Lady of Light by Kathleen Morgan Page B

unfair odds. No man in Culdee had ever had the courage to try.
    But Evan was a man who stood up for those he cared about. She could depend on him. For the first time in a long while, Claire felt safe and protected. She had finally found a helpmate.
    In the brighter light of the cruisies, Claire made a quick survey of Evan. A jagged slash above his left eyebrow oozed blood, as did his split upper lip. His right cheekbone sported a rapidly purpling bruise. His shirt was torn in several places, some small patches of drying blood stained his sleeves and numerous grass stains now marred its once snowy whiteness.
    It was the uneven way Evan breathed, however, that caused Claire the most concern. She made quick work of treating his eyebrow and cut lip, then pulled off his vest and began unbuttoning his shirt.
    “What do you think you’re doing?” he rasped, grabbing her hand to halt her.
    “You’ve hurt your chest, haven’t you?”
    He waved away her concern. “It’s nothing more than bruised ribs. No need to worry.”
    “I’ll cease my worrying once I have a look at you.” Ever so gently, Claire pulled her hand free. “Now, if you don’t mind, I need to get your shirt off.”
    Evan eyed her for a moment, then managed a lopsided grin, which only made him wince when the action caused a tug at his split lip. “Have at it then. It’s been one of my favorite daydreams, you know, the thought of you undressing me. If I’d realized sooner what the secret to that was, I’d have gotten myself beaten up a long time ago.”
    She shot him a disgusted look, then began unbuttoning his shirt. “As if you’re in any condition to do aught about it, even if I was undressing you for other than medicinal reasons. When it comes to women, you men have a verra rich, if misguided, fantasy life.”
    “Well, wishing and dreaming can be helpful in mustering the courage needed for action. How do you think I ever found the guts to ask you to allow me to court you?” Evan sighed. “But I reckon I’m too late, aren’t I?”
    Her hands stilled in the act of opening his shirt and sliding it from his shoulders. “Whatever do you mean?” Claire glanced up to meet his piercing gaze. “I didn’t have the chance to answer you earlier.”
    “Then why did you tell Dougal you understood everything at last? I knew you weren’t agreeing to marry him, even if he did seem mollified by your response. But I also didn’t get the impression, at that moment, that you were any too pleased with men in general.”
    Totally flabbergasted, Claire stared down at Evan. “Well, it’s reassuring that you at least had the sense to trust my judgment when it came to Dougal,” she finally found voice to reply. “Of course I in no way meant I intended to wed him.”
    “Well, you didn’t sound like you wanted ever to wed any other man, either.” He cocked his head, studying her. “Me included.”
    She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Och, I didn’t mean you, you silly man! When I said I understood everything, I meant I finally realized it was you I had given my heart to. That now that I’d met you, there wasn’t anything to keep me here anymore. And that I finally knew what I must do about it.”
    Evan’s expression of utter amazement was downright comical. Claire would’ve laughed if she hadn’t been afraid of hurting his feelings. But beneath that look of incredulity lay an unguarded vulnerability and a wild, joyous hope. They were precious, tender emotions. Claire had no intention of dashing them, especially when they mirrored so closely her own feelings.
    “Aye,” she said, smiling as she gently slid Evan’s shirt off his shoulders and down his arms. “If we’d had the time before Dougal had come,”—Claire set his shirt aside—“I was ready to accept your offer to court me. And then, when I had to watch them beating up on you …”
    Overcome by the memory of that brutal fight, she swallowed hard and fought back tears. “Well, it drove home