Page 5 of The Highlander's Fake Wife
“Relax,” Arthur offered in reassurance. “She willnae attack unless I command it.”
“And ye dinnae command it?” Olivia asked tersely.
Arthur shook his head. “Nay, lass; me feud wasnae with ye personally.”
“Just the whole of me folk,” Olivia retorted.
Irritation rose onto Arthur’s tongue, but he forced himself to sit back down instead. The fire continued to flicker between them, the hare’s skin charred and visibly crisping. “Ye can argue all ye’d like after we eat, selkie.”
Olivia’s brow rose, staring her own set of daggers his way. “I told ye my name, didnae I?”
“Ye did, aye,” Arthur remarked, pulling the hare away from the fire and tapping it tentatively. “Though ye’re still actin’ like a beast to me.”
Goddess of the waves indeed; she was as temperamental as the open waters were, unpredictable in their strength and vindictive in nature. He began to slice a strip of cooked flesh with his knife, balancing it across the blade as the woman’s glare continued to bore through him. He let out a snort, eye lifting to greet her gaze.
“Yer nae gonna tell me yers?”
“Ye dinnae ken it yerself?”
Her cheeks flushed crimson against the flickering flames, and she immediately rounded the fire to put as much distance as she could between them. Dropping back to the ground in a huff, she tightened her grasp around her arisaid, subtly shivering beneath the now-fraying cloth.
“Put me cloak back on, ye thrawny lass,” Arthur said. “Yer nae gonna undo the work I put into savin’ yer skin.”
Olivia shot a dirty scowl his way, though her hand was already grasping for the cloak’s hem. “Why do ye care, anyway?”
His knife slid across another sliver, offering the piece Olivia’s way. When she simply stared at it, Arthur shrugged and popped it into his mouth.
“Yer look on life is narrow, selkie. Far too many colors to see everything as just black ‘n’ white.” He sliced through the hare’s haunch this time, shifting to stretch his hand around the fire to close the distance between the two. “Ye better take it this time, or I’m throwing it to Maesie.”
The deerhound’s ears perked, having messily finished her own hare meal and licking her bloodied lips in anticipation.
Olivia let out a hiss of indignation, hesitated, then finally gave in. Her slender hand grasped the leg from Arthur’s hands, and he couldn’t help but notice the slight callus built along the tips of her fingers. He rose a brow, watching as she once more bound herself in the cloak and nibbled on the hare. “I stand corrected–maybe yer more of a hunter than I first thought.”
Olivia gave him a curious, if not cautious, raise of the brow. “What are ye gabbin’ on about?”
Arthur gestured to her hands. “I expected more delicate hands from the only daughter o’MacCulloh, but ye can fire an’ arrow, cannae ye?”
Olivia visibly hesitated.
“Aye, I dinnae think yer a threat to me, selkie,” Arthur reassured, though the woman looked somewhat insulted. “I’m just surprised, is all. Ye ever killed anythin’?”
Olivia shook her head.
“But ye’ve seen death, aye?” Arthur watched as a memory passed over Olivia’s eyes, a tremble following soon after. “Ye ken I have, but that’s the cost o’war.” He held the half-eaten hare in his hands, glassy eye staring lifelessly into his own. “Saw plenty o’me own kin die as well. Fought like hell to make sure as few did as possible.”
His eye found Olivia’s, surprised at how soft his voice had become. “I killed yer faither, aye. But he killed my own, too. Would ye expect me to roll over and let the maithers an’ bairns of my clan perish at MacCulloh’s hand?”
It was obvious Olivia didn’t, but she remained quiet, though stared rather intently at the haunch of meat in her hand.
“War’s nae black ‘n’ white, selkie,” Arthur said quietly. “People arenae, either.” He paused, guilt squirming in his chest and curling against his tongue. “I…am sorry about yer kin, though.An’ yer clan turnin’ on ye and yer maither; nae right, what they put ye through tonight.”
Olivia shrugged, taking another bite of hare before discarding the bone off to the side. Maesie let out a mournful whine, tail swishing across the dirt as she eyed it longingly.
“Aye, go on an’ fetch, then,” Arthur said.
The deerhound immediately scrambled to her feet, snapping up the bone as Olivia let out a startled squeal. Maesie gave her a curious look, bone shards splitting between her teeth, and she seemed to come to a decision, sitting beside the woman with a thump of her tail.
“Yer not cross with me, then?” Olivia hesitantly reached her hand out, patting the deerhound’s head as Maesie thrummed happily, still noisily chewing away.
