Chapter 5 #2
He wasn’t there. He was never there, and that was the problem.
She must be remembering a line from a letter home, or a story Brodie told her while on leave.
One of his shaggy-dog tales of life in the army, told in a way that made the dangers feel remote, and the daily life amusing.
He could have a whole room in rapture once he got going with a story—he’d had such a gift for voices and mimicry and that perfect command of his audience.
Cat always wished she could talk like her brother, knowing just when to pause to draw out a dramatic moment, or drop a detail that colored a whole character.
She was well aware that her own style had only directness to recommend it.
“I’ve got a speech coming up,” she said aloud. “If you were here, you could tell me what I’m doing wrong.”
You’re never wrong, kitty cat. You’re always right, and that’s your problem.
“Oh, hush.” How many times had he told her exactly that?
Then she whispered, “If you really want to help, tell me what to do about this MacPhearson character. I can’t believe you could tolerate him, let alone call him a friend.”
A brother in arms. I’d trust him with my life.
“Well, I shan’t do the same. Though he did save my life tonight. Maybe.” She told Brodie the whole story, mumbling the details as sleep settled over her while she communed with the other half of her own being.
* * * *
Cat slept surprisingly well, considering the disruption to her quiet life the previous evening caused.
In the morning, she sat up in bed and noticed that the fire had already been lit—the maid slipped in and out without even rousing Cat.
Perhaps she should have placed a chair under the doorknob, but the mere idea of acceding to the high-handed Thane MacPhearson’s order set her teeth on edge.
“And I lived through the night despite it all,” she told herself smugly. She couldn’t wait to inform Thane that his silly instructions were unnecessary.
Once dressed in a morning gown in a dark grey (she couldn’t abide black first thing), Cat went downstairs in search of breakfast. Not that breakfast was elusive—the staff always put the same items in the same room every day.
Cat just liked the idea of doing something intrepid, rather than passively waiting as life slipped by.
But before she could manage to stalk some wild coffee—or whatever one did to obtain coffee in its native habitat—she heard voices coming from the servants’ hallway.
The tones of the conversation hinted at some consternation, so she hurried forward, only to see Thane MacPhearson standing just inside the tradesmen’s entrance, looking like he expected to be allowed all the way in.
“Mr MacPhearson. It is rather early for a social call, is it not?” she asked, hoping to relieve the footman of the unpleasant duty of telling MacPhearson he could go away. “About five hours too early, by my guess.”
“Good thing I’m not making a social call,” he said, somehow managing to slip past the footman (who was not a small man). “Truly, Miss Ross, my only goal is to sort out what happened to you and why. And that only for Brodie’s sake. We’ve arranged to discuss the matter this morning.”
“What, here?”
“Where else? This concerns you, and you live here.” He gave the footman a polite nod along with his greatcoat. So much for telling him he had to leave, Cat thought.
“And are your comrades equally early risers, or do we wait for all of them to appear on their own schedules?”
Thane shook his head. “They’ll be here soon.” He turned and raised a hand to hide a massive yawn.
“I am sorry that my plight is so boring for you,” Cat said as she turned back toward the room where breakfast would be.
“I didn’t sleep,” he said, following, still looking away from her. He seemed preoccupied.
“Why not?”
Now he glanced at her, frowning. “Because I was watching the house.”
“This house? My house?” Not once had he intimated that he’d be doing that!
“Wouldn’t make much sense to watch any other house.”
“Where were you? There’s nowhere to loiter all night, and it was cold…” She had a sudden image of Thane and the other men shivering through a watch, and the grimy touch of shame crept over her. Cat had slept in a very comfortable bed, after all.
“Never mind, Miss Ross,” he said abruptly. “That is not relevant. Now, there are a few matters to address—”
“You can’t just—”
“Ah, good morning, Mr MacPhearson!” Aunt Tacita had come down the stairs while they’d been talking, looking refreshed and radiant in a deep green dress dark enough to be acceptable for mourning.
“Won’t you join us for breakfast? I instructed the staff to make more than usual.
Young men always have such an appetite.”
Ugh. Cat almost lost her own appetite upon realizing that she’d have to endure a meal with MacPhearson. But she put on an icy-bright smile. “Mr MacPhearson will certainly want coffee.” If only to stop the yawning in the company of ladies.
In fact, Thane seemed to prefer tea. And a lot of it, to judge by how frequently he reached for the pot.
Cat nibbled her toast in sullen silence, allowing Tacita to grill Thane on his childhood and family, it being unspoken but understood that the real topic wouldn’t be broached until the others had arrived.
Luckily, they were prompt, and soon Cat’s breakfast table was quite filled with gentlemen all delighted to eat whatever food was offered to them. Tacita must have told Cook that an entire company would be dining with them.
“Struan sends his regrets,” Calan said when he arrived (the last of them to do so). “But he’ll help later if needed.”
The other men all nodded as if this were an expected thing.
“Who’s Struan?” Cat inquired. The name was familiar. Brodie had definitely mentioned him. “Another member of your company?”
“Aye. Captain Struan McInnes.”
“Oh, yes! Brodie wrote about him. He’s very tall and says nothing?”
“You’ve got him pictured, Miss Ross. He’s sorry not to come, but he’s been a bit…um…”
“Reclusive,” Kai supplied.
“Yes. He’s been a bit reclusive lately.” Calan grinned at her. “But not to worry. With our combined intelligence, we’ll get to the bottom of your little problem.”