THE DAY HAD passed so painfully slow that Catriona thought she might burst. Though she had gardened, mended, and cleaned house, it seemed the sun would never near the horizon. Now Catriona paced back and forth, absently stepping over Jester as he scurried alongside her. She’d finished drying her hair by the fire, and dressed in the best of her handmade gowns. The pale linen bodice and nut-hull stained wool skirts looked tidy and clean, and when she braided and put up her locks she would be at her best. That she longed for the finer, better-made garments she’d left in her wardrobe at Ennis and Senga’s cottage bedeviled her. She could not ever wear such things on the island, and certainly not in front of the highlander, but she wanted to look pretty for him.

Aye, and she wanted him to kiss her again. Would he? Or had she somehow disappointed in that the first time?

As she paused Jester hopped on her shoe and chirped at her.

“You’re no’ helping,” she told the baby puffin as she plucked him from her clog and held him up to her face. The soft brush of his down against her cheek soothed her enough to smile. “Now for your meal, and then to mine at Gavin’s.”

As she fed the nestling Catriona wondered what Gavin would be making for their dinner. She knew highlanders favored dishes different from islander fare, and included meat from the livestock and game. He’d done well enough with the fish he brought or caught, and she’d told him she would not eat anything feathered or furred. The best she could hope for might be a vegetable pottage and some bread, if he knew how to steam it. She should show him how to manage it in a hearth pot hung over the night’s embers.

If she kept thinking about food, she’d not keep remembering that kiss on the shore, and how Gavin had pressed her against him, and the delicious, demanding way his mouth had felt on hers. Every bone in her body had been trembling when he’d lifted his head, and looked at her with those moonstone eyes, dark and filled with so much hunger. It made her thighs tighten just to recall it, and then he’d left her at the barrier, as if it had never happened.

Jester trilled, drawing her attention to where he’d settled down under her hand for a nap. She gently placed the cage basket over him before washing her hands and attending to her hair.

As she braided the long strands, she saw the eiders waddle in, their beaks clamped over some stalks of tiny, golden-hearted blooms. Since the primroses weren’t something the ducks ate, she caught their thoughts up in hers.

The male showed her a blurry memory of Isela tucking blooms into her braids—something he could not possibly know. Then she understood: the eider had seen her mother in Catriona’s memory.

“My thanks,” she told the ducks as they dropped the blooms on the ground by her feet. They waddled back out of the cottage, satisfied that they had helped.

She had no mirror, so she had to place the flowers while looking at her dim reflection in a bowl of water. The vivid, phlox-violet of the petals made the red in her hair seem brighter, which pleased her. Gavin had favored her hair, judging by the way he’d run his fingers through it.

Would she never cease lusting after his touch, his kisses, his attention, his approval?

The slant of the sunbeams through the front window forced her to stop dithering and wrap herself in her shawl. After she banked the hearth, she gathered her courage, and marched out of the cottage.

The brown hares peeped out of their hedge to inspect her before returning to cuddle with their leverets.

“You make a lass wish to preen,” she muttered as she began to walk for the barrier.

She stayed within the spell wall until she reached the entry to the forest, where she stepped through. The scent of baking bread and roasting vegetables teased her nose, and relieved a little of her apprehension. They also made her intensely curious as to what he was cooking.

She followed the trail through the trees to the clearing, where she expected to see the highlander at work over his campfire. Instead a plume of thin white smoke rose from his stone chimney. It seemed he had finished and was making use of his hearth.

Catriona smiled as she went to the open doorway and looked inside. Gavin had yet to furnish, but a large cloth had been spread over the hard-packed dirt floor. On the cloth he had arranged two plates, two goblets and a flat, round stone in the center. Two more cloths had been folded and arranged like seats. The man himself stood by the hearth, where he peered into a long slot beneath the mantle.

Catriona politely cleared her throat. As he turned around she tried not to stare at the odd mitts on his hands. “You said to come at sunset,” she reminded him.

“So I did. Welcome.” He removed the mitts and came to her, bending down to kiss her cheek. “Are you hungry?”

She’d been too nervous to eat anything since rising, and the appetizing smells were making her belly feel almost painfully hollow. “A little. What do you make there?”

He started to say something, shook his head, and grinned. “I’ve no name for it that you would ken. ’Tis like a savory tart, with wild carrots, herbs, roasted garlic and cheese melted atop it all. There are fresh greens with fruit and berries to go with it, but let me get the tart out.”

Gavin went back to the hearth, and using his mitts removed another flat, round stone with a large, golden-brown tart atop it. He brought it to the stone in the center of the cloth and let it slide from one stone to the other. He beckoned for her to sit, and retrieved a stone jug and two bowls with the greens and fruit.

