Lady of Light (18 page)

“Just give me a chance, Evan. Culdee Creek’s too small a place for men to carry grudges. Especially men who are kin. Especially men who have wives and family who can’t help but come into close contact mighty often.”

Inexplicably, renewed anger filled Evan. Things hadn’t changed as much as Devlin might like to think they had. “I don’t need you lecturing me about my responsibilities to Claire,” he snarled. “And I don’t need you talking down to me like I’m some snot-nosed kid either!”

Devlin’s mouth quirked in wry apology. “Sorry. You’re right. It’s past time I started treating you like the man you are. I just don’t want our women dragged into this, that’s all. I’d like Hannah to feel comfortable with Claire. To feel welcome in your home.”

“Hannah’s welcome anytime she wants to come over,” Evan muttered, knowing, at least in this instance, Devlin was right. “In fact, I’d be much obliged. I want Claire to make friends, to feel like she fits in here.”

“Good.” Devlin smiled then. “Reckon that’s what matters most right now. You and me, well, in time we can work things out. Just as long as you’re willing to give it a try.”

“For the sake of the women,” Evan said through gritted teeth, “I’ll give it a try.”

Devlin held out his hand. “Then let’s shake on it, and be done.”

He eyed his cousin’s outstretched hand for a long, emotion-laden moment, then took it and shook it. “Yeah, let’s be done with it. I need to get back to Claire.”

“Thanks, Evan.” Devlin released his hand. “You don’t know how much this means to me.”

Evan stared at his cousin’s now smiling face, his gut clenching with a crazed mix of feelings. If he didn’t know Devlin better, he’d almost be willing—

“I’ve got to get back to Claire,” he muttered instead. Turning on his heel, Evan abruptly stalked back to the bunkhouse.

“What’s going on, Evan?” Claire asked when he finally reentered the house. “What happened between you and Devlin to cause such hard feelings?”

He paused to hang his Stetson on its hook before turning to face her. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Apprehension curling within her, Claire walked up to stand before him. The look of pained confusion she saw in his eyes, though, filled her with compassion. “You don’t need to feel you must protect me from the truth, whatever it might be,” she said, reaching up to stroke his face. “I’m your wife. I’ll stand beside you no matter what.”

Evan smiled then, though the action never went further than his mouth. “I know that, Claire. And I treasure your loyalty and concern. But it’s more than protecting you, or keeping the truth from you. It’s me.” He sighed. “I need to sort it all out for myself first, before I can share it with you. Will you trust me in this, give me the time I need to do so?”

She wrapped her arms about his neck and leaned her head on his chest, wanting to offer him whatever comfort she could. “Aye, that I will, husband. Just don’t ever feel you can’t tell me what’s ailing you. If we can’t depend on each other, then who can we depend upon?”

“No one, I reckon,” Evan replied with a heavy sigh, encircling her in the strong, warm haven of his arms. “No one.”

They stood there for a time, drawing solace from each other. Finally, though, Claire leaned back and gazed up at him. “Considering your problems with Devlin, do you wish me to keep my distance with Hannah?”

“If you want to make friends with her, go right ahead. Devlin and I both agreed we didn’t want our personal difficulties affecting you women.” For a moment, Evan looked as if his thoughts were elsewhere. Then he seemed to remember himself. “I’d just appreciate it if you wouldn’t discuss Devlin’s and my problem with her. I know how you women are when it comes to your men, but you both need to let us work things out ourselves. Okay?”

Claire nodded. “Okay.”

He released her, stepped back, and glanced at the clock. “Er, don’t you think it’s time you were waking Ian? We’re supposed to join my parents for supper in ten minutes.”

“Och, aye. Ian.” Claire laughed. “Truly, Evan MacKay, when I’m with you I seem to forget everything but you.” She cocked her head. “Do you think it will ever get better?”

Evan grinned, and this time the action was heartfelt. “I certainly hope not, Mrs. MacKay. It’ll be a sorry day in our marriage if that ever happens.”

“Then we’ll have to take great care that it doesn’t,” she said as she wheeled about and headed for Ian’s room. “Just not right now, of course.”

“Of course,” he called softly. “There’s always tonight, though, isn’t there?”

“Aye.” Claire giggled, the delight swelling within. “There is indeed.”

After a delicious supper of braised beef with brown sauce, roasted carrots, turnips, onions, and potatoes, they all adjourned to Abby and Conor’s parlor for coffee and chocolate nougat cake. Eager to sample all of the culinary bounty offered her, Claire even tried her first cup of coffee—heavily laced with cream and sugar. She soon pronounced the hot beverage suprisingly palatable, if not quite on a par with a good cup of tea.

Talk gradually turned to the state of this year’s hay crop and the cost of feed. Beth and Ian quickly adjourned to the kitchen, where she promised to teach him the game of checkers. Claire’s attention began to wander as well, and she entertained herself studying the room in more detail.

The parlor was ornately furnished with a fine Turkish rug covering the hardwood floor, heavy, dark blue oriental tapestry curtains at the two windows, and a massive, carved oak combination bookcase and cupboard against the far wall. The settee that she and Abby occupied was covered in a blue-and-green velvet, and trimmed in rosewood. Conor and Evan sat in the two dark leather armchairs before the moss rock fireplace. Over the mantel hung a portrait of an older Scotsman dressed in a blue, green, and black tartan kilt that Claire knew to be the MacKay plaid, a basket-hilted sword hanging at his side.

