In Scot Water - Caroline Lee Page 0,54
is big. The clan is searching now.”
She pulled away from him. “What if he’s no’ there?” She voiced her worst fears, looking up at the man she knew she trusted. “What if he’s no’ in the village or here in the castle?”
Malcolm frowned thoughtfully, his gaze going to one of the window slits. “Last night, he said he wanted to go home.”
And she had told him they were home. But Evelinde caught her breath. “Could he have meant…?”
Malcolm stepped away, his hands resting on her arms. “ ’Tis threatening rain again. If he tries to return to the croft, ‘twill take hours of walking.”
Her heart felt as if it were slamming against the inside of her chest. “He’s a mere lad, Malcolm!” What if he fell into the burn? What if he hurt himself?
The panic in her voice must’ve cut through his ponderings, because he held her gaze. “I will find him.”
“But—”
At that moment, the door up from the armory burst open, and they both whirled around, praying for good news. But it was one of Malcolm’s brothers, one of the identical ones. And he was looking anxious as he jogged across the great hall.
“Finn!” Malcolm stepped in front of her, as if to protect her from bad news. “What news?”
Finn skidded to a stop before them. “I met Da in the courtyard, and he told me! St. Ninians’s tits, Evelinde, I’m so sorry!”
She stepped around Malcolm, a pit opening in her stomach. “Why? What is it?”
“I saw Liam, I believe.” Finn’s gaze flicked between the two of them. “I was on watch this morning, and there were plenty of people coming in and out of the gates. I noticed a lad, and noted he was alone, but assumed he was one of the servant’s children going to the fields.”
She fumbled for Malcolm’s hand. “Which way did he go?”
Finn winced, but met her eyes. “He took the north road. Toward yer croft.”
Malcolm muttered a dark curse and wheeled on Evelinde. She met his blue-gray eyes, and saw determination there.
“I’ll go after him.”
“I can—”
“Nay!” he interrupted her. “I need to ken ye’re safe here with Tomas and in case Liam returns. He’ll need ye here.” Malcolm nodded to his brother. “Tell the others to continue to look. If ‘twas Liam on the road this morning, I should be able to catch up with him with a fast horse, nae problem.”
Assuming he hasnae been hurt.
The words hung, unspoken, between them.
Suddenly, he pulled her forward and crushed his lips to hers.
It was a fast kiss, a hard kiss. A kiss full of resolve and purpose and certainty.
Then he straightened, and the glint in his eyes made her believe in hope.
“I will find him, Evie. He’ll be safe.”
All she could manage was a little nod, as tears threatened once more.
This time his kiss was softer, and over much too soon. “I love ye,” he whispered against her lips.
And then he wheeled about, his kilt whipping around his knees, and strode for the door.
And Evelinde sunk to her knees, praying for her son and the man she loved.
Chapter 10
The clouds hung heavy and gray overhead as Malcolm kicked his horse toward the distant croft. He’d cover the distance much faster than a boy could and hoped to catch him soon.
Mustn’t pass him.
He forced himself to slow, to examine the sides of the road and the ditches and the copses of trees for signs of the lad’s passing.
St. Thomas Aquinas, watch over him, please!
Malcolm’s eyes were drawn back to the looming sky overhead, and for the first time in a few days, he thought of the design he and Evelinde had worked on together: the portable roof.
She’d seen his idea, and instead of laughing at him, she’d helped. She’d understood, and had made it better.
She was his partner, in every sense of the word, and he had to prove that he was worthy.
Muttering a prayer under his breath, he focused on his search once more.
The first sign was a snippet of a hymn, being sung lustily by a baritone. Then, over a rise in the road came a donkey, ridden by a portly priest with a long beard.
“Father Ambrose!”
Malcolm kicked his horse into a gallop again, and when he drew near and saw the black-haired lad seated on the priest’s lap, he felt as if he could breathe for the first time in hours.
He threw himself from his horse’s back as he reached the duo—a trio, if one counted the donkey. Father Ambrose had halted his