Chapter Ten
“Your father attended my parish kirk, as I recall, Kildonan.” Holding a dainty teacup in his thick, squarish hand, Thomas MacConn studied Evan.
“I remember seeing you as a boy there with your family before your mother took you and your sister to the Lowlands with her.” He frowned. “Do you still attend kirk?”
“When I can.” Evan glanced at his sister, who sat with Catriona.
Lady Jean Mackenzie-Gray, dark haired and beautiful in the first flush of pregnancy, caught his eye, her expressive brown eyes widening.
She glanced at her husband, a large, handsome fellow who often brimmed with good spirits, though just now, Sir Harry Gray pressed his lips together and frowned.
Beside them, Arthur Fitzgibbon crunched into a biscuit.
They could barely hide their shared astonishment when Evan took them aside to explain about conditions in the shieling hut and his subsequent decision to marry. The wedding would be performed that night, guests or none.
“So I am very glad of your timely arrival,” he told them.
Jean had kissed his cheek while Harry declared genially that Evan should stay off mountains if climbing brought him only trouble. Evan knew it was a jest, though Jean smacked Harry’s arm playfully and then went to Catriona to welcome her to the family.
“Reverend, our mother made sure we attended church in Edinburgh too,” Jean said now with her usual calm.
“The Established Church of Scotland or the Free Kirk?” Mrs. Rennie asked.
“Neither, actually.” Evan set his teacup down. He would have done anything to escape the last tense, awkward hour, but he would not desert Catriona, who sat nearby.
Mrs. Rennie huffed. “Hah! You’re a Mary-worshiper!”
“Aunt Judith!” Catriona burst out.
“If he’s Catholic, he won’t be able to marry anyone tonight, lass,” Thomas MacConn said. “He needs to wait for a dispensation to marry.”
“We attended a Scottish Episcopalian church,” Evan said, resenting the whole business of religion in that moment.
“An Established Church, in other words. Does that serve your standards?” For Catriona’s sake, he kept his tone neutral.
But he was more than willing to marry her to get her away from this lot, but for Finlay.
“Good,” Thomas grunted. “The Anglicans and the Free Church recognize one another’s wedding ceremonies. We will go ahead with it tonight, as agreed.”
Catriona drew a breath. “Papa, I do not want—”
“It must be done quickly,” Judith Rennie said. “I apologize, Lady Jean, Sir Harry,” she said, adopting a tone of respect. “How awkward for your first visit to the manse.”
“Not at all, Mrs. Rennie,” Jean answered. “I am relieved that my brother is safe. And I am grateful to Catriona for her bravery. Their adventure was dangerous, even if it led to something as romantic as this.”
“Romantic!” the woman said.
“They seem very well-suited.” Harry smiled. “I’m very happy for them.”
Bless them both, Evan thought. Harry was kind of blustery, and Jean had a sunny and positive nature. He had already noticed Catriona brighten and relax around his sister.
“Papa, I need time to prepare,” Catriona said. “A few weeks would be better—” She glanced at Evan.
“The marriage is more important than the wedding,” Judith said. “You cannot spend another night in a sinful state.”
“I think she is safe,” Evan said, but was ignored. Aye, he thought, he wanted to rescue Catriona MacConn, though she did not seem to recognize that she needed it.
*
“Kildonan, sir! What an odd few days,” Fitzgibbon said, joining Evan on a walk around the grounds of the manse.
“Aye so,” Evan replied. They strolled in silence for a while, taking a path over an expanse of trimmed lawn that sloped down to meet a small loch in the distance.
Closer to the house, flower gardens cushioned graveled pathways.
A few flowers still bloomed this late in autumn, though holly bushes and low evergreens lent good color to the fading beds.
The manse was a stately three-story building of gray stone with mullioned windows.
To one side, Evan could see the parish church at the edge of the grounds, its fieldstone walls and steeple picturesque.
Ahead, the glassy surface of the loch mirrored dusky twilight, and a row of mountain peaks in the distance were misty purple in the twilight.
“Shall I offer congratulations?” Arthur asked quietly. “Or is it done under duress?”
Evan huffed. “You can. The decision is sincere, if quick. Thank you for being here.”
“Wouldn’t miss it, friend. Miss MacConn is charming. I wish you happiness. So her family demanded marriage, given the circumstances. Well, I was there, I saw the makings of a scandal. But you are a steady fellow unlikely to make such a mistake.”
