Chapter 7
Catriona always considered her family home to be a sanctuary, and to have it invaded by the hulking, oppressive, always-alert Thane MacPhearson was nigh intolerable.
It seemed that everywhere she went in the house, he was either already there, or he happened to walk by a few minutes later.
Only in her own bedroom did she have some privacy, but one could not remain in one’s bedroom all day and all night.
Whenever she encountered him, he had a way of either ostentatiously ignoring her presence, or of managing to make a simple statement sound just short of an insult, such as when she offered him tea the first afternoon.
“Is it from the same pot you’re using?” he’d asked.
“Yes. Darjeeling.”
He gave the humble brown-glazed teapot a suspicious glance. “Then I’d prefer not to.”
“Do you have antipathy toward Darjeeling, or toward our dishes?”
“Neither, Miss Ross.” He left before she could say anything more, but the implication was obvious to her. He objected not to the tea service, but the tea server.
“Well, that’s the last time I have to be nice to him,” she muttered into her raised teacup. The brew suddenly tasted bitter.
However, Thane was always smart enough to never do anything that might get him in trouble with Aunt Tacita. In the older lady’s presence, he was mild-mannered, attentive, and charming—the perfect guest. It made it impossible for Cat to raise any specific objections to his being in the house.
Late in the evening on the second day, Cat was coming down the stairs, aiming for the parlor, where she thought she’d left the pamphlets she’d been reading earlier.
She paused when she overheard men’s voices in that very room.
She peeked in, seeing Duncan and Kai speaking with Thane.
Thane had removed his jacket, and was pacing in front of the fireplace.
Oh, make yourself at home, sir, she thought sarcastically, before her gaze was ensnared by the outline of his body under the thin fabric of his shirt, shown clearly as he stood between the fire and her.
Cat had never dwelt much on the male form, considering herself above such flighty musings.
But the glimpse of a shape normally hidden from ladies’ view was enough to send her mind on unexpected paths.
What was so special about the inward curve of his side from the broad part of his chest to the narrower waist?
Not a thing. And certainly there was nothing remarkable about a man’s forearms. Yet because Thane had rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to the elbows, she’d seen his for a split second, and now, her back pressed against the wall of the darkened hallway, she was somehow still seeing it, complete with the nimbus of firelight surrounding Thane’s form.
Cat squeezed her temples with her fingertips. What nonsense. A nimbus, no less! As if Thane were some angelic being, rather than a flesh-and-blood annoyance.
Then she heard her name spoken, and refocused on the conversation in the next room.
“—to Miss Ross. I spoke to the Travellers who’d been on the street where the carriage lost its wheel,” Duncan was saying.
“They told me that a clergyman encouraged them to set up there, at the behest of the church across the street. He even gave them coin, and said there’d be more the next day if they stayed. ”
“A clergyman?” Thane sounded skeptical. “They’re not usually keen to provide aid to such folk. They usually chase them off, calling them thieves or devils.”
“I imagine that our charitable gentleman simply used the costume as way to distract attention from himself. When people see a clerical collar or other emblem of priestly rank, that’s all they see. The man behind the cloth is invisible.”
“Just to be certain, we went to the church,” Duncan went on. “The man we spoke to there was quite adamant that no one there did the deed, and he was clear that Travellers—well, he called them something else—wouldn’t be welcome inside, or within five miles.”
“Not very Christian of him,” Thane muttered, and Cat had to agree.
Kai chimed in, “If the clergyman was the shooter in disguise, the so-called charity was more or less a bribe. Thane, this means someone engineered the whole scenario! Using the caravans to block half the road, they were hoping that Miss Ross’s carriage would skid out and fly over the edge there, killing her and anyone else inside. ”
Duncan agreed, saying, “Her aunt and the driver were considered quite expendable, yes. Not to mention passersby on the street, or the Travellers themselves. We’re dealing with a person of no conscience.”
“I know people get heated about some of the positions these enlightened women take,” Kai added, sounding bewildered and upset. “But to murder a lady simply because you don’t like what she’s saying is hard to accept. Can’t they just ignore her?”
“Perhaps they tried,” Thane said. “But you’ve met Miss Ross. She’s not the sort of person one ignores.”
