Chapter Eight
“Lord Kildonan, do not continue to stand. Sit,” Thomas MacConn said. “Finlay, leave the door ajar. Your aunt and Catriona will be along soon.”
Evan sat in a leather chair opposite the reverend’s desk while Finlay stood near the door.
The small room was dominated by a mammoth desk and leather chairs arranged on a worn carpet.
Crammed bookcases and a large stone fireplace lined the walls, and dark drapes partially blocked the light in the single window.
A Bible and a scatter of papers on the desk indicated a sermon was in progress.
Evan could imagine the reverend thumping the desk while he wrote his various points.
Catriona’s father seemed a sour, intense fellow.
He wondered how she would ever endure a lifetime of looking after him.
If he had his way, he would take her out of that life.
But he knew he had been summoned for a comeuppance.
He would defend the girl thoroughly and even though he’d likely be banished from this household and her life.
The reverend had a steel will. The brother seemed more amenable, but he was not the authority here.
Evan thought Catriona had the backbone to resist the father, but so far, she seemed committed to the role of Plain Girl. A ridiculous tradition, he thought, taking away the promise of a girl’s future for the parents’ benefit.
“Kildonan must be exhausted. He needs rest instead of interrogation,” Finlay said.
The reverend shot his son a grim look. “We need to resolve this matter.”
“Of course. I understand your concern,” Evan said.
The reverend scowled at him and settled himself behind his desk in the big tufted leather chair.
He folded his hands over his stomach below the silver watch chain that crossed his black vest. He was large, gray, and imposing, and Evan could imagine his commanding presence and gruff voice intimidating a parish in the strict Free Church.
He had attended that church as a boy and did not have good memories of those tedious hours.
“So,” Thomas MacConn said, slapping his hands on the desk. “I’m sure you can also understand that my sister, Mrs. Rennie, is upset as well. I have asked her to attend our meeting with Catriona when they are done with the good doctor.”
Evan nodded and kept his expression neutral, though his heart jumped at the thought of seeing Catriona again.
The meeting did not promise to be pleasant.
But he would not reveal what had really happened in the shieling hut.
He owed Catriona a great deal, and any tension between them—he should have told her the truth, he thought again—should be resolved between them in private.
“Now, Lord Kildonan,” the reverend said, “Mr. Fitzgibbon told us you went climbing on Ben Shee and lost sight of each other in the mist. The weather turned poor. All that is unfortunate, of course. I want to know how you and my daughter came to be alone in the shieling for a day and a night.”
“Of course. After I lost Mr. Fitzgibbon, I began to come down, only I fell when the sleet began rather suddenly. Miss MacConn came along the track and found me. I scarcely remember it, but somehow she assisted me to the shieling hut to rest. The storm grew worse, and we became stranded. The slopes were iced over. There was no question of attempting to get down to the glen.”
“Must have been a dreadful experience,” Finlay said. “That old hut is in bad repair and would not offer much shelter. I have been intending to hire a carpenter and a thatcher to fix it up. With your permission, I will arrange that.”
“My permission?” Puzzled, Evan suddenly realized what he was asking. “I see. The hut is on the Kildonan estate.”
“Aye. Kildonan comprises most of Glen Shee, less the sections your father sold off a few years ago. Indeed, Ben Shee is yours as well.”
“I believe that is correct. Apologies, Mr. MacConn. You are my factor, though we only met at the shieling hut. My sister, Lady Jean, has told me what excellent work you do.”
Finlay looked down. “Thank you, sir.”
“I did not know you were Miss MacConn’s brother until the other day.
And I had not met her before either, to be honest. Although—I do remember meeting you when we were all children.
” Evan felt chagrined that he had not put it together more quickly.
He had left arrangements in the glen to his sister while he was working elsewhere in Scotland.
Most lately, he had been in the remote Hebrides, doing some diving to assist a fellow engineer on a governmental lighthouse commission.
“I beg your pardon again, both of you. I have been away on work projects.”
“You are an engineer, from what I understand.” Finlay leaned a shoulder against the wall.
He was a tall young man, large framed and slightly padded, with chestnut hair, light-blue eyes, and cheeks that stained pink easily.
Evan saw honesty all through him, as well as a resemblance to Catriona.
Evan’s sister had sung the new factor’s praises, but he had not connected the name beyond his memory of the kirk reverend and his children years ago.
