Free To Capture A Highlander's Heart: The Beginning by Teresa Reasor

 
The Beginning
     
    Scotland 1330
     
     
    Gabriel eyed the bedclothes and other
garments spread on the bushes around his hut. He approached his
cottage with a combination of caution and curiosity. The wee folk
had visited his home while he was away again? This time they—she
had been cleaning.
    Since the visits had begun, his surprise and
pleasure had melted into wariness.
    The fresh baked bread, the herbs tied with a
scrap of ribbon, his mended shirt, though enjoyed at first, now
made him feel—obligated. Whatever was given, there would be a price
for later. Were these small gifts the bait? Would the trap be
sprung today?
    The scent of stewing vegetables and meat
wafted to him before he reached the door. Shoving open the portal,
he ducked his head to clear the lintel and swept the cabin with a
quick, questing gaze. His clothing hung upon pegs, his wooden
plates and bowls, now washed, were stacked on the shelf. The
hearth, swept clean of ash, boasted a newly laid fire. The stew he
smelled bubbled in a pot balanced on the iron stand above the
flames. Aye, she had been cleaning—and cooking. He breathed an
oath. Who was she? And what was she about?
     
    ****
     
    Grace tucked the empty basket beneath her arm
and raised her skirts to climb the steep hill to the village. She
had bolstered her nerve to announce her presence, but one look at
Gabriel’s expression had shriveled the desire like a dried pea, and
she had fled. Why had he been angry? What had vexed him so?
    Her steps flagged, and she stopped midway up
the hill to rest amongst the wild hyacinth blooming along the path.
Setting aside the basket, she plucked one of the clustered blossoms
and raised it to her nose to breathe in its fragrance.
    She was nothing like Tira, the woman he had
once loved. She could not give him beauty, but she could mend his
clothes, clean his cottage, and cook his food.
    She could bear him children.
    And she would do it with a love in her heart
that would make the offer sweeter.
    If only he could see her.
    She studied the work-roughened fingers that
grasped the flower’s stem. But why should a man such as he settle
for a homely little mouse when he could have beauty as well?
    Her love was no small thing. Was that not a
prize worth more than a pleasing face?
    She lay down amongst the flowers and their
scent surrounded her. If their bellies were full and their clothes
mended, did men ever think of love? Mayhap not.
    Then why would she not do as well as any
other woman?
    But for him to consider her, she had to make
him see her. But how? And if he did and turned away? Pain
grabbed her throat and threatened her composure.
    At the snap of a nearby twig, she jerked to a
sitting position.
    A gasp escaped as the object of her thoughts
stepped from the stand of trees and came to a halt in the clearing.
Black trews hugged his muscular legs. He wore the shirt she had
mended for him beneath leather tunic that clung to his torso and
emphasized the width of his chest and shoulders. Grace scrambled to
her feet, her cheeks hot.
    Gabriel’s long strides seemed to eat up the
distance between them, and with every step her heart beat a flighty
rhythm.
    “Good morn, lass.”
    The deep timbre of his voice with its hint of
raspiness brought delightful chill bumps to her skin. She fought
against a sudden breathlessness to speak to him for the first time.
She swallowed and forced her voice to work. “Good morn.”
    His dark brows, angled in a V over the
straight slope of his nose, hinted at the anger she had recognized
earlier. His neatly trimmed beard darkening the lower half of his
face outlined the sensuous curve of his lips.
    “How long have you been here, lass?”
    “Only a wee time.”
    “Have you seen anyone about? Has anyone
passed you on the path?”
    She shook her head. “Nay.” He was hunting for
the person who had been in his hut. He was not happy about their
trespass—her trespass.
    He nodded. “Good day then.”
    As she watched him ascend