Cat blushed. His words could have been a compliment, but his tone was hardly flattering. Feeling suddenly awkward and out of place in her own home, Cat fled back up the stairs rather than face the man who so despised her.
* * * *
The next few days were no better, though she tried to occupy her mind with perfecting the speech she intended to give at the next rally.
While Cat had stood up and spoken at various events before, this was only her second legitimate speech, where she would be on a stage and the sole object of the audience’s attention.
Yes, the stage was little more than a raised wooden platform in the park, but it mattered to Cat to present her ideas just as if she’d been invited to speak before Parliament.
Miss Fairchild had strongly argued for Cat to be included on the slate of speakers that afternoon, and Mrs Roberts had happily agreed, saying that Cat’s combination of youthful vigor and dignified manner would be an excellent advertisement for any passing folk who might want to hear more.
“Just keep your argument straightforward and use logic to bolster your points, dear,” Mrs Roberts had said.
“And the mourning garb will lend you a certain gravitas that might sway a listener or two. You know, the sort of people who might dismiss you if you wore frothy lace.”
Cat chose to focus on the natural equality of women as her topic, and she spent hours writing drafts of her speech. She refined line after line, scribbled new phrases in the margins of her papers, and read other thinkers’ books and pamphlets to see if she was missing anything.
She needed to actually practice the speech, though, and she wanted to do it outside. Since she wouldn’t be allowed out to the neighborhood’s own park, she’d have to make do with the family garden.
The French doors to the garden were in the parlor.
Cat was just about to enter the room when she saw MacPhearson standing there, looking out.
She halted and pulled back, regarding him warily from the hallway.
Not that he was doing something worth regarding, unless one counted the act of standing around in a broodingly handsome fashion to be “doing something.” Was he actually keeping an eye on something interesting in the garden?
Or was it just a way to block her from stepping outside?
She kept her attention on him, trying to decide what he was up to.
Her gaze slid to his profile, which was (as she’d been forced to notice countless times before) absolutely perfect if one needed a model for some noble-looking sculpture of a chilly ancient god.
The high brow, the long sweep of the nose, the lips that could appear either cruel or sensual depending on his mood…
Her gaze drifted lower, past a simply tied cravat and the equally simple cut of a dark green jacket that skimmed his shoulders and emphasized their breadth.
As for the rest of him, she could hardly look at his legs without blushing.
The pantaloons were on the tight side, to judge by the fact that she could practically trace the outline of every muscle in his thighs.
Thank God the falls were looser, or she’d have to faint like a decidedly non-enlightened woman.
It was almost with relief that she finally noticed his tall black leather boots. The look was appropriate for daywear in the city, though on him, it managed to convey a military readiness. Like he’d be able to break out in a dead sprint at a moment’s notice.
“Did you require something?” he asked, looking back over his shoulder. “Or were you just lurking for your own amusement?”
With a start, Cat realized that he had noticed her, possibly a while ago. “I…I intended to walk in the garden.” She did not want to tell him that she wanted to practice her speech. He’d probably laugh at her (and she also didn’t want to remind him that there was a rally coming up).
“Then do so.”
“You’re blocking the way.”
“I am capable of movement,” he noted with his usual patronizing manner.
“You didn’t appear to be,” Cat snapped back, now striding into the room. “You looked as if you’d encountered Medusa.”
He gave her a half smile. “A heroine of yours, I assume.”
“Medusa?”
“Well, she lived all by herself and she could turn men to stone. Seems like a lady you’d admire.”
Cat wished she could turn him to stone. “Oh, you are a wit. What a shame that you’re denying Edinburgh your presence at all the parties, and loafing here instead! If you applied yourself to the endeavor, you could get as many invitations as you liked and be engaged by the end of the week.”
A look of such disgust crossed his face that she almost laughed. “No, thank you,” he said. “Anyway, as soon as we resolve your situation, I’ll be returning home.”
“Which is where?”
“My family estate of Kinlochlie is near Inverness. Well, near-ish.”
She smiled sweetly. “I’ll pray for your swift return.”
“Your prayers will strengthen my own,” he shot back.