15. Piper That Evening
Chapter fifteen
Piper That Evening
The sky doesn't grow dark all at once. It surrenders reluctantly.
Gold gives way to lavender. Lavender fades into deep blue, until the first stars begin appearing above the Scottish hills one light at a time.
Tristan invited me to join him this evening, after dinner, in the Observatory.
Now he's standing beside the telescope with one hand resting lightly against the brass tube, looking out across the Highlands as though greeting an old friend.
I step farther into the circular room. The windows are open tonight. Cool evening air carries the scent of pine, damp earth, and distant rain.
"It’s always been my favorite hour."
"Sunset?"
He smiles faintly.
"That moment between day and night."
I move beside him, resting my hands on the wide stone windowsill. Far below, tiny lights begin appearing in the village. A fireplace or two is lit, and I hear a sheepdog bark. Stars sparkle. The whole valley seems to be settling in for the night.
"I don't think I've ever seen stars like this."
"The Highlands are generous that way."
I look toward the telescope.
"Do you actually use it?"
"Frequently."
"For astronomy?"
"For perspective."
I laugh softly.
"That sounds like something you practiced saying."
"It rather does, doesn't it?"
"You've become impossible to surprise."
"I assure you that's entirely untrue."
For a moment, neither of us speaks. I walk toward the telescope.
"Will you show me?"
"Aye."
I bend to look through the eyepiece. Everything is hopelessly blurred.
"I think I've discovered ... absolutely nothing."
"You've discovered the importance of proper adjustment."
"I knew there'd be homework."
He comes to stand beside me.
"May I, lass?"
I nod. He reaches toward the telescope. His sleeve brushes lightly against mine. Nothing more. Yet every nerve in my arm suddenly seems determined to announce the fact.
He pauses. Just long enough that I become aware of how close we're standing and that it seems to affect him, too. I hear him inhale deeply.
His hand turns one small brass wheel. Then another.
"Try now."
I lean forward again. A sharp intake of breath escapes me.
"Oh..."
The night sky springs into astonishing clarity. A brilliant planet hangs suspended against endless black. Its pale rings glow like delicate silver.
"Saturn?"
He nods.
“Good grief. It's beautiful."
"I never tire of it."
I straighten slowly. "I can see why."
For several moments we simply stand together looking out through the open windows. The wind catches a loose strand of my hair and blows it across my face. Before I can brush it away, Tristan instinctively reaches toward me. His fingers stop, barely an inch from my cheek.
The moment stretches. He lowers his hand.
"My apologies. I forgot myself."
I gently tuck the strand behind my ear.
"I don't mind."
"I do."
I have the oddest feeling he isn't talking about my hair. I study him.
"You're a curious man."
"So some say."
"No, I mean genuinely curious."
He looks surprised.
"You ask questions. You listen. You notice things.”
"I've always assumed those qualities belonged together."
"They don't anymore."
The wind shifts again.
Somewhere below, the castle clock strikes the hour.
"I've been thinking about tomorrow," I say.
"Your visit to the village?"
I nod.
"You'll discover several opinions. The village has never been especially efficient at agreeing."
I laugh.
"I have a feeling the official history and your history aren't entirely the same."
"History is rarely as tidy as people prefer. But I'll answer what I can."
"What you can?"
“Some stories belong to others."
"And you won't betray their confidence." I nod slowly. "I respect that."
The answer seems to please him. We fall comfortably silent again.
The stars multiply overhead. One by one. Until the sky seems almost crowded with them.
"I've always wondered something," I say.
"Hm?"
"After you've lived somewhere for a very long time ... do you ever get tired of it?"
He speaks so quietly I almost miss it.
“You can stop being grateful for what you have if not careful."
The words settle somewhere deep inside me. No one has ever answered a question quite like that.
I look at him. The evening breeze moves through his dark hair. The fading light softens the sharp lines of his face. For just a heartbeat, he doesn't seem like an elegant Scottish aristocrat. He simply seems ... older, wiser.
Not in his face or his body, but in his eyes. As though they've watched far more than anyone should ever have to remember. The feeling disappears almost immediately. So quickly I wonder whether I imagined it.
"Tristan, I've enjoyed today," I say softly.
"So have I."
"I wasn't sure this arrangement was going to work."
"Nor was I. But I remain cautiously optimistic."
I laugh.
"I'll take that."
Neither of us moves. Neither of us seems particularly interested in leaving. The Observatory has grown quiet enough that I can hear the steady ticking of the old clock somewhere below.
Time passing. Neither of us mentioning it.
Finally, Tristan steps back.
"We should probably let Mrs. MacLeod believe we've not become entirely lost among the stars."
I smile.
"You're probably right."
I glance down into the gardens and for just an instant, I think I see someone there, standing beneath the trees. That same thin hooded figure I saw in the galley. Watching the castle.
I blink, and then it’s gone.
Tristan quietly says, "Is something wrong?"
I look out the window once more.
"No. Well, I thought I saw someone."
He walks to the window and looks, for a moment too long. Then he says, "There’s no one."
But he closes the observatory shutters before we leave.
"Ladies first." As we begin descending the narrow spiral staircase, I become aware of something that has quietly changed over the course of the evening.
Tristan Sinclair no longer feels like the impossibly polite Scottish aristocrat. He feels like a puzzle.
One that, despite every sensible instinct telling me to leave it alone...
I suddenly wanted very much to solve.