Chapter Three

Eagan kept her arm tucked into his. Even though she seemed tired, her steps were light as if she'd been born part fairy and hovered with supernatural grace. "Meg told me ye're invited to stay the night at Aros Castle. Lady Ava probably wants ye to check in on Cecilia before ye leave for Wolf Isle."

Tessa remained silent throughout his speech. He listened for the slight crunch of her feet on the ground, as if that would prove she was a lass and not some ethereal fae roaming the night of Samhain. "Did ye celebrate Samhain in France or England or wherever you came from?"

"No," she said, glancing beside him where long tables had been set for the dead. "Is there a big feast to come?"

He hadn't even thought about her being hungry. "We already feasted but there's still food. Let's find ye something." He veered them toward the tables.

"But the tables are dressed as if no one has eaten."

"'Tis for the dead." They walked to a table with the remaining food. "'Tis tradition that we celebrate those who have died on Samhain night," he explained. "We set a place for each person we mourn, so they feel welcome and remembered."

She turned large, dark eyes up to him. "Do you think the dead feel anything?" Light from the torches set up around the feast tables showed the pinch in her brows.

"I don't know," he said, "but 'tis a tradition, more for the living than the dead."

Her attention shifted to the tables. "Does it help?"

"Help?"

"Do you mourn less by doing it?"

Did he? Eagan obviously didn't remember his mother since she'd died soon after he was born, along with his twin sister. He mourned his father when he died years ago. Would the pain of losing him linger more if he hadn't set a place for him at the Samhain table?

"I don't know," Eagan answered.

"You don't know a lot," she murmured, but her tone was teasing.

He snorted softly and handed her a bun and knife smeared with butter. "I don't think about the dead much."

Her small grin slid away. "Then you've not lost someone you love." Tessa slathered the butter on the bun and walked along the table, bending to peer at some of the dolls that were set to represent people. "Are there plates set for your family?" she asked.

He strode halfway along the far table. "My mother, Hilda Gunn Macquarie…" He touched a doll of braided hay. "My father, John Macquarie…" He pointed to the next plate where a jagged rock sat. "'Tis a rock from Wolf Isle." He moved to the small plate next to his mother. "And this is for my twin sister, Felicia." A woven doll, the size of his thumb, lay swaddled on the plate.

"Your twin? How terrible. You must mourn them, and your father."

"Felicia died at birth, and my mother shortly after. I didn't know them, and my father seemed…content to move on."

Tessa laid her hand on his arm. The simple gesture, so light and gentle, dispelled the twinge of sadness like a wave washing away a line in the sand. "But to lose your twin… You must have a sense of loneliness."

Eagan felt his face tighten. "I'm never alone with a large family around me. I am actually searching for some loneliness." He grinned, but it was forced.

"I have been alone more times than not."

"I'm sorry."

Her smile seemed filled with memories. "Doing things alone can be satisfying but doing things with another pulls on two sets of strengths. My mother and I made a great team, but now she is gone."

Eagan supposed he and his brothers were a team of sorts, protecting their home against the pirate, Jandeau, and any Englishmen who came to cause trouble.

They were silent for a long moment, the evening breeze crisp. "Would ye like to add a place for her?"

She nodded, her dark hair moving about her beautiful pale face. "Oui." He retrieved a plate from the stack provided by Tor and Ava and made room next to Felicia. "Do ye have something of hers to put on it? If not—"

"I have this," she said, pulling a locket from her bodice. It hung on a golden chain and was shaped like a birdcage. "'Twas my mother's, but I never take it off." Before he could study it, she tucked it away. "But I have a ribbon we shared." She pulled a blue ribbon from a pocket in her white petticoat, which was stained with water from the bathing birth. Her fingers worked to tie it in a little bow, and she placed it on the plate. "Will I get it back?"

"No one dares touch the items to call the dead," he said, and placed a small rock on one end of the ribbon. "So it won't blow away."

A smile curved her lips. "Merci," she whispered.

