Free Lady of Light by Kathleen Morgan Page B

husband shouted.
    Her expression brightened. “Och, aye. Come agin’. We’d find that most pleasin’. “ Her dark-eyed gaze swung to Claire. “And ye, lass. Pray, come with the laddie, will ye? I find yer company most pleasin’ as well.”
    Claire smiled and nodded. “If I can, I will.” She stooped and picked up her now empty basket.
    “Good-bye for now, then.” Evan turned and, with Claire at his side, headed for the door.
    “Fare ye well,” Donall called.
    “Until next time,” his wife joined in.
    After the darkness of the little croft house and the heavy peat smoke, outside seemed overly bright. The fresh air, however, was a welcome relief. As he walked along, Evan dragged in lungful after lungful of the sweet Highland air.
    Everything, he noted with heightened senses, seemed fresh and new. The stark mountains looming behind them. The vibrant hue of the green grass on the hills. The intensely blue sky that was already beginning to soften with shades of lavender, slate, and indigo at its edges.
    He found himself most profoundly aware, however, of the woman at his side. She was exquisite; at that particular moment, he couldn’t recall ever having seen a more beautiful woman. She walked with the grace of a deer, her movements smooth, effortless, supple. The sweet nearness of her, as they strolled along, made his heart ache.
    If Donall hadn’t so casually pointed out the obvious only a short while ago, the truth would’ve most forcefully struck home now. He was falling in love with Claire Sutherland.
    The realization filled Evan with an odd mix of happiness and fear. Happiness that he had surely, and at long last, found the woman of his dreams. And fear that she would—just like Hannah—ultimately spurn him and his love.
    He felt fairly certain Claire’s feelings for him were more than those of disinterested friendship. Even Donall had said he could see she cared for him. But could Claire’s affection for him ever grow into love?
    Frustration welled in Evan. He had been such a blundering idiot when it had come to Hannah. He had forced the pace of their relationship far too fast and had finally driven her away. Somehow, some way, he must not make the same mistake with Claire. If he had to go slowly with her, then so be it.
    Still, it took all Evan’s self-control to contain the almost constant urge to stop right there on the road and take Claire into his arms. It wasn’t in his nature to play games, or to restrain emotions he honestly and deeply felt. But sometimes, Evan reminded himself, a man had to pay a mighty big price if he was to win his heart’s desire.
    “You’re certainly quiet,” Claire observed just then, casting him a quizzical glance. “Are you unhappy about your visit with Donall and Lainie?”
    Evan shook his head. “No, not at all. They’re good, kind folk. The things they told me about my ancestors made me even prouder to be of Scot’s blood then I already was. I was just mulling over what they’d said. And besides,” he added, shooting her a roguish grin, “I figured you might, after the past three days, be getting a little weary of my company. Didn’t see any sense in talking you to death.”
    “Och, I’m not weary of your company.” Claire smiled. “You’re a most entertaining man, you are, Evan MacKay.”
    “Am I now?” He laughed, thoroughly disarmed. “Well, I must say you’re the first woman who has ever told me that.”
    An impish dimple danced in both her cheeks. “Well, don’t let it go to your head.”
    “Not much chance of that. Leastwise, not with a girl like you. You’d be the first to put me firmly back in my place.”
    “Aye, that I would,” she concurred. Claire paused then. “The morrow’s Sunday. Would you like to accompany Ian and me to Mass at St. Columba’s?”
    Evan considered her offer briefly. He hadn’t been to church since he had left Culdee Creek last August. And, even before that, his religious faith had been little better than