He found the courage to turn and face the room. Her coat was missing, but the sight of her skis chased his worst fear away. The coals had been brought back to life, and the room grew warmer by the minute. A pot of water waited to boil. The sack of coffee had been set out.
Aye, his lass would be back.Hislass. For part of the day, at least.
He took advantage of her absence to change into clean underthings and don his dry denims. The new shirt was clean and dry, the bloodstains gone. So he was presentable when Matty returned and he had the coffee ready.
She closed the door and removed her coat, and after a quick smile, she opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again.
Had they run out of things to say?
She tested the heat of the stove, then pulled down a pan and began heating the smokehouse ham. Cian pointed to the bag of wheat still sitting on the sled. “Shall I make some bread?—”
“No time for bread. I think we should get going as early as we can, so you’re not coming back in the dark, you know?”
She was eager to be back in the world, then, where things made sense. She’d been brave to believe his fanciful tale as long as she had. But just as she’d tried to explain to him in the night, she was afraid of going under. Being wrapped in his arms hadn’t made it easier. She was still, as she said, freaking out.
“I understand. But know that it will take less than three hours to reach Aviemore.”
“Really?”
“Really,” he lied. Even if they walked sedately all the way, it wouldn’t take three hours to reach the armory. But he knew a few roundabout paths that could extend their last hours together.
It fairly broke his heart when she was content to drink her coffee and consume her ham standing at the stove.
She pointed to her bag. “I’ve already packed my things, along with some vegetables, just in case. Do you have skis?”
“Dinnae fash. I shall keep up.”
She let out an awkward noise that might have been a laugh, or might have been her overly excited nerves escaping. “I’ll just follow you. If you follow me, we’ll get lost for sure.” She strode smartly to the bed and lifted a blanket to fold it. She’d already folded and returned everything to the trunk. But for a pot and a pan and two mugs, not a hair was out of place. The books and shelves had been straightened.
Cian swallowed the emotion rising in his throat. “Dinnae do that, if ye please.”
She froze. “Don’t fold the blankets?”
“Dinnae erase the signs of yer passing through m’ life.”
She froze. Her eyes filled with tears, and she slowly set the blanket back on the bed. A blink turned those tears loose and they poured down her face in two clean rows. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to?—”
Two long strides took him to her. He gathered her into his arms and held her as tightly as he dared. She tipped her head back and closed her eyes, begging him to kiss her. When their mouths met, the coals in his heart woke and shook off their dust to bring him back to life again.
After a long while, he allowed her to catch her breath while he pressed his cheek to the top of her head. His tears dropped into her hair like the start of a storm he dared not unleash. “I’ll not keep ye here. But ye must ken that I want to.”
“You should come with me and leave this place behind, but I won’t make you. If that man found you and sent you back, I’d never forgive myself.”
“Silly us, for imaginin’ we had choices.”
“Exactly.”
He finally let his arms fall away from her, and he took a step back. “I need only a moment.” From the far wall, he collected his well-dried great kilt, spread it on the bed and pleated it as swiftly as Matty had braided her hair, then put it on over the top of his new clothes.
He banked the fire, closed the shutter, and went to the barn to trade his house boots for the fur ones, then he strapped on his snowshoes. His large fur became a bag he stuffed the other ones into, then he slung the lot over his back, in case of worse weather.
Matty stood in the middle of the snow-covered road and stepped into her skis, poles at the ready, her bag on her back. She offered him a brave smile, then looked at the sky. “The weather might hold.”
“Pity the last storm didnae last a week.”
She laughed. “We would have been snowed in until spring.”
“Aye.”
