Page 61 of Desiring the Highland Laird
“’Tis gone.”
She kept the foul swear word she wanted to say bottled up. Instead, she bit her bottom lip and sucked in a deep breath through her nose, then expelled it, trying to remain calm.
“It must have fallen out while you were fighting. We need to look for it.”
She darted around him and headed for the door, but he caught her by the hand and pulled her to a stop. She turned to face him, the fear pounding hard and fast within her now. That stone was her lifeline to the future—how she was able to return home to see her sister again. If MacDonald had it, then she was screwed.
“’Tis no use, lass. It’s dark now. We’ll never see it without daylight.”
“But what if—”
“I ken what yer going to say. And I agree. What if they found it? Even if they do have it, there is naught to be done about it now.”
She clenched her jaw to keep from lashing out at him. It wasn’t his fault he lost it. Well, it was, but she didn’t want to blame him. She shoved aside those negative feelings and merely nodded.
“In the morn, we will look for it,” he said, then headed for the door.
“And if we don’t find it, then what? We’ll go after it, won’t we?” she asked. She tried hard to hide the sheer terror that arose in her voice.
He paused to look at her over his shoulder. He said nothing. But the grim expression on his face told her everything she needed to know. If the MacDonalds had it, there was no way to retrieve it.
“We will search in the morn,” he said again, as if that was the final word on the matter.
There was nothing for her to do but watch him go. Frustration edged through her. She wanted answersnowbut she wasn’t going to get them. She turned back to the tapestries, clutching her elbows and peering at her sister’s face. If that keystone was lost, then what was to become of her? Would she ever get home again?
Heaving a sigh, she climbed onto the bed, curling into a ball, and squeezing her eyes shut. Before long, she was asleep.
*
Sometime during thenight, she awoke. Her stomach rumbled from the pain of hunger. She shoved off the blankets, her feet on the cold stone floor. There was no fire to warm the chamber and gooseflesh blossomed on her legs and arms. She realized she was still fully dressed. Roslyn hadn’t come to help her intoher nightclothes and at some point, she must have kicked off her shoes. Thick stockings kept her feet from turning into ice cubes.
A candle blazed in a candleholder near the bed. She picked it up and headed out of the chamber in her stocking feet, wondering if there was any food to be had. She found her way to the kitchen. No one was about. She spied a half-eaten loaf of bread wrapped in a cloth. Then she recalled the larder and headed down there to grab the wheel of cheese. When she returned to the kitchen, she placed the cheese and the candleholder on the work table, then rummaged around until she found a knife.
When she was alone, after Chloe had deserted her for her job in Edinburgh, Evie often had late night snacks that consisted of cheese and crackers and sometimes wine. She was trying to drown her sorrows in snacks and wine. She didn’t see any wine, although she didn’t need to be drinking in this strange place.
As she cut slices of bread and then cheese, Callum entered the kitchen looking half asleep and rumpled and so handsome she nearly swooned. He was wearing clean clothes and looked as though he had had a bath to finally wash away the blood and grit of the earlier battle. Their eyes met and for a moment, they merely stared at each other in silence.
She told herself there was no sense in bringing up the location of the keystone. Now was not the time and she didn’t want to fight about it. She wanted peace and quiet and snacks.
“Och, I dinnae ken ye were here, lass.”
“I was looking for a midnight snack.” She waved toward the bread and cheese. “Want some?”
He ran a hand over his face, his skin bristling against the growth of beard on his cheeks and chin. “Aye.”
She sliced more bread and cheese, portioning it to split between the two of them. He disappeared for a moment and returned with a flask of something that looked like wine. Somuch for not drinking. He poured two cups full and handed her one while she slid his serving of bread and cheese toward him. They stood there, in the medieval kitchen at the work table, munching on their midnight snacks and drinking wine and saying nothing. But that was all right with her. It was a comfortable silence. Not every second had to be filled with someone talking.
Chloe would hate it. She hated prolonged silence. Thinking of her sent a pang of homesickness through her.
“What are ye thinking, lass?” he asked.
She glanced up at him. “How do you know I’m thinking anything?”
“I see it in yer face.”
She flushed hot. There it was. She was never any good at hiding her emotions. She dragged her lower lip through her teeth as hesitation skipped through her.
“I dinnae mean to pry.”
