A sound pierced the depth of Cara's exhausted slumber. A disoriented fog clouded her brain as it was brought from deep sleep into a semi-conscious doze. She listened for the unfamiliar sound that had disturbed her. At first she could hear nothing but the soft rain and she began to drift off again. Then it came again, a thunderous rumbling coming from somewhere on the ground near by. Cara awoke from the last verge of sleep, her eyes opening and immediately searching for the noise.
The three men she shared the temporary canvas shelter with were crammed in the end of it opposite the side she had curled up in. It was pitch dark outside the oiled-cloth roof Will was closest to her, sleeping peacefully, his identity given away by his auburn hair shining like copper in the firelight. Calen was next to him, his back to her, almost invisible, his black hair blending in to the darkness. Last was Christian, lying on his back, mouth wide open. As she observed, his chest rose and fell, but what came out of his mouth was not breathing at all. He growled, the ground seeming to vibrate because of it's ferocity.
Even as she listened, she could not believe that the sound she heard was coming from a sleeping man. His snoring was so loud that Cara wondered how the other men laying near him could possibly sleep through the din.
Micara sat up, pulling her blanket around her shoulders to ward off the damp night air. Quietly as she could, she moved closer to the fire. As she settled down close as possible to the fire while still remaining under the tent canopy, Calen stirred. He grunted as he shifted to his other side. Cara watched as he pressed his hands over his ears. He was not as oblivious to Christian's snoring as she had first thought. He kept his eyes closed tightly, probably trying to salvage what remained of the night's sleep. Cara wondered if he would be successful. Christian was his best friend, so it was not likely to be the first time Calen had had to deal with the noise.
He relaxed slightly, and Cara envied the ease in which he seemed to block out Christian's snoring. She assumed he had dozed off, so she was surprised when he let out a short growl, said something angrily in a foreign language, and took his hands from his ears.
Micara clapped a hand over her mouth to suppress a giggle. Calen's eyes sprang open at the sound of her movements, his expression one of surprise at finding her there.
"Miss DeMonae," he said, propping himself up on his elbows, "I did not expect ye ta be awake."
His voice had a drowsy growl to it that she found strangely appealing. His accent, more pronounced than usual, caressed the vowels, particularly those in her name, giving them a sound of his own unique influence.
He crawled from his blankets, moving to the fireside as well.
"I must apologize for the language," he said once he was seated, "I did not think t'would reach yer ears."
Cara smiled slightly, her suspicions confirmed about the nature of the words he had said. "Have no worries, Monsieur Donelly, the words I did hear I could not distinguish. You were using Gaelic were you not?"
"Aye, t'was Gaelic. You know it?"
Micara shook her head, "Oh no, not a word. I only recognized it as sounding similar to what I've heard spoken between you and Mr. Tuckett."
"You've an ear for language Miss DeMonae, I am impressed."
Micara smiled at the compliment. "Thank you Mr. Donelly, I always did enjoy that particular portion of my studies. Both the written and spoken word have always fascinated me."
He smirked. "A lass and her books."
Cara straightened her posture slightly, a defensive gesture, preparing for the unfavourable comment that was sure to accompany his observation.
"Perhaps ye would be interested in learning a few words then?"
Cara blinked in surprise at his offer. "You would teach me Gaelic?" she asked confusedly.
"If it interest ye."
It took her a moment to process his offer. It was unexpected, so unlike previous behaviour. She was not sure what to think of it. But he looked sincere in his offer and when he looked at her in askance, she answered him affirmatively, "Yes, I'd like to try it."
He smiled, one of the few smiles she'd seen him do that was purely a smile, with no mockery, challenge, or teasing behind it. It was a nice smile.
"Aye, then you shall. I'll tell you a common phrase, and you repeat it."
She nodded.
"Oiche maidin," he said slowly, drawing out the sounds.
She repeated, "Eehah mad-ging."
He smirked a little at her pronunciation, but was encouraging. She repeated it two or three times, trying to capture his rolling, lilted syllables.
"That was 'good morning'," he said once she had tried it a couple more times. "Now another. Conas ata tu (cunn-us ah-taw two), 'how are you'?"
She repeated after him agian, more confident this time. He nodded his encouragement, adding another phrase, "To which ye might say, 'Ta me go hiontach' (taw may guh hun-tock), I am wonderful. Tapadh leat (tapah lat), 'thank you'."
