The Scot's Angel - Keira Montclair Page 0,1

nonstop, showing her how to find the best apple trees, how to climb them and shake the apples down, and how to use her mantle to carry the fruit. But what impressed her most was his sweet consideration. He’d taken her hand to help her down difficult paths, moving much more slowly than he needed to so she wouldn’t trip. He’d even protected her against several wildly swinging branches.

Just like her sire did whenever she was outside with him.

She’d felt so safe and cherished, as if a warm flame had lit inside her. She’d hoped he would pursue her. That light only burned brighter when their team came in second in the contest. But when she led Thorn over to speak with her father, her previously talkative escort had promptly stopped talking. Not out of rudeness though—he’d looked at Connor Grant as if he admired him more than anyone…and then he’d walked away from both of them.

Nothing more had materialized from their adventure together. She’d questioned her mother about Thorn, and she’d just said he was unusually shy. Since Claray wasn’t exactly forward, she’d given up hope on him. For all she knew, he might not want to take on the challenge of courting a lass who so rarely left the castle. Claray’s fears kept her more confined than most. Her first taste of safety and security had been in Castle Grant, and she had an unwarranted fear she’d never return if she left.

Two years later, at seven and twenty, she’d agreed to a betrothal, but that relationship had ended tragically.

That had been five years ago now, and in the interim her hopes for a relationship with Thorn had risen and fallen. While he did pay her plenty of attention, he had never asked her to dance or take a walk. Nor had he ever approached her father to ask to court her. Perhaps he thought she was too old, for unwed lasses of two and thirty were well beyond the normal age of marriage.

Her mother, Sela, smiled at her from the table. “Join us, Claray. I’ll have the serving lass bring another bowl of porridge.” Other members of the clan were scattered throughout the hall, chattering happily.

Thorn said, “I’d be pleased to share my honey with you. I have much more than I need.”

Then he sat down, quietly consuming the bread and porridge in front of him. She ignored everyone else, her eyes on Thorn.

She’d been interested in him for such a long time, but what was a woman to do to engage a man. Ask him directly? Would you court me? Do you have feelings for me? Thorn, we’re both getting on in years. Can’t we arrange something? But she’d never had the courage to say anything.

Neither had he demonstrated any more interest in her, which left her wondering what was wrong with her. Perhaps her mother had been right about him, and he was simply shy, for he was older than she and still unmarried too.

It might be time to ask Dyna for help. Her sister was the expert at conniving.

Sela said, “We’ll decorate most of the day, then all the Grants will join us for our first seasonal feast this eve. The minstrels will come, and I’ll hang a special ornament as we do every year.”

“I’ll help any way I can, Mama,” Claray said. “’Tis my favorite time of the year.”

Nari said, “’Tis the best time of year for food. I hope we find a wild boar or a deer on the hunt tomorrow. We’ll go goose hunting soon, as well. Must have that plump goose for the Yule feasts.

The two men chattered on about what food was best, but Claray kept her gaze on Thorn. Every now and again, he cast a glance on her too. Would he look at her with such admiration if he wasn’t interested?

She had to do something.

***

Thorn did his best not to stare at Claray. They’d known each other since before her mother had married Connor Grant, who was now one of Clan Grant’s two lairds. In the beginning, he’d had an interest in her in a protective sense—the bastards in the Channel of Dubh had held her prisoner when she was just a wee lassie—but that had changed with the years. He’d watched her grow into a beautiful lass, always afraid she’d marry someone else. It had almost happened once, but a tragedy had prevented it, and she hadn’t married at all.

He remembered when he’d nearly lost his heart