Highland Hearts. Eva Hamilton Maria

make sure Logan gets to bed soon. He’s had a long journey and needs his rest. His eyes look like he can barely keep them open.” Only three years his senior, Nessia never could help acting like his mother.

      “Aye,” Angus agreed and Logan couldn’t argue as he put his hand over his mouth to cover a yawn. “Let’s sit nearer the fire, Logan.” Angus stood and kissed each of his lads on the head, wishing them a good night. Logan grinned. His brother didn’t care about the criticism he received for acting affectionate, even when told by his clansmen that his behavior would ruin his children.

      And Logan didn’t, either. His nephews didn’t seem the least bit spoiled. He watched as Nessia ushered the lads toward the end of the room with one on each side of her full brown skirt. The lads crawled through the opening of a high-sided wooden box that housed a straw mattress and lay down beside each other as Nessia placed one blanket after another on top of them.

      Logan didn’t wait to watch Nessia pull the curtain closed. Instead, he picked up his stool and followed his brother a couple feet nearer the fire that burned up from the floor where Nessia had just stood cooking. “It’s nice to be home again.” Logan watched the sparks dance to their own crackling sound as the peat moss burned.

      “You should’ve never made the journey back.” Angus lowered himself onto his wooden stool with a slow exactness. “It was far too dangerous.”

      “You knew before I left I had every intention of returning.” Logan unbuttoned his brown vest.

      “Aye. You did say that. But there was always a chance that you would change your mind.”

      Logan paused in his undressing. “Nay Angus, there wasn’t.”

      “Then it is true. You really love her.”

      “Aye. I’ll always love her. I just saw her now. She’s upset at me, but with God’s help that will change.” Logan finished taking off his vest and laid it across his lap before stretching out his arms to feel the warmth on his overworked, calloused hands. “I would face the darkest evil and travel to the most decrepit of places if that’s what it took.”

      “I imagine you have.” Angus turned from the flames to his brother.

      “Aye, I worked hard in the Americas, and crossing the sea is not easy. We lost Gordon McDougall on the voyage home.” Logan closed his eyes and said a quick, silent prayer. “Gordon was ill before he boarded the ship. I told him not to make the journey, but he wanted so badly to come home.”

      “Gordon was a fine man.” Angus joined him in a brief silence. “A tragedy.”

      Logan rubbed his brow, remembering the pain and despair surrounding Gordon’s death. “I couldn’t bring Gordon’s body back. I could only bring what little he had with him and I’ll take it to his family first thing tomorrow with the news.”

      “Logan, it wasn’t your fault he died. God has His own plans for each one of us and it’s not for us to understand.”

      “Fair enough.” Logan eyed his brother. “But I have plans of my own, as well.”

      Angus shot a look at him as Logan stood to stretch. “Before you go to sleep, Logan, tell me about these plans.”

      “Let me save that until tomorrow. Nessia was right, I am tired and in need of sleep.”

      Angus pursed his lips but consented. “Aye, tomorrow after you take Gordon’s belongings to his family we’ll talk about these plans of yours.”

      “Thanks.” Logan held his brother’s shoulder. “It really is good to be home.”

      Sheena rubbed her right eye as she walked into the village. Lack of sleep and tears shed over Logan last night irritated more than just her eyes.

      Her whole body felt off, as if it wanted to shut down. But she had promised to bring a basket of food to the McDougall family today.

      At church last Sunday, she found out Ailsa McDougall had fallen ill and the women of the church picked days to bring whatever they could over to help the family. Today was Sheena’s day, on behalf of the Montgomery household, because her mother wouldn’t dream of walking into the countryside herself and already declared they couldn’t spare a single servant for such matters, either.

      Switching the basket from her left hand to her right, Sheena looked down as she rubbed her other eye. The cool breeze made her eyes tear up and sting. If this kept up, fairly soon they might refuse to stay open altogether. Sheena couldn’t live like this. She needed sleep and to do that she needed to banish Logan from her mind and let the past go.

      Sheena turned around the corner of the last building that stood on the village of Callander’s main dirt road. Shutting her eyes tight to try to stop the stinging when another cool breeze assaulted her, she bumped into something and jumped back, startled and alarmed.

      “Sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going.” Sheena knew that voice—she didn’t need to feel his hands holding on to her shoulders or see him clearly to know who stood before her. “Sheena,” Logan’s voice sounded full of concern. “Why are you crying?”

      Sheena wiped at her eyes harder this time. “I’m not crying.” She pulled back from him.

      “Then why are there tears running down your cheeks? Here.” Logan handed her a handkerchief.

      “I didn’t sleep well last night and my eyes hurt. There. Does that answer your question?” Evidently, it answered more than that as a grin spread over Logan’s lips.

      “Does that have anything to do with me?” Sheena didn’t answer. She handed him back his handkerchief with a “Good day” before marching off. Never would she own up to him about that truth.

      “Not so fast, lassie,” Logan spun around and caught up to her. Patting his clean-shaven cheeks and chin, he asked her with a wink, “How do I look?” Her lips curled slightly and Logan didn’t miss the nuance. His grin broadened, even as she hurried past him. “Where are you going?”

      Sheena stopped and stared at him, her chest tightening with annoyance. Better to tell him and get rid of him now than allow him to follow her all over the countryside as he seemed likely to do.

      “I am bringing this basket to Ailsa McDougall. She’s ill.” Logan’s smile fell from his lips and he ran his hand through his brown, shoulder-length hair. He looked away for a moment into the distance at the crag that led to their water fall.

      She didn’t mean to hurt him, but what could she say now?

      “I have to visit the McDougalls myself, lassie.” The light golden flecks in Logan’s eyes no longer shone brightly and worry furrowed his brow.

      “Logan, I do not need a chaperone.” But what she really did not need involved Logan standing near her and playing havoc with her emotions. Her future belonged to Ian Mackenzie.

      “Be that as it may …” He seemed impatient, as if he wanted to tell her something, but couldn’t bring himself to do it.

      And even though Sheena knew that as Ian’s future wife she needed to distance herself from Logan, she couldn’t stand it any longer. “Logan, what is going on?”

      Logan’s gaze met hers and the intensity with which he looked at her made her hold her basket tighter. But she couldn’t look away. She knew Logan, even after all these years. And as much as he’d hurt her, she could still read every one of his expressions. And something definitely ate away at him.

      The fact that he’d left her instead of marrying her should eat at his innards, but something else troubled him. And as angry as she felt toward him, she would help him now if she could. Any Christian would. At least that’s what she told herself.

      “I have to tell the McDougalls their son Gordon died.”

      Sheena’s hand flew to her mouth. “Gordon,” she murmured. She needed to sit down. Gordon was too young to die.