Taken Away (A Swept Away Saga Origins Story)

Seven

"Good morning!"

Looking over his shoulder, Will smiled widely, watching as Isobel walked down the hillside, toward the creek he stood in. She carried more heather in her hands, brown dress swishing over the muddy ground with ease, her hair tied back once more. The early light of sunrise shone around her, the storm having passed in their sleep.

"Morning," he called back, temporarily forgetting the fishing line he'd been pulling in. "Ye weren't kidding about waking early. I thought for sure I'd have ye beat, but ye were gone before I even opened my eyes."

"Catch anything yet?" she asked, nodding toward the water.

Remembering the line, he brought the hook on the end up, empty. "I've only just started. I dinna know what ye were planning on having for breakfast, but I thought some meat would be better than oats to fuel me for today. Plus, I planned on gathering some reeds for yer roof."

"That's what this is for." Holding the heather up, she flashed him a happy grin. "I've been collecting it and reeds for the past couple weeks now. I think I might have almost enough to fix it."

"You were planning on doing all the work yerself?" Surprised yet again, he looked at her with a newly appreciative gaze. He should have guessed it. Isobel had no problem taking care of herself, in every aspect of life. "Have ye been gathering timber as well?"

"Some. I don't have the right tools to make what I need, though."

"How were you intending on putting it all together?" Baiting the hook, he threw it back out into the water, slowly drawing it toward himself, hoping the movement would catch the eye of a fish.

"That's where ye come in." Laughing at his confused look, she turned, laying her bundle on the hill behind her. "Someone shows up with the necessary items and insists on repairing something I haven't figured out how to fix yet? Of course I would eventually warm up to the idea of letting ye help. Sheila's not the only one who can tell when someone is a good person with well-meaning intent, ye know."

"Oh, I see. Ye're just using me. Is that it?" Chuckling, William was pleased to find that the happiness he'd experienced the night before was still with him. He didn't know if it was the break from his normal routine, or Isobel herself, but life was truly enjoyable at the moment.

"I suppose I am. Ye seem like a willing participant in my scheme, though, so I imagine that makes it alright." Her voice sounded so light and cheerful as she spoke, poking fun at their odd relationship.

It felt strange, to see her so open and carefree like this, after the encounters he'd had with her in the daylight before. While the traces of the fearsome warrior woman weren't completely gone, there was a softness to her features he'd never noticed before. The daintiness of her hands seemed more apparent as she waded into the water and began harvesting reeds, gathering stalk after stalk and bundling them together to take back to the hut over the tiny hill and up the path a little way. Even her hair seemed softer, shining in the light like a halo around her face.

A tug on the line brought him back to his present task and he pulled the fish in with some effort, tossing it up on the shore. The brown trout flopped around, gills working furiously, but finally fell still, giving up the fight. "Would ye like one?" he asked her, poised to throw the line back out. It would be harder to catch anything now with her wading through the water, but he didn't mind.

Wrinkling her nose, she shook her head. "I don't like fish. Something about the way they smell and how they feel when ye've just pulled them out of the water makes my stomach turn and I can't handle it."