Page 78 of The Lyon and the Unicorn
“No harm done, Morag,” she said. “I’ve heard far worse since I came here.”
The ghillie pulled Marsaili into his arms, and she clutched his jacket, sobbing.
“I’ll take care of the lass,” he said. “Marsaili, ye shouldn’t say such things when Mrs. McTavish was only being kind.”
“But the laird said…”
Before she could reveal what the laird said, footsteps approached, and Murdo’s brother appeared.
“Ye heavens, Master James!” the cook said. “I don’t know why everyone sees fit to plague my kitchen. At this rate I’ll never get supper ready, and I need to put those bones to boil.”
“Can I help ye, Master James?” the housekeeper said.
He stood in the doorway, his eyes darkening as he stared at the ghillie with Marsaili in his arms.
“No,” he bit out. “Nobody can.”
Then he turned and disappeared, his angry footsteps fading into the distance.
“Poor lad,” the housekeeper said, as the ghillie’s face turned pink. “Duncan, letmesee to Marsaili. Get back to yer business. That deer fence won’t mend itself.” She turned to Clara. “Mrs. McTavish, why don’t ye wait in the west parlor and I’ll send Elspeth up?”
Considering herself dismissed, Clara exited the kitchen, the dog trotting after her.
Shortly after, Elspeth arrived, and Clara found herself forgetting her troubles and enjoying her lesson. The older woman was a patient teacher, and Clara warmed at her gentle praise. But the distinction of rank prevented their becoming friends. When Clara invited Elspeth to take tea with her, the woman declined, then returned to her duties. Clara spent the rest of the afternoon with Buck, who took pleasure from bringing her gifts such as a rag, a wooden toy boat, and what looked like a pair of the cook’s drawers for her to throw across the chamber to fetch.
When the dog tired of the game, he lay on the hearthrug and Clara settled in the window seat. She looked outside and spotted two men arguing. One appeared distressed as he shouted at the other, who raised his hands in supplication. They glanced up and froze as they looked toward her, and she recognized James and Duncan. She darted behind the curtain, ashamed at being caught. When she next looked out of the window, they had gone.
Chapter Seventeen
Murdo couldn’t helpsmiling at his wife’s sure-footedness as she skipped along the path that clung to the mountain slopes, Buck at her side.
The deerhound seemed to have appointed himself as Clara’s constant companion. He followed her everywhere and had taken to settling down at night outside their bedchamber door, as if to protect her.
Which was Murdo’s responsibility—but his wife still didn’t trust him.
The path reached the edge of the trees, and Murdo paused to adjust the bag over his shoulder. He drew in a lungful of mountain air.
He’d never tire of the view. The land sloped toward the tiny loch, a haven from the rest of the world. A waterfall tumbled down the rocky slope of the mountain, sparkling in the air before splashing into the loch, feeding it with fresh, clear water.
Clara caught him up and gazed across the landscape.
“What do ye think, lass?” Murdo asked.
“I’ve never seen anything so beautiful in my life.”
“It’s where I come when I want to be by myself,” he said, echoing the words his wife had uttered what seemed a lifetime ago.
“Like my cave at home,” she said.
“Aye,” he said. “Only ye’re wrong, Clara.Thisis yer home now.”
He held out his hand, and his heart soared as she took it. Then he led her toward the loch, Buck trotting behind. As they reached the edge of the water, the dog lowered his head and lapped the water.
“Thirsty?” Murdo asked his wife. “Buck here will say that ye’ll not taste better.”
“Well, if Buck recommends it, I’ll have some,” she said. “I can trust his opinion.”
She crouched beside the dog and scooped up a handful of water.
