Free Christine Dorsey - [MacQuaid 02] by My Heavenly Heart Page A

closed door of his cabin. He leaned on the axe handle a moment, then straightened. “I’m thinking I should go in there.”
    He’d taken only a few steps before he felt the hand on his shoulder. “The Adawehis will not like it.”
    “Nay? Well, I’m not liking it that she’s in there filling his head with nonsense.”
    “Lone Dove knows what is true and what is false.”
    Logan scowled, but he turned back, grabbing up the axe handle again with a vengeance. The Cherokee put great store in their Adawehis. Great faith in their powers.
    He’d seen these holy men interpret dreams and change the course of a man’s life. They sat at all the Councils, guarding against evil spirits, and they advised the chiefs during peace and war.
    It was not for him to tell Lone Dove who he could listen to. At least he didn’t plan to get in a wrangle with the holy man over it. Or over the woman. As soon as she was strong enough they would head down the valley. Let the good people of MacLaughlin’s Mill take care of her and her lively imagination... or her madness.
    Long shadows cast by the loblolly pines speared across the clearing by the time the door opened. Earlier the dog had opened his droopy eyes, stretched and trotted off into the trees to hunt something for his dinner. Logan could hear his excited yelp over the growling of his own stomach. His shoulders and back ached from all his chopping. And he wished he’d thought to bring a jug outside with him this morning.
    As the Adawehis and Her Highness stepped into the fading light Logan glanced down at his friend. Swift Fox had long since given up imitating birds to fall asleep, his head pillowed by a tuft of dried grass. So he missed the golden aura of light that seemed to drift above her head.
    It glittered and shone brighter than the diamonds at her throat. Logan blinked, opening his eyes slowly and it was gone. And she was staring at him with that expression. The one that seemed to imply she considered him no more than a peasant to do her beck and call. “’Twas a trick of the setting sun,” he mumbled, only to shake his head when Lone Dove asked what he’d said.
    The old man seemed very pleased with himself if the smile on his wrinkled face spoke true. “I have invited your woman to join us for the festival of Ah,tawh,hung,nah .”
    Logan’s eyes widened. “You’ve what?”
    “You are to come with her. To be her guide.”
    “I am honored of course. But I’m afraid ’twill not be possible. Perhaps Lady Rachel did not mention this, but she is leaving soon to return to her palace.”
    She did not find his sarcasm amusing. Rachel allowed her disdain to show for an instant before flashing Mr. MacQuaid a brilliant smile. “I’ve assured Lone Dove that I shall be here at the time of the festival and would be most pleased to attend.”
    Their eyes met and held: his not bothering to conceal their anger, hers unbrightened by the upward turn of her lips. It was the Adawehis who broke the deadlock of their stare. He stepped between them, drawing first her hand, then his into his own. When he spread his fingers their hands were linked.
    “Listen to your heart, Logan MacQuaid. It will not lead you astray.” Then he motioned to Swift Fox who was just now pushing to his feet and together they headed toward the path down the mountain.
    Rachel and Logan watched them leave, each deep in their own thoughts before suddenly realizing their hands were still entwined. As one they let go, pulling away till they stood more than a rod apart.
    Logan was the first to speak. “And what was that all about?”
    Rachel, who’d suddenly grown very interested in the lace cascading down her shift sleeve, glanced over her shoulder. “Whatever do you mean, Mr. MacQuaid?”
    “The invitation. How did you manage that, and why did you accept?”
    “I accepted because I’d like to go, of course. There rarely is another reason for me to endure anyone’s company.”
    Except for him. Perhaps she