"It's only I bein wondering, ye ken?"

He was standing in front of her, toying with his fingers in one hand, the other had two fingers taping on his thigh.

His eyes seemed to be searching for something on the ground.

"Out with it, da" she was standing in front of the hearth thawing from being forced to walk all the way to the privy in the freezing weather.

What she wouldn't give for indoor plumbing to be invented already!

She was rubbing her hands to the fire glancing at him around her shoulder. Was he blushing?

"The Gàidhlig" he simply said as if that explained it all.

"What?" she answered bewildered.

"Ouch, I only meant" he hastened to explain himself "the Gaelic, when we met…well when first I saw ye. Ye said ye'd learn. That ye wanted to learn I mean" his words trailed a little and the taping increased.

"I thought maybe I could- only if ye like of course- teach ye" he finally reached his point.

"Ho, I would love that" she exclaimed.

His eyes shot straight to her "Ye would?!" he said a little breathless.

"Of course" she replied surprised at his surprise "I can't say how good I would be, though-"

"Dinna fash, I'm sure ye'll be brilliant, a nighean" her mother was right his smile could light up a room.

"That's girl or lassie, as you call it. Isn't?" she asked narrowing her eyes trying to recall.

His own eyes widened at her expressions. He did that every time she would make a face or a gesture that they both shared.

It was 'magical' to her as well. To know that time and separation of centuries could not sever a bound transferred by blood. Blood they shared.

She remembered the lesson at her school when one had to write what characteristic of himself he saw in his parents.

There were a few things from her mother, but she longed to find her father in her.

To say, 'I am tall and strong as my father, same eyes, same face and color', 'I am always hungry as my father and have a very sweet tooth as him'...

She couldn't say that.

Until now, she thought, looking up and seeing her father being smacked on the wrist, mockingly, by her mother, for putting 'his big paws into HER honey jar', while he cleared the table for them to sit for the schooling.

She was actually being false modest, when she told him she didn't know how she'll do with the lessons, she was good with languages. And according to her father lack of understanding and rolling of his eyes when he realized not all of the human race spoke a thousand languages, so was he.

"Do mithig a chuisle" he gestured to her to join him at the table.

"To me come, what?" she asked coming to sit and having her fingers smacked by her mother's 'what am I to do with the two of you?!' palm.