Chapter Thirty-one
“You are Raonaid,” Catherine said, ignoring all proper rules of etiquette, but this was not a normal situation.
“Aye,” her twin replied.
The cadence of her voice was eerily similar to Catherine’s own.
They regarded each other warily. Though she knew it was wrong to stare, Catherine could not help but examine all the finer details of her sister’s appearance—the indistinguishable shape of her upturned nose, the fullness of her lips, her vivid blue eyes, the size and shape of her breasts, and the particular curve of her waist. Even her hands were the same.
How was it possible for such a miracle to occur? It was like some form of magic.
“Please…,” Raonaid said as she gestured toward the sofa with a hand.
Catherine let go of Lachlan’s hand and sat down beside Raonaid.
They faced each other in silence, though it was not uncomfortable.
Catherine knew exactly what Raonaid was feeling: all the things she was feeling.
Fascination. Disbelief. And strangely, despite everything that Lachlan had experienced because of this woman, a most unexpected joy was bubbling up inside Catherine.
“Lachlan said you did not know about me,” Catherine mentioned. “I didn’t know about you, either. At least, I do not think so. Did he also tell you that I have no memory of my life?”
“Aye, he told me. And though I never knew of you, I always felt your spirit hovering around me, even as a child. I did not know who you were, or what you were, but now I understand. The ghost over my shoulder … it was always you.”
A lump rose up in Catherine’s throat, and her eyes filled with tears. “I’ve been haunted, too,” she said. “In both dreams and wakefulness, but I had no idea…”
Catherine glanced uneasily at Lachlan, who was standing in the doorway, watching them with some concern. She could see in his eyes that he was still wary of Raonaid, but Catherine would form her own conclusions about her sister, for there was so much she had yet to discover.
“Who raised you?” she asked.
“A woman named Matthea. She told me she was not my mother, but she never revealed how she came to be my guardian. She died when I was eleven.”
“What did you do then?”
“I raised myself.”
Catherine felt a deep and wrenching sadness for her sister as a young girl. “I am so sorry.”
“Why? Matthea taught me all I needed to know in order to survive. I had a warm house to live in, and I knew how to care for the animals and feed myself. I don’t need your pity.”
Catherine’s brow furrowed. “I meant no offense.” She paused. “What kind of house was it? Will you describe it to me? I would like to imagine your life.”
“It was a thatched cottage on the water,” Raonaid flatly replied, “outside the village of Gearrannan. I also knew how to fish and make baskets. Some folks in the village were kind. Those who were not learned to stay away.” She lifted her chin with a cool show of strength.
“They thought you were a witch.”
“Aye, for I could predict the weather, and I foretold a few important deaths in the village, and abroad. No one bothered me much. I was feared mostly.”
“Were you lonely?”
Her eyes turned instantly cold, and Catherine wondered if her own eyes had ever conveyed such an icy look of contempt.
For the first time, she understood what Lachlan had tried to warn her about. They were sisters, but they had been reared apart and they were not the same.
“Always,” Raonaid replied.
Catherine inhaled deeply. “So you never knew you were the daughter of an earl?”
She scoffed. “If I knew that, dear sister, I would have traveled to Drumloch years ago, and claimed what was rightly mine. What was taken from me.”
Catherine looked down at her hands in her lap and nodded, for she could not blame Raonaid for her anger.
She felt it herself, for she may have been bequeathed a fortune, but she had been denied a sister, and for that she would always feel some resentment toward those responsible.
But at least she had lived a comfortable life and had enjoyed many luxuries; she had known the identity of her parents.
Raonaid, on the other hand, was given none of that, and Catherine could not even begin to imagine the extent of her sister’s bitterness in that regard.
“What can you tell me,” Raonaid said, sounding calmer now, “about our mother?”
Catherine lifted her gaze. “Very little, I’m afraid. She died giving birth to us, and I don’t know why we were separated. My only hope is that once we return to Drumloch someone will know the answer to that question.”
