Only someone who had been here before would know that a good deal of all that natural beauty had been purposefully created. Not that the glen wasnae everything a man could want before. But what Crayton had done was hang jewelry on an already beautiful woman.
Reginald wandered off the porch, toward what had to be fairly new fencing since it wasnae made of the traditional stones. But on closer inspection, it appeared more weathered than he’d first thought.
He shook his head in irritation. Did he really expect everything to be brand new? As if he’d only just left?Centuries had passed!Not months, or years, or even decades. Would he ever make that shift in his mind? Or, his heart?
Long, frustrated strides carried him further down the fence-line where he discovered a section with a splintered lower rail. The two halves dangled haphazardly toward the ground.
Would Phoebe mind if he fixed it? He’d welcome any chore that would keep him busy and his mind in the present, while he waited for Lauren. Besides, ’twas a much better use of his energy than lamenting the past and things he couldnae change. At least repairing or replacing that single pole wouldnae be anywhere near the work fixing a dilapidated stone fence used to be.
Reginald carefully studied how the fence was put together. The ends were stacked inside braces and nailed. Nothing too difficult, and not much different than all the construction they’d helped with, at Wickham’s.
He looked toward the outbuildings. Surely, he could find something, somewhere, he could use. After a brief search, he found several fence poles stacked against the far side of the barn. Now he just needed tools. He headed for a small shed. ’Twas where he’d store his tools, if the place were his—which, of course, it wasnae. No’ anymore.
The door creaked on its hinges as Reginald entered and stopped, taking a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim interior. A thin shaft of sunlight stole through a crack near the ceiling and fought its way through a grimy window, while a puff of dust curled into the air from the disturbance he’d caused.
Despite the thick layer of dust, the shed’s contents were meticulously arranged. Carpentry tools of all sorts hung neatly on pegs over a counter, on the far wall. Beside them, a tiered shelf of bins contained an assortment of smaller items. But ’twas the large worktable in the center that caught Reginald’s attention. Atop it, half finished, were the separate parts of a rocking chair, cut, carved and sanded, as if waiting for assembly. All but the chair back, which lay half-carved with an intricate thistle design.
Moving closer, Reginald took a deep breath and carefully blew away some of the dust that covered the headrest. After several more attempts, he’d exposed the exquisite workmanship. Surely done by a skilled carver. Better even, than his da had been. And da had been a master, well known and respected. Until Uncle Fergus’ reputed actions tarnished his good name.
“I see you’ve made yourself at home.”
Reginald’s breath caught as every nerve went on alert.
Deidre.
Praying she wasnae alone, he turned, slowly. “Just searching for some tools tae repair the fence while I wait for Lauren. This seemed a logical spot.”
He swallowed a groan. She was indeed, alone. “Are ye no’ going riding with Phillip and Drew?”
Her mouth twitched with a smug smile as she moved closer. “I just wanted to give you another opportunity.”
Unwilling to back away and reveal how uneasy Deidre made him, he blew another puff of dust from the rocker into the air and pointed at the carving. “ ’Tis amazing workmanship, aye?”
“Ewww!” She coughed and backed up, waiving her hand in front of her face. “That’s disgusting. This place is probably full of all sorts of vile things.” She paused at the door; her mouth pursed in yet another pout. “Do you really intend to hang around this dusty old shack, or search for decrepit old gravesites, when you could come riding with me? Err…us? Aunt Phoebe is sending the horses to another stable until she sells the place, so this is our last chance for a nice ride. It will give you an opportunity to see the entire valley.” An exaggerated eye-roll came next. “Aunt Phoebe does go on about how special it is.”
He agreed.It was. But he wasnae about to encourage conversation, by saying so.
Her impatient sigh was followed by a slow perusal, from his toes to his nose.
She made him itch.
“Phillip and Drew are both excellent riders. Or, so they say. What about you?”
He supposed he couldnae completely ignore her. Disrespecting her would be disrespecting Phoebe, and he wouldnae do that. “I’m afraid ’tis been some time since I was horseback.”
“Really?” She raised an eyebrow and gave him a silky smile. “Well, that’s not a problem. I’m a very good instructor.”
He tried to keep his expression blank as he held her gaze. “Thank ye, but I’m content tae wait for Lauren, as I promised.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly, and her lips tightened despite the indifferent shrug of her shoulder. “Your loss.”
She didn’t quiteflounceout the door, but Reginald had the impression she’d given it a good try. ’Twas a puzzle, indeed, that she and Lauren were sisters. He dinnae ken much of Julia just yet, but she seemed kind and gentle mannered. Mayhap this youngest daughter just needed a good turn over someone’s knee. Pity the man who’d have to do it.
Taking one last wistful look at the intricately carved headrest, he searched the wall of tools for a hammer, and the bins for some nails.
Equipment in hand, he left the shed, regretting not knowing Crayton. By all indications he’d loved the wee glen as much as Reginald did. The least he could do was repair the man’s fence.
With the warm sun on his back and the scents of spring and new growth in the air, Reginald made fast work of the task, relishing the play of muscle over bone. ’Twas the most contented he’d felt since…well, he couldnae remember.
