Читать книгу Highland Hearts - Eva Hamilton Maria - Страница 9

Weary from his long journey home and his ensuing argument with Sheena, Logan finally smiled as the thatched roofs from huts came into view ahead of him. His family didn’t even know he walked these moors. Logan almost laughed aloud; his surprise appearance would surely bring rejoicing. And he could use some of that.

“Uncle Logan?” A lad with the same brown eyes and hair as Logan jumped down from a rock after a moment’s hesitation.

“Aye.” Logan waved, his heart swelling.

“Uncle Logan.” Ewan’s shriek sailed across the moor. Logan dropped his bag and scooped up his ten-year-old nephew. “Uncle Logan, you’re home.”

“Aye.” Logan laughed, noticing how much his nephew had changed in five years.

“As I live and breathe.” Nessia stood before them wearing the same married-woman’s kertch upon her head and looking nearly the same at twenty-seven as she had at twenty-two when Logan had last seen her. “You’ve come home.” She embraced Logan. “Angus is out back. Come, you have to see your brother.” Nessia grabbed Logan’s hand and rushed him around their one-room dwelling.

Ewan ran ahead of them. “Da, Uncle Logan has come home.”

“Logan?” Angus rose slowly from the mucky soil he farmed, even though at age twenty-eight he could no doubt easily jump to his feet. Angus’s apparent shock as Logan approached changed into a facial expression that mirrored Logan’s thoughts. It had been too long; coming home felt right. “I don’t believe it. This is a great day.” Angus hugged him. “Praise the Lord Almighty.”

“You must be famished, Logan. Come inside. I’ll get you something to eat.” Nessia ushered them around to the sole entrance at the front of the hut.

The walls, nearly three feet deep, held an open wooden door swinging in welcome. Logan stepped through, seeing only black as his eyes adjusted to the dimness. Even though the spring sun shone at seven at night and wouldn’t go down for a couple more hours, the one small window in the dwelling didn’t seem keen to let in the sunshine.

“Duncan, this is your uncle Logan.” Angus knelt down on the earthen floor to his youngest son’s eye level. “You were just a wee lad when he left.”

“This is the brother you always talk about?” Barefoot, Duncan eyed Logan and Angus nodded.

Logan didn’t like that his nephew didn’t remember him. Wee Duncan wouldn’t even recognize him if they walked right past one another. But what did he expect? A lot had happened in five years. Only a fool would think it a short time. Look at all he’d missed.

He definitely missed taking care of Sheena. And he understood her anger toward him. But he didn’t share it. Not given what her father had forced him to do. He had needed to go to the Americas to secure their future.

He’d obeyed her father and taken the only step he could that would allow Sheena to one day become his wife. And he would never regret that. He returned worthy to wed her. But he also accomplished a lot more than what he’d set out to do—he’d amassed the means to offer her a decent life, something he couldn’t have done five years ago.

But what if she wouldn’t accept him now? Even after he explained. Without her … Nay. God saw him home safe and for that he should celebrate. He’d win Sheena’s love back. With God’s help. Somehow.

Logan held out his hand and Duncan took it. “You look like my da when he’s ill and doesn’t trim his beard and moustache for a very, very long time.” Duncan’s innocence made the room erupt in laughter. Despite the age gap of two years, eight-year-old Duncan could be mistaken for Ewan’s twin. McAllister men evidently shared a striking resemblance.

“Come, sit.” Nessia ladled broth into a wooden bowl from a black cauldron over an open flame. “Eat.” She put a wooden spoon in the bowl and handed it to Logan.

He didn’t need to be told twice. “Thanks. It’s been a long time since I’ve eaten a good meal.” His compliment produced a grin from Nessia before she turned to dish out the lads’ meals. “Is there cow’s meat in this?” Logan knew his clansmen hardly ever ate meat.

“We lost another cow a couple days ago.” Angus downed his drink from a large pewter tankard before refilling it and handing it to Logan. Logan smiled. One drinking vessel for the whole household. Could his family cope with a richer life outside Scotland?

“So tell us everything.” Angus leaned toward Logan.

“Let him eat first, Angus,” Nessia chaffed. “He’s starving.”

“All right, but I’m excited. I want to hear all about the Americas.”

“You’d like it, Angus,” Logan said. But he didn’t elaborate after receiving a stark look of warning from Nessia.

He wanted to tell Angus everything though. His travels had opened his eyes to the larger world. Scotland lagged behind in many ways. He could benefit his brethren by sharing all he learned. Like telling them to end this nonsense of fearing trees and stop digging them up as soon as wealthier men planted them.

