Free Highland Mist by Donna Grant

Ailsa’s words. He hid a smile and pushed Glenna’s food to her mouth.
    A laugh escaped as Glenna took a small bite of bread and put down the food. It was clear to him then just how much she had missed being kept within MacNeil’s walls. It was odd seeing a child teaching an adult, but that’s what was happening right before his eyes. As he listened to Ailsa’s descriptions of the loch in winter, the falcons that soared above them and the taste of fresh snow, he realized he had come to take things for granted.
    Ailsa was oblivious at just how much her words meant to Glenna, he noticed. She went about eating while she talked. “Just there,” Ailsa pointed over her left shoulder, “is my favorite pine.”
    “You have a favorite tree?” Glenna asked, eyes wide with amazement.
    “Aye. I come here nearly every day to visit him.” Ailsa then pointed to a spot of earth. “Very soon a clump of wild hyacinth will sprout. If you look close you can see the leaves just coming up.”
    Conall learned so much about his daughter and Glenna, and he had said not two words the entire time. Every once in a while Ailsa would raise her eyes and smile at him, as if making sure he was still there.
    Glenna was hungry for information and Ailsa was a willing teacher, but he knew the time drew near for them to head back. He packed the rest of the food and watched as they squatted together while looking at the hyacinth Ailsa had pointed out.
    He raised his face to the sun. The afternoon had flown by. He hated having to tell them it was time to leave and spoil their fun. “It’s time we head back,” he called.
    Ailsa frowned. Glenna stood, and said, “Go on then. We’ll be up later.”
    He almost laughed. No one told him nay, much less his prisoner. He understood why she didn’t want to return, but the point was he had given an order. “We’ll all return together.”
    Glenna bit her tongue when she realized she had spoken so harshly, and by the hardness of his eyes she knew she had spoken wrong. She decided to try another tactic.
    “You said yourself we were safe here.”
    “I know what I said, Glenna. You’ll be returning with me,” he said, and turned to walk up the steep path to the castle.
    And for the first time in her life she acted like a petulant child and stomped her foot. Ailsa gasped and ran after Conall. Glenna raised her eyes and found the hem of Conall’s kilt smoking as flames shot up.
    “Conall,” she called as Ailsa reached him and began slapping at bottom of his kilt.
    He turned and, seeing the flames, quickly jumped into the loch. When he rose from the water, Glenna knew real fear. His steely eyes roamed the area around them.
    “How did my plaid catch fire?” he asked her.
    She shrugged her shoulders and marched up the hill to the castle. The last thing she wanted was to explain to him how things seemed to catch on fire when she got angry. Nay, better to leave that out for now and control her temper so it didn’t happen again.
    They had just entered the bailey when a guard yelled, “Rider approaching.”
    Glenna jerked her eyes to Conall. Trepidation pooled in her belly and grew like an unwanted weed. Her mind screamed nay, for she knew it was a MacNeil who approached.
    It’s too soon. I don’t have my answers.
    But now everything had come crashing down around her. She placed Ailsa in Angus’ arms and caught up with Conall before he reached the steps leading to the battlements. “Did you expect them so soon?”
    “Aye. I anticipated them yesterday.”
    His flat tone and hard eyes told her much. This was the man that went into battle. It sent a shiver down her body and almost made her miss a step as she climbed the stairs. An image of his sword raised against the MacNeil flashed in her mind. She stopped and closed her eyes in hopes of seeing more, but the vision faded. Her eyes opened to find Conall had already reached the top. She raced after him and came to stand by his side.
    A low growl sounded