Page 64 of Desiring the Highland Laird
She shoved all those thoughts aside. All of that seemed so trivial. Life there was nothing compared to life here. Life here was fragile. Where one swing of a great axe to the gut could kill you in an instant.
Evie shoved back from the table and went back to her chamber. She snatched her cloak off the back of the chair bythe hearth, which was nothing more than bright red and orange embers, and wrapped it around her shoulders.
With renewed determination, she was going to face Callum.
Hopefully, he would kiss her again.
She exited the great hall and found him in the yard holding the reins of two horses. His and her little gray mare she had named Mist. He stood there in a slash of early morning sunshine. Her breath caught as she looked at him. He wore his boots, his trousers, a tunic, and his plaid across his torso and tied on one shoulder. His long hair was dark brown but, in the sunlight, she saw a few gleaming golden strands. His eyes—so sharp and blue—were nothing short of spectacular.
Gosh, he was handsome.
“We’re going to ride?” she asked, a shiver of nerves shuddering through her.
“Aye,” was all he said as he handed her the reins to her mare.
She eyed the saddle with a sweep of apprehension. She had had one lesson and hadn’t yet built up enough confidence.
“Do ye need help?” The corner of his mouth lifted in a half smile as he watched her, bemused.
“I can do it,” she said with more determination than she felt.
He waited patiently as she stuck her foot in the stirrup, grabbing onto the saddle and hoisting herself up. She was proud of herself for getting it right on the first try and not falling to the other side. With a wide grin, she took up the reins and glanced at him. Her smile faded when she saw the smirk on his face.
“Are ye ready now, lass?”
“Stop looking at me like that and let’s go.”
He nudged his horse and started to walk toward the gate. She did the same and was relieved when her mare followed her orders. Still, she gripped the reins so tightly, her hands cramped. And then she prayed their ride would not take them far.
She managed to get her horse next to his and they rode side by side. Silence stretched between them as they put the keep behind them.
“Ye seem to be doing better,” he said, giving her a sideways glance.
Still, she had a death grip on the reins but had to admit she was more comfortable than she was when they first started out. “Do I?”
“Aye,” he said. “The mare is a gentle one. Ye named her Mist. She’s perfect for ye.”
Mist huffed as if in agreement. It made them both laugh. Evie released her tight grip on the reins and tried to force herself to relax. It wasn’t long after that Callum came to a halt. He leaned on the saddle horn, his keen eyes looking out toward the horizon, as if remembering what had happened the day before.
He swung his leg over and jumped down. She watched him as he took several steps away from the horses, then kneeled down in the grass, his hand flat on the ground.
It must have been here where the three of them fought the MacDonalds. Here, where his father was mortally wounded. She thought she spied dark splotches of dried blood on the grass.
She dismounted and joined him, remaining silent.
“Here,” he said. “It would be here or nearby.”
She nodded and started to do her search. She knew it was nearly impossible to find the jagged little stone on the ground. Likely it would look like all the other stones.
Callum remained where he was, his hands on his hips as he peered down at the ground. She glanced his way to see his mind working. There was a depth of memory in his eyes. His gaze darted about, as though he were re-enacting the battle in his mind. And perhaps he was.
He squatted down, running his hand over the ground and looking around him. She continued her own search but was having no luck.
Then she thought she spotted something nestled beneath the heather. The morning sun glinted off it and she wondered if that was their missing keystone. With her heart ramming hard in her chest, she crawled on her hands toward it, daring not to hope.
She was wrong. It wasn’t the morning sun glinting off the stone. It was the stone itself. The lines on the stone were pulsing brightly.
“I found it,” she said on a gasp.