The farmers here would never produce good crops until they learned to block the wind and let trees and other plants with deep roots dry up the soil. He wished he could show them. The Americas grew acres of trees and yet the land also yielded bountiful crops. Food that people here didn’t even know existed. Food that could fatten up their chronically skinny cows and sheep. Food that would stop the starvation.

“Would you like more?” Nessia offered after Logan finished his last spoonful of broth.

Sitting back, Logan patted his stomach with both hands. “As delicious as that was, I’m full.” And yet, even if his stomach still growled from hunger, he would never take more than his share. Nessia and the lads came first.

“Great, then. Now that he’s finished, it’s high time for talking.” Angus winked at Nessia, who shrugged off his playfulness.

“Just make sure Logan gets to bed soon. He’s had a long journey and needs his rest. His eyes look like he can barely keep them open.” Only three years his senior, Nessia never could help acting like his mother.

“Aye,” Angus agreed and Logan couldn’t argue as he put his hand over his mouth to cover a yawn. “Let’s sit nearer the fire, Logan.” Angus stood and kissed each of his lads on the head, wishing them a good night. Logan grinned. His brother didn’t care about the criticism he received for acting affectionate, even when told by his clansmen that his behavior would ruin his children.

And Logan didn’t, either. His nephews didn’t seem the least bit spoiled. He watched as Nessia ushered the lads toward the end of the room with one on each side of her full brown skirt. The lads crawled through the opening of a high-sided wooden box that housed a straw mattress and lay down beside each other as Nessia placed one blanket after another on top of them.

Logan didn’t wait to watch Nessia pull the curtain closed. Instead, he picked up his stool and followed his brother a couple feet nearer the fire that burned up from the floor where Nessia had just stood cooking. “It’s nice to be home again.” Logan watched the sparks dance to their own crackling sound as the peat moss burned.

“You should’ve never made the journey back.” Angus lowered himself onto his wooden stool with a slow exactness. “It was far too dangerous.”

“You knew before I left I had every intention of returning.” Logan unbuttoned his brown vest.

“Aye. You did say that. But there was always a chance that you would change your mind.”

Logan paused in his undressing. “Nay Angus, there wasn’t.”

“Then it is true. You really love her.”

“Aye. I’ll always love her. I just saw her now. She’s upset at me, but with God’s help that will change.” Logan finished taking off his vest and laid it across his lap before stretching out his arms to feel the warmth on his overworked, calloused hands. “I would face the darkest evil and travel to the most decrepit of places if that’s what it took.”

“I imagine you have.” Angus turned from the flames to his brother.

“Aye, I worked hard in the Americas, and crossing the sea is not easy. We lost Gordon McDougall on the voyage home.” Logan closed his eyes and said a quick, silent prayer. “Gordon was ill before he boarded the ship. I told him not to make the journey, but he wanted so badly to come home.”

“Gordon was a fine man.” Angus joined him in a brief silence. “A tragedy.”

Logan rubbed his brow, remembering the pain and despair surrounding Gordon’s death. “I couldn’t bring Gordon’s body back. I could only bring what little he had with him and I’ll take it to his family first thing tomorrow with the news.”

“Logan, it wasn’t your fault he died. God has His own plans for each one of us and it’s not for us to understand.”

“Fair enough.” Logan eyed his brother. “But I have plans of my own, as well.”

Angus shot a look at him as Logan stood to stretch. “Before you go to sleep, Logan, tell me about these plans.”

“Let me save that until tomorrow. Nessia was right, I am tired and in need of sleep.”

Angus pursed his lips but consented. “Aye, tomorrow after you take Gordon’s belongings to his family we’ll talk about these plans of yours.”

“Thanks.” Logan held his brother’s shoulder. “It really is good to be home.”

Sheena rubbed her right eye as she walked into the village. Lack of sleep and tears shed over Logan last night irritated more than just her eyes.

Her whole body felt off, as if it wanted to shut down. But she had promised to bring a basket of food to the McDougall family today.

At church last Sunday, she found out Ailsa McDougall had fallen ill and the women of the church picked days to bring whatever they could over to help the family. Today was Sheena’s day, on behalf of the Montgomery household, because her mother wouldn’t dream of walking into the countryside herself and already declared they couldn’t spare a single servant for such matters, either.