The word made her lips touch together before parting, and like a spell, the movement and lyrical sound seemed to pull him closer to her. Soft lips. Kissable lips . Eagan wanted to do more than kiss her. He wanted to wrap her in his arms, protecting and warming her on every side.

It was more than a mere carnal reaction to being in the presence of a beautiful woman. He'd lusted before. Lust was like a tickling throb through his body, a hardening, preparing it for action. This feeling was like a languid flow of heat spreading across his chest. Perhaps it was her delicate form or that she'd no one besides Grissell to protect her. Her mother was dead, and she hadn't mentioned a father.

Tessa's full inhale made her breasts rise, swelling a bit above the embroidered neckline of her bodice. He blinked, bringing his gaze back to her face. Her mouth quirked up on one side as if she'd caught him looking at her breasts. Her cool fingers found his hand, and she tugged him toward the meadow where people still laughed and danced.

"Now show me the fires."

…

Tessa was tired, but the revelry called to her. After a year at Grissell's orphanage on Wolf Isle, the isolation, so different from the courts of Paris, had begun to weigh on her spirit. Perhaps she should suggest Eagan change places with her so he could relax in some loneliness, because Tessa surely missed the laughter and celebration found in a crowd.

When her mother, Rebecca, lived, she'd taken Tessa to all the festivals in Paris and the surrounding countryside, following the court of King Francis I. The colors and music, the luster and laughter had mesmerized Tessa, and in turn she had mesmerized the court with her voice.

"We walk between the fires to be blessed for the coming year," Eagan said. As they walked across the uneven ground, he offered her his arm, and she took it. She prided herself in her grace but liked the feel of him under her hand. And despite his gaze momentarily taking in her body, he'd only looked into her eyes. What an unusual man.

He led her up to the fire, heat billowing out as the bright flames reached for the inky sky above. They stood before the larger one where the dancing had stopped, the children being rounded up by several young women who looked over at her with Eagan. They were curious, but Tessa saw no venom in their faces. Her mother had taught her long ago how to spot treachery behind bland smiles and plotting eyes.

Three girls skipped over toward them, holding hands. One was nearly a woman, one about ten years old, and the last, with blond braids, was not older than five years. "Uncle Eagan," the middle child called. "'Tis time to go home." All three smiled, curtseying before Tessa.

"My lady," the oldest said.

"Milady," the littlest repeated, holding her dress wide as she sunk again.

Tessa smiled in return. Such good manners. She dipped into a deep curtsy. "My ladies," she said.

They stared wide-eyed at her, the youngest giggling.

"I'm Pip," said the middle child. "And this is my sister, Hester." She squeezed the little girl to her.

"And I'm Aggie," the oldest said. "Two of my sisters are married to two of Eagan's brothers." She nodded to him.

"I'm Tessa."

"You're lovely," Hester whispered, and Tessa felt the girl's sweetness flow through her as if she'd been infused with honey.

She lowered so she came even with the youngest. "And you are précieux, precious." She caught one of the curls spinning out from her braid to curve along her flushed cheek.

"Tessa can come home with us," Aggie said, looking at Eagan. "Meg told Lark and Anna that she lives with Grissell." Aggie looked embarrassed and turned her gaze to Tessa. "That you, milady, live on Wolf Isle." There was a question in her tone.

Tessa looped her arm through Eagan's again. All three girls watched with curiosity. "I do," Tessa said, "but tonight I must remain to check on the wee babe and mother in the morn."

"I'll stay with her," Eagan said, placing her hand on his arm. "I mean…I'll stay at Aunt Ida's and bring Tessa over in the morn when she's done."

Tessa liked the warmth of his large palm over the back of her hand. She could feel the roughness of callouses, proving that his muscles were built from hard work.

"Aunt Kat said you'd stay here with her," Hester said in her little-girl voice and giggled.

Pip whispered something in the child's ear, and Hester covered her mouth with both hands, one on top of the other.

