Free FLAME ACROSS THE HIGHLANDS by Katherine Vickery

Six
    The strum of harp strings echoed throughout the hall. Glenna smiled as she went about her woman's work.  She relished every plink and plunk because it was brought about by Alastair's adroit fingers.  From time to time she cast a longing glance at him over her shoulder as she cut up the vegetables for the stovies.  A hundred times she had imagined what it would be like to find herself in his arms.  He was handsome, so undeniably handsome.  Surely no warrior could have had arms as strong, a face so wonderfully chiseled or hair that shown like gold in the sun.  Now while he practiced his singing for the evenings feasting, his hair gleamed in the firelight, taking on a darker hue.
    Only when his gaze met her eye s did she realize how poignantly she was staring.  Hastily she looked away, but not before she witnessed the smile that curved his lips. A tantalyzing grin that gave her hope that he was thinking about her too. Oh, how she wanted to we him. With Brianna promised to the Campbell heir it was entirely possible.
    Ah, please let him ask for me soon, she thought.  "I will take no other but Alastair,"  she swore beneath her breath.  No other man had touched her heart as he had.  He was the man she wanted. She could feel it with every beat of her heart.  Even his very name deeply stirred her, filled her senses as deeply as a draught of her father's ale.  And yet, though he talked with her, walked with her, sang soft flowery verses that she sensed were meant for her, he had avoided telling her in words what his intentions might be.  He would ask for her, would he not?  Surely he was not just teasing her, toying with her affections?
    Glenna gasped as she accidentally nicked her thumb with the knife.  Resigning herself to keep her mind on what she was doing, she nonetheless found it to be an impossible vow.  She just couldn't keep her eyes from roaming to where Alastair sat slumped on his bench, the harp propped against his knee.
    "Ah , the finest voice in all the Highlands, that he has."  The young, dark-haired woman who spoke licked her lips, daring a much bolder smile at the seanachaidh   than Glenna might have dared.  "His hands are gentle on the strings.  I dare to think they might stroke a woman's body with as much magic."
    "Och!  Ye be brazen to say such a thing!"  Just the thought of Alastair holding any other woman in his arms wounded Glenna to the quick, n or could she hide her emotions. "Fie, Jeanne!"
    "Brazen because ye 'ave set yer sights on him?  Ye be not alone.  There must be at least half a dozen wi' th e same thought in mind.  Ha, I'd even say there are some o' the married one's who would shove their husbands aside to have the bard in their bed."  She giggled suggestively.  "Ye know what they say aboot a tall mon wi' long fingers....."
    Glenna did, and she blushed to the roots of her hair.  She had heard the women talking, espousing what went on between a woman and a man.  They had even been so bold as to talk about marital secrets, comparing their husbands' love-making.  Some had been said to be ample, others found wanting. Whisperings about the bard had been bandied about.  His looks, his voice, his gentleness made him a romantic figure about the hall.  Though Glenna was an untried maiden, all the twittering had sparked her curiosity, beset her with fantasies.  Wild primitive desires invaded her young body, flamed with a fever that ofttimes shocked her.  It was her greatest longing to be wed.  It was a yearning that sparked her impatience.  Now Jeanne's whisperings made her even more anxious to marry Alastair before another claimed him.
    "O ch, I can read yer thoughts as clearly as the bard can his scribbled words, but little good it will do ye, lass.  Yer the MacQuarie's daughter.  Love is no' fer the likes o' ye.  Ye'll marry to further the interests of the clan.  Yer sister is marrying a Campbell.  Perhaps a MacLeod will be in yer stars."  Glancing sideways