Chapter 16
Kate stumbled into the corridor, clutching her clothes. She had no idea how she would face Nathaniel after her shocking behavior that morning.
She still wasn’t entirely sure how it had happened.
One minute, she’d been having a dream, except she still wasn’t quite sure what the dream had been about.
To be sure, there had been a lot of images of Nathaniel standing shirtless at the washbasin, splashing water across the sculpted contours of his chest.
What had been less straightforward were the feelings that had accompanied her dream. Kate’s head had been swimming, as if she’d drunk too much wine with dinner. She’d felt hot, in spite of the chill of the room.
And yet, hot and dizzy did not fully encapsulate what had been going on inside of her. She had felt aching. Throbbing. Needy, but for what, she hadn’t a clue. And yet, she had felt certain that she would crawl out of her own skin if she didn’t get… whatever it was her body so urgently needed.
This state of confused desperation was the only explanation for what she had apparently done next, which was to press herself against Nathaniel and rub against him like a cat longing to be pet.
It was utterly mortifying, but she’d had no idea she had been doing it, as she had been asleep.
She had removed herself from the bed as soon as she realized what was happening, but that did not change the fact that it shouldn’t have happened at all.
As soon as she left the bed, Nathaniel had made some comments she didn’t understand. Something about morning and cold water. Of course, she’d been so desperate to flee the room, she’d scarcely been able to attend to the conversation, and—
A door opened down the corridor. The man who emerged was shorter than her with a thick, dark beard. She nodded and waved, only to receive a strange look in return. That was when she recalled that she was standing in the corridor in her unmentionables!
Fingers trembling, she started to pull on her boots.
The worst part was that, over the past few days, their partnership had seemed so promising.
Nathaniel was obviously a talented naturalist, and the two of them seemed well-suited in terms of temperament.
This opportunity might have been the making of her career.
Instead, she had probably already ruined everything.
She finished buttoning her waistcoat, then noticed that she had more buttons left than buttonholes. She was so distracted, she’d done it up crooked.
Heaving a sigh, she started to undo the buttons. She needed to pull herself together before breakfast. There was little chance she could salvage this mess. But she meant to try.
Much to Nathaniel’s relief, the day was not plagued with awkward silences as he had feared.
Indeed, silence of any kind was hard to come by.
In the downstairs dining room, Nathaniel found a round-faced boy with a windswept thatch of reddish-brown hair perched beside Kit.
He sprang to his feet at Nat’s approach.
“Good morning! I’m Murdo, Murdo MacRitchie.
Ye must be the scholar from Edinburgh! What’s it like there?
” This seemed to be a rhetorical sort of question, because Murdo did not pause to afford Nat the opportunity to answer.
“I hear ye’ve a castle. We havenae got a castle here, of course, but there’s an old, abandoned shieling a mile outside of town that my friend Fergus and I like to pretend is a castle.
Do ye know what a shieling is? ’Tis a shelter we use in the summertime when we’re out minding the livestock.
The roof is mostly rotted through, but the walls are thick enough that ye can walk around on top of them just like battlements!
Well, other than that one spot where they collapsed.
But me and Fergus aren’t about to let such a trifling thing spoil our fun!
” He paused, but only for the second it took to look Nathaniel up and down.
“Kit says ye’re from Jamaica. What’s it like there? Is it hot?”
“Very hot, compared to Scotland,” Nathaniel managed to interject.
Murdo gave a low whistle. “I dinnae think I’d care for that.
Me, I run hot. My sister, Marta, she’s the opposite.
She’s always cold, even in the summertime.
‘Go ahead,’ I always tell her. ‘Take the seat nearest the fire.’ I dinnae even want it, ye see?
” He grinned and thumped the table with his fist. “’Tis convenient, us being in the same family. Don’t ye agree?”
Kit seized upon the split-second pause. “I’m sure Mr. Sterling will be wanting some breakfast before we set out. You’ve a long day planned for us, I believe.”
“Och, aye. My da says ye came here to see the animals, did ye not? Well, I’ve got good news for ye—the seals are out on Vatisker Beach this morning!
” He grinned. “Do ye like seals? Of course, ye like seals. What kind of miserable sod doesnae like seals? They’re a bit like dogs, don’t ye agree? The dogs of the ocean.”
