The Lost Soul Page 5

  Margaret was flooded with relief, until she realized that one option or the other was inevitable. “But ye just said, ye don’t think he’ll allow things to stay as they are.”

  “Nay he won’t. Nevertheless, I will ask him not to make a decision immediately. Then you and I can decide what our best course is.”

  “Do ye think he will agree?”

  He shook his head. “Nay. As soon as he sees me, he’ll know as well as I do that my time on Earth is growing shorter. He won’t want to risk ye being left here alone. Still, I’ll ask anyway.”

  “And when he doesn’t agree?” Margaret wasn’t sure she really wanted to hear the answer.

  Her grandfather sighed. “Margaret, my precious lass, I always imagined I’d draw my last breath where I drew my first, right here. I would prefer that ye marry. Someday ye must anyway. But eighteen seems very young and if ye’re dead-set against it for now, we’ll move to the village.”

  As Margaret Grant she had vehemently opposed marrying a man her father had chosen and had intentionally made everyone around her miserable. But Margaret Grant had been given no choice at all. Her grandfather was giving her one. Her first instinct was to go to the village. She didn’t want to marry someone she didn’t know, someone the laird picked for her, someone who wasn’t Noah. Nay, set that thought aside. Ye cannot marry Noah. But this had been her grandfather’s home his whole life. She could not allow him to be moved from it.

  “I will marry if it means we can stay here.”

  Profound relief flooded her grandda’s features and the realization that she had put his mind at such ease filled her with warmth. She just prayed the laird would choose someone with whom she could stand to spend the rest of her life.

  But nay, she only had to stay here long enough to learn how to be kind, compassionate and loving. She would be getting her own life back. Her own life where someone else had picked a husband for her. She frowned at this thought. She guessed this was another lesson and something she couldn’t avoid.

  She had no doubt that this was the best choice for her grandfather. But was she dooming Margaret to life with a man she might not like? Should she consider what was best for her too?

  Nay, the decision was clear. Both versions of herself would choose to do what was best for Grandda.

  Suddenly, the warm cottage felt too small. She needed to get out. She needed to be alone.

  “Grandda, I really should go out and milk Honey before it gets any later.”

  “But ye haven’t finished yer supper.”

  She smiled at him. “Neither have ye. I’ll finish mine when I get back.”

  Once outside she could no longer hold back her tears. Margaret had tried so hard to keep her grandfather happy, and hopeful, but now she realized even that had been about her. About what she wanted. She loved her grandfather and the thought of losing him, wrenched her heart.

  She started running to the byre. She didn’t want Grandda to hear her crying and she couldn’t hold back much longer. By the time she reached the byre she had given in to sobs.

  She pulled open the door and was shocked by the light that spilled out.

  Noah was there. Pitchfork in hand, piling hay into Honey’s manger.

  “Noah…” her voice broke on a sob. There was no hiding the fact that she was crying. “Why are ye still here?”

  “I said I’d fix the latch. And since I was here, I milked Honey and was settling her for the night.”

  “I-I didn’t think ye were going to fix it tonight.”

  “I wanted to make certain she didn’t get out again. But why are ye crying? What’s wrong? What happened?”

  “N-nothing. N-not yet anyway.”

  “Then what’s the matter, sweetling.” He stepped forward and put his arms around her.

  She accepted the comfort he gave, resting her head on his chest. “It’s just…well…grandfather is ill. He says he’s dying.”

  “Aye, lass. I know. I’ve known for a while now.”

  She looked up at him. “Why didn’t ye—” her voice broke on a sob. “Why didn’t ye tell me.”

  “Because ye weren’t ready to hear it yet.”

  She sniffed. “It would seem I wasn’t ready to hear it today.”

  He pulled her close again. “No one is ever ready to hear that. And yet, I think yer grandfather has done ye a great kindness.”

  “A kindness? Why do ye think that?” Her tone was incredulous.

