Highlander's Trials of Fire

“Well… I suppose I can admit that he is nae the man I thought he was. He is kind, different, like nay one I have ever kent before. And, somehow, he manages to make me feel safe whenever I—” Jonet broke off suddenly when she realized what she was doing. Now, her entire face was red, and she tried to hide it from Christal’s knowing look.

“Oh, daenae stop on me account. Ye were about to say how handsome and dreamy he is?”

“Any woman with eyes should be able to see that,” Jonet grumbled. “It is nothin’ special if I say it too.”

Christal tilted her head back and laughed. She had already started on kneading the flour, a task that was much less messy when it was in her capable hands. Or anyone’s hands save for Jonet’s.

“Then, that would explain why ye are so determined to bake for him,” Christal’s chuckle faded. “I havenae seen this spark in yer eyes in a while, Jonet. I hope it never disappears again.”

Jonet paused, looking at Christal. “I gave ye a hard time with all the worryin’, dinnae I?”

“Aye, you did,” Christal spoke without hesitation. “Ye almost made me think ye would die alone.”

“Really? I never thought ye were the type to care if a woman has a husband or nae.”

“I’m nae,” she said. Jonet glanced down at her deft fingers molding the dough so perfectly and felt a twinge of envy. “But it’s clear as day that ye arenae that type of woman. Ye have a romantic soul and ye were only lettin’ yer fears get the best of ye. Which worried me as well considerin’ ye were always the one to run headlong into danger without a care in the world. Almost gave Lady MacLagain a heart attack, a few times.”

“Aye, she never fails to remind me. I am nae longer so rash, however.”

“Ye are,” Christal insisted. “But in a different way than before. Which is good. Ye are growin’ into a fine woman.”

/> Jonet grinned broadly. Putting her large spoon aside, she sidled up to Christal and swept her arms around her in a surprise hug. “Ye are always too sweet to me, Christal. Even though ye daenae ken how to show it most of the time.”

To that, Christal just turned her head away from Jonet in disgust. “Ye have a spoon! How did ye manage to get butter on yer hands?”

Jonet laughed, pulling away from her. That was something she could not answer. “It is only one of me many charms. I suppose. Now, I think I’m done with this. What else would ye have me do?”

Laird MacLagain was such an upbeat and energetic person that it was hard not to like him. He seemed to take life as it was given to him, making the best of all the time he had. When Matthew had first met him, he wondered how such a carefree Laird managed to rule his clan well, thinking that perhaps there was someone doing work in the background. Now he was certain that Laird MacLagain was every bit as good a Laird as he was a good man.

“What do ye say, Jonathan?” the Laird was saying. “Would ye like to spar with me now?”

Jonathan, who was sitting in the oversized armchair by the fireplace, rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “Me Laird, ye say that because ye want an easy win, daenae ye?”

“How dare ye!” Laird MacLagain boomed and Dougal, leaning against the mantle above the fireplace, barked a hearty laugh. “I am the Laird of MacLagain. It is a dishonor for me to seek a fight I ken I will win.”

“Then why do ye bother the lad?” his brother asked, lifting a bushy brow. “When ye ken he will certainly lose?”

The Laird took a large gulp of his drink and then brandished a broad smile. “I only wanted to test his mettle! He cannae be a war chieftain if he isnae willin’ to go up against the toughest of opponents. He’ll be killed before ye ken it.”

“Perhaps if he were to best Dougal in a fight first,” Matthew spoke up. “Then the thought of fighting ye, Me Laird, wouldnae be so dauntin’.”

After returning to the Castle, Matthew’s intention of sticking close to Jonet’s side for the rest of the day had been interrupted when a maid informed him that the Laird called for his presence. He had been reluctant to leave her at first, but after he had settled into the study talking with the rest of the men, Matthew was beginning to enjoy himself.

Laird MacLagain and his brother were the same as they usually were. Talking in such booming voices that they shook the room, while always trying to get one up over the other. Matthew found it a rather amusing sight and he took up the role as the kindle to their disagreements, enjoying the competitive spirit that rose in the light of it.

Jonathan, Matthew learned, took more of a supportive role. The Laird and Dougal were very inclusive, but Matthew found that Jonathan preferred to be quiet most of the time. He seemed to be watching all that was around him, and Matthew doubted anything passed him by unnoticed. He wondered, briefly, if he had been subject to his scrutiny when he had first arrived, nevertheless Jonathan, so far, spoke kindly to him.

“Ah,” said the Laird. “Ye may be right. Now, Matthew, there was actually a matter I would like to speak with ye about.”

“I have a feelin’ I ken what ye might say, Me Laird,” Matthew turned his eyes to the Laird. He had been waiting for this ever since Jonet agreed they could court. “Ye would like to ken how things are progessin’ between Jonet and I.”

Laird MacLagain sighed. “She is me dear daughter and we have always been close, especially when she was younger. But now that she’s all grown up, she hardly tells me anythin’ anymore.”

“I’m sure she speaks to Rinalda,” Dougal suggested. “She’s always with her.”

“Aye, I’m sure she does, but Rinalda is as secretive as she is. I think they’ve formed a secret alliance of some sort.”

Matthew chuckled. “Such is the bond between women, Me Laird. Especially between a Maither and her daughter.”