Cara took the lesson seriously, her eyebrows furrowing as she concentrated on the words.
"More?" he asked when she had mastered the first few. She nodded enthusiastically. "La brea ata ann' (lah brah ah-taw ow-inn). It is a lovely day."
Micara repeated after him, grinning excitedly when the phrase came out exactly as Calen had said it.
"Tell me another," she said enthusiastically.
"Listen now, this will be a bit longer. 'Nil Gaeilge maith agam" (kneel gale-geh mot ah-gum : I cannot speak Gaelic very well)
She tried the words out, stumbling slightly, and earning a grin from Calen at the correctness of the statement she had just said.
"What does it mean?" she asked. Calen just chuckled. "What did I say?" she asked again, concerned what his chuckle meant.
He confessed the words' meaning with a teasing glint in his eye, watching her reaction. She responded to his teasing with a hint of it herself, smacking his arm lightly with the back of her had before crossing her arms.
"Really Mr. Donelly, such rudeness."
He laughed silently, keeping it quiet for the benefit of the two slumbering men.
Cara found herself unable to keep from smiling, even after Calen had managed to compose himself. She was enjoying his company, something she could not have guessed would happen. Since he had apologized, there was a genuine pleasantness to him that she had not noticed before, an honest positivity of sorts. Irritatingly likeable is what Christian had called him, and though she'd already known the irritating part to be true, she was beginning to see the likeable side of him as well. The half smile on his face as he looked at her gave nothing to indicate that this was the man who had tormented her for the most part of their journey.
With embarrassment Cara realized she had been staring at Calen during her reverie. Her cheeks flushed at the realization. She looked away quickly, flustered.
"Thank ou for this, Mr. Donelly, I am finding it quite fascinating."
"Calen," he corrected softly, "Call me Calen."
She met his eyes hesitantly, hoping he would not see her disconcertion.
"And may I call ye Micara?"
She felt a fluttering nervousness at his question, but she answered just above a whisper, "You may."
His answering smile made her blush even more red, though she could not have said why. Try as she might she could not bring herself to break eye contact.
"Ta to go halainn (taw two guh haul-inn)," he said, the new Gaelic phrase slipping into the space between them.
"What does it mean?" she asked him.
Calen blinked, his face surprised, as if he hadn't meant to say what he just had. He turned away from her, focusing on the fire. "Oh," he said, sounding somewhat flustered, "It just means maybe we should be retiring. Paddling is a tough job enough without adding a poor sleep to it. It'd be best to try and get some rest."
He busied himself with the fire, stoking it into a brighter blaze.
'Very well, Mr. Donelly, I believe I will."
He watched as she took her blanket back to where she had been sleeping. "Good night, Micara," he said after she had settled in. He heard her whisper softly in reply, "Good night, Calen."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Micara managed to coax a few more hours sleep from the night despite Christian's snoring. Even though her sleep had suffered some, the night had been lovely and Micara felt ready for the day ahead. The morning was cool but clear and looked to be the perfect day for travel.
Micara and Will took charge of packing the bedding while Calen and Christian disassembled their shelter.
"Will," Cara asked, handing him a neatly rolled bed roll for him to tie it with a rawhide string, "What does 'ta two go hauling' mean? From Gaelic, what is its translation?"
It was the phrase Calen had said to her before their lesson ended. He had not told her the specific meaning, and Cara didn't quite believe that it meant what he had alluded it to mean.
"Ta to go halainn, you mean?" he asked, giving it its proper pronunciation, "Where did you learn that?"
Micara gave him another rolled blanket, glancing to where Calen was finishing rolling the canvas tent, "I just heard it somewhere and wondered what it meant," she fibbed.
Will chuckled, "It was probably aimed at you, t'was a compliment, it means 'you are beautiful'."
Micara's eyes widened in surprise, "That's what he said?"
Will laughed at her reaction, taking the last blanket bundle from her hands, "There's no reason to be embarrassed, Miss, there's no shame in speaking the truth."
Micara nodded absently. She was not embarrassed, but extremely surprised and flattered that the phrase Calen had said last night had been a compliment to her. He thought her beautiful.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N
Today is my birthday, so I thought I'd give my readers a present of this chapter to celebrate. My present will be hearing the reactions to this chapter through your comments that I enjoy reading so much. Thanks for all your support with this novel of mine. Happy My Birthday everyone!
Enjoy.