Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Cian had made the woman so nervous, she insisted there were things she needed to do before we settled in for his story.
“The dishes. I need to wash the dishes. And I want to wash your shirt. And the sweater. And if you’ll bring me that plaid cloth from the barn. And…we need to gather wood for the night. The basket is nearly—”
“Guan, then. Wash the dishes and what clothes ye wish. Soap flakes are in the tin beside the plates there. I’ll fetch ye m’ plaid—‘tisnae a blanket, mind—and I’ll get the wood.
” He set the last of the wood on the floor, grabbed the basket, and threw a bed blanket around his shoulders before turning back with a grin.
“M’ dress is a mite too thin for outdoors, aye? ”
He ducked into the stables to fetch the sled and his still-damp plaid and léine before taking them in the house.
Then he took his time clearing a path to the privy and chopping more wood so as not to sweat overmuch.
When the basket was bursting, he made a pile of fat logs to the right of the door and took the rest inside.
He found Matty standing in the midst of the room, wringing her hands. She’d hung his new shirt and jumper from the rafters above the stove to dry. Must have stood on the chair to reach so high.
He set the heavy basket on the floor. “Somethin’ amiss?”
Her hand rose to point at the bed. “I found sheets in the trunk and made the bed.”
“Sheets?”
She pointed again, so he strode to the bedstead and lifted the blanket spread upon it. Beneath were two flowered cloths that had indeed been in the trunk. Effie gifted them to him regularly, through the years, and he’d cherished these last two.
“Sheets, ye say? I save those for when I run oot of rope. Make strips oot of them—” He noted the horror on her face and added, “Never ye mind.”
“So, I…I was making the bed and thinking about leaving tomorrow, and I realized that…we probably need to take turns. Maybe we can sleep in shifts, you know—”
“Matty.”
She jumped at the sound of her name.
“I am content to make a pallet on the floor. Ye’ll have the bed to yerself.”
“The floor? Are you sure?”
“I slept fine on the groond in the stables,” he lied. “I shall do the same here. And if ye prefer me on the far side of the room, I understand.”
“Okay. Yeah. Great.” She grimaced. “Because, you know, I’m still married.”
He snorted. “Pure tosh. He’s given ye up, so none of this…” He gestured to her body, head to toe, “None of ye belongs to him. But that doesnae mean I’d take aught that wasnae mine.”
She swallowed hard, and the height of her brows told him he’d done little to relieve her worries.
“I’ve made a mush of it, but ken that ye have nothin’ tae fear from me, Maddy lass.
Yer Yeti-man is an honorable one, I vow it.
” He turned his hot face away from her, snatched up the damp longshirt and plaid and took them to the tool wall to hang them to dry.
His blush alone likely did half the job.
Yer Yeti-man? Was he mad?
She took pity on him and said nothing more. When he finally returned to face her, she was on her hands and knees mopping up the melted snow he’d tracked inside. He kicked off his house boots and set them by the door, then waited to see what else she planned for them.
“I cleared the path to the privy,” he said.
She scrambled to her feet, collected her jacket, and pointed to the bed once again before flying to the door. “Get comfortable while I’m gone!”
He stared at the bedstead and wondered what the devil she expected when she returned.
Kee-un MacInnis hadn’t been kidding. He hadn’t just cleared a path, he’d cleared a wide one. He’d also removed three feet of snow that had blocked the door and broken off the solid frame of ice that had sealed the outhouse shut.
Without the wind blowing, and a lazy snow replacing the blizzard, the temperature was warmer now, with the sun going down, than it had been around noon.
After I took care of business, I headed back to the house, but a set of wide footprints, made by snowshoes, piqued my interest. They headed off to the left, away from the row of houses.
Cian hadn’t only been fetching things from the barn, shoveling snow, and chopping wood…
We already had enough produce and meat for the day, and for the next morning.
And I’d already seen everything he brought inside on the little sled.
He hadn’t said anything about having animals to take care of.
And after I’d followed the footprints for a hundred feet, I saw no signs of another barn, or building of any kind.
He said no one had crossed his threshold. He hadn’t said no one else lived nearby, had he?
A hundred yards further, the road curved off to the right, and the footprints turned sharply and cut straight into the woods that filled the rest of the valley and spread up the mountain.
I vaguely wondered what kind of animals were watching me pass, but my curiosity outweighed my paranoia at that point.
The trail was fairly straight. He’d come this way before, taken these same steps, even though the towering pines all looked alike. Considering how easily someone could get lost there, I was reminded of a funhouse. Turn in any direction, and you wouldn’t know where you were.
But I didn’t have to worry. I had tracks to lead me and a clear trail to follow back. I wasn’t dropping breadcrumbs that the birds would eat. And there was no wind there to cover up my deep footprints.
The snow wasn’t as deep there, in the woods, as if half of what should have fallen was still stuck high in those upper branches, waiting for a breeze to shake it all loose so it could finish its fall.
The trees thinned out ahead, leaving a clearing, and Kee-un’s footprints headed straight into the center, leaving decorative stitches across white cloth. The little mystery was about to be solved!
