The Path (19 page)

“That is not necessary.”

“Maybe not, but I don’t want her to feel left out. Besides,” Duncan added with a grin, “I think she’s still mad at me, and
this might get me back in her good graces.”

“Well, she should not be mad at you,” Xiao-nan said sternly. “She should be grateful you were there to watch over her. All
this week she has been acting like a spoiled child, hardly speaking and looking with anger at anyone who speaks to her. I
try to be patient with her, but sometimes I think Father should send her to live among the nuns until she again remembers
the way of respect and compassion.”

“As you told me once,” Duncan said, “she is young, very young. At her age little things can take on great importance—until
the next thing comes along. It will pass.”

Xiao-nan leaned back, settling herself again into his arms. “You are very kind, my Duncan,” she said, “to think so well of
my sister.”

“How can I not think well of your sister, when
her
sister owns my heart. What you love, I must also love.”

Duncan had had enough of talking about families, for now anyway. His arms closed around Xiao-nan, holding her close to him,
feeling the way their bodies melded together in perfect harmony. As he kissed her, he could only marvel that she had truly
agreed to be his wife. The years ahead suddenly offered a realm of sweetness he had never hoped to see, and for the rest of
Xiao-nan’s life, for whatever time they would have together, Duncan knew that his greatest joy would be to make her happy.

One kiss became another and with it, his desire for Xiao-nan mounted. He wanted their joining to be complete. But for her
sake, he held himself back. The life of an Immortal, lived along such a different time line, could not help but be free of
many of the cultural taboos that governed mortal lives. But Xiao-nan was not free of such rules, and he would do nothing to
shame her. When at last they did come together, he wanted there to be only freedom between them—no reluctance, and, afterward,
no feelings of guilt to mar their union. He could wait; he had time.

Xiao-nan could not sleep. Her mind and her heart were too busy tumbling over themselves, thinking the thoughts universal to
lovers. She could hardly believe that today had happened. She would soon be the wife of Duncan MacLeod.

She had no doubt that her parents would give their blessing to the match, and that day could not come soon enough for her.
Each time she was with Duncan, she wanted the hours to go on forever—and each moment they were apart felt like an eternity.
Xiao-nan could not keep herself from laughing aloud that she, who had never thought to be in love, should be feeling this
way.

On the sleeping mat next to hers, Mingxia stirred in the darkness. Xiao-nan immediately became silent, scolding herself; even
in her happiness she must not lose sight of the feelings of others nor allow her present joy to disturb their peace.

But Mingxia was not sleeping. “Xiao-nan,” she whispered, “what happened to you today? You’ve been very quiet since you came
home, even for you.”

“You’ll find out soon enough,” Xiao-nan answered, not sure she wanted to share her news yet. The joy of it was so deep, so
personal.

“Tomorrow,” she said.

She could hear Mingxia turning toward her and Xiao-nan did the same, though nothing could be seen in the darkness.

“The night’s half-gone,” Mingxia replied, insisting. “It is tomorrow.”

Xiao-nan still hesitated—and yet, over the years she and her sister had shared many confidences here in the dark. Now that
she was to be married, not many such moments between them remained.

“All right,” she said finally, “but you have to promise you’ll say nothing.”

“I promise. Now tell me.”

“Your most solemn word?”

“Yes—what is it?” Mingxia’s voice rose slightly with excitement.

“Shh,” Xiao-nan quieted her. “You’ll wake Mother and Father, and they mustn’t know yet. Not until later, when Duncan and I
return from the merchants.”

“The merchants?”

“Duncan is going to buy marriage-gifts for our parents, to give them when he seeks their blessing. He has asked me to be his
wife.”

There, it was said. Xiao-nan felt a little thrill speaking the words outloud. She was going to be a
wife;
Duncan MacLeod’s wife. In her joy, she almost failed to notice how silent her sister had become.

“Mingxia?” she said. “You aren’t upset, are you?”

“No,” she answered, though her voice was a little hesitant. “Not truly. I like Duncan MacLeod, and he is good to you.”

“He’ll be glad to hear you like him. He thought you were angry with him.”

“You mean because of Father Edward?” Mingxia asked. “I was at first, with both of you. But, well, I don’t really like Father
Edward.”

“Then why—”

“Because of you and Duncan and the way he looks at you. Everything he feels shines out of his eyes. When Father Edward looked
at me that day, his eyes were shining, too.
He
wanted
me
—and I liked the feeling. I know all of the boys here. I’ve grown up with them. Father Edward is like your Duncan. He’s different—there’s
something mysterious about him.”

“Father Edward is nothing like Duncan,” Xiao-nan said sharply. “Duncan is a man of honor. Father Edward is—” she stopped herself.
She would not speak unkindly about anyone, even Father Edward. “Well, he’s nothing like my Duncan,” she said more quietly.

“And, oh Mingxia,” she continued, wanting to hug and scold her sister at the same time. “Wanting isn’t enough—not without
the love. When that comes, you will find that everything has been worth the waiting. It will come for you, in the right time.”

Xiao-nan heard her sister sigh into the darkness. “Sometimes I don’t think so,” she said.

Xiao-nan found herself smiling at her sister’s words, a smile of compassion and understanding. How well she remembered being
Mingxia’s age, when the feelings of womanhood were so new, when hopes and desires were as changeable as quicksilver; one moment
wanting to be fiercely independent and the next, wanting only to be loved, to be held, to be cared for.

Well, she would find her path and her peace, this Xiao-nan knew.

“The right one will come for you, Mingxia,” she said. “I promise.”

Duncan MacLeod was also lying awake upon his bed, staring into the darkness. His thoughts were not nearly so pleasant as Xiao-nan’s.

