Tess and the Highlander Page 6

  “Do you want to see this priory or not?”

  Temper had moved in with the speed of a Highland storm, altering her mood immediately. Colin knew he needed to restrain himself from pressing on his argument until she understood her dilemma. At the same time, he understood her stubbornness…and her desire for independence.

  He nodded resignedly, knowing full well that they were far from done with this argument. The wind seemed much stronger as Tess walked away from the cluster of buildings and led him to the middle of the old cemetery. Looking about him, beyond the walls, Colin couldn’t help but be affected by the wildness and the beauty of the terrain—so much like the young woman who stood beside him.

  “For such a small island, there are a lot of graves.”

  “Garth told me that more than one person is buried in many of the graves,” she answered.

  “How did he know?”

  “In his years here he had to bury a number of pilgrims who died of their illnesses while visiting. He told me it was common to dig and find two, or three bodies buried in the small grave with only a layer of shell sand separating them.” Tess stayed to the grassy path. “A few years back, I came upon some record books in the old chapter house. I believe the monks who lived here before left them. They are accounts of births and deaths on the Isle of May going back some three hundred years.”

  The rugged terrain seemed too uninhabitable. “’Tis hard to believe families actually lived here.”

  “I don’t believe any families did live here,” she answered, turning her back to the wind and facing him. “Not for any length of time, anyway. For all the years I looked back through in the books, there was only a record of one birth, and that was immediately followed by the woman’s and the child’s death. But there were many, many deaths. I think most of the pilgrims who came to visit St. Adrian’s chapel and monastery were very ill. Some might have been cured and left here. But many died and were buried on the island. The accounts of it seem to have stopped, though, when the last of the monks was recalled to the mainland. Or perhaps he died, too, because no one took the books with them.”

  Tess continued to talk, but Colin’s mind was focused on what she had said about reading the account books. Reading. Not many families in Scotland taught their daughters to read and write. The puzzle of her past continued to intrigue him. He doubted that Garth and Charlotte would have been able to read.

  As a light rain started to fall, they headed back toward the huddle of ruined buildings.

  “Does the Crown own the island now?”

  “Nay, I remember Charlotte saying that St. Andrew’s Cathedral Priory has held it for more than a century. Not that they are doing anything about it.”

  “But they were the ones who sent the husband and wife here, didn’t they?”

  “Aye.” Instead of going back inside, she turned her steps toward the sheep.

  Colin followed. “Don’t you think they should be told that Garth and Charlotte have passed away?”

  “I am doing everything that they were doing. The place is not getting any worse because of me.” Tess searched among the sheep.

  “I am not being critical of your abilities. What I am trying to say is that a big part of the keeper’s job had to do with taking care of the pilgrims that come here in the better weather.”

  He watched Tess crouch before the ewe lying in the grass.

  “What are you going to do when people arrive looking for food and shelter? You told me yourself that most of them are very ill. Now, how are you going to help them when you are hiding in some cave across the island?” He didn’t give her a chance to answer. “And if you were to show your face and try to help them, how long do you think it will take before the news reaches the abbot at St. Andrew’s?”

  Her head was bent over the pregnant ewe. She pushed some oats toward the animal, but Makyn turned her head away. Tess didn’t seem to have heard much of what Colin had been telling her. The rain was starting to fall harder again, and the wind was picking up. The hood of Tess’s cloak was pushed back and her hair was gleaming from the rain. But despite it all, she was oblivious to everything but the animal before her.

  Colin crouched beside her and pulled the hood over her hair. He saw the slight tremble of Tess’s chin. “What is wrong with her?”

  “I think she is ready to lamb.”

  “Now?”

  “’Tis nature’s way.”

  The sky overhead opened and buckets of rain started pouring down. “Isn’t this something they do…on their own?”

  She gave a hesitant nod but didn’t move.

  “How long before…before she is done?”

  Tess shrugged. “It could be minutes, hours, or days.”

  “Well, you are not sitting here and holding her foot for days.”

  As if to contradict him, Tess settled more closely against the animal and draped her cloak over the ewe. In a moment, the rain had soaked her dress.

  “If ‘tis dying that you wish to inflict on yourself, then why not just walk to the west cliffs and jump into the sea.”

  “That would be committing a sin,” she whispered absently, focusing on the sheep.

  “Then why not let me walk over there with you, and I can push you over the edge.”

  “I already know that you won’t do that.” She gave him a smile that went right to his heart. “Colin, I cannot leave her here in the middle of this storm. Something is not right with her.”

  Colin considered pulling her to her feet and forcing her back to the priory house. It was so much easier to play the bully than to reason with a strong-willed woman. But her simple comment that she knew he wouldn’t hurt her had touched him deeply. More than it should have.

  Frustrated, he pushed himself to his feet and glanced around. “Would you be happy if she were settled in some dry place?”

  Her dark eyes looked up at him hopefully.

  “I can carry her to that wall where I settled in two nights ago. ‘Tis fairly well sheltered. I can even make a fire for her, and bring in some seaweed and spread a dry bed.” Mischief twinkled in his eyes. “I can even go up into your loft and bring down one of your wool dresses. Perhaps sing for her…”

  “You are making fun of me.” The droplets of rain shone like jewels on her face.