Switching the basket from her left hand to her right, Sheena looked down as she rubbed her other eye. The cool breeze made her eyes tear up and sting. If this kept up, fairly soon they might refuse to stay open altogether. Sheena couldn’t live like this. She needed sleep and to do that she needed to banish Logan from her mind and let the past go.

Sheena turned around the corner of the last building that stood on the village of Callander’s main dirt road. Shutting her eyes tight to try to stop the stinging when another cool breeze assaulted her, she bumped into something and jumped back, startled and alarmed.

“Sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going.” Sheena knew that voice—she didn’t need to feel his hands holding on to her shoulders or see him clearly to know who stood before her. “Sheena,” Logan’s voice sounded full of concern. “Why are you crying?”

Sheena wiped at her eyes harder this time. “I’m not crying.” She pulled back from him.

“Then why are there tears running down your cheeks? Here.” Logan handed her a handkerchief.

“I didn’t sleep well last night and my eyes hurt. There. Does that answer your question?” Evidently, it answered more than that as a grin spread over Logan’s lips.

“Does that have anything to do with me?” Sheena didn’t answer. She handed him back his handkerchief with a “Good day” before marching off. Never would she own up to him about that truth.

“Not so fast, lassie,” Logan spun around and caught up to her. Patting his clean-shaven cheeks and chin, he asked her with a wink, “How do I look?” Her lips curled slightly and Logan didn’t miss the nuance. His grin broadened, even as she hurried past him. “Where are you going?”

Sheena stopped and stared at him, her chest tightening with annoyance. Better to tell him and get rid of him now than allow him to follow her all over the countryside as he seemed likely to do.

“I am bringing this basket to Ailsa McDougall. She’s ill.” Logan’s smile fell from his lips and he ran his hand through his brown, shoulder-length hair. He looked away for a moment into the distance at the crag that led to their water fall.

She didn’t mean to hurt him, but what could she say now?

“I have to visit the McDougalls myself, lassie.” The light golden flecks in Logan’s eyes no longer shone brightly and worry furrowed his brow.

“Logan, I do not need a chaperone.” But what she really did not need involved Logan standing near her and playing havoc with her emotions. Her future belonged to Ian Mackenzie.

“Be that as it may …” He seemed impatient, as if he wanted to tell her something, but couldn’t bring himself to do it.

And even though Sheena knew that as Ian’s future wife she needed to distance herself from Logan, she couldn’t stand it any longer. “Logan, what is going on?”

Logan’s gaze met hers and the intensity with which he looked at her made her hold her basket tighter. But she couldn’t look away. She knew Logan, even after all these years. And as much as he’d hurt her, she could still read every one of his expressions. And something definitely ate away at him.

The fact that he’d left her instead of marrying her should eat at his innards, but something else troubled him. And as angry as she felt toward him, she would help him now if she could. Any Christian would. At least that’s what she told herself.

“I have to tell the McDougalls their son Gordon died.”

Sheena’s hand flew to her mouth. “Gordon,” she murmured. She needed to sit down. Gordon was too young to die. Everyone expected great things from him. The community would be crushed. His family would be devastated. She felt Logan’s arm drape around her shoulder.

“He died on our ship, traveling back to Scotland.”

“Why did he try to come back here? Why didn’t he just stay in the Americas?” Sheena heard the note of irritation in her questions. Yet she didn’t expect any answers.

But Logan didn’t know that. “He must have had a good reason to risk his life. Just as I did.”

Sheena looked up into Logan’s face and searched his troubled brown eyes. Had love motivated his departure? Or did he just find he hated living in the Americas? She pulled herself away from him. It didn’t matter now. Not since her mother had betrothed her to Ian.

“We’ll tell them together.” Sheena’s voice achieved a calmness she had yet to feel.

“I am truly sorry,” Sheena told the McDougalls before she hugged them all one last time. What else could she say? After Logan told them all about how bravely Gordon faced his illness at sea, that phrase was all he could utter, as well.

Logan smiled at Sheena as she approached him, standing by the wooden door. How kind of Sheena to help him break the news of Gordon’s death to his family and stay to comfort the family as they let out their shock and grief.

“God bless you,” Sheena turned to say one last time before leaving the McDougalls’ hut—an exact replica of the one-room dwelling where Logan’s family lived.

Logan stepped out into the sunshine beside her. “Thank you, Sheena.” She stopped to look up at him. Her unsmiling face showed signs of stress and she simply nodded, folding her arms around herself, before turning and walking away from him again.

