Sean,
If I’m asleep when ye return, feel free to help yerself to whatever ye can find in the kitchen. If Owen dinnae feed ye, I’m sure ye’re hungry.
I set some clean towels out in the bathroom, in case ye wish tae shower, or—anything. Help yerself tae whatever ye need. I ken if ye found this note, ye found the bedding. Rest well.
Kenna
Hungry?He glanced at Kenna’s shadowed form in the bed, regretting the passionate kiss they’d shared, earlier. How could a man taste something so sweet and no’ hunger for more?
Tossing the note on the sofa, he headed for the shower. Mayhap he could get it hot enough, or cold enough, to drive their kiss from his mind.
Chapter Eleven
The steaming shower had finally relaxed the tense muscles in Sean’s shoulders and neck. He’d even taken advantage of the hot soap and water to give his longshirt a scrub. After draping it over the curtain rod to dry, he wrapped his plaid around his waist and eased the bathroom door open.
Intending to sneak quietly into the living room, he glanced at Kenna, hoping no’ to wake her. ’Twas a mistake.
She lay on her back, head slightly turned, with enough moonlight slanting through the window to accentuate her halo of hair and heighten the dips and hollows of her lovely face. One hand curled next to her cheek. Her lips, soft and relaxed, were slightly parted.
Enchanting.
’Twas wonderful to see her wi’out the strain and torment of the burdens she carried. The lass took his breath away. How would he endure never seeing her again?
Hurrying to the living room, he grabbed his pad and charcoal and returned to Kenna’s bedside. Barely daring to breathe, he picked up a wee chair from the corner and brought it closer, taking several minutes to decide on the right spot. The right angle.
Terrified she’d wake and be frightened to find him there, Sean’s hands flew across the paper. All else fell away but the shape and details of Kenna’s face, and his heart and hand attempting to capture them.
He dinnae ken how long he was there, but when he finally stood, closed his sketch pad, and returned the chair to its proper place, the moonlight had shifted, leaving naught but shadows in the dim room. Kenna moaned slightly and turned on her side, and with one last glance, Sean quietly slipped from the room.
Setting his sketch-pad aside, he picked up the blanket from the sofa, shook it out, changed his mind and tossed it back, and moved to the window. ’Twas a bit of a chill this close to the glass. Sean folded his arms over his bare chest and stared out at the village. So serene. Idyllic, even.
And annoying.
Recognizing the selfishness of such a thought, Sean expelled an exasperated breath, fogging the glass. Never had he experienced such a conflicted jumble of emotions. He loved Kenna.Truly loved her!Too much no’ to do all in his power to help her achieve what she desired most in the world. And too much to let her go wi’out fighting for her.
’Twas irreconcilable.
He welcomed the pain of his fingers digging into his skin, and pressed harder. He wouldnae fight to keep her. Couldnae. He’d witnessed how Kenna suffered from being stuck here. How could he consider prolonging that even one more day, if he could possibly change it for her?
Dropping his chin to his chest, he accepted the only path forward. In his previous life, single-mindedly hurrying to join the Jacobites at Culloden, he’d selfishly ignored pleas for help from a woman, a stranger, he’d passed.
’Twas impossible to ken what harm the woman came to from his inaction, but the shame and burden of leaving her to whatever fate she found at the hands of the two men chasing her, still left him sweating and tormented in his nightmares. He couldnae add Kenna’s grief to those nightmares. ’Twasn’t enough penance in a fistful of lifetimes, tae pay for that.
Wearily, he returned to the sofa, retrieved the blanket, and lay down. Daybreak was no’ far away, and he’d promised Owen he’d be on time. And once the deliveries were done, there was much to do if he hoped to find a way to send Kenna home.
* * *
With no more thana promise of light in the sky outside Kenna’s living room window, Sean folded the blanket he’d used and set it back on the edge of the sofa. The restless night had left him with a heavy heart and determined mind.
Sneaking carefully past Kenna’s bed to the bathroom, he quickly retrieved his longshirt but waited to go to the kitchen to splash cold water on his face. Kenna no’ only needed all the sleep she could get, he wished to avoid another argument about accompanying her to the kirk. Hewouldgo. Even if he had tae walk there alone, after she left.
Easing the outside door open, Sean stopped and went back for the gate drawing. Ripping it from his sketch book, he folded it and tucked it and his charcoal-pencil inside his sporran. Mayhap, if luck favored him and he could uncover more metal pieces, he could create a more accurate depiction of what the gate looked like. He passed his bag on the way out, and on a whim, added the money Wichkam had sent with him. Who knew when he might need it?
Shutting the door behind him, he left Kenna to rest, fearful of what she faced if she went home. And fearful of what he’d face here. Alone.
The smells as Sean approached the bakery were mouth-watering. He’d missed the scents, as well as the taste of things, all those years on the moor. When he entered, Owen was already working, and the difference in temperature from the chilly morning air and Owen’s kitchen, was striking.
“Ye’re early.” Owen pulled a tray of steaming scones from one of the ovens and inserted a new batch. “I have tae say, that impresses me. I like a man who isnae afraid tae work.”
