Page 34 of A Sinful Night with a Scot
A light smile crossed his lips when he came to a final decision, and taking a small hammer and chisel, he began. The tiny chisel dug into the stone as he slowly chipped away, a fine pile of dust gathering on his desk as he continued.
As he worked, his mind wandered once more, back to the waterfall and the cave. Elsie truly had been mesmerized by the place, and he had watched her with a sense of wonder as she had taken in all that surrounded her. She was beautiful without even trying, but her face expressed such animated emotion that he had been unable to take his eyes off her.
And then, she had said words that had pained him, though he had clenched his jaw and swallowed down his expression.
“I ken ye dinnae really want me here.”
He had opened his mouth to deny that fact, but worried he would stop her from continuing, he had swiftly closed it again. But her next words pained him no less.
“I cannae cope with yer inconsistency, fer I never ken what ye’re going tae dae next, and I fear it might eventually drive me mad.”
Inconsistency had never been his aim. In fact, at the beginning, he had been determined not to allow himself to be sucked in by her beauty, her smile, and her wit. On the occasions he was, the tenderness toward her had leaked out of him almost uncontrollably, only for him to realize what was happening too late.
In truth, his cruelty to her had been a result of his own lack of self-control. Yet, as he had discovered once more today, where Elsie was concerned, his restraint was near transparent, as strong as a fading mist in the early morning.
A knock on the study door interrupted his thoughts, and upon lifting his head, he watched as Alisdair wandered into the study.
“Ye’re back,” he declared, as though seeing Keane sitting at the desk was not enough evidence, and he somehow needed to confirm it.
“I am.” Keane smirked.
“And ye got yer stone,” Alisdair said, again stating the obvious.
“Are ye planning on saying anything I dinnae already ken,” Keane quipped.
“Ye’re an arse,” Alisdair chuckled.
“I said, anything I dinnae already ken,” Keane repeated.
They both chuckled then.
Alisdair dropped into a chair beside the fire as Keane continued to work on his engraving. “Well, that was a hell o’ a few days.”
“Indeed, it was,” Keane agreed. “And we are returned safe and well with nae casualties, which, under the circumstances, is a bloody miracle.”
“Aye, it is that. I was certain we were going tae lose someone at the chapel.”
“Maybe we dinnae give the men enough credit.” Keane grinned.
“Nae. I think it is more likely that they want tae please their laird, nae matter the mission.”
Keane sensed the terse undertone to Alisdair’s words at what he had done, but he ignored it. In truth, Alisdair could have made their mission far more difficult. In fact, he could have refused to join him altogether, he was so against it. But his loyalty was the strongest bond they shared. A bond forged on battles, and losses, and celebrations, and years of being there at each other’s side.
“Did Elspeth choose the stone?” Alisdair asked.
“Elsie,” Keane corrected before being able to stop himself.
Though he was concentrating on his engraving, he heard Alisdair swiftly turn in his chair. A second later, the man was on his feet and strolling over to the desk. Rounding behind Keane, he looked over his shoulder.
“Me God! What the devil happened in that cave?”
“Enough,” Keane said, carefully carving the final letter with delicate strokes.
For a while, Alisdair remained behind him, watching with what Keane imagined, was eager interest, and ten minutes later the stone was finished. Keane blew the dust from the deep crevices of the letters, and then, taking a damp cloth, he wiped the stone clean.
“Done,” he said, gazing down at it.
The clan symbol stood proudly at the base of the stone, and above it, the letters that spelt out the name of the newest clan member.