  Noah chuckled, and kissed the top of her head. “Yer grandda loves ye with everything in him. He also has loved his life and this little farm. He wants to know that both ye and the farm will go on and thrive even after he’s gone. I don’t think he can assure himself of that if ye refuse to accept that he won’t be here forever.”

  “But how can he be happy if he’s facing his own death?”

  “Your grandfather has lived a long, fruitful life.”

  “But there has been so much sorrow. He lost his daughter by marriage and his only son at such a young age. And when my grandmother died last winter, he lost the heart of his heart.”

  “Aye, he’s had losses. No life is free from them. But the point is, he had people in his life who were dear to him. He had a son at his side for many years who he loved and was proud of. I know he adored yer mother too. And the heart of his heart? It was his great good fortune to have her with him for many, many, years. I’m certain when he moves on, they’ll all be with him again. Until then, the light of his life continues to shine bright.”

  “The light of his life?”

  “Ye, Margaret. Ye’ve been his joy from the first day ye drew breath. And ye will be until he draws his last.”

  Her chin quivered and in spite of her best efforts the tears began to flow again. “I don’t want to lose him.”

  “I know,” he said, rubbing her back lightly as she cried.

  As her tears slowed, she took several deep breaths in an attempt to regain control.

  “Better?” he asked.

  She nodded, looking up at him. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “For sobbing all over ye.”

  He chuckled. “Ye needn’t be. Holding ye in my arms is not a chore.”

  His expression was heart-melting. No one had ever looked at her in that way. Her thoughts immediately went to Anson, the Grant guardsman who she’d thought she wanted to marry. He’d told her repeatedly he’d do whatever it took to make her happy.

  She knew now that would have been impossible. She wasn’t completely sure what this feeling was, but it didn’t remotely resemble whatever she’d felt for Anson.

  Almost without thinking about it, she stood on her tiptoes, slipped her hands behind Noah’s neck and kissed him. He didn’t immediately kiss her back and she pulled away slightly to judge his reaction. Perhaps, in her emotional state, she had misread everything.

  The momentary look of shock that crossed Noah’s face was instantly replaced with a heat that made her weak in the knees and left her a little in awe.

  He slid one hand up her back, cradling her head as he leaned in to kiss her deeply, lighting a fire at her core. His hand tightened around her braid, pulling slightly, tipping her head back. He planted a feather-light kiss on her shoulder, just at the edge of her tunic.

  She swayed, captivated by his touch.

  He took her braid in his right hand, holding it to one side, then slid his lips up the column of her neck before placing a soft kiss behind her ear.

  She shivered with delight, unable to suppress a small giggle.

  He gave a low throaty chuckle and his kisses became harder. He moved back down her neck to her shoulder, gripping her upper arm with his free hand, massaging lightly before he pushed the neckline of her dress out of his way, exposing her left shoulder and kissing it.

  He kissed her cheek again, before turning his focus back to her neck and shoulders. He nipped lightly at her neck then ran his tongue from her neck to her shoulder, sending another wave of delightful shiver
s running through her. She felt him smile against her neck before he kissed it again. Then he trailed his tongue up to her ear, this time sucking gently on her earlobe.

  The sensations were amazing. She had never experienced anything like this before, and he was only kissing her.

  Soon, his kisses became hungrier and more demanding, his hands pushing down slightly. It was nearly overwhelming.

  Perhaps sensing her sudden insecurity, he slid his left hand under her arm and around her waist embracing her even as he continued to hold her right shoulder firmly with his other hand. The sensation of physical support infused her with a feeling of deep serenity. She didn’t have to worry. He was there and he would take care of her.

  As his kisses became more intense, he tightened his grip on her braid, pulling slightly to move her head where he wished. He tilted it back, kissing up the column of her throat to her lips.

  She was lost in the sensation of his lips on hers. Almost of their own volition her hands slid up his chest to his face. She held on, never wanting this to end.