“I appreciate that. Though I see now I am not quite trusted in this glen. I haven’t spent enough time here, and my father’s deeds hold strong in memory.”
“Unfortunate, that.” Arthur grunted.
Evan grunted too in agreement. Fitzgibbon was a pleasant fellow, a good decade older, unmarried; a professor of geology, he studied glacial formations and mountainous land masses, and was a climbing enthusiast. Evan met him in a climbing club, and they had formed a friendship.
Last year, on a climbing holiday with Fitzgibbon and others in the Swiss Alps, Evan had felt such exhilaration being so far above the world that it had erased some of the grief of the bridge collapse, and he had gone on to tackle mountains in Wales and Scotland.
Returning to Glen Shee for family and estate matters, he had wanted to try himself on the slopes of the Torridon mountains, whose high inclines touched the glen.
“If it is a marriage of convenience,” Arthur mused, “don’t think too much, just get on with it. It is the only way I could be persuaded to marry. I like my freedom.”
“I’ve always wanted a wife and family, and it is high time I did something about it. When this…chance, this fine lass, came along, I saw that clearly.”
“The timing is deuced awkward, though. Climbing club and all. They have decided to come up here.”
“Blast it, I nearly forgot about the Scottish Alpine Climbing Club,” Evan muttered. “I agreed to host them at Kildonan when they planned to mountaineer in the Torridons. You had word from my cousin Jemima?”
“Aye. She wrote to you as well, but it may be waiting for you in Edinburgh or at Kildonan castle. Your cousin will buttonhole you on your promise to house her group. Miss Jemima Murray is a force of nature, I tell you. She has organized a hillwalking and mountaineering tour of the Highlands, and she intends to bring the group here soon.”
“Good Lord. When?”
“A few days. They were likely delayed by the same poor weather that caught you all unawares,” Fitz said, “but they will arrive at Kildonan soon, I expect. Thankfully they missed the trouble of your disappearance and so on. Your cousin would be beside herself.”
“She would,” Evan said wryly. “You’ll stay to join them?”
“Of course. You’ll be free to do the same, I hope?”
“I plan to, but—it would not be right for me to desert my, uh, bride so soon.”
“Bring her along. She looks strong and capable. Highland girls are avid hillwalkers,” Arthur said. “Tsk, this marriage business is difficult. Did you try to apologize and offer the family some funds? Just a thought.”
“Good God, Arthur! I would never do that. Besides, I am the earl of this region and she is the minister’s daughter. Every Highlander in this glen would despise me.”
“Miserable business,” Arthur commented.
“She saved my life. If not for her, I might have died on that mountainside.”
“I did come back for you,” Arthur defended.
“I know. Thank you for organizing the search party.”
“Good for you to wed, I suppose. An earl needs an heir and so on.”
Evan shrugged. “There is a provision in Father’s will concerning some rights to certain properties that increase if I marry and produce an heir.”
“Aha, hence the hurry,” Arthur said.
“Not at all. I can marry anytime to gain those rights, and they are minor, so it is not an issue. I do feel rather driven to go through with this, though. And I am usually a reserved sort.” He laughed. “I have an odd sense that I must do this.”
“It is chivalric, which fits you. And the girl is quite fine. She’ll do.”
“Aye, she’ll do.” Evan drew a breath and stopped to look up at the stars in the twilight sky. She was much more than fine and suitable. He could not say quite why yet; he just knew it.
“Look at the time.” Arthur popped his watch open. “You’d best get ready.”
“There’s little for me to do now. My sister brought me fresh clothing, which will do nicely for the ceremony.
” He indicated what he wore—a kilt in dark green and black, crossed with thin red and white lines; a good shirt, creamy neckcloth, black coat and black waistcoat.
“She found my Highland kit among my things at Kildonan and brought them. So I am ready. Go ahead, I’ll be along soon. ”
“Think, sir. You still have time to get out of this,” Arthur drawled, waving as he left.
Evan walked down a slope to stand near the loch, its dark, glassy surface reflecting the dark profile of the hills and peaks in the distance. Watching the water lap cold and clear near his black boots, he blew out a long breath.
He was about to make a wedding promise to a girl he scarcely knew.
And yet he felt this was right. He owed her his life, and took that debt seriously.
But the urge to marry her went deeper than that.
An earl needed a countess, but that was not it.
He wanted a wife, a permanent home, a family in this glen. That was part of what drove the urge.