Catriona inspected the tart, which had a pale, herb-flecked mash beneath the lacings of melted cheese and roasted garlic cloves. Gavin produced a blade and cut a generous wedge from it to put on her plate, and then filled her goblet with a light-colored cider from the jug.

“One of my crewmates presses sand pears and ferments the juice, but I favor it fresh.” He lifted his goblet. “To good neighbors.”

She joined her drink to his for the toast and then sampled the juice, which was sweet and cold. “This tart, ’tis a highland specialty?”

“’Tis a little like something I loved at home,” Gavin said. “I cannae acquire all of the ingredients here, so I made do with what I had.”

Before she tried the greens she surreptitiously inspected them to assure he had picked nothing poisonous or bitter, and was happy to see dandelion leaves, sorrel, sweet red clover and watercress. The blaeberries, junipers and wild cherries provided a sweet balance to the earthy greens.

“You know gathering,” she told him.

“No’ enough. Some mushrooms tempted me, but I didnae recognize them,” Gavin said. “I thought I might try no’ to poison you this first meal.”

“I shall show you which are safe for eating,” she promised.

He seemed anxious for her to try the tart, so she picked up the wedge and took a small bite. The herbed carrot mash provided a sweet note to the piquant cheese and the richness of the browned garlic, the latter of which melted like spicy butter on her tongue.

“Give up fishing,” Catriona finally said. “I shall hire you to cook for me every night.”

He laughed, and the sound moved through her like currents of deep, satisfying joy.

As they ate Gavin told her about the work he had done to complete the roof thatching, and his next task of fashioning the furniture he would need. He favored pine, which saved her from warning him against culling any of the oak trees on the far side of the island.

“Pine boughs work well for a bed frame, although with your size you may want them thick and sturdy,” Catriona told him. “For the ticking you’ll need rope to weave the bottom, but treat it first with pine sap, so the cords last longer.”

“I’ll need more hand tools before I start on the furniture, and I’m no’ sure if I want to put in floor planks or settle for rushes. I have such plans, but no’ knowing if they’ll do. Any advice you would offer is welcome.” He drained his goblet and glanced at her empty plate. “Have you left room for a sweet?”

“Aye, but I change my mind. You cannae cook for me,” she told him gravely. “For I shall eat myself into a whale.”

“That would take more than I’ve to offer.” He eyed her narrow waist before he rose and brought a bowl of roasted nuts gleaming with a golden coating. “I cannae promise you these will be as tasty as the rest. They were a gamble.”

Catriona gingerly picked up one of the sticky nuts, and took a bite. He had roasted them and rolled them in honey. She closed her eyes for a moment, licking the golden drops from her fingertips, before she regarded him.

“Then again I might like being a whale.”

Gavin grinned, and leaned forward to brush his mouth against hers. Though his kiss had been unexpected, her lips clung to his as she shared the taste of the honey. But all too soon he drew back.

“I’ve one more day before I must go to Hrossey,” he said. “Will you go gathering with me in the morning?”

Catriona thought of the portrait he’d drawn and burned. Is she still in his heart? Was she the reason he treated a kiss like a blow? “Aye, if you wish.”

She helped him tidy up after their meal, and let him walk her back to the edge of the glen. He’d brought an extra torch, which he lit from his own before handing it to her.

“So you dinnae fall in the spring.” He plucked one of the primroses from her hair, and drew its soft petals across her lips. “I came here to be alone, Catriona. To heal the wounds from the wretched mistakes I’ve made. Now here you are, as lovely and sweet a lass as a man could want. You make me wish for more, but I cannae.” He touched her cheek. “No’ yet.”

He was going to break her heart without even trying, Catriona thought. She covered his hand with hers briefly, then took it in a firm clasp.

“Then we shall be friends,” she told him briskly. “I will show you the island when I am come here, and you will look out for my friends when I’m away.” She wrinkled her nose at him. “Tomorrow morn, we hunt mushrooms and angelica and scurvy leaf, and I shall show you a place you cannae find on your own.”

His brows arched. “Scurvy leaf?”

“’Tis spicy and hot, like white radish, and very good stuffing for any fish. Sailors chew the leaves to keep from falling sick on long voyages.” She prodded his shoulder. “And you a fisherman.”

“My thanks, lass,” he said, sounding almost depressed.

“Fair night, neighbor.”

She kept up her smile as she stepped through the barrier, and then blinked until the sting in her eyes abated. Of course she wanted a man who couldnae feel the same for her. Of course. She was as much a ghost as her kin.