  He turned his face to the side, kissing one hand. “Ye’re lovely.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  He nipped her hand playfully. “Don’t argue with me. Ye’re lovely.” He emphasized each word, then kissed her head. “Yer wild red hair is beautiful, even though ye try to tame it in a braid.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Yer freckled nose is adorable.”

  “My nose? It’s horrible. The tip turns up and—”

  “—and it’s covered with freckles. I know and it’s completely charming. I can think of nothing I’d like more than a house full of children all of whom have this perfect nose.” He turned the palm of one of her hands towards him and kissed it. “Then, of course, there are yer hands which are nothing short of exquisite.”

  She barked a laugh. “Stop it. Now I know ye’re lying.”

  He looked at her seriously. “I value honesty and I would never lie to ye. Aye, they are red and roughened, but that means ye’re strong and capable. Ye’ve been caring for yer grandda and taking more and more responsibility on this farm to ease his load. Ye love him and this land and ye aren’t afraid to show it.”

  Margaret was dumbstruck. To her—at least to the old her—beauty was purely physical. To be attractive, her hair had to be combed and smoothly coifed, her skin alabaster and unblemished, her hands fair and soft, and her clothes had to be made of the finest fabrics. Perfection was solely superficial. Because of that, she had never bothered to look beyond the surface for loveliness.

  Evidently Noah did.

  He grinned at her. “I’ve rendered ye speechless. But, Margaret, please believe that to me ye’re beautiful because of who ye are and what ye value, and that shines out of every pore.” His grin broadened. “Then of course, there are these delicious lips.” He leaned in and started kissing her again.

  She opened to him, allowing his tongue to plunder her mouth. She leaned towards him when he pulled away, only to feel the tug of his hand in her hair. He was in control. And as proud as she was to be strong, Margaret—holding everything together, she didn’t want to be in charge of this. She relaxed completely, closing her eyes again and simply allowing him to kiss her as he desired.

  Finally his kisses gentled. He let go of her hair and caressed her cheek with his right hand. “I’m sorry, Margaret. I shouldn’t have done that.”

  She looked up at him and smiled. “I didn’t stop ye.” That kiss had been everything she’d ever dreamed about and more. “And for that matter, I started it.”

  He chuckled. “Aye, I suppose those things are true. Margaret, my sweet lass, I love ye. I have for ages. I would give my very soul to marry ye.”

  His soul. She couldn’t do this. She loved him too, but this wasn’t meant to be about her. She sighed and stepped back, out of his embrace. “But ye can’t.”

  He looked stricken. “Maybe there’s a way.”

  “I don’t see one.” She scrubbed her face with her hands. “I don’t think this is something we can change.” She picked up the bucket of milk that sat on the milking stool. “I’ll put this in the springhouse. Good night, Noah.”

  And with great effort, Margaret turned and walked out of the byre.

  Chapter 5

  Margaret woke before dawn.

  She hadn’t slept well. She’d been awake long into the night. So many things were on her mind. Her thoughts whirled relentlessly.

  It was all too much for her to sort out.

  Finally, before the sun had even peeked over the horizon, she rose and started her day. By the time the sky was light enough for her to tell that it was going to be a clear day, she had most of her morning work completed.

  Noah had said, when the bad weather broke, he’d help move their sheep from the high common land down to the better grass on their own fields. Therefore, it was possible he’d arrive this morning. Just in case, she filled costrels with water and put apples, bread, cold meat and cheese in a small leather bag so they would have something for the midday meal.

  As she was finishing she heard her grandfather call, “Good morning, Noah.”

  “Good morning, John. ‘Tis a fine day for a ride up to the high pasture.”

  She wrapped a plaid around her shoulders and left the cottage carrying the costrels and the bag of victuals. There he sat on his horse’s back. Handsome didn’t begin to describe him and her heart fluttered as it always did on seeing him.

  Two herding dogs sat on the ground beside him.