"When you do come over," Aggie said, looking at Tessa, "my sister and the other wives of the Macquarie brothers invite you to visit Gylin Castle. We would like to know you." She tipped her head to one side. "I can't believe you've been on Wolf Isle for a year, and we've never met."

Ye should stay hidden from them.

Grissell's warning nagged at Tessa, but she nodded at the girls and raised her gaze to the women standing beyond in a cluster. There were at least six adult women and four children, two boys and two girls chasing around each other. She gave the curious ladies a nod, and they smiled back.

"I would be pleased to visit," Tessa said, and Hester clapped her hands.

The three bobbed another curtsy and ran back to the group. Several large men nodded toward Eagan and herded the children toward the dock. An older man with a thick beard trotted after them as if worried he'd be forgotten.

"You have a large family," she said as she watched.

"Aye," he said, sounding almost sullen. "And there are few secrets with the littles being sent off to discover information."

Tessa laughed softly. "They're good at finding things out."

"Ye have no idea," he murmured.

Her smile faded, and she turned back to the flames. "Having a family is a blessing." She dropped his arm and walked toward the fire.

He caught up in two strides. "Apologies, Tessa."

"For what?"

He frowned down at her. "For whatever I said that took the smile from yer lips."

He'd been watching her lips? She sniffed, looking back at the fire. "I have no siblings," she said, "and my mother died two years ago. So…having a large family seems wonderful to me."

"I'm sorry about yer mother." After a long pause, he asked, "Ye don't know yer father?"

"I do," she said, her mind going to the imposing figure of the man who'd brought her to Wolf Isle. "My father is Captain Lemaire, who sails for the French Navy." She looked at him. "They were married, but he was unable to live with us due to his station."

She looked back at the flames lest he see the disappointment in her eyes. "He rescued me from the Paris streets after my mother died. I had nowhere to go unless it was to some man's bed as a mistress. My father dropped me off at Ulva Isle, or Wolf Isle as you call it. He promised to return for me when he could." She nodded, clutching her hands together into a fist to rest against her chest. "I know he will, and I wait for him." She could feel the outline of her locket beneath the white bodice Grissell had given her to wear since it was Samhain.

So the spirits will think of ye as one of their own and leave ye be.

"How did he even know about Grissell's home or our little isle?" Eagan asked.

She shouldn't give too much information out to near strangers. "Captain Lemaire is knowledgeable about the isles around Scotland and England. King Henri is most interested in places he could land troops to invade England."

Eagan rubbed the back of his neck. "'Twould be nice to have England on the defensive. Now that Scotland's wee Queen Mary is in France to wed the dauphin, some think the French should help defend us from the bloody English."

"A drink for ye." A woman's voice made them both turn from the fire.

"Ah," Eagan said, "good eve, Greta."

"I know ye were helping birth a bairn," the curvaceous woman in an apron said, handing cups to her and Eagan. "I saved ye both a cup of my latest whisky batch, and 'tis a good thing, too, for this rowdy group has left barely a drop."

"Ye make the smoothest spirits, Greta."

With a quick perusal of Eagan, and a smile for them both that looked genuine, she turned and walked off, her hips swaying like a pendulum. Tessa glanced at Eagan, but he'd turned back to the fire, missing the display.

"She wants you in her bed."

Eagan spit out the sip he'd taken, his gaze going to her and then to Greta walking down the hill.

"What?"

"The woman, Greta, she'd welcome you to her bed."

"I…I'm not interested in her bed."

Tessa took a sip of the whisky, letting it slide down her throat. It was smooth.

Eagan watched her. "Ye're experienced with drinking whisky then?"

She took a bigger sip and breathed out the fiery fumes. "My mother felt I should keep my wits when men ply me with drink."

He swallowed, watching her as the liquid slid down his throat. "Have men plied ye with drink?"

Tessa felt the fiery brew begin to release the tension in her shoulders. "Oui, they did try, but…" She looked mischievously over the rim of her cup at him. "They were not successful."