The snow in the clearing was deep, tapering around the edges near the trees where the wind had uncovered a solid row of small rocks made into a perfect ring. All uniform, about the same diameter as an extra-large pizza, and each topped with its own mound of snow.
A string of snow-white pearls. And in the center of the mound that filled the clearing, stood a tall flat rock, chiseled and shaped into a rough arch.
Since Cian’s tracks led straight to it, I followed, and as I got closer to the arch, I realized what it all meant.
Cian darted about the house for half an hour, trying to guess what would best please the woman. Surely, she hadn’t meant for him to be waiting on the bed. But she hadn’t pointed to the chair, had she?
Nay, she hadnae.
The word comfortable soon became an enigma, and he paced and paced, eager for her to return and better explain herself. But she did not.
Had he frightened her away completely?
Impossible. Her skis stood behind the door. She’d left her gloves, her pack of various things he hadn’t asked about. She wouldn’t head back into the weather this late in the evening. And if she’d been that foolish, she would have filled her stomach one last time, surely.
He couldn’t claim she was the most reasonable of women, but most of her miseries could be laid at the feet of her idiot husband!
Her husband!
Had the man come looking and found her? Had she allowed someone to lead her away to keep from exposing Cian to the world?
Surely not. She had yet to understand about the dangers he avoided.
But perhaps some danger had found her!
He snatched up his blanket and sank into his boots. The fire was safely contained behind the stove door. He only opened it a final time to light a torch. Night had yet to fall, but he could not guess how long it might take to find her.
He stomped out the door, and while he strapped on his snowshoes, he cursed himself for not worrying sooner.
A knock on the privy door received no answer. She wasnae in the stables, so he set his cap for the garden and the smokehouse beyond. Perhaps she’d found one of the other garden houses and misjudged how much time she’d been away…
But before he reached the road, he noticed the path he’d taken earlier. Though he’d come and gone the same way, the snow was disrupted more than before. And upon closer look, he found the deep imprints of Matty’s much smaller boots.
Aye, she’d gone snooping. And it appeared she had yet to return. What’s more, she had already proven she couldn’t fend well for herself in a Scottish wood!
After following only a few minutes, he was pleased she was keeping to the path he’d set. And with his snowshoes, he was able to catch up to her in little time at all. When he reached the cairn, his stomach fell to his feet—she was kneeling in the snow, head down, and still as death.
When he would have called out, the breath in his chest froze. What if she didnae answer?
He used quiet steps to move close. When the leather strap of his snowshoe creaked, the lass gasped and spun around, throwing snow in his face before truly seeing him.
“Are you crazy? You trying to scare me to death?”
“Nay.” He chuckled. “Ye cannae ken how relieved I am that ye’re unharmed.”
“Yeah? Well, I wouldn’t go that far.”
He reached down, grabbed her elbows, and hauled her to her feet before literally beating the snow off her.
“What? What are you doing? Stop that!”
“Where are ye hurt, lass? Show me!”
“I’m fine! I’m fine!” She planted her feet and refused to turn for him. “I am fine.”
He held up his hands and took a step back. “Ye meant to frighten me in turn. I see that now.”
“Well, we’re not even, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Nay?”
“Nay.” She pointed to his gran’s headstone. “I read it. You should have told me how to spell your name.”
“What the devil? Ye’re talking oot yer head.”
“Kee-un. Spelled C. I. A. N.”
“Aye.”
“You’re Cian in the book of poetry.”
“Aye.”
“You’re…you’re Cian in that bible.”
“Aye.”
“You’re Cian…on the headstone. Here lies Hannah MacInnis, beloved gran of Cian. Born 1667.”
He filled his lungs and let the air out in a cloud, then a second time. “Aye.”
“Do you have some way of explaining how you made it to your, what, 300th birthday?”
“Ye remember that story I meant to—”
“Some way to explain without me ending up in the loony bin?”
“Loony bin?”
“The nuthouse. You know, an asylum? For people who get told things they can’t handle?”
He made a half dozen faces, looked away, then back again. “I can only do m’ best.”
A defiant gust of wind came out of nowhere and swirled around the clearing, then bounced between them, as if on purpose. When it was gone, the lass shivered violently.
Cian planted the torch in the snow, opened his arms wide, along with the ends of the blanket, and silently pleaded for her to come to him.
After meeting his gaze for a pair of heartbeats—enough to let him know she was choosing to trust him—she closed the distance and slammed herself against him, welcoming his embrace and wrapping her arms around him.
He didn’t complain that hugging her slick, cold jacket against his thin léine was like embracing the snow itself. But it warmed soon enough.
Over the top of her head, his gaze fell once more upon Hannah’s stone, where the snow fell lightly, like blessings, to cover the top with a clean blanket. He could imagine her standing there, watching with those smiling eyes as the snow blessed him as well.
Maddy tipped her head back, “Should we go back?”
“Just a moment more, woman.” Then he did what any canny Highlander would do, and kissed her—gently, then thoroughly, until his own knees grew weak.