  “I just needed to find out the extent of your attachment to this animal. I mean, you don’t give a second thought to sleeping out in a freezing storm, but when it comes to…”

  “Helping me to get her to that dry overhang will do.”

  Tess stretched her hand up, and he immediately took it, pulling her to her feet. Despite all the physical work she did on the island, he was amazed by the silky softness of her skin. He let go of her hand abruptly.

  Makyn preferred walking to being carried by Colin, but her steps were slow and wobbly, her head hanging down. Tess ran ahead of them, and by the time Colin had led the ewe to the sheltered spot, Tess had spread a bed of dry seaweed for the animal.

  “No fire,” she said softly before he could make a comment. “And I will come inside, so long as you don’t pester me about occasionally coming out to check on Makyn.”

  Colin controlled his urge to say anything, and instead simply nodded agreeably.

  Makyn settled down on the bedding, but continued to show little interest in what was going on around her. The wind and rain were picking up in intensity. As time passed by, Colin could see that cold was having its effect on Tess. Crouching beside the sheep, she was beginning to shiver again.

  “You promised to come inside.”

  Tess nodded and stood up. She must have risen too fast, for Colin saw her put out a hand to stop herself from falling forward. As he instinctively reached out to steady her, another instinct—that of pulling her into his arms and kissing her lips—suddenly blocked out all rational thoughts.

  She was looking up at him, innocent and vulnerable, and then her eyes widened. As much as he wanted to kiss her now, he hesitated. Then the realization that taking adv
antage of her in this situation would be a mistake poured through his body like icy water. His hands immediately dropped to his sides. Without uttering another word, he turned and strode quickly away and across the moor toward the rocky cliffs overlooking the sea.

  He had felt his body respond to women before, but there was something in his attraction to this island lass that was so different. He had never been faced with such aggravating thoughts of right and wrong. It was only a kiss he wanted. Only a kiss, he repeated to himself. So why was it, then, that confusion and guilt were churning about inside of him?

  He reached the rocky bluffs and stared out at the rolling sea. Suddenly, the weather around him couldn’t even compete with the turbulence of his mood.

  When had wooing lasses become so blasted difficult?

  CHAPTER 6

  What was wrong with her?

  One minute, Tess was startled by the intensity she could see in Colin’s face. The next minute—as she watched him walk away—more than anything in the world she wanted his powerful arms around her again. She realized she actually wanted the fluttering in her stomach back.

  All of the questions about living alone—questions that she’d allowed herself to ignore—were now rearing up defiantly before her. Even the sense of security that she’d created in her own mind had been shattered, swept away in two short days. And all she could feel now was a jagged and dangerous edge.

  Colin Macpherson had upended her life, and now he had the nerve to walk out into the storm.

  Tess went inside and changed into dry clothing. In a few minutes, she came out and looked at Makyn, who hadn’t moved. There was no sign of Colin. Going in again, she spent some time in the loft area beneath the roof. Restless, she went down and sat by the fire, carding wool. But she could not sit for long and went out again. And then back in. And then out yet again. Still no sign of Colin.

  She considered going after him—but then decided against it. As the daylight faded into dusk, the wind continued to blow, but without the sense of purpose it had earlier. Even the frothy sea seemed to be extending farther and farther to the horizon.

  The thought of Colin going away without telling her…or saying goodbye…started as a cold white point in her head and grew steadily until it was a torment for her. There were no boats, however, left on the island. Not long after Garth died, his small currach had been battered to splinters during a winter storm when the waves had crashed it against the rocks. It hadn’t mattered to Tess at the time, and she was glad of it now. But that didn’t mean other boats from the mainland were not already out on the sea. At any time, one could see Colin on the shoreline and carry him back with them. But if this was to be their fate—never to see each other again—then she was as helpless about it as she was about everything else in her life.

  It was well after dark when she finally heard him coming up the steps. Checking the thick braid she’d made of her hair, she hurriedly tucked an unruly tendril behind her ear. She glanced down at her tattered dress and wished she had something better to change into. The excitement surging through Tess was unmatched by anything she remembered experiencing ever before.

  Colin was wet through, and he looked extremely tired when he stalked into the firelit chamber.

  To keep herself from going to him, she crouched before the hearth, lifted a cauldron onto the iron arm that extended out from the wall, and swung the pot over the fire.

  “I thought perhaps you’d decided to take a chance on the sea,” she said. “’Tis only a few leagues to the mainland. Not a bad swim, I shouldn’t think.”

  Tess smiled over her shoulder at him and tried to pretend that nothing was amiss. He walked toward his bedding, and Tess ignored the crunch of the seashells beneath his boots.

  “I cannot say I didn’t consider it.”

  His admission stung a little, but she swallowed the knot of disappointment and turned her attention on the steaming broth. “It must be the food that is keeping you here, then.”

  “Nay! ‘Tis these bloody shells. I’m growing quite fond of the things.”

  Tess glanced over her shoulder, but her retort caught in her throat. With his back to her, Colin was pulling his wet shirt over his head. He turned abruptly and caught her looking at him.