They both took a drink while staring at one another, and Tessa felt a stirring coil down inside her to her loins. Since coming to Scotland, she'd only felt cold inside and out, but the heat from the fire, whisky, and the magnificently brawny Highlander began to thaw her.

She certainly hadn't been promiscuous before, her mother watching her like a mother should at the French court, but Tessa wasn't a virgin, either. Her mother, wanting to make sure her daughter experienced pleasure before being caught up in the whirlwind of living, hired a talented man to show Tessa what should happen between a man and a woman. Rebecca had explained how bodies came together in words, and Tessa had agreed to the one-night liaison with the man who had pulled pleasure from her and taught her the ways to give pleasure.

I won't leave your education up to some rutting incompetent, her mother had said.

Tessa watched Eagan Macquarie. What would Rebecca Ainsworth think of the tall, muscular man drinking whisky with her? She opened her mouth to ask him if he was a rutting incompetent.

"Would ye like to walk between the fires for the blessing?" he asked, and she pulled her question back inside. Maybe she'd just have to discover if he were incompetent or not.

"I could always use a blessing," she said and took his offered arm again. As they walked across the uneven ground, Tessa noticed many young and older ladies watching them. "There will be talk tomorrow."

"Talk?" He looked around and then said something low and in Gaelic that sounded like a curse. "Those are lasses who want to wed and their scheming mothers."

"You don't want to wed one of them?" There were some women with light hair, dark hair, tall stature, curvaceous softness…every type of woman.

"Nay," he said, guiding her around fresh cow dung from the parade of animals.

"Tell them we're courting then," she said, her heart picking up speed despite her uncaring tone.

He chuckled. "Thank ye, but they won't believe it. I've tried to start a rumor that I was interested in a lass, and it didn't work."

"Did she not play the part?" Tessa asked. The flames chased away the chill in the autumn air as they slowly walked between the two bonfires.

"She didn't exist, so nay, she didn't play her part. I couldn't ask a real lass to act like we were courting. 'Twould lead her to believe we would eventually wed."

"And you don't want to wed?"

He exhaled. "I've been trying to escape the wedding noose my whole life. I have other plans that will take me exploring. First the rest of Scotland and then farther reaches of the world."

"And the mamas want you to stay and wed their daughters, tie you here, trap you."

"Ye can see why 'tis too risky to pretend with a lass here."

Perhaps it was the whisky relaxing her, or the loneliness that had plagued her, but Tessa made up her mind quickly. As they walked out from between the fires, she pulled Eagan to stand before her and planted her hands on his chest. The muscles beneath the tunic were hard, and she slid upward to capture the back of his neck, pulling his face down to hers. He let her, and before she could worry, Tessa planted her lips on Eagan's.

The stiffness in his form dissolved, and his arms came up around her. Heat hit Tessa from all sides, but the warmth that drew her was from Eagan. Without releasing his neck, she slanted her mouth against his, deepening the kiss. He tasted of whisky, and his kiss held barely restrained passion. One of his hands came up to thread into her hair, climbing to cup her head, allowing him to bend her into his body.

Tessa had the urge to get closer to Eagan, to feel his skin on her skin. His verge was hard enough that she could feel it through his plaid and her single petticoat. This wasn't the response her sexual tutor had exhibited when they'd kissed. His touch had been precise, slow, meticulous whereas Eagan was fierce and almost rough. It was as if he wished to shred her clothing right off her. The thought scattered through her like falling sparks, unleashing her own passion.

"Tessa?"

The woman's voice was far off. She wouldn't have noticed it except that Eagan stiffened and cold replaced the warmth of his mouth on her damp lips. He stepped back, and she made to follow.

"Meg is coming," Eagan said, and it took a moment for Tessa's thoughts to solidify enough for her to remember who this interfering Meg was. Eagan glanced around. "And everyone is watching."

Tessa stared up into his frowning face and released a slow breath. "Now they'll believe we're courting."