Lady of Light (8 page)

Mayhap, just mayhap, Dougal MacKay had finally met his match, Claire mused as she walked along. Mayhap he would finally leave her be. If such a miracle were to occur, she’d be ever so grateful that Evan MacKay had come into her life. Why, she might even have to throw common sense to the four winds, and take back her illchosen words about him being a burden!

Claire smiled. With each passing day, he really
was
becoming quite a handy person to have around.

The next morning dawned clear, bright, and warm—a perfect day for a walk into the rolling hills outside Culdee. Though Saturday, Ian still had several hours of schooling to attend. Despite his heartfelt entreaties to be allowed to accompany them to visit Donall and Lainie MacKay, Claire was adamant. School must always come before pleasure.

After packing the remains of last night’s meal, a halfloaf of the bread she had baked, and a flagon of cider into a small basket, Claire removed her apron, flung a light shawl across her shoulders, and set out with Evan toward the distant peak of Ben Loyal. For a time they walked along in a companionable silence. Finally, though, Claire could contain her growing curiosity about Evan’s life in Colorado no longer.

“So, have you ever faced down a gunslinger or fought Indians?” she asked.

With a jerk of surprise, Evan slid to a halt and eyed her. “No,” he answered carefully. “Gunfights aren’t all that common anymore. And nowadays the Indians around Colorado Springs are pretty peaceable.”

She gave a disappointed sniff. “Sounds verra tame to me. I can’t say as how the tales, then, justify the truth.”

He laughed. “Well, times change, I reckon. If you ever want to take a trip out to Colorado someday, though, I’d be happy to round up a few Indians and retired gunslingers for you.”

Evan’s laughter was so infectious Claire couldn’t help herself. She chuckled. “Och, and wouldn’t you have to eat those fine words, if I was ever to take you up on such an offer! I can see it now, the look on your face.”

“Can you really, Claire?” he asked softly, his expression suddenly sober. “I think I’d be very happy to see you. I know I’d be plumb proud to squire you around on my arm.” Evan grinned and shook his head. “The looks I’d get from all the hands would be a sight worth seeing.”

There was something in his words, and gleaming deep in his eyes, that gave her pause. What she had initially intended as teasing banter had taken an unexpected turn. Claire cursed her foolish tongue, even as she knew she had been casting her net to see what she could catch.

“Well, it was a silly thought at any rate.” She stepped out once more. “I can’t ever see myself traveling to America.”

With a few quick strides, Evan caught up with her. “And why not? Are you so bound to Scotland and this village, then?”

Claire shot him an irritated look. “Nay, but I haven’t any reason to leave here. Besides, I’ve responsibilities—to my brother and to Father MacLaren. As do you,” she added. “You can’t remain here either. Your father depends on you.”

At the mention of his father, a fleeting look of pain crossed Evan’s face. “Yes, in many ways I suppose he does,” he admitted reluctantly. “And no, I can’t remain here. I have responsibilities—responsibilities I haven’t always faced up to as best I should.”

She glanced at him as they walked to the end of the worn, dirt path and turned toward the verdant hills that lay before Ben Loyal. “Did you come here, then, to escape those responsibilities?”

Evan’s jaw tightened. “Partly. I had hoped that some time away would help me sort things out … come to terms with …” His voice faded.

“Go on,” Claire urged, even as she knew she ventured once more where it was best not to go. But what choice had she? Evan needed to talk—badly, so it seemed—and she couldn’t pretend to ignore his pain. “You needn’t worry that your tale will ever get back to your home. And Father MacLaren will vouch that I’m not a gossip.”

“It’s not that, Claire. I just … I don’t want you to think badly of me.”

“Did you kill a man, then, or rob a bank?”

At the eager tone in her voice, Evan’s glum mood appeared suddenly to lift. He laughed. “Nothing quite so dramatic.”

“Och, then how bad could it be?”

Evan sighed and pulled her to a stop. He gestured toward a tumble of boulders beneath some birches growing beside a small, gurgling brook. “Could we sit there for a few minutes?”

She nodded. “If you wish.” Without awaiting his reply, Claire walked over and took a seat.

He joined her, set down their lunch basket, and hopped up on a nearby boulder. For a long while Evan just stared at the little stream. “I was in love with a girl,” he finally said, “and she fell in love with someone else. It shattered something in me when I lost her. A confidence, a sense of my self-worth, a trust that I would ever again be worthy of another woman’s love. I couldn’t bear to see them both together, couldn’t handle the pain, so I ran out on my pa.”

“Aye,” Claire agreed, finding in Evan’s tale some unnerving similarities to her own life. “And when that trust is shattered, it’s so verra hard to regain that old sense of hope and joy in life again. It’s so verra hard to open yourself to others.”

“Yet we must. To do otherwise is to live as half a person, to deny oneself the wondrous opportunities—and people—still out there waiting for us.” He paused, a thoughtful furrow forming between his brows. “And, worst of all, it’s cowardly and dishonorable.”

