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laughed. “Do you have any inkling how enchanting you are, one moment the fierce and fiery warrior and, the next, the startled, naïve little girl? You really shouldn’t fault a man for finding you so appealing.”
    “Och, aye, and if I don’t, next you’ll be thinking I’m playing the flirt!” Coloring fiercely, she lifted the bucket from the well. “You mustn’t imagine this is all some game, you know?”
    Evan stepped up, took the bucket from her, and poured the contents into the bucket he had brought. “I don’t. Can you at least begin by believing that?”
    Chewing on her lower lip, she studied him for a long moment before replying “Mayhap.” Then Claire picked up the teakettle, and fell into stride beside him as he next headed back toward the cottage. “It would be the hospitable, Christian thing to do, I’d imagine.”
    “Yes, it would.” Deciding it best not to press his luck, Evan changed the subject. “So, what’s the plan for the day? Our landlord did say I could move into my quarters, didn’t he?”
    “Aye. After breakfast, I thought we might spend the morn cleaning up the bulk of the mess and fixing you a bed to sleep in for tonight. Then, after the midday meal, we could return to St. Columba’s and see what we could discover about your kin.”
    “I can’t think of a more pleasant way to spend the day, in the company of such a bonnie lassie.”
    Claire rolled her eyes. “You can’t stop yourself, can you? From the rich and honeyed words that flow constantly from your tongue, I mean? Are all cowboys, then, so quick with the compliments?”
    “I couldn’t say, ma’am.” Evan laughed. “Perhaps it’s just my rich and honeyed Scots’ blood rising to the surface. Who wouldn’t wax eloquent in such a wild, glorious land?”
    “And I say, have a care, Mr. MacKay,” she replied with a husky chuckle, “or you’ll surely toss all sense and caution to the four winds, and soon take to wearing a kilt.”
    “Heaven forbid!” he said in mock horror, then laughed again.
    He was such a happy, easygoing man, Claire thought as she walked back into the house. Nothing appeared to darken his mood for long. And, for all the teasing he seemed to enjoy at her expense, he could just as quickly turn it on himself.
    There was something disarming about Evan MacKay, something that could, bit by bit, undermine the hardwon fortress guarding a woman’s heart. If a woman wasn’t careful, she could fall under a certain cowboy’s spell before she even knew it. Even a woman, Claire realized with a sudden ripple of unease, who had made a solemn vow, that horrible night now a year past, never to trust anything but her own motives and efforts ever again.

    Breakfast, as always, was milk and porridge. After sending Ian off to school and washing the dishes, Claire gathered an assortment of rags, buckets, brooms, and brushes, and promptly headed for the second crofter’s cottage. Evan, a bemused smile on his lips, followed close behind.
    The smaller house was in an even filthier state than Claire had imagined. She took one look at it, heaved a big sigh, and handed two wooden buckets to Evan. “Fill them both, if you please,” she said. “We’ll be needing plenty of water to get this dwelling fit for human habitation.”
    Evan, buckets in hand, promptly departed. With a narrowed gaze, Claire once more surveyed the cottage. Thick cobwebs filled every corner, the silken strands festooning the roof beams before spanning downward to adorn a scrawny chest, a somewhat tilted cupboard, a rickety dining table, and two chairs. The empty void within the boxbed hadn’t been spared, either, and appeared draped in gossamer shrouds of white, as did the three meager windows of the single-room house.
    “Well, best be getting to it,” Claire muttered as she grabbed up a broom and tied a large rag around the wheat straw bristles. “At this rate, aught I do this day will be a decided improvement.”
    By the time Evan