Lachlan stepped forward. “Catherine…”
She glanced across at him and saw the look of warning in his eyes. Clearly he did not think it would be wise to bring Raonaid to Drumloch. It was not his choice to make, however.
Catherine spoke to him in a polite tone but with a firm note of resolve. “If you would be so kind, Lachlan, I would like some time alone with my sister. Will you please wait outside?”
His dark eyes shifted to Raonaid again, and Catherine saw the look of triumph she gave him in return.
“If you wish,” he gruffly said. “But I will wait outside the door, and I will send Gawyn around to the back, to make sure no one comes or goes.”
The corner of Raonaid’s mouth curled up in a subtle grin of self-satisfaction.
The instant he was gone, Catherine turned her eyes on Raonaid and spoke with reproach. “That was disrespectful.”
Raonaid frowned. “Does it really matter to you?”
“Of course it matters. If it weren’t for Lachlan, I would not be sitting here now. He has done nothing but try to help me recover the life that was lost to me.”
“And how did he do that?” Raonaid asked, sitting forward and perching an elbow on her knee. “By making love to you? It’s odd. You and I look exactly the same, but you lack a certain…” She bit her lip, as if she needed more time to ponder it.
“A certain what?” Catherine asked, challenging her sister to say exactly what she was thinking.
“A certain worldliness. How could you have given yourself to him, Catherine? He is the worst rogue in Scotland, and he took you to bed when he believed he was cursed. Did you know of it? Or did he tell you afterward, when it was too late to change it?”
Catherine clenched her teeth. “He told you about that?”
“Aye, it’s the first thing he told me—that he had bedded some lassie the day before and that’s why he needed me to lift the curse. Clearly he was using you to force my hand. Do you not see that?”
The chill in her sister’s voice caused all the hairs on Catherine’s neck to stand on end.
“He slept with you,” Raonaid continued, “when he believed he was cursed. What does that tell you about him?”
“It was my fault, too,” Catherine insisted.
Raonaid sat back and regarded her closely.
“I doubt that very much. The man has a certain power over women, and he knows it. There is something about him that makes most women go completely mad with infatuation. I’ve seen it.
He has the power to seduce, and that’s why I cursed him—to save a few broken hearts once the word got out about his …
situation. So do not look at me like that, as if I am some sort of villain. ”
Raonaid was not entirely wrong about Lachlan’s sexual power over women.
Catherine had experienced it herself and had seen it in Abigail, the young barmaid, on the first night of their escape.
But that did not justify Raonaid’s actions.
She had cast a cruel spell on him—one that harkened back to his wife’s death and made him relive it over and over.
“Do you feel it is your place to judge people?” Catherine asked. “To hand out punishment and control their lives, as if you were God?”
Raonaid’s eyes darkened. “Are you in love with him?”
“That is none of your concern.”
Her sister regarded her shrewdly. “You are. I can see it in your eyes. Does he know it?”
Catherine was not sure. She had never spoken the words aloud, and she had refused his offer of marriage and suggested that what they felt for each other was not real.
“No, he does not,” she said at last.
Raonaid scoffed bitterly. “Then you’d best keep it that way, lass. He’s not the sort of man you want to pin your hopes on.”
* * *
Outside, Lachlan paced back and forth under the wide portico, wondering what poison Raonaid was feeding to Catherine now, when Alex approached and rested one booted foot on the bottom step.
“Don’t worry, Lachlan,” he said. “Lady Catherine will be fine. I just took a look through the back window. They’re only talking.”
“Do I look worried?” Lachlan replied, glaring down at the young clansman with a pungent rancor he could not suppress.
“Aye, you look about ready to burst through that door swinging your claymore.”
Lachlan inhaled sharply and looked toward the horizon. “That’s about the best idea I’ve heard all day.”