Evan’s mouth twitched sadly. “It was cowardly and dishonorable, leaving Culdee Creek. I’m not proud of it. But I just couldn’t go back until I worked out my feelings for this girl.”

“How will you know when you’ve done that? Worked out your feelings, I mean?”

He shrugged. “I’m hoping I finally have.” He looked up then, his dark gaze enigmatic. “Maybe I’ll find what I’ve always been seeking here, in the land of my ancestors. Stranger things have happened, you know.”

“Aye, they have. There’s something about the Highlands that speaks to the soul—especially to one of the blood as you are, Evan.”

Climbing to his feet, he offered his hand. “Thank you, Claire.”

She hesitated for a brief moment, then took his hand and slid off the boulder. “I didn’t do much.”

“You listened. You cared. Then you finally called me Evan. That in itself means more to me than you may realize.”

They stood there, gazing at each other, for what seemed a very long while. A strange warmth filled Claire, sweet, melting, and so very unnerving. She felt drawn to Evan, felt an irresistible pull that compelled her to move toward him.

He must have felt something similar. He moved toward her. The hand grasping hers slid up her arm; he took her other arm, too. Some emotion flared in his eyes—a chaotic mix of tenderness, desire, and excitement.

Evan wanted to kiss her. Claire suddenly knew that with an instinct strong and sure. A part of her wanted to kiss him, too, a part she had never before permitted to gain a foothold. Claire knew she didn’t dare allow it to do so now either. No good would come of them growing closer. Evan had responsibilities that would call him away soon enough.

She inhaled a ragged breath and stepped back, breaking the gentle hold he had on her. “We must be on our way,” she said, struggling to mask the uneven timbre of her voice. “The day draws on, and we’ve still half the distance to go to Donall and Lainie’s.”

Evan gazed down at her with thoughtful eyes. Then he smiled. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. We’ve done about all we could here, at any rate.”

With that, he stooped, retrieved the basket, and set out. For a time Claire stared after him, wondering what he had meant by that cryptic statement. Then, with an exasperated toss of her head, she muttered “Men!” and hurried to catch up with him.

She was coming to trust him, Evan thought with a joyous exultation as he walked along. Coming to trust and like him. There was something more, though, beginning to build between them: an attraction, a need that pulled at them as inexorably as two magnets or as flames to tinder.

All the same, Evan knew she was still wary. The first untoward move could still send her fleeing, never to trust or approach again. Beneath that proud, resourceful facade, Claire was so exquisitely vulnerable. He must use the utmost caution and the greatest of care.

But the effort, Evan knew, would be well worth it. Claire was a prize beyond his wildest dreams. The longer he was with her, the more she made him forget Hannah. She intrigued him, challenged him, and renewed his hope in life and loving. She was everything he had ever been looking for in a woman.

All it would take was the patience to unlock that door guarding the wall Claire had placed about her heart.

5

Walk in love, as Christ also hath loved us….

Ephesians 5:2

Girdled by sparse stands of birch and alder, the small, drystone croft house of Lainie and Donall MacKay lay in a cozy little dip between two verdant hills. The walls of stacked stones and clay rose to about six feet high before meeting a low-hanging roof of sod divots covered with barley straw thatch. Despite its long, rectangular shape, the house possessed what seemed the more common two small windows on either side of the door.

Approaching the croft house, Evan surveyed it dubiously. As simple as Claire and Ian’s dwelling may have been, this structure looked downright primitive. If he didn’t miss his guess, a century old was a meager estimation of its age.

As they neared, a scrawny, gray, wiry-haired dog ran from the house, barking at the top of his lungs. Evan pulled Claire to a halt. “Why don’t you stay back while I see if friends can be made with that dog?” he suggested, eyeing the little animal with ill-disguised distaste.

She laughed. “Och, so you think you must now protect me from four-legged animals, too, do you?” Claire twisted free of his grasp and walked forward, flipping the end of her skirt toward the barking canine. “Wheesht, wheesht!” she hissed shrilly.

Startled, the dog halted. Stiff-legged but silent, he stood there, hackles on the rise. As they passed, giving him a wide berth, the dog remained frozen in place, snarling softly. By the time they reached the stone stoop outside the door, however, the animal apparently decided to relinquish his defense of hearth and home. Tail tucked between his legs, he slunk off to the rickety cattle byre standing not far away.

Evan turned to her. “What did you say to shut up that mangy cur? Whatever the words, they sure had a magical effect.”

Claire grinned. “Och, I did naught more than tell him to be quiet. I took that dog’s measure a ways back, and knew he didn’t mean any harm.”

His mouth quirked. “Did you now? And is there no end to your talents, Claire Sutherland?”

“Nay, there isn’t,” she replied with a laugh. “And it’s past time you realized that, too.” Claire paused to incline her head toward the door. “Shouldn’t you, as the longlost kin, be announcing our arrival?”

At that moment the door swung open. “So, what have we here?” a wizened old man demanded gruffly, sticking out his head. He waved a gnarled wooden cane in their direction. “Have ye come to rob us, then?”