  Her grandfather hadn’t had a herder for years. They usually kept about fifteen sheep. For a small flock, a herding dog was helpful, but not a necessity. Being able to ride up to the sheep on a horse was nice too. In recent years she and her grandparents had walked to the high pasture, and herded their sheep back down. They hadn’t had a horse for about three years. Again, horses were useful beasts, but it was possible to tend a small farm without one. They borrowed oxen when they plowed their fields.

  Then she was struck by an awareness that she was certain the other version if herself had never had—they were poor. Not dreadfully so, but they did without luxuries like dogs and horses. She glanced down at her bare feet. Shoes were another luxury which she didn’t wear in the summer so they would last longer.

  Margaret also realized this state of affairs hadn’t come on suddenly. Her grandfather had been able to do less and less each year.

  Noah interrupted her musing. “Ye look very pensive, lass. Is something bothering ye?”

  “She’s probably just a bit tired,” said her grandfather. “She’s been up since well before daylight and has left me nothing to do.”

  Noah frowned. “We don’t have to go today. I’ll fetch Da’s sheep and come back tomorrow.”

  She shook her head. “Nay, I’m fine. I’m not tired.” A bald-faced lie. “I’m just wondering if I packed enough food.” Another lie, but she couldn’t very well share her revelation with them.

  “I’m sure there’s more than enough. We should be on our way.” He reached a hand out to her and pulled her up onto the horse in front of him. “John, we’ll be back before dark.”

  “Aye, take care.”

  With that, Noah turned his horse and they rode away, heading up the mountain.

  The morning air was fresh and cool, but with her back against Noah’s warm chest, Margaret was cozy. Of course, once more Noah’s nearness lit a fire at her core which may have had as much to do with it.

  His arms around her felt so good, she wanted to sink into his embrace and stay there forever. Why did she torture herself with wild imaginings about someone who could never be hers?

  A wicked voice inside her answered, because even as unsatisfying as they are, the wild imaginings are better than nothing.

  They hadn’t gone far when Noah pointed off to the right. “Look. There’s a fairy ring.”

  And sure enough, not far from the path was a ring of mushrooms. But as soon as Noah had said the word “fairy” it was as if someone had throw
n icy water on the heat of Margaret’s desire.

  She was not here to fall in love with a man she couldn’t have.

  She was not here to entice a man to defy his father.

  She was here to earn her second chance by learning from the other version of herself.

  So, having effectively chastised herself, she forced thoughts of what it would be like to be his, out of her head.

  At least sometimes.

  When she’d turned to look at him, only to find his heated gaze on her, it was much harder.

  When he laughed or teased it wasn’t easy either.

  But when he smiled at her, his eyes twinkling, she’d abandon the effort completely until something reminded her of how foolish she was being.

  They had her grandfather’s sheep separated from the others a little after midday. With the help of his two superb sheep dogs, they herded them down the mountain to one of her grandfather’s enclosed fields.

  There were no gates to go through. They had to remove stones from the wall encircling the meadow to create an opening. They restacked them when the sheep were in the field.

  Only then did they take some time to rest.

  Noah hobbled his horse, allowing him to graze. The dogs napped in the sunshine. Their work for the day was over.

  Noah spread his plaid out for them to sit on. The thick wool provided an effective barrier from the damp ground.

  Margaret put out the food she’d brought for them.

  They exchanged light banter, chatting about inconsequential things, just as they had all day.

  When they were done eating, Margaret made to stand.

  He put a hand on her shoulder. “Wait.”

  “I’m sorry, were ye not finished?”

  “Nay, it isn’t that. I wanted to talk with ye.”

  She gave a small laugh. “We’ve been talking. In fact, we’ve talked all day.” And she couldn’t remember enjoying herself more.

  “I know, but there’s something I need to say.”

  She sat back down and waited expectantly.

  Before he started, he took a deep breath, as if summoning his courage. “I couldn’t get my mind off of ye last night.”