that point, because he couldn’t. “So what was all that about not all pleasures have to lead to lifelong commitments? One minute you’re encouraging me to go after a quick roll, the next—”
“I was testing the waters. I wanted to see your response.” His gaze took on even greater directness. “And now I have. I canno’ speak for Kira. As I said, perhaps that’s all she’ll be wantin’ from ye. But I’m no’ just concerned for her welfare here . . . I’m concerned for yours.”
“I can take care of myself, Laird MacLeod,” he said, adding a pointed note to that last part.
Graham ignored it. “All I’m trying to say is, even if she’s on for a simple roll, no matter what ye tell yerself you’d settle for, I think you’ll end up wanting more. Perhaps more than ye bargained for. I know the look,” he repeated, then smiled. “Intimately. I’m saying this because I know you to be an honorable man, Shay Callaghan. One of the finest I’ve ever had the privilege to know and it’s with pride I call you my friend. And ’tis only because I’ve been where you stand right now that I felt duty bound to make sure ye were thinking with all you have up here”—he knocked Shay on the forehead with his knuckle—“before you act on what’s pounding in here.” He aimed his knuckle at Shay’s chest, but backed up a step and let his hand drop to his side. “Because you’re going to act on it, my friend. Today, a fortnight from today, I canno’ say. But as long as the two of you are on this isle together, you will.”
Shay said nothing.
Graham grinned then, and any remaining tension eased completely. “I know the look.”
Shay watched his oldest and dearest friend walk away, then catch up to his wife, whom he promptly swept up into his arms, eliciting a delighted laugh from Katie and good natured whistles and hoots from the merry band around them.
Shay slowly crossed the field, well behind the ebbing throng, rubbing at the increasingly annoying twinge in his chest. He tried not to think too closely about Graham’s words of wisdom, but it was a challenge. He knew Graham to be honorable and as dedicated to the islanders in his role as clan laird and island chief, as he was to those closest and dearest to him. Just as he knew Katie would benefit from that honest dedication, and that if any couple was going to go the distance, Shay believed they would.
Roan was an equally dedicated sort, who wore his heart on his sleeve and saw the best in everyone. And Shay hadn’t seen anything to indicate he’d be any less of a devoted husband to Tessa, despite their short courtship, than Graham was to Katie.
He wished he had that same kind of faith. Graham had been right in saying that Shay had surely been exposed to a lot of what could be right between a man and a woman. The difference was, except for university, Graham and Roan had spent all their lives on Kinloch. So that was all they knew. It was easier to believe the best of people when you were never exposed to their worst.
And Shay had not only been exposed to it, he was a constant active participant in the dismantling of it.
He stopped beside his car and fished his keys out of the sporran that hung at his waist. A hint of a smile curved his lips, as it often did when he looked at the old jitney. He’d bought it at the age of seventeen, with money earned sheep tending and hauling in nets full of fish. He’d never been so proud as he had the day he’d towed the auld girl home behind Magnus MacLeod’s tractor. His father had been far less than impressed with the idea of his son driving about in what amounted to a taxicab, but then that was his typical reaction to just about anything Shay did, and by seventeen, Shay had gotten very good at shrugging the disappointment aside.
Shay had spent a long, happy summer putting the jitney to rights, prouder still the first time he’d driven her into the village under her own power. That was almost as many years
“I was testing the waters. I wanted to see your response.” His gaze took on even greater directness. “And now I have. I canno’ speak for Kira. As I said, perhaps that’s all she’ll be wantin’ from ye. But I’m no’ just concerned for her welfare here . . . I’m concerned for yours.”
“I can take care of myself, Laird MacLeod,” he said, adding a pointed note to that last part.
Graham ignored it. “All I’m trying to say is, even if she’s on for a simple roll, no matter what ye tell yerself you’d settle for, I think you’ll end up wanting more. Perhaps more than ye bargained for. I know the look,” he repeated, then smiled. “Intimately. I’m saying this because I know you to be an honorable man, Shay Callaghan. One of the finest I’ve ever had the privilege to know and it’s with pride I call you my friend. And ’tis only because I’ve been where you stand right now that I felt duty bound to make sure ye were thinking with all you have up here”—he knocked Shay on the forehead with his knuckle—“before you act on what’s pounding in here.” He aimed his knuckle at Shay’s chest, but backed up a step and let his hand drop to his side. “Because you’re going to act on it, my friend. Today, a fortnight from today, I canno’ say. But as long as the two of you are on this isle together, you will.”
Shay said nothing.
Graham grinned then, and any remaining tension eased completely. “I know the look.”
Shay watched his oldest and dearest friend walk away, then catch up to his wife, whom he promptly swept up into his arms, eliciting a delighted laugh from Katie and good natured whistles and hoots from the merry band around them.
Shay slowly crossed the field, well behind the ebbing throng, rubbing at the increasingly annoying twinge in his chest. He tried not to think too closely about Graham’s words of wisdom, but it was a challenge. He knew Graham to be honorable and as dedicated to the islanders in his role as clan laird and island chief, as he was to those closest and dearest to him. Just as he knew Katie would benefit from that honest dedication, and that if any couple was going to go the distance, Shay believed they would.
Roan was an equally dedicated sort, who wore his heart on his sleeve and saw the best in everyone. And Shay hadn’t seen anything to indicate he’d be any less of a devoted husband to Tessa, despite their short courtship, than Graham was to Katie.
He wished he had that same kind of faith. Graham had been right in saying that Shay had surely been exposed to a lot of what could be right between a man and a woman. The difference was, except for university, Graham and Roan had spent all their lives on Kinloch. So that was all they knew. It was easier to believe the best of people when you were never exposed to their worst.
And Shay had not only been exposed to it, he was a constant active participant in the dismantling of it.
He stopped beside his car and fished his keys out of the sporran that hung at his waist. A hint of a smile curved his lips, as it often did when he looked at the old jitney. He’d bought it at the age of seventeen, with money earned sheep tending and hauling in nets full of fish. He’d never been so proud as he had the day he’d towed the auld girl home behind Magnus MacLeod’s tractor. His father had been far less than impressed with the idea of his son driving about in what amounted to a taxicab, but then that was his typical reaction to just about anything Shay did, and by seventeen, Shay had gotten very good at shrugging the disappointment aside.
Shay had spent a long, happy summer putting the jitney to rights, prouder still the first time he’d driven her into the village under her own power. That was almost as many years
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