Alex sat down on the step. Lachlan decided he needed to relax, so he joined Alex, pulled the dirk out of his boot, and sat for a long time, turning it over in his hands, watching the sun reflect off the blade.
“It’s obvious,” Alex carefully said, “that you have feelings for Lady Catherine. I can hardly blame you, sir. She’s a treasure, that one, and she cares for you, too. It’s plain as day. Do you know what you’re going to do about it?”
Lachlan turned his eyes toward the young Highlander, who continually surprised him.
“I’m going to do nothing, Alex. We come from different worlds.
She’s a Lowlander under the guardianship of a cousin who detests Highlanders, and she’s an heiress on top of it.
And things have not gone … smoothly between us. ”
Besides that, he had already lost one wife. He could not bear to lose another.
“Ach.…” Alex waved a dismissive hand through the air. “What should any of that matter if you love each other? She’s old enough to make her own choices, is she not?”
Lachlan considered that. “Aye, but she’s not stupid, either. She knows I’m not the right sort, and she’s made that abundantly clear. So have you. And now, with Raonaid in there, filling her head with all kinds of unflattering stories about me…”
Alex shrugged. “Maybe Lady Catherine will see the truth in it, and choose you over her sister.”
Lachlan slipped the dirk back into his boot. “I doubt it. You know what they say about blood and water.”
“Aye, one’s thicker than the other, but does that apply when the sister is a witch?”
Lachlan inclined his head. “She’s not a witch, Alex. She’s an oracle.”
“That’s just splittin’ hairs. Either way, she’s evil. Isn’t she?” He tipped his head back to let the sun warm his face, then opened one eye to squint at Lachlan. “Or am I wrong?”
The front door opened, and Catherine stepped outside. Lachlan and Alex quickly rose to their feet.
“I’ve made a decision,” she said. “I have been discussing my memory loss with Raonaid, and she has explained to me that she always had her strongest visions at the stone circle at Callanais, not far from where she grew up. I told her about the standing stones at Drumloch, and how I, too, have been drawn to them since my return. We wish to go there together. It is my hope that she will experience a vision there, and perhaps see the missing years of my life.”
Lachlan could not hide his misgivings. “You intend to introduce her to your family?” It would create a scandal like no other.
“Yes. I know that it will not be easy—especially with my grandmother—but we both deserve to know the truth.”
Lachlan lowered his voice and moved closer to speak in her ear. “If that is your decision, lass, I will honor it. But are you certain you can trust her? What about your inheritance?”
“She is my sister, Lachlan,” she whispered in return. “And a Montgomery. I am prepared to share my fortune with her, once it is transferred to me.”
He shook his head when what he really wanted to do was shake some sense into her. “Are you sure that’s wise? You only just met her. Have you told her this yet?”
“Not yet.”
“Then, don’t,” he implored, keeping his voice to a hush. “Wait until we reach Drumloch. Take some time to think on it. That’s all I ask.”
A shadow of concern passed over her features as she looked up at him under the shaded portico. “Are you afraid she will give it to Murdoch, to support the Jacobite cause?”
“Among other things,” he replied, for there were a dozen things that worried him. Just delivering them both to Drumloch without incident was enough to keep him on the alert.
Catherine glanced over her shoulder. “I must go back inside. Can we leave in the morning? She will need time to collect her belongings, and say good-bye to Murdoch.”
“No,” he replied. “She can say nothing to Murdoch. God only knows what they might plot together if he finds out the Drumloch heiress is his lover’s twin. Tell her we are leaving now; otherwise she’ll have to find her own way. I’ll not risk your safety by spending another night here.”
Catherine hesitated, but in the end she agreed. “Fine, but if you could allow her a few minutes to prepare.”
She entered the house and was about to shut the door behind her when Lachlan stopped it with his boot.
“I’ll need to make sure she doesn’t leave some sort of letter behind. And tell her to summon the housekeeper. I want to speak to her, too, about what she saw here this morning.”
Catherine nodded and stepped out of his way.