Logan desperately wanted to walk Sheena home. To gain even an extra few minutes to talk with her and remain close by her, but he couldn’t. The McDougalls still needed answers to questions about Gordon that only Logan could provide.

Alone and ready to retire for the night, Sheena rubbed her green moss agate stone as she walked up the wooden staircase to her bedroom. Being with the McDougall family as they learned about Gordon’s death brought her own heartrending emotions to the surface.

Yesterday, Logan’s return and today the news of Gordon’s death had left her emotionally distressed. Too much to handle in such a short time.

She sent up a prayer, not only for herself, but for Gordon, the McDougalls and Logan. How difficult for Logan to tell the devastating news to Gordon’s family earlier. She could barely listen to him choke out the words. And Gordon’s mother’s screams still reverberated in her ears.

Sitting on her bedroom chair, Sheena tucked her distaff under her arm. She knew her mother hated her spinning wool like the servants, insisting she do embroidery instead. But Sheena preferred this type of work. And, as she repeatedly told her mother, everyone, whether rich or poor, spun wool. So her mother couldn’t consider this activity beneath Sheena, even if her mother chose not to do it herself.

By now Sheena usually picked up her drop-spindle to hold in her left hand, but something stopped her from picking it up and transforming that wool into yarn.

She just couldn’t put the green moss agate stone down. Rolling it over between her fingers, the smooth rock usually soothed her. But tonight she grabbed it tight within her fist, squeezing it as if she meant to crush it into powder.

Forget spinning wool, she needed to talk to Cait.

Finding Cait finishing up her parlor maid’s duties for the night, Sheena calmed her temper enough to ask her to join her in her bedroom for a cup of tea.

Did servants usually share tea with their employers? Nay. But to Sheena, Cait became her best friend as a wee lass and would always remain her best friend, so she never saw any problem with it.

“It is so nice to relax after the day I had.” Cait dropped into a chair.

Sheena began pouring their tea. She didn’t want to belittle Cait’s complaint by putting her own problems ahead of her friend’s, so she listened to Cait voice her troubles, before broaching her own.

“Cait, do you know why my aunt Jean came here on Monday?” Sheena stirred the sugar that settled to the bottom of her teacup.

“Aye, to bring the news that your dowry to Ian Mackenzie has been paid and you are now officially betrothed to him.”

“Aye. But there’s more to it than that.” Sheena set down her spoon as Cait sat up to listen more intently. “My aunt Jean also brought the news that I am to visit the Mackenzies in Glasgow to meet Ian and his family before the wedding ceremony that they agreed would take place in two weeks.”

“Two weeks?” Cait stood to take off her white apron, before sitting back down more comfortably. “Everything is happening so fast, Sheena. Just last week I knew nothing about any of this.”

“I know.” Sheena’s teacup rattled in her hands. “When my mother first told me about Ian, I didn’t even mention it to you, because I didn’t think anything would happen until I met him. But according to my mother there was no need for that, because Jean met with him and thought he was perfect.”

“No doubt because he’s swimming in riches.” Cait picked up her teacup and eyed Sheena over the rim as she took a sip.

Sheena stared down into the steam rising from her own teacup. “There is something else I never told you, Cait.” Sheena glanced at her best friend now. “Yesterday, Logan came home.”

Cait nearly choked on her mouthful of tea. “Logan? My sister Nessia’s brother-in-law? Here in Callander?” Sheena nodded at each question, watching the smile lift Cait’s entire expression. “I have to go and see him.” She put her teacup down and sprang to her feet. “But wait. Logan’s home …” She sank back down slowly into her chair, not bothering to fix her skirt into place beneath her as she should. “And you’re betrothed to Ian now.”

Sheena nodded. She knew Cait assumed Logan had come home because he loved Sheena and wanted to marry her, but Logan had never told Sheena that. And now it was too late, Sheena thought.

“Oh, Sheena. What are you going to do?” Cait reached across the empty space and put her hand on Sheena’s knee. And Sheena put her teacup down, too, fighting back more tears as she unknowingly rubbed her green moss agate stone.

“I haven’t told Logan about my betrothal to Ian yet.” Cait opened her mouth to speak, maybe to offer to tell Logan for Sheena, but Sheena kept talking. “Please don’t tell Logan. I want him to hear it from me.” If Logan could tell the McDougalls that Gordon died, Sheena could tell Logan about her betrothal.

Cait nodded and Sheena straightened her skirt, forgetting she even held the green moss agate stone in her hands; it slipped out and fell onto the hardwood floor with a clunk before it rolled away from her.