The Scot's Angel - Keira Montclair Page 0,4

her sister?

“Cordell?” she muttered. “Cordell does not hold me back.” He had been a good man, a kind man, and she still missed his conversation. His smile. The horror of his death would always stick with her, and yet she had not loved him the way she had always wished to love her husband.

“Are you sure?” Dyna asked, probing more than Claray would have liked. “You said you loved him.”

“I know I said that, but…”

“But what?” Dyna stopped what she was doing to stare at her.

“Well, he wasn’t…I don’t…I wasn’t really in love with him. I thought I was, but I was wrong.” Dammit, she wished she hadn’t said that because Dyna was way too astute and would figure out exactly what that meant. The only reason she doubted she’d been in love with Cordell was because her feelings for Thorn seemed much stronger. But what did she know about love?

“Who?” she asked, her eyes narrowed at her.

“Who what?”

Of course, Dyna wasn’t put off so easily.

“Who. Is. He?” she asked, putting emphasis on each word.

Claray did an intentional snort to let her sister know how upset she was that she’d figured her out. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Aye, you do. It’s written all over you. You think you love someone now or you wouldn’t have realized you never loved Cordell. Who is it? Mayhap you have a chance with him. Tell me,” she said, her eyes brighter. “I’ll help you snag him. I’ll find a way.”

The last thing she needed was her sister holding Thorn down with a dagger at his throat, threatening him with a nick if he didn’t kiss her…even if the thought of him kissing her made her weak in the knees. Her voice came out in a low moan. “Nay, please, Dyna. I don’t need your help. When I’m ready to let him know, I’ll tell him myself.”

“Sure you will,” Dyna said wryly as she crossed her arms. “I know you. You’ll say naught, hoping he’ll approach you, but he doesn’t know how you feel. I’d wager you’ve loved him for a while and never said anything. I’m warning you, ’tis a bad way to run your life. You cannot sit around and wait for everyone else to take action. You must do it yourself.”

Claray shrugged, and fortunately, their mother came to her rescue.

“Here are some more branches.” Mama checked their work and nodded her approval. “Dyna’s outworking you, Claray. What’s on your mind?”

“Naught. I’m just enjoying the season, the smell of pine and the family together again…” Her voice trailed off. Because talking about family and togetherness reminded her of the very important person they were missing this year.

“We all adored Grandpapa,” Mama said softly, “but if you believe in Heaven, which I do, then you’ll believe he’s happier with Grandmama.”

Dyna said, “And Uncle Jake and Aunt Aline, Uncle Robbie and Aunt Caralyn, and Uncle Quade. Many from our family are there. He’s not alone.”

Tears misted on her lashes again, something she wished she could stop. “Aye, I do, but I wanted him to stay for one more Yule.”

“We all did.” Her mother kissed the top of her head, something that always comforted her.

Derric came over with a trencher of stew, already spooning some into his mouth as he strolled over. “I’m happy for the man. I know he’s not my grandsire, but I saw how much pain he was in toward the end. I’m surprised he kept it so well hidden from all of you. His bones made him ache every single day. ’Tis a man’s pride not to have to be dependent on others.”

“I would have cared for him even if he had to stay in bed all day,” Claray said.

Dyna lifted her eyebrows. “Grandsire would not have wanted that, and I think you know it.”

Claray reached into the pile of tree boughs for another pinecone, only to feel the brush of something moving across her hand. She screamed, jumping backward and guarding her hand while her mother brought her open palm down on the table with a loud smack, Dyna doing the same.

“Was it?” Claray had a deep fear of spiders that had never diminished over the years.

“Aye,” her mother said. “’Tis dead.” She brushed the dead critter into the sack of waste they were collecting, and then Dyna did the same with the one she’d swatted.

“You’re sure they won’t come out of there? Stretch their legs and walk again?”

“Neither of them will ever crawl again,” Dyna said.

When Claray was