Now that he was alone in the silence, a hundred doubts filled his mind. Not about loving Xiao-nan; that was the most
right
thing he had ever done. But he wondered if it was fair to
her
to have proposed marriage.

He was
Immortal
. That one word, that one difference, contained a world of potential problems. She would age and he would not; could she live
with that or would it bring her only sorrow and pain? Duncan ground his teeth in the darkness; he could not stand the thought
of causing Xiao-nan pain.

Children were another issue, the children she would not have if she married him—children which, as a mortal woman, she had
the right to bear, to hold, to raise into adulthood. Would his love be enough to fill the void?

And there was the Game.

In all his time in Tibet, first in the higher elevations with his nomad friends and now all these weeks in Lhasa, he had not
encountered another Immortal. But that did not mean there were none in this land. How long before they found him and challenged
him? How would his gentle Xiao-nan feel knowing she had wed a man who must kill to stay alive?

Duncan turned on his narrow bed, filled with a sudden bitter restlessness.
Perhaps I should leave
, he thought,
go now before I can harm her goodness
.

But he knew it was an idle thought. He would tell her the
truth of who he was, all of it, before they wed. He would give her the chance to send him away. But if she still wanted him
once she knew, he would stay. He loved her—heart, body, and soul.

In spite of the two hundred years of life, or perhaps because of it, Duncan MacLeod still believed that love could conquer
anything.

When dawn finally came Duncan sent his apologies to the Dalai Lama, saying he would return later in the day, and headed down
into Lhasa. The night had left him filled with a restless energy.

He walked down the winding streets that had become so familiar to him, listening to the sounds of the city awakening and trying
to picture how his life would be. Soft voices drifted out from the houses, as if carried on the smoke of cooking fires, birds
twittered and sang in the trees, dogs barked; they were comforting sounds, sounds of home.

Home
—it had been a long time since he’d had a true home.

MacLeod kept walking. The movement came easily now. His Immortal lungs had long since healed the strain of breathing in the
thin Tibetan air. As always, movement freed his mind and it, too, began to travel familiar pathways, walking the streets of
memory.

MacLeod thought of his early life, his years in Glenfinnan and of all his travels since, trying to catalog the places he had
been: Weeks, months, sometimes years spent in hundreds of places, but always as a traveler, a visitor, at least within his
own heart. Even returning to Scotland for Bonnie Prince Charlie’s cause had not been a homecoming. The people he had known
were long dead, and the places had changed with the centuries.

But here on the other side of the world from where he was born, here he had found a home. Here he had found love.

MacLeod paid no mind to where his feet were taking him until he stood outside the Capuchin mission house just as Brother Michael
opened the door.

“Mr. MacLeod,” the monk said pleasantly. “What a nice surprise.”

“Good morning, Brother Michael,” Duncan returned.

“Have you come to see one of us? Is there something we can do for you?”

Duncan shook his head. “I was just walking and happened to pass.”

“Well, come in,” the monk gestured, waving him inside. “Come and have a cup of tea with us.”

Duncan found himself smiling. He nodded and stepped toward the door.

“It is a glorious morning, is it not, Mr. MacLeod?” Brother Michael said as he stood aside to let Duncan pass. “I like to
open the door on mornings such as this and let the air sweep in. It does more than clear the staleness from the house—fresh
air clears the mind. Don’t you think, Mr. MacLeod?”

“Aye, Brother, that I do.”

Brother Michael led the way to the back of the house where the other monks were already seated at a table with a pot of tea
before them.

“We have a visitor, Brothers,” the eldest monk announced as they entered the room. “Get him a chair so he may be comfortable.”

The youngest of the three, Brother Peter, was quickly on his feet. “Here, he may have mine,” he said as he hurried to get
himself a stool. MacLeod soon found himself seated and being served tea from the steaming pot as if he had been visiting royalty
and not someone who chanced by.

“Were you on the way to call on Xiao-nan, Mr., MacLeod?” Brother Thomas, the third monk, spoke for the first time.

Duncan shook his head. “As I told Brother Michael, I was just out for a walk. ‘Tis early to do much visiting.”

“But you do plan to see her later?”

Next to him, Brother Michael laughed. “Please excuse Thomas, Mr. MacLeod. He is known within our Order for his blunt tongue.
Peter and I are used to it, but it sometimes takes others by surprise. I will admit,” he stopped and sipped his tea, “we are
all curious about your… intentions… toward Xiao-nan. She is such a dear girl.”

“You need have no fears, then,” MacLeod told them. “I’ve asked Xiao-nan to be my wife.”

“Splendid,” Brother Michael beamed. “Splendid. When will the wedding take place?”

“I only asked her yesterday,” MacLeod replied. “Nothing has been settled.”

“A more important question,” Brother Thomas spoke again, “is
how
will the wedding take place. Has she converted to your faith, Mr. MacLeod, or have you become Buddhist?”

“Softly, Thomas,” Brother Michael admonished. “Softly. Where love is present, the way for such things can always be found.”

“I would never ask Xiao-nan to change who she is or what she believes,” MacLeod answered Brother Thomas’s question. “Nor would
I ask her to participate in a ceremony that for her has no meaning. For myself—I am neither Buddhist nor Catholic. Whatever
Xiao-nan wants for her wedding will be fine with me.”

“But surely you will want a marriage your family will recognize as valid when you return home?” Brother Peter, the youngest
monk asked.

“I’ve no intention of taking Xiao-nan away from her family,” Duncan replied. “Lhasa will be my home as it is hers.”

“But what of your family?” Brother Peter continued.

MacLeod was beginning to lose his patience. “There is no one in Scotland I want to see more than I want to be here,” he said
sternly, hoping his tone would put an end to these questions.

Brother Peter opened his mouth to speak, but Brother Michael held up his hand. “Peace, my Brother,” he said, then he turned
to Duncan.