Possessed By The Highlander. Terri Brisbin

simple and congenial conversation followed as they ate. Soon they all rose and prepared to return to the laird’s solar where the discussions were being held.

      Mayhap he had been the problem? Mayhap his own attitude had been at fault and this short break would improve the business still ahead of them?

      He spied Tavis in the corridor as he walked behind the laird and called him over. Tavis’s talent was just what he needed for a special gift he would need within the next few days. With a few instructions and a warning to speak of it to no one, Tavis headed off to find what he needed.

      Duncan smiled then, thinking on the expression the child’s face would wear when she saw the surprise he was planning. And, if he did that, made the little girl smile, mayhap he could draw one from her mother as well?

       Chapter Four

      Duncan allowed three more days to pass, three long, unending days, before he permitted his thoughts to drift from the numbers and the clauses of the treaties under discussion to the woman and the wee child who lived at the edge of the village. Yet, for every step forward the negotiations took, they fell two behind. If the pattern had not repeated itself three times so far, he would have doubted his assessment. But, even Hamish had noticed it.

      This time, Iain had suggested a break, with some hunting to refresh their larder and their spirits. His men agreed rapidly, as he knew they would, for they tired of their close quarters and good behavior. A hard ride and some good hunting would burn off the building tension. That and the feast that the laird had announced for two days hence. Fearing that he’d kept them on too tight a hold, Duncan accepted the invitation and extended it to the MacLerie men.

      The day was fair and the storm clouds that built on the horizon in the morn seemed to drift in other directions, giving them the perfect conditions for their hunt. The Robertsons seemed a congenial lot—mock battles of their hunting skills carried them through the day, with each clan proving themselves as worthy adversaries. Even the laird brought down a stag, to the wild cheering of his men. Duncan allowed him his moment of triumph, deciding that he and the tentative negotiations did not need him to demonstrate his own prowess in the hunt. By the time the sun began to slide down toward the dusk, the group was heading toward the village and the keep behind it.

      It was as they rode over the bridge that Duncan’s attention shifted for only a moment, but it was time enough to be noticed by Hamish. Feeling under his cloak for the toy, he took leave of the laird, announcing his intention to visit with his clansman Ranald. After the others traveled on ahead, he did indeed go to the smithy’s cottage, for he had questions on his mind and could trust Ranald for honest answers and discretion.

      A mug of ale and a short conversation later, and Duncan headed to the cottage off the path. Along with the carved wooden toy, he also carried several game birds caught this day. A gift for Ciara and her mother.

      He shifted on the horse as he realized how much planning he’d put into this supposed casual visit to the girl and her mother, but after that brief moment of doubt, Duncan continued down the path. Listening to the sounds around him, he did not hear the sounds of laughter that had greeted him previously. Nor did he hear any sounds of a struggle. Dismounting and tethering his horse to a tree, he walked toward the front of the cottage.

      A glance and a listen told him that Ciara and Mara worked not in their garden. He strode over to the stone wall that surrounded it and peered into the enclosure. Examining it without the distraction of the women who cared for it, Duncan noticed that, though small in size, it was efficiently laid out and well-cared for. He recognized both some cooking and healing herbs that Jocelyn and her women used in Lairig Dubh, but there were many he did not. Still, the signs told him that the garden’s keeper was organized and dependable in its care.

      Still hearing no sounds from the cottage, he returned to its door and knocked softly. When no reply came, he called out their names softly and still heard no response. He should have turned and walked away…and taken it as the sign he needed to tarry no longer in this interest. But, something made him stay, reach for the latch and open the door.

      The cottage was small, but clean and dry. Several mats lay strewn over the packed dirt floor and a small palette was positioned in the farthest corner from the door. A cupboard and another trunk sat on the other wall. There was a small hearth in the far wall and, in the middle of the room, a small round table with two stools. Again, simple and efficient, in its contents and care. It was the few items on the table that made his chest tighten.

      A child’s meager toys, made of sticks and cloth, sat in a pile there, as though waiting for their owner to return. One was a doll; another was a horse. Duncan smiled, knowing that the one inside his cloak would please the girl. And for some reason still to be deciphered, that pleased him.

      Now, looking around the room, he acknowledged for the first time to himself, that this was what he wanted. No more traveling from one end of Scotland to the other on the clan’s business. No more always living and traveling in the middle of tension and danger and strife. His life had been and still was about peace at any price, but that did not mean he did not wish it to be different, with a wife, some children and lands to tend.

      In his heart, Duncan the Peacemaker wanted to be nothing more than Duncan the Farmer.

      Oh, Connor and Rurik would get a hearty laugh out of that. They would double over from laughing so hard at such a thought, but Duncan knew it for the truth it was. And now, standing here, in the quiet of this plain cottage, he believed it for the first time.

      He was so caught up in contemplating his future that he never heard their approach. It was the girl’s gasp that drew him from his thoughts and made him realize he was an intruder here.

      “My pardon,” he began, looking into the shocked eyes of the mother. “I was looking for you and thought you might be inside,” he explained.

      Marian took Ciara’s hand, knowing that her daughter would run to him. The man had been the subject of her childish ramblings since his last visit here and now that he stood before them, Marian did not discount her daughter’s infatuation. His very size made her reluctant to enter the cottage, for he nearly touched the roof of it when he stood at his full height. It was Ciara’s other infatuation that saved her.

      “Sir, can I see your horse?” her daughter asked.

      A smile filled his face, once more softening his gaze and his eyes, as he nodded. But before he agreed aloud, he looked to her for permission. She was prepared for this, having thought through all sorts of scenarios after his last visit and knowing she must guide him into disinterest before it became dangerous.

      Marian was prepared to wave off such an invita-tion…until she looked at her daughter’s face.

      Never had she seen such an expression in Ciara’s eyes—wonderment and anticipation blended and practically shone like the sun there. Was it the attention of such a man that enthralled her daughter? Was it the simple interest in a lively animal? Or was there something else happening here? With a worried twisting in her stomach, she gave in without a word. All it took was a slight nod, and Ciara grabbed the Peacemaker’s hands and dragged him outside toward the horse.

      Marian followed along, all but forgotten by both of them, or so she thought, until they reached the horse. Having seen it rear and rage, its docile stance now made her nervous. But, from the confident way that Ciara strode at Duncan’s side without hesitation, her daughter carried none of that fear. Although the horse raised its head and watched their approach, it stood still as they moved closer.

      Duncan crouched down and whispered instructions to the girl before he took her to the horse’s side. She was as sure as anyone he’d seen in her manner around the animal and even the horse’s great size did not scare her off. He smiled and turned to her mother.

      “With your permission, I would let her ride,” he said.

      And he waited. He knew Mara was uncomfortable with even his presence, but he was counting on her desire to please her daughter to see this through.

      “She is so small. I…” Mara shook her