him. How could I be so attracted to someone so annoying?
“Lass.” Ioan took a break to catch his breath. “No, ‘tisn’t dessert. Haggis is a hearty mix o’ sheep’s heart, liver, an’ lungs, mixed with oatmeal, spices, an’ some other things I donna remember, then stuffed inside a beast’s belly an’ baked. It takes forever to cook but ‘tis a piece o’ heaven. Truly.”
“Sounds interesting.”
“Ye’ll love it, ye will.”
I gave him a tight smile, seriously doubting I’d find it appetizing. As I thought about it, I remembered a meal from my childhood. It was awful, kidney something. The memory was blurry around the edges and I concentrated harder, wanting desperately to have a piece of my past. But as soon as it flashed, it disappeared, leaving me with a faintly familiar mental picture.
“I seem to remember something like that… does it have a pastry around it?”
“No, but it has neeps an’ tatties.”
“Neeps an’ tatties? Do I want ta ken?”
“Ye donna even remember neeps an’ tatties? Ach, we need ta be holdin’ yer wee hand through it all again, do we?” Ioan grinned, but his lips twitched as if trying to prevent a full-fledged smile. Was he hiding something? “Neeps an’ tatties are the frogs’ feet we gather from the loch at eventide. We call ‘em neeps an’ tatties because o’ the noise they make when ye chew ‘em. They squeak an’ neep, but are tough like uncooked potatoes. Ye got ta eat ‘em, an’ ‘tis verra important ye donna leave ‘em on yer plate. Madge, the cook makes ‘em, an’ they are her favorite.”
Ioan nudged his horse to come alongside of mine. He lowered his voice and leaned toward me, his green eyes holding me captive.
“And donna ye ferget that, lass. The last one that refused ta finish his ration was forced ta eat them fer two days straight… no’ pleasant. I donna want ye ta suffer the same fate.”
“I donna believe ye,” I whispered, our gazes locked.
“Ye donna need to, lass, but donna say I fergot ta warn ye.”
Ioan grinned and urged his horse to head back toward the castle.
“It grows late, me wee haggis, we best head home.” He called over his shoulder.
“I prefer ducky,” I called as I led my horse to turn around and follow behind him.
“Ye had yer chance.”
“Perfect,” I muttered under my breath. Ioan must have heard it, for he began to chuckle. What I wouldn’t give for something to throw at him and knock him off his horse. Next time I would be prepared.
Chapter Four
My uncle was waiting for us once we returned. As we came through the gate, he charged toward Ioan with a fierce glare that made my own heart wither. What was going on?
“I told ye ta keep an eye on the lass, no’ take her scoutin’ the countryside! Donna ye remember the rogues that chased ye no’ a fortnight ago? Are ye daft?” Uncle Maol blustered, turning a mottled shade of red against the leather armor encasing his considerable girth. His reddish beard brushed against his chest, and his blue eyes narrowed as he took in Ioan’s unconcerned expression.
“With all respect, yer niece was out wanderin’ by herself, so I offered ta take her out an’ about. I dinna want her ta be headin’ out alone.”
My uncle’s gaze cut directly to me, and I barely resisted the urge to shrink back and hide behind my horse. Traitorous Ioan! I glared in his direction but he ignored me and dismounted, tying his horse to a nearby post. I turned my gaze back to my uncle who waited for an explanation.
“Uncle, I am well! Ye canna lock me up like a prisoner! All I wanted was some air—”
“All ye ever want is some air! Lass, ye nearly died! Donna think for one moment that I’m overreacting! Ye will stay in the gates unless ye have my permission!”
I glared at my uncle and fought against the oppressive sensation of the walls growing closer and closer.
“Elle?”
Ioan’s voice broke my staring contest with my stubborn relative. I glanced down