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By lantern light, she made her way down the drive, then turned toward the quay.

***

"I dinnae understand it," Dougal said, standing on the quay and frowning down into the dirty water slopping around the bottom of his boat with each gentle wave. "I could have sworn I found every bit of damage and patched it up."

The day had dawned fair with a light southerly wind, just right for sailing. He’d risen early and rushed down from the house to check his vessel before breakfast to ensure everything was ready for his departure.

At his side, Kirsty stared at the Kestrel in dismay. "Ye seemed so thorough."

This morning, she wore a blouse and a kirtle in a soft blue and yellow pattern that he now recognized as the Macbain plaid. A shawl in the same design shrouded her shoulders. Her shining dark hair was plaited back from her face, and she looked fresh and sweet, and too pretty for a man who was determined to leave her.

Except it seemed he must st

ay on Askaval for at least another day. Fair Ellen’s tribulations would continue, but there was little he could do about that.

At least today he wore his own clothes so when he flexed his shoulders, he wasn’t afraid of tearing his shirt. True to her word, Kirsty had rescued his sodden valise yesterday morning and sent everything inside it to be washed.

"I thought I had been. Anyway I didnae think there was much wrong with the hull. I must have been mistaken."

Dougal couldn’t entirely interpret the glance the girl directed at him. "There’s a beach around the headland. Ye could row over there and get the boat up onto dry land to make your repairs. If you’re working on the hull, it might be easier."

He studied the water in the boat. "I’m no’ sure she would make it."

The girl looked up at him. "If I come with ye and bail, we should manage. It’s no’ far, and it’s a perfect day for sailing."

"Aye," he said, wishing he could take advantage of it. It didn’t matter what the weather was like. The Kestrel wasn’t going anywhere until he’d plugged the leaks. "Would ye do that?"

She raised her head and stared at him, her expression serious. "Of course."

He summoned a smile. "Thank ye."

His favorable impression of his host’s daughter had firmed up yesterday, through several hours of cutting greenery and hauling it up to the house. The old men from the inn had eventually arrived in the wood but hadn’t provided much help beyond a running commentary. Even so, Dougal and Kirsty had joined them for the promised two rounds at Miss Macbain’s expense. It seemed Jock was right about her being a soft touch.

What was also clear was that everyone Dougal had met on the island loved her.

"It’s the least I can do." She paused. "And I’ll help with fixing your boat, too."

"You’re too kind."

Her lips flattened, as if the compliment made her uncomfortable. That was something else he liked about her. Her lack of vanity. "No’ at all."

"I’ll have to impose on ye and your father for another night."

She made a dismissive gesture. "You’re more than welcome to stay. Papa loves visitors and anyway, he likes ye."

"I like him." I like you.

At dinner last night, conversation had been easy and considerably less controversial than his dealings with Johnny, Bill, and Jock. The laird hadn’t seemed nearly as eager to view Dougal as a potential suitor for Kirsty, which was a relief. For him and, he was sure, for Kirsty.

Now she stared at him as if she tried to penetrate his mind. "Are ye truly so disappointed that you cannae go?"

Was he? Perhaps disappointed wasn’t the right word. He liked it here on Askaval. Too much. The pleasure of Kirsty’s company sapped his determination to set out across the sea to fulfill his quest. If her influence could have such a deleterious effect on his resolution after a mere day, he feared the results of a longer stay.

But of course he couldn’t say that to her. So he straightened his shoulders and injected a firmness he certainly didn’t feel into his tone. "Of course I am. Ye know how eager I am to save Fair Ellen."

"A woman you’ve never met." Her voice was curiously flat.

"She’s in trouble. Chivalry insists that any man of character must rally to her aid."


Tags: Anna Campbell The Lairds Most Likely Historical