Free A Stockingful of Joy by Susan King Justine Dare Mary Jo Putney Jill Barnett Page A

although the sleet had stopped.
Cù had stepped out briefly, and had gone inside, making his preference clear.
    Ice slicked the hills to milky smoothness, and turned the trees to bare, delicate sculptures. Catriona walked carefully over the slippery, crusted snow, her boots sinking with each step, and glanced back at the house.
    Kenneth still slept, although it was well into the day. She knew that he had been awake much of the night. Just after dawn, when Catriona had awoken and got out of bed, he had been sitting beside her. They had said little to each other beyond a somber morning greeting, and he had lain down and drifted to sleep quickly. She was not sure what she would tell him when he awoke.
    She sighed and began to crush the snow around her with her boot, making idle patterns while she thought. She had to convince Kenneth to go back to Glenran. If he stayed with her, if he wed her, the risks to him, and to the Glenran Frasers and Kilernan MacDonalds, frightened her. If she wed him, she feared that she would be widowed too soon, as her mother had been.
    But the thought of being wed to him spun through her like a whirlwind, stealing her breath. To have him near her always, strong and calm, kind and comforting—but that was a dream, a wish. No matter how much she desired it, that could not happen.
    Gazing at the broken, sad little house, she sighed. She had no choice now but to return to Kilernan. Twelfth Night Eve, when her uncle expected her, was two days away; by then the weather would allow travel. Kenneth would leave, and so would she.
    She pressed her foot down again and again, turning in a slow circle as she thought. Before Christmas, all she had wanted was a rescue from her dilemma, and better luck in the future. But since Kenneth had fallen through her door at midnight on New Year's Eve, as if fate had guided him there, all had changed.
    Somehow, fate had swept through her life like snow and ice, covering all that she thought existed, leaving a new, pure vista, filled with possibility and risk. But she would not risk Kenneth's life to grasp at joy.
    I am your luck
, he had said. She wished it could be true. His words had been filled with devotion and love; they were a pledge in themselves. Tears stung her eyes, and she wiped them away. She rarely allowed herself to cry, but last night she had been flooded by bitter joy. Desperate to turn into his arms, knowing he wanted her, too, she had not; she feared what would happen if she let herself love him as she wanted to do.
    Kenneth was more than her luck. He was her life, the soul of what she needed and desired. The heart-wrenching choice she faced was no choice at all: she wanted him to live, wanted peace for him and their clans. If she had to return to Kilernan to ensure that—if she had to marry Parian—then she would do it.
    She stepped back, and looked down at the design she had made. Spreading around her like an opened flower, her footprints formed a rose in the snow.
Chapter Eight
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    Kenneth looked up from lacing his boots to see Catriona open the door and guide the cow into the house ahead of her. She shut the door against a blast of frigid air, and turned toward him. Her pinkened cheeks grew even brighter.
    "You are awake," she said. "Have you eaten?" She took off her outer plaid and folded it as she spoke.
    "Not yet." He stood. "How is the weather?"
    She knelt by the low fire and poured water from a bucket into a kettle, swinging it over the fire to heat while she scooped ground oats from a sack. "Bitterly cold, but the sleet has stopped. Walking is difficult, and riding might be nearly impossible on some of the hills. You may have to stay another day or so." She seemed to be avoiding his gaze.
    He watched her add the oats. "Catriona, I—" He stopped, having much to say, and unsure where to begin.
    "I will not wed you, Kenneth," she said quietly, stirring the porridge. "But thank you for wanting to help me."
    He walked over to stand beside