Surviving Scotland by Kristin Vayden

expression that stirred me, and in its place was an impatient glare.
    “Donna start with me, Ioan!” I whispered back with my own fierce indignation. “Ye’re the one who is off sneakin’ through the highlands afore dawn an’ havin’ secret meetin’s. What are ye doin’ here, Ioan? Answer me that!” I placed my hands on my hips and leaned back slightly, glaring and daring him to chastise me again.
    “‘Tis none o’ yer business. But you, out an’ about when all the other sane lasses are snug in their beds, are my business. Yer uncle will have my hide!” Ioan took a step toward me and grabbed my arm and pulled me along the path back to the keep.
    “Let me go, ye overgrown lout.”
    “Better a lout than what yer going to be if yer uncle finds out.”
    “I’ll just tell him I was followin’ you!”
    At that, Ioan abruptly stopped and spun on his boot. A curse was whispered in his rich baritone and I glared at him.
    “Donna expect me ta apologize,” Ioan muttered as he ran his fingers through his hair, mussing it from its tie at the back. The overgrown locks appeared to be untamable, much like Ioan. He raised his head to the sky and heaved a large sigh.
    “Elle, ye canna tell yer uncle about what I was doin’.”
    “Oh, and why?”
    I pulled my plaid up over my shoulders again, as it had slipped down, and I shrugged into the warmth.
    “I canna tell ye.”
    Ioan turned slowly to face me. The weight of the world seemed to balance on his shoulders, and I wondered what he carried there.
    “So ye donna trust me?” I placed my hands on my hips and waited.
    “Lass, ‘tisn’t about me trustin’ ye. ‘Tis about me no’ trustin’… others. I willna’ put ye in danger just ta satisfy yer curiosity. Regardless o’ what ye think o’ me, I’m a better man than that.”
    I didn’t know how to respond. The resolute way his eyes fastened on mine said I was not going to get any more information from Ioan on the subject. He stood straighter and offered me a sorry excuse for a smile and began to walk away. After a few steps he glanced back.
    “Are ye comin’ or are ye wantin’ to wait fer the wolves?”
    “Wolves?”
    “Aye.”
    I ran to catch up with him and smacked him on the head when he began to chuckle. When would I ever learn?
    ****
    “Have ye taken leave of all yer senses? Didn’t I just tell ye both that Elle was no’ to leave the keep? And where do I find ye? Frolickin’ in the mist like two fae! You!” My uncle pointed to me. “Stubborn, just like yer mither, God rest her soul, but ye will be the death of me! Ye will! I swear it! I will lock ye in yer room, if I find ye out of the walls again without my permission!” He turned to glare at Ioan. “And you! Ta think ye were part o’ the Black Watch! Ye canna even carry out a wee assignment like keepin’ a lass home! Let Scotland no’ be in the hands o’ the likes o’ ye!” he lamented and turned, pacing the floor. He paused for a moment, heavily breathing and shaking his head.
    “Now, what were ye doin’ out at the wee reaches o’ the morn?”
    I glanced to Ioan but his expression was unreadable. The usual twinkle in his eye was gone, and the warmth that radiated from his personality was replaced with a frigid coolness. He glanced at me, his eyes cold but resigned, as if he expected me to tell on him. Where did my loyalty lie? My uncle cleared his throat, waiting for an explanation from me or Ioan. What d o I do ? If I told my uncle about Ioan’s mysterious meeting, then I’d lose Ioan. A part of me knew that instinctively. Yet, if I kept his secret, I was choosing him over family — over my uncle — and wasn’t that wrong? My hands grew damp from the stress and I glanced down, closing my eyes, trying to make a decision.
    “‘Twas my fault an’ I take full responsibility—”
    “Uncle, Ioan followed me.” I interrupted Ioan, halting his attempt to take the fall. His gaze cut to mine with a shocked expression. I took a