  “I…” Tess knew her face was betraying the heat that had suddenly come over her. She looked quickly away and gestured to the ladder. “There is…I mean, Garth had a good shirt if you want a dry one.”

  “This blanket will do.” His voice was low and hoarse, but she couldn’t trust herself to look at him again.

  “I made some broth. And there is more smoked fish. There is also some dried bread. It doesn’t taste too bad with the broth, and—”

  “Have you eaten?”

  She nodded.

  “You don’t need to serve me, Tess. Why don’t you go about doing what you usually do at night? I’ll take care of myself.”

  As he came near the hearth, she moved skittishly across the chamber. She sat on her bedding and leaned back against the cold wall. Picking up a small sack of shells from the floor, she poured them out on her lap. She had already punched a hole in each carefully selected shell with an awl, and she now began stringing them onto a strand of leather. She watched him dip a bowl into the broth.

  Colin had thrown a blanket over his shoulder. But she still managed to glimpse his bare chest every now and then. Tess felt delightfully wicked.

  “So what do you do with all of these?”

  She knew he was talking about the shells. “I make them into…things.”

  “What kinds of things?”

  She shrugged. “Bonny things.”

  “Then why haven’t I seen you wear them?”

  Tess watched him pick up the bowl of broth and a chunk of dried bread and move back toward his bedding across the room. The blanket fell off one shoulder, but to her disappointment he caught it and pulled it back on.

  “Because they are impractical to wear.”

  “If they’re impractical, then why do you make them?”

  “Because I like to collect them…and look at them.” She pointed to the strands of shells hanging from the beams overhead. “And I like to collect them because I walk on the beach looking for things. And I look for things because you never know what treasure you might find.”

  “Or what trouble,” he muttered, lowering himself onto his bed. He nearly sat down on the gift she’d left him. “What have we here?” He picked up the wooden flute.

  “’Tis a cuisle, of course. I found it years ago washed up on the rocks.” She saw him manage to juggle everything in his hand as he sat back and leaned against the wall, facing her.

  “I can see that. Do you know how to play it?”

  She shook her head. “Whenever I blow in it…there is this horrible noise that comes out of it. Neither Garth nor Charlotte could get it to play any music, either.”

  “But you’ve heard other people play it before?”

  She hesitantly nodded. “I have these vague memories of a child sneaking out of her bedchamber and creeping down some ancient stairs to listen to traveling musicians. There was singing and dancing and…” Tess stopped abruptly, shocked that how real the images suddenly seemed.

  She looked down at the pile of shells in her lap and tried to blink back the sudden tears that the memory triggered. But she had no past. For so long she had remembered so little of her life prior to the day that the sea had tossed her up onto these rocky shores.

  “Would you like me to play this for you?”

  Tess nodded and quickly dashed away a tear as he laid the food aside and brought the pipe to his lips.

  After testing it a few times, Colin began to play a melody so hauntingly lonely and yet so soothing, too. It was a song that seemed so familiar to Tess, like it was a part of her. A part of her childhood, she thought. The notes filled the space between them. The air vibrated with the feeling Colin poured into the music. Tess saw him close his eyes. His fingers and lips and breaths seemed to
be drawing out the very secrets of his heart.

  She let the string of shells drop into her lap. In her mind’s eye she could see a solitary tree, stunted and bent, braced against the wind. Beside it, she saw herself alone on this isle, trying desperately to remember his face, the feel of his touch…this melody…for the long time when he would be gone. Then, Tess also thought of his loneliness in being separated from the people that he loved.

  When the song was finished, he played another, and another…and another after that. After playing for a while, he stopped and laid the instrument down.

  As the notes faded, Tess dashed away a tear. “You play beautifully.”

  “This is an old and very special instrument.”

  “I want you to have it.” When he started shaking his head, she pressed him. “You’ve given me the gift of hearing music again. Please!”

  “Thank you. But is there anything I can do…well…?” His words trailed off.

  Before I go, Tess thought, finishing his unspoken words. He was going, she reminded herself. Soon.

  “You already have,” she whispered, lowering her gaze to the shells lying in her lap.

  The aching sadness gathering within her was growing more painful by the minute. She had lost people whom she cared for before. She’d had to learn to adjust and rely only on herself. But this time, with Colin, she knew she would feel something even more than anything she’d felt when Charlotte and Garth had passed on. They were old and it was their time. Tess knew deep inside of her that this loss would cut her very badly.

  Colin finished his food and sat studying the flute. Tess leaned quietly against the wall and made the effort to string the shells that she no longer found so beautiful. Not long after, they both settled in early for the night, but sleep eluded Tess and minutes rolled into hours. She could hear the dying sounds of the winds outside. Gradually, the fire burned to embers and the chamber slipped into darkness.

  Sometime during the night, when Colin’s steady breathing indicated that he was asleep, Tess got up and went outside, throwing her cloak over her shoulders as she went out the door. For the first time in days, the wind had dropped off to an occasional sea breeze, and the cold seemed bearable. She raised her face to the sky and gulped a chest full of air. If she could only force down the painful knot of loneliness that she was feeling.