a new perspective. His nana’s kindness, his safe and secure upbringing in spite of his father’s excesses and tempers and a long apprenticeship with his grandfather, who had taught him more than a profession but a way to face life, as well.
What would you do, Grandfather? He asked, knowing there was no way to be heard, that heaven was not that close. But he thought of the man who had taught him the difference between right and wrong and who had understood his failures, in the end. Failures he felt as powerfully as the bite of pain in his bad leg. He had spent a good part of the night drawing her face and trying to capture her spirit on the page, and those hours stuck with him. When he ought to leave, his feet did not move and a farewell remained unspoken, lodged somewhere near to his heart.
“How is your hand after all that work?”
Not a single word rose up to rescue him as she breezed closer through the gray shadows. With no lantern to light her way, she came like dawn after the night. Sweetly she gathered his hand in hers. Lord help him, because he could not move. As if paralyzed, he stood helpless, captive to her featherlight touch and compassion.
“It doesn’t look as if you broke it open.” She bent close, scattering dark curls and diamond flecks of melting snow. “Let me change the bandage.”
He shook his head, his only protest, and struggled to clear his throat. She affected him, there was no doubt about that, when he didn’t want to be. He knew her by memory, those big, wide-set eyes framed by lush black lashes, the slope of her nose speckled with a light scattering of freckles, the curve of her cheek, the shine of her smile and her gentleness that touched him now as she prodded at his wound. A line of concern creased her porcelain brow.
“It will only take a minute and then you can be on your way back home. Come, sit on the grain bags and I’ll get started.”
The thought of sitting close to her, breathing in her rose-and-snow scent and fighting emotions he didn’t want to feel choked him. Panic sped up his uneven pulse. “No need to go to the trouble.”
“What makes you think it would be any trouble?”
Aye, there would be trouble if he gave in to the need to stay near her. Trouble in the form he hadn’t reckoned on.
A shy man, he said no more, even when she continued to inspect his hand. He stayed the urge to brush the stray untamed curls before they tumbled in her eyes. He fought to wrestle down soft emotions coming to life within him, feelings he did not want to name or examine too closely. “You have taken care of me well enough, Fiona.”
“It looks good, so I’ll let you have your way, tough guy.” She gently relinquished control of his hand. “I should fetch some breakfast for you before you go. Town is a long walk on an empty stomach.”
“Is this what you always do? Take care of everyone else? Do you have no one to care about you at all?”
“There’s no other family. No one else left alive but my parents.” She shook her head, scattering gossamer curls that fell back in place around her perfect heart-shaped face. What a picture she made with her simple gingham dress peeking out beneath her long gray coat and her silken black locks. “Are you starting to worry about me, Mr. McPherson?”
“We are back to being formal, are we?”
“We are strangers.”
“And yet I’ve heard of you all my life, lass. I did not think you would be so beautiful.”
“Beautiful? No wonder you’ve never married. You have terrible eyesight and poor judgment.”
“Aye, I have been accused of the latter more times than I’d care to admit.” He chuckled, a warm coziness coming to life within him. “You enjoy insulting me?”
“What other course do I have?” Her chin went up. “Da might decide to lower his price and then where would I be? It’s best to make sure you can’t stand the likes of me.”
“Wise thinking.” He hefted his rucksack from the shadows and settled the strap on his shoulder. “Times might get harder for you, Fiona. You can come to me if you need help, if you need a friend.”
“Perhaps I should offer you the same. You might have need of a friend, too.”
“That I do.” They were too alike, Ian