“They even bark,” Nathaniel observed as a serving girl slid a plate laden with sausages and eggs in front of him.
“Exactly!” Murdo exclaimed. “I think ye can judge a man by the regard in which he holds seals. A man who doesnae like seals cannae be trusted, I always say. Well”—he tilted his head in acknowledgement—“I dinnae suppose I’ve ever said so before. But I’ve always believed it to be true…”
Nathaniel ate his breakfast while Murdo pontificated on the virtues of seals, his favorite kind of sausages (Lorne, a square variety of sausage which Nathaniel agreed were quite good), and how the day’s weather was shaping up (blustery, but of course, it was always blustery on Lewis!).
As Nathaniel was finishing his last bite, Mr. MacRitchie approached and laid a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Mr. MacGumbry is waiting for ye in the harbor. Ye’d better get going before the seals move on.”
Nathaniel had brought his satchel, containing his notebook and pencils, downstairs. Kit ran upstairs to gather his drawing supplies and they set off.
Murdo chattered as they made their way to the harbor, switching easily between English and Gaelic as he greeted passersby.
“Your English is excellent,” Kit observed.
Nathaniel agreed. Murdo spoke with a bit of a brogue, but he spoke fluently, with perfect grammar and a wide vocabulary.
“Thank ye,” Murdo said gravely. “I’m studying French, too. My da says languages are important if I’m to take over the inn someday. Being a port town, we get visitors from all over.”
Nathaniel had surmised as much. As a Black man, he had wondered what sort of reception he might receive.
Black people were not precisely common in Edinburgh, but there were enough of them around that he rarely drew more than a glance or two.
He was garnering a few more stares in Stornoway as they walked down the street, which Murdo informed him was referred to as The Narrows.
But he did not get the impression that he was the first Black man the townsfolk had ever seen.
That probably wouldn’t be the case on the far side of the island, but where they were going, they were unlikely to encounter many people.
The fisherman who had agreed to take them up the coast, Mr. MacGumbry, was Murdo’s temperamental opposite. He greeted Nathaniel and Kit with a grunt. Nat did not take this as a slight. Based on the “conversation” that ensued between Mr. MacGumbry and Murdo, he was simply taciturn by nature.
He and Kit were granted a reprieve as Murdo began enthusiastically chattering at Mr. MacGumbry in Gaelic.
Nathaniel cautiously approached Kit where the young man stood at the rail.
He considered apologizing again for the incident that morning, but observing the tense line of Kit’s jaw, he inferred that Kit would rather not broach the topic again.
Nathaniel pointed across the water. “Is that a razorbill?”
Kit’s knuckles were white where they gripped the rail. “A puffin, I believe. I can just make out the orange beak.”
Nathaniel squinted. “Ah. Right you are.”
An awkward silence ensued. After a moment, Nathaniel cleared his throat.
“Let me tell you about our impending expedition. Once Mr. MacIvor arrives with his larger boat, he will take us to Carnish Beach on the northwest part of the island. From there, we’ll hike inland to Loch Raonasgail.
There are mountains surrounding the loch, and I’m given to understand that this is the area where multiple breeding pairs of golden eagles make their nests. ”
He seemed to have chosen a good topic, because for the first time that morning, a glint of interest came into Kit’s eyes. “Will there be hatchlings?”
“It’s difficult to predict. Once we get there, we’ll have four weeks to make our observations. Hatchlings are typically born anywhere from late spring to early summer. But hopefully we can at least observe their nesting behavior.”
A faraway expression came over Kit’s face, and Nathaniel couldn’t help but smile. It was nice to have a companion who was as excited about the prospect of nesting behavior as he was.
“We’ll be up in the mountains. They can reach elevations of more than twenty-five hundred feet.
We’ll have the use of one of those shelters Murdo mentioned, a shieling.
But I’m given to understand that it’s spartan, with a thatched roof and dry stone walls.
What I’m trying to say is, the days will be taxing, and we’ll be roughing it. ”
Rather than looking nervous about the prospect, Kit grinned. “That’s not a problem.”
Nathaniel regarded him. This was not the reaction he had expected from the young man who had balked at the comparatively luxurious assignment of sitting in a wooden shed for a couple of hours to observe some badgers. “You’ve done this sort of fieldwork before, then?”