“I am. And I agree that work must be done on that shieling hut so that it can be a proper summer home for shepherds who use it while grazing the livestock on the high sweet grasses. We should meet soon so you can apprise me about matters in the glen and we can make some arrangements,” Evan said.
“Of course. Thank you, sir.”
“Go on, Kildonan, you were saying.” The reverend sounded gruff and impatient. “The weather turned on you quickly. It did for all of us. It happens up here in the Torridons.”
“Aye so. It was devilish cold, but we built a fire and did what we could to block the hole in the roof.”
“The hearth was hot and there was a kettle over the fire. Were you as uncomfortable as you imply, sir?”
“Sir, the roof was open to the elements and cold winds leaked through the whole place. Your daughter managed a good fire, but the peat was damp and did not burn well. Between us we had some oats and a little whisky, so she melted snow and made a brose.”
“My daughter only partakes of strong drink for medicinal reasons.”
“It was medicinal. She slipped outside in icy water and suffered miserably from the chill. You should be very proud of your daughter. She is strong and resourceful.”
“And you helped keep her warm, I suppose.”
“Sir.” Evan sat forward. “We had no choice. It was a question of survival. Miss MacConn is beyond reproach, I might add.” He looked hard at the reverend.
MacConn harrumphed. “Are you?”
A tapping sounded on the door, and Mrs. Rennie entered.
Evan had met the reverend’s sister earlier and felt her cool reception, but he was not surprised, knowing that Catriona’s family would make assumptions about the situation.
The aunt wore black, relieved only by a white lace collar, and her thin face wore a severe expression.
Finlay drew up a chair for her, and she sat stiffly, arrow straight, and her lace-mittened hands folded in her lap looked capable of clawing.
“Kildonan is just explaining that he and Catriona were stranded by the weather and had to stay together to keep warm in that hut,” the reverend said.
“Oh?” Mrs. Rennie fixed Evan with a long-lidded stare, her eyes gray like ice, iron-colored hair tucked in black netting.
He practically shivered under that frozen glare.
“I suppose you decided it was your gentlemanly duty to keep the lass warm. She was without her proper clothing when you were found together, I was told.”
He returned her stare. “She fell in icy water and her gown was wet. Should I have let her freeze for the sake of propriety while I saw to my own comfort? Would that have been more appropriate than making sure she was safe?”
“He has a point, Aunt,” Finlay said.
She huffed. “You should not have up there in such weather. There is no excuse for it. You could have come back to the glen.”
Evan flared his nostrils, controlled his temper. He heard Finlay snort and caught the lad’s sympathetic glance.
“Finlay, go fetch your sister,” Thomas MacConn said. “She should be here.”
“She will be here. She would not want to miss this.” Finlay did not move.
Bemused by Finlay’s touch of rebellion, Evan glanced toward the open door. Anticipating Catriona’s arrival, he felt an anxious spin in his gut. He did not relish the two vultures in the room, though he appreciated the hawk-like calm of the young man.
“Lord Kildonan, explain again why my daughter was in a state of undress in that bed with you,” Reverend MacConn said, adding a little sneer at the end.
“As I told you, she was chilled to the bone, and her clothing was wet. I gave her a little whisky, and we—bundled in the bed for warmth.”
“Bundled,” Finlay said. “Seems appropriate under the circumstances.”
“A bundling couple is not usually alone,” Mrs. Rennie said. “He gave her spirits and told her to do this. What else did he tell her to do? It seems the new Lord Kildonan is no better than the old one!” She sniffed into her lacy handkerchief.
His temper sparked and he quelled it with effort, tightly folding his hands. “Madam, the young lady was not harmed. You accuse my father and now me without reason.”
“You were alone for a day and a night,” the reverend said. “What are we to think?”
“I understand that. But I assure you she was treated with respect.” Well, in a way, he had. Frowning, he returned their gazes. Finlay stood by the door, shaking his head, but Evan felt he had an ally.
“The lass has not admitted to anything,” Mrs. Rennie said. “She is a loyal girl and very na?ve. Sir, surely you saw that.” She fixed him with another glare.
“Madam, I am not what you think.” Evan regarded her and the reverend with a cold stare. He felt his own loyalty to Catriona soar, felt his anger grow toward her hard-hearted relatives. The brother seemed worth his weight in gold.