“That’s Conor’s grandfather, Sean MacKay,” Abby quietly offered. “He was a handsome man, wasn’t he?”

“Aye,” Claire agreed with a nod, “that he was. It makes me feel a wee less homesick, seeing his picture, knowing some part of him is here.”

“Like a part of Scotland is here, too, even this far away?”

She turned to Abby, appreciation for the woman’s insight filling her. “Aye, something like that.”

Abby laid a hand over hers. “You’re very brave, you know, to come all this way.”

“I wouldn’t have done it if it wasn’t for Evan.”

The chestnut-haired woman smiled. “I know.”

Across the room by the fireplace, Conor cleared his throat. “Well, Abby, do you think it’s time we tell them about our little surprise?”

Abby shot Claire an impish grin, gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, then turned to her husband. “Yes, I think it is.”

All eyes riveted on Culdee Creek’s owner. “We wanted to give you and Claire a fitting wedding present to welcome you home,” he said, meeting his son’s inquiring gaze, “and Abby and I decided that the best present we could give you was a real house of your own. So, just as soon as we can get the lumber delivered from the Pinery, we’re going to start building you two a nice house out back near the edge of the pines. It’ll still be close enough to walk down anytime you want to visit, but far enough away that you’ll have some privacy when you want it, too.”

“Pa,” Evan began, “I don’t know what to say. It’s too much. We can—”

“You can help us build it, that’s what you can do.” Conor held up a silencing hand when Evan tried once more to protest. “I want you home to stay, Son, where you belong. And that means keeping your wife happy with a place of her own.”

“Truly,” Claire lifted her voice to object, “I find the bunkhouse more than adequate. My needs are little, and I’m used to far plainer accommodations.”

“Let us do this for you and Evan, Claire,” Abby cut in just then. “It’ll give us as much pleasure as it’ll give you. To have Evan back home, to be a complete family once again … well, it has been Conor’s and my dearest wish. Besides,” she added with a smile, “sooner or later you’d need a bigger home anyway, once you and Evan decide to start your own family. And, rather than have to build then in haste, why not start the house now at everyone’s leisure?”

There was no getting around Abby’s logic or Conor’s sincere wish to do something special to celebrate his son’s homecoming. Glancing from one parent to the other, Claire knew to refuse, or even protest further, would be ungracious. Besides, if the truth were told, the thought of her very own house held an enormous appeal. As did, for that matter, the consideration of someday filling the home with her own bairns.

“I don’t know what to say,” she murmured, meeting Evan’s questioning gaze, “save that it’s a wonderful gift, a gift, if Evan agrees, I’d accept most gratefully.”

“And I’ll accept it, too, Pa,” Evan said, “because Claire wants it. Thank you. Thank you for everything.”

“It’s our pleasure, Son.”

“Still, I want to do most of the work myself, Pa,” Evan then hastened to add. “After I finish whatever ranch chores that need doing each day, of course. And, as much as I can, I want to help pay for the supplies out of what I earn. Gift or no, it’s not fair you carry the whole expense.”

Conor held up his hand. “Evan, we can afford it. Culdee Creek’s seen some mighty good years of late. I’d rather you save your money to buy things for the house. You’ll need a lot to set up housekeeping, you know.”

At Evan’s look of surprise, Abby and Claire both laughed.

“I know you men generally think a house comes fully furnished,” his stepmother said, “but let me tell you a bit about what you’ll be needing. There’s bed linens, curtains, towels, rugs. Then there’ll be dishes, pots and pans, glasses, and silverware for the kitchen. And I haven’t even mentioned the furniture to sit upon, a table to eat on, and cupboards and chests to store things in.”

At the stricken look on Evan’s face, Abby paused. “Shall I go on, or are you finally beginning to grasp some of the needs?”

He swallowed convulsively and nodded. “I think so.” Evan turned back to his father. “Well, maybe you’re right, Pa. Maybe I
do
need to save my money for other things.”

“Setting up a household
can
run into a few dollars,” his father gravely acceded. “The marrying is always the easiest part. And it’s certainly the cheapest.”

Evan grinned. “So I’m beginning to see.” He cast Claire a teasing glance, before meeting his father’s gaze once more. “I just didn’t realize how much work it took to properly care for a wife, leastwise not until this moment. Problem is, Pa, by the time a man realizes it, it’s too late to do anything about it.”

As both women scowled in mock indignation, Conor threw back his head and laughed. “It sure is, Son. It sure is.”

Two days later, work on Evan and Claire’s house began. At Conor’s insistence, several of the ranch hands were enlisted to help with the initial labor. The site was cleared and leveled, then batter boards were erected to mark building lines and excavation boundaries. After the cellar was dug, a rock and mortar foundation was laid. Then work on the framing and floor joists began.

Claire couldn’t believe the speed with which the building was progressing. The plans called for a similar design to the main house, if on a slightly smaller scale. In addition to a cellar, the first floor would offer a large kitchen complete with plumbing for a kitchen pitcher pump, a parlor, a study, and a small laundry room off the enclosed back porch. Upstairs were three bedrooms, and above them was an attic for storage and space to hang laundry during cold or rainy days.