The Path by Rebecca Neason Page B

quiet. Yet he found himself heading down into the city
     of Lhasa, where another beauty awaited him. The living beauty that was Xiao-nan. He knew it was early to be calling at her
     door but maybe, just maybe, he could persuade her to take a walk with him. Her company—the light of her eyes, the gentle sound
     that was her laughter—would help him put everything in perspective.
    He found her house easily, remembering the route from the day he had walked her home. But when he arrived he stood uncertainly
     at her door, feeling like a schoolboy come courting instead of a two-hundred-year-old Immortal.
What
, his sudden doubts said,
if she did not want to see him, if her pleasant company the other day had been nothing more than the compassion to a stranger
     that seemed to be the unwritten law of this land?
    He did not know that Xiao-nan had watched for him eachday and was just on the other side of the door waiting for his knock.
    Seconds ticked by as he stood there, battling his fears and chiding himself for his foolishness. If she said no—well, it was
     not the first time in his long life a beautiful woman had turned him down.
Ye’ll never know by standing here, ye daft fool
, he told himself, his mind slipping into the brogue of his childhood. He raised his hand and knocked.
    The door opened so quickly he nearly fell through the sudden space. And Xiao-nan was there, smiling up at him, even more beautiful
     than he remembered her.
    “I… I know it’s early,” MacLeod stammered, groaning silently as he stated the obvious. Truth be told, something about her
     left him feeling awkward, even tongue-tied. It had to be more than her beauty; he had known beautiful women all over the world,
     and he had two centuries practice of how to talk to them, charm them, win their favor. But something about Xiao-nan said she
     was different, and the difference disconcerted him.
    “Will you take a walk with me?” he asked her. “We won’t go far.”
    “I would like very much to walk with you, Duncan MacLeod,” she answered, her voice making music of his name. Duncan knew he
     wanted to hear her say it again and again.
    A voice called from within the house. Xiao-nan turned and answered it quickly. Then she stepped out beside MacLeod and gently
     closed the door.
    “I have told my mother we are going, so now we may walk together. Where would you like to go?” she asked.
    “Anywhere you want,” Duncan answered.
    MacLeod was delighted to stand and watch her as she thought about a destination. As a little frown creased a line between
     her eyebrows, he fought the urge to bend and kiss it away. Then, suddenly, her face lightened.
    “I know where we will go,” she said. “There is a place where the blue orchid blooms on the hill. It is very beautiful in the
     early light.”
    As are you, Xiao-nan
, Duncan thought. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a
blue
orchid,” he said aloud as they started toward the city gate. “Is it truly blue?”
    “Oh, yes,” Xiao-nan replied. “Blue as the summer sky, withlittle black flecks at its heart and a sweet scent that is like no other flower.”
    She picked up the pace, eager to show it to him. “Hurry, Duncan MacLeod,” she said. “We must be there before the light passes.”
    He laughed and walked faster. He wanted to take her hand and run together like happy children, but he knew that in Tibet men
     and women did not touch casually in public. All he could do was stay by her side, delighting in each moment. Somehow that
     was enough. In her company, Duncan felt as if the weight of his years vanished and his heart was freer than it had been for
     a century gone.
    Up in the Potala, the monk Gaikho reported Duncan’s absence to the Dalai Lama. The spiritual leader nodded and dismissed him.
     He suspected whom Duncan had gone to see, and he approved; it would be a good match—for both of them.
    The Dalai Lama took a deep breath, folded his hands in a pattern of serenity, and closed his