nudged the fire with a stick, coaxing more flames to jump out and build on the heat. The grouse’s skin started to turn an appetizing shade, and he pulled it from the fire to tap it gently. “Yer a great shot,” he commented lightly.
“Aye; the best hunters waste nearly their entire quiver on an apple,” Olivia replied weakly.
“I mean it, Olivia.” It was like a spell was cast every time Arthur used her proper name; Olivia’s head lifted, gloomy eyes lighting up with the briefest spark of hope.
It was clear she craved affirmation, someone to tell her that what she was experiencing was real; that she could genuinely trust in something.
“If ye had more training, I wouldnae be surprised if ye could take off someone’s head from across the keep. ”
Olivia snorted loudly, though she seemed to appreciate his attempt at flattery.
“I wish ye were there when me faither were alive. Ye could’ve told him that; he was certain I didnae need to learn such skills.
Maybe, if I had…” Her gaze glanced listlessly around, slipping out from beneath his cloak as she moved beneath the shade of a wizened tree.
She got down on her hands and knees, hands brushing the overgrown grass aside before she let out a noise of triumph. “Ah! I was hoping it’d be here.”
It was clearly a jump in topic. Arthur was certain she was about to speak further on her perceived failings that night, when her keep was attack.
When her father and brother were killed, when she was forced to flee and leave her mother behind.
But she didn’t wish to dwell on such topics anymore, and he wouldn’t be the one to drag her back in.
So, Arthur offed a quizzical smile, and asked, “What are ye lookin’ fer, selkie? ”
Olivia tore something free from the ground, scurrying back to the fire as she held out a handful of mushrooms. “Chanterelles! Me maither and I would go out lookin’ fer them after it rained.
” She glanced around once more, grabbing a smooth, flat stone with her free hand and placing it just on the edge of the fire.
“Ooh, if we found some ramsons–ah, or if we could find more o’them wood sorrels…
? Ye have anything left in yer bag that wasnae used fer target practice? ”
Arthur chuckled, relieved to see Olivia in a better mood. “I could go an’ find something more savory.”
“Aye; I think I’m quite done wit’ shooting today,” Olivia teased.
So Arthur set off quickly into the forest, knowing where a few nearby traps had been placed for smaller game.
It wasn’t long before he came across a grouse, and after cleaning and sticking it over their fire, he took to quietly observing Olivia, still scurrying about the grove in search of foragables.
Soon, a mouthwatering scent of cooking meat and garlicky herbs filled the air, and Olivia had taken the time to tear off long strips of bark to act as makeshift plates.
“Ye really got into this,” Arthurpraised.
Olivia’s smile stretched from ear to ear, chasing away the slight chill Arthur had begun to develop from the rain.
She sat down and proudly took her serving into her lap, trying to tear a strip of seasoned meat off her still-steaming breast. A swear escaped her lips as she quickly popped it into her mouth, then pinched a cooked chanterelle and added it to the mix.
Arthur couldn’t help but burst out laughing, earning a quizzical scowl from Olivia.
“It’s just–it’s hard to imagine ye lived a life o’ luxury.” Arthur grinned, wiping his face free of a mirthful tear that’d escaped his eye. “I cannae believe not one o’yer clan members enjoyed yer presence.”
“Och, now, I never said that!” Olivia corrected. “They enjoyed me plenty. They just…” she paused, as if working out exactly what she was trying to say. “They never got to ken all of me.”
“Have I, selkie?”
Olivia offered a cryptic smile in reply. She took another mushroom into her hand, licking her lips as meat juice ran down the length of her chin. Aye; she knew exactly what she was doing to him, and it drove Arthur crazy.
“I’ll make a deal with ye.”
Olivia’s brow rose, curiosity piqued.
“Spend the next few days learning how to fight wit me,” Arthur offered. “With a sword, yer bow, yer fists–let me give ye the tools to make yerself a force to be reckoned with.”
Olivia visibly rolled the proposal around in her head. “And, if ye succeed?”
“Then, ye have to let up on yer, ‘no touchin’ rule,” Arthur smirked. “Enough that I can kiss ye.”
She scowled slightly, but still appeared considerate. “No lips. Cheek or forehead. And I have to agree that ye succeeded.”
“Aye; I’ll agree to that.”
Olivia eyed him closely, trying to pick out any part of the deal he could abuse. When she found none, she offered her hand. “Then…ye have a deal, m’laird.”