Part 33 (1/2)
”I can't do that.” Kieran shook his head. ”I believe she changed her mind. If you'l give me five minutes”-he steeled himself, expecting a rebuff-”I think you'l agree.”
Her eyes flashed. ”How could you know what she wanted?”
”Because”-he took a breath-”I saw her ghost last night.”
Her jaw slipped but she didn't argue.
Kieran smiled, encouraged. ”Five minutes is al I ask.”
She glanced through the trees to the loch, then back to him. ”Five minutes where?”
Kieran swiped a raindrop off his brow. ”I'd like to show you something in my grandfather's studio. You'l understand when you see it.”
”I don't know . . .”
The hesitation in her voice made Kieran's heart flip.
Hope tightened his chest and he reached out a hand, wil ing her to take it.
Sharing his excitement, Haggis barked and ran to the churchyard gate, clearly certain they'd fol ow.
”You'd no' let him down would you?” Kieran seized his chance, not missing how her gaze fol owed the dog.
”Besides”-he glanced at the darkening sky-”this drizzle is about to worsen.”
Already rain splattered the path. Whether for that reason or because of the chil wind sweeping off the loch, she took his hand and let him lead her back to the promenade.
Haggis shook himself and trotted beside them for the short walk to Kieran's cottage.
But she hung back when they entered his garden and approached the studio. ”I'm not sure-”
”It's just a portrait.” Kieran opened the door. ”My grandfather painted it of Margo Clare on Ben Lomond.
She's wearing your locket and when I saw her last night she held it out to me. I'm sure she meant-”
Jil y stopped on the threshold with a gasp.
She wasn't staring at the painting of Margo Clare, but at a self-portrait of his grandfather and his favorite dog, a Jack Russel named Argyl .
”That's the man I saw at the inn!” She stepped into the studio, one hand to her breast. ”He was in the road, too, with that same dog. I'd know them anywhere.”
”Looks like he knew you, too.” Kieran joined her at the portrait. ”You know who he is, don't you?”
Jil y nodded, her mouth too dry for words.
”I suspected it was him. And Argyl .” He slid an arm around her. ”They were inseparable. As I believe he and Margo Clare would have been if she hadn't left him.”
”She didn't.” Jil y jerked free. He had it wrong. ”Your grandfather ended the relations.h.i.+p. He broke my grandmother's heart. See”-she pul ed the faded letter from her purse-”it's al here.”
She thrust it at him, watching as he read. He blanched and then two bright spots of red colored his cheeks.
”b.l.o.o.d.y hel !” He looked up. ”My grandmother wrote this.
Her handwriting is unmistakable.”
”Your grandmother?”
He nodded. ”She loved my grandfather since childhood.
But he thought of her as a sister. Until-”
”He didn't hear from my grandmother again,” Jil y finished. ”He never knew she believed he'd written to say it was over.”
”It doesn't make sense.” Kieran frowned. ”Grandfather sent letters begging Margo Clare to return.”
”Perhaps your grandmother intercepted them?” It seemed a possibility.
He frowned, ran a hand through his hair. ”I sure hate to think so, but we'l never know.” He reached for her, drawing her close just as Haggis nosed between them, tail wagging.
”Jil y . . .” He looked down at his dog, then at her. ”Whatever happened, we do know they brought us together. They want us to have the future they were denied. Maybe-”
”But . . .” Jil y glanced aside, not wanting him to see the brightness in her eyes.
”La.s.s.” His voice said he saw anyway. ”Does this mean you feel it, too?”