Her news seemed to puzzle Tom more than disturb him. “You rode out here just to tell me that?
Why? I don’t care who owns Bear Mountain.”
“You might care, if he doesn’t want you living on his land. He’s going to build a house here.”
Tom shrugged. “The mountain is big enough for both of us.”
“Papa said that if you can’t stay here, you can have a place on TarStone. Or maybe my cousin Robbie will let you use his cabin on West Shoulder Ridge.”
Tom leaned on the table, his hands clasped in front of him and his clear blue eyes leveled on hers. “I like this cabin. Tell your father thanks for the offer, but I prefer to stay right where I am.”
“But Mr. Gregor might—”
“If Mr. Gregor owns Bear Mountain, he owns over two thousand acres,” Tom said softly, cutting her off. “He can build his house on any one of the other nineteen hundred and ninety-nine acres.
This acre is already occupied.”
Winter gave up. She wasn’t going to argue about something that might not even be a problem.
Besides, she had accomplished her goal of warning him. “Okay,” she said, sitting up straight and mimicking his posture by clasping her hands together on the table. “Your turn. Tell me a secret.”
One side of his mouth lifted in a grin. “I can’t dance.”
“That’s not a secret! You come to the grange socials and stand in the corner the whole evening, no matter how hard the ladies try to lure you onto the dance floor. Come on, tell me a good secret.
Something equal to my panther.”
He leaned closer, his hands reaching out and capturing hers on the table. “Okay, then. But you have to promise not to tell anyone.”
“I promise,” Winter said, leaning closer herself.
“I witnessed something strange on the mountain last night,” he whispered. “I was walking home from town when I heard a terrible racket coming from up the mountain.”
“This mountain?” Winter whispered. “Bear Mountain?”
“This one,” he confirmed, his gaze moving to her left as he focused inward. “I thought it was two rutting bull moose fighting, the noise was so loud.” He looked back at her. “So I snuck up toward them, until I came to that meadow on the north side of Bear Brook. You know the one I mean?”
“I know the meadow,” Winter said softly, leaning closer in anticipation. “Did you see them?
Were two big bulls fighting?”
He shook his head, his hands tightening on hers. “It was two men,” he told her. “Dressed very strangely. They looked to be wearing kilts.”
“Kilts!”
“And the noise I heard was the clashing of swords. They were having a sword fight.”
Winter slipped her hands free and sat back in her chair, staring at Tom. “You’re pulling my leg!
You didn’t see two men having a sword fight.”
Tom also sat back, folding his arms over his chest. “I did,” he said calmly, nodding. “The full moon lit up that meadow nearly as bright as day, and I saw two men dressed in kilts, having a sword fight.” He leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing on hers. “And they weren’t merely sparring, but really going at it. I thought they were going to kill each other.”
Winter thought furiously. Could two of her cousins have been out playing warrior games last night? Robbie? And maybe her uncle Morgan’s oldest son, Duncan? But she couldn’t think why. The festival had been late last spring.
“Did you…ah, did you recognize either of them?” she asked. “Could they have been from town? You know my cousins love swords and stuff. They go to the Scottish games every spring down on the coast. Could it have been them, Tom?”
He slowly shook his head. “I didn’t recognize either of the men. They were both big like your cousins, but one of them had really long hair, halfway down his back. And it wasn’t MacKeage or MacBain plaids they were wearing. These plaids looked to be more gray, with maybe some green and red in them.” He cocked his head in thought. “It’s hard to tell colors in the moonlight,” he said, looking back at her. “But I did get a good look at the long-haired guy’s face, and I didn’t recognize him.”
“Did they say anything?”
“No,” Tom said, shaking his head again. “They seemed to be too busy trying to slice each other in half.”
Winter was back to gaping at him. Tom couldn’t have seen what he was claiming he saw. Who would have been out on Bear Mountain in the middle of the night, fighting with swords?
“I don’t want you to mention this to anyone, Winter. Not even your father. Greylen would worry I might really be crazy, and I prefer people around here to think I’m only a little odd,” Tom said with a crooked smile. He gestured toward Gesader at his feet. “Like your pet here, I think our swordsmen should remain figments of our imaginations.”
“But you really did see them,” she whispered.
He nodded. “I saw them. They fought for over half an hour, and then they suddenly stopped, silently faced each other for several heartbeats, and then turned and walked into the woods side by side.
One of the men slapped the other man on the back, and left his arm there. I heard them laughing as they disappeared into the forest,” he finished, shaking his head. “One minute they were trying to kill each other, and the next minute they were laughing together.”
He sat forward, stretching one hand toward her on the table. “I know you’re in the habit of roaming the woods at night, Winter, and that’s why I’m telling you what I saw. I think you should paint only daytime scenes for a while. I’d hate for these men to stumble upon you in the woods.”
“But I have Gesader,” she reminded him.
He looked down at the panther napping at his feet, then back at her, and shook his head again.
“Your pet is no match for two men with swords.” He gave her a stern look. “Promise me you’ll stay out of the woods at night, or I’ll go to your father myself and tell him what I saw.”
“But you just said—”
“I said I prefer Greylen not to know what I witnessed,” he said, cutting her off. “But your safety is more important than my reputation. So save us both a lot of trouble and stop being stubborn and give me your promise.”
“Okay, Tom,” she softly assured him. “I promise I won’t go in the woods alone after dark.”
Winter stood up. “And I am not stubborn. I’m willful,” she proclaimed.
“No, you’re spoiled,” Tom countered, as he stood and turned his smile on her. “And someday some man will come along and fix that.”
“I am not spoiled. I’ve a good notion to tell Gesader to bite you,” she threatened, glaring at Tom.
Tom gave a tiny snort and shook his head. “You’re the youngest of seven daughters, Winter.
By the time you came along, I suspect your parents had given up trying to control any of you girls.” He walked around the table and took hold of her shoulders. “You’re the dearest friend I have, and I love you.” He smiled tenderly down at her. “There’s a big difference between being spoiled and being a brat, you know. And it’s with great affection that I point that out to you.”
Winter frowned up at him in confusion. “So you’re saying being spoiled is a good thing?”
Tom nodded. “You live life on your own terms. You chase your own future, and thumb your nose at what others might think of you.” Tom laughed and walked to the open door.
Winter walked up to him and set her hand on his chest. “How did you get so wise, Tom? Who were you before you came here?”
He covered her hand on his chest. “I was you, Winter,” he said softly. “Born to a father and mother who gave me the same solid foundation yours gave you. I defied convention and traveled my own path, which seems to have led me here to Bear Mountain…and to you,” he finished, squeezing her hand.
“But who were you between being born and coming here?”
He reached up and tapped the end of her nose, his smile crinkling the corners of his shining blue eyes. “I’ll tell you that on your twenty-fifth birthday. My life story will be my present to you.” He cocked his head, his eyes dancing in the sunshine. “Along with what’s under that sheet in my workshop.”