Plight of the Highlander (The MacLomain Series: Next Generation Book 5) by Sky Purington Page B
Authors: Sky Purington
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to savor the moment, she braced herself against the tree, tilted back her head and enjoyed the warmth of the sun on her face.
That moment would prove to be one she would think about many times over the years. The way the bark had felt against her skin. The way the sun covered her face. But what made it all that much more profound were Colin’s words from below, said just loud enough that they whispered on the wind.
“Ye are so bloody beautiful.”
Her eyes found his in an instant. He waited, breathless it seemed, as he stared up at her. It was the first time she saw herself through another’s eyes. How the sun ignited her multi-colored hair and her chemise brushed against her skin in the wind. But even as she saw the appreciation in his gaze she looked back at him with matched desire. Without doubt, Colin MacLeod was remarkably handsome but she suddenly saw beyond his outer appearance to the man behind the face. Stunned, she couldn’t pull her eyes away as her initial feelings upon meeting him once more flared.
I know your soul. Somehow I always have.
“Come on then, lass,” he whispered, but she heard him regardless. “‘Tis time.”
Blinking several times, she ripped free of the revelation and offered a jerky nod as she held the rope tight and pulled back. Caught somewhere between the intense feelings she’d just had and the sudden exhilaration of swinging from the tree, Torra squealed.
It felt like she was flying!
Torra let go of the rope once it had swung out to its furthest point. Then she was falling fast and let out another squeal of delight as wind rushed by her face.
She smiled when she hit the water.
Though she swam plenty of times in the loch as a bairn, many years had passed since. Kicking her legs, she burst through the surface and laughed. Colin laughed as well and pulled her in until she could stand. Then they just continued to laugh and splash and…play. Or at least that was what it felt like as they bantered with words, challenged one another in swimming contests and even skimmed rocks. Then they’d swing from the rope again and again.
Later that day, they lay in a wide patch of grass not that far from the river, content to enjoy the sun and silence. But then it really wasn’t all that silent. The wind swayed the trees, brushing the branches together. Fish jumped. Birds chirped. Nay, there was plenty of sound to be had in a highland forest without saying a word.
Torra even dozed at some point because when next she opened her eyes, Colin was no longer laying on his back staring up at the trees but on his side, head propped in his hand as he studied her.
“What?” she whispered.
Colin pressed his lips together as if ready to deliver dire news. “‘Tis a thing to know I look upon the most bonnie lass ever born to Scotland.”
Flattered but well aware it was likely a line he had said many times before she replied, “And what think the other lasses when ye say such?”
While she thought she’d bring forth a grin with her clever statement, his lips turned down a fraction. “Mayhap you didnae hear me clearly.” But then he grew more determined and tiny flecks of fire lit his eyes. “Or mayhap ye dinnae truly see in yourself what I see.”
Now propped up on her elbows, she kept her eyes locked with his and waited. If keeping to a tower for so long and repressing what lie within had taught her anything, it was that observing rather than speaking wasn’t always such a bad thing.
Yet it seemed Colin was not going to elaborate. Instead, he took her hand. “I came here before ye arrived, searched out that tree then hung the rope with purpose.”
Taken aback by his thoughtfulness, she said, “Thank ye. ‘Twas great fun.”
Colin nodded and his eyes dropped as he struggled with something. “Fun isnae something ye’ve had much of for far too long. ‘Twas important.” Then his eyes met hers. “But ‘twas not my sole purpose for doing such.”
“What was then?”
His thumb
That moment would prove to be one she would think about many times over the years. The way the bark had felt against her skin. The way the sun covered her face. But what made it all that much more profound were Colin’s words from below, said just loud enough that they whispered on the wind.
“Ye are so bloody beautiful.”
Her eyes found his in an instant. He waited, breathless it seemed, as he stared up at her. It was the first time she saw herself through another’s eyes. How the sun ignited her multi-colored hair and her chemise brushed against her skin in the wind. But even as she saw the appreciation in his gaze she looked back at him with matched desire. Without doubt, Colin MacLeod was remarkably handsome but she suddenly saw beyond his outer appearance to the man behind the face. Stunned, she couldn’t pull her eyes away as her initial feelings upon meeting him once more flared.
I know your soul. Somehow I always have.
“Come on then, lass,” he whispered, but she heard him regardless. “‘Tis time.”
Blinking several times, she ripped free of the revelation and offered a jerky nod as she held the rope tight and pulled back. Caught somewhere between the intense feelings she’d just had and the sudden exhilaration of swinging from the tree, Torra squealed.
It felt like she was flying!
Torra let go of the rope once it had swung out to its furthest point. Then she was falling fast and let out another squeal of delight as wind rushed by her face.
She smiled when she hit the water.
Though she swam plenty of times in the loch as a bairn, many years had passed since. Kicking her legs, she burst through the surface and laughed. Colin laughed as well and pulled her in until she could stand. Then they just continued to laugh and splash and…play. Or at least that was what it felt like as they bantered with words, challenged one another in swimming contests and even skimmed rocks. Then they’d swing from the rope again and again.
Later that day, they lay in a wide patch of grass not that far from the river, content to enjoy the sun and silence. But then it really wasn’t all that silent. The wind swayed the trees, brushing the branches together. Fish jumped. Birds chirped. Nay, there was plenty of sound to be had in a highland forest without saying a word.
Torra even dozed at some point because when next she opened her eyes, Colin was no longer laying on his back staring up at the trees but on his side, head propped in his hand as he studied her.
“What?” she whispered.
Colin pressed his lips together as if ready to deliver dire news. “‘Tis a thing to know I look upon the most bonnie lass ever born to Scotland.”
Flattered but well aware it was likely a line he had said many times before she replied, “And what think the other lasses when ye say such?”
While she thought she’d bring forth a grin with her clever statement, his lips turned down a fraction. “Mayhap you didnae hear me clearly.” But then he grew more determined and tiny flecks of fire lit his eyes. “Or mayhap ye dinnae truly see in yourself what I see.”
Now propped up on her elbows, she kept her eyes locked with his and waited. If keeping to a tower for so long and repressing what lie within had taught her anything, it was that observing rather than speaking wasn’t always such a bad thing.
Yet it seemed Colin was not going to elaborate. Instead, he took her hand. “I came here before ye arrived, searched out that tree then hung the rope with purpose.”
Taken aback by his thoughtfulness, she said, “Thank ye. ‘Twas great fun.”
Colin nodded and his eyes dropped as he struggled with something. “Fun isnae something ye’ve had much of for far too long. ‘Twas important.” Then his eyes met hers. “But ‘twas not my sole purpose for doing such.”
“What was then?”
His thumb
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