Chapter Ten #2
Was it the possibility of children someday?
If he became a father, he would treat them differently than his father had done.
Though Evan and his sister had grown up in fine homes, and had been given good educations, they had almost no good paternal influence.
He wanted to be sure that his wife and children felt safe, valued, and loved. It was a simple and strong need.
In some ways, he realized then, Catriona might need a loving family circle too. Perhaps that drew him to her, the need to establish something good and lasting in life. And the girl had a compelling magic that he could not explain.
He felt strangely calm and determined about his choice. Something had woken in him when he had held Catriona in his arms, deeper than need and lust in the moment.
But after the marriage ceremony, he thought, he would need to show, convince her, to stay and to trust him. He knew it would take more than an exchange of vows to keep his countess.
*
What did one take when leaving one’s home forever?
Catriona looked around her small bedroom at some of her favorite things: a painted landscape of the Torridon Mountains; a coverlet stitched by her grandmother; shelves of books Catriona had treasured from childhood, and so much more.
She could have her things sent to Kildonan Castle, so tonight she needed only to pack what she might need for a few days. Two leather portmanteaus were nearly filled; she had packed a day gown, blouses, skirts, petticoats and underthings, shoes, nightgowns.
Nightwear. She drew a quick breath at what those implied.
Her clothes, while not many, were of good quality.
Her mother had always taught her children that quality workmanship reflected good breeding, and Highland fabrics, plaids and tweeds and wools, were excellent and beautiful. But she lacked a countess’s wardrobe.
She sighed again, unsure what life as a countess would mean.
Would it require a social life she did not want?
Or could she simply carry on as before, in a different home, with a husband, and someday a family.
That was a dream she had set aside, kept precious as a secret wish, for she had not envisioned marriage in her near future.
And the irony that her husband was earl of the glen did not escape her, when so many troubles had occurred because of his family. Added to that, she knew little about him beyond what she had learned in conversations on a snowy night.
“You can come back here anytime you want, you know,” Finlay said. “No need to pack in haste.”
She whirled. Her brother leaned in the doorway. “I’ll bring a few things and get the rest later, when I know what I want.” She set another folded nightgown into the portmanteau and picked up the leather folder holding notes about her collection of songs.
“I will bring your things later. Leave them here until you are sure.”
“I am sure. And I see I am not welcome here,” she said stiffly, fighting tears.
“They will get over the kerfuffle. And you are always welcome where I am.”
She nodded, then covered her face to stifle a sob. Finlay crossed the room and put an arm around her. “I must do this, but I do not know if it is the right thing,” she sniffled. “He is the earl—you know what that means.”
“I do. But he’s no ogre, your earl. Beauty is not being sent to the Beast. Kildonan seems a good man, despite all.” He patted her shoulder.
“I think so. Hope so. We do not really know him, or what he wants for the glen.”
“You two looked to be rather good friends in that hut. I had the feeling then that you had found a little happiness. I was glad about that. I understand why Father and Aunt Judith demanded marriage, but it was unfairly done. The earl acted chivalrously, to his credit.”
“You think so? Not out of obligation?” She looked up at him.
“I don’t think so. But as you say, we do not know him yet. And I have my own concerns about that.”
“I know you do. And I am not ready to be any sort of countess, especially not of Kildonan. I’m the plain one in this family. Marriage was never intended for me.”
“You deserve happiness as much as anyone. Though marrying the earl does throw our wee scheme awry. You can hardly assist now, though we had planned it.” Finlay frowned. “The countess could never take that sort of risk.”
She remembered Kenneth Grant’s threats, nearly forgotten in the commotion of the day. “Finlay, perhaps you should stop doing this.”
“I cannot. I will not. I have a family ready to be fetched from the Glasgow tenements to come back here. And I’m trying to locate some of the MacLeod clan. I won’t stop now, even if it means I must do it on my own.”
“We thought the new earl might never come up here, thought he cared less than his own father about matters here. But if he stays in glen, he could ask some difficult questions. He is very smart, Finlay. I do not want you to take the risk.”
“It could be a blessing in disguise.”
“How?”
“You can ensure that Kildonan trusts what his factor does without asking too many questions. Then I could continue to move families into cottages in the remote hills. Places Kildonan might never go and would not be the wiser. I can hire them to do shepherding and shearing and so on, and your earl will be even wealthier. And with luck, he will not much care how that happened.”
“This one is not like his father,” she said. “He will pay attention to the estate, and shortly discover what you want to keep hidden.”
“You will have to charm him past suspicion. But you have to stay safely out of this. So you cannot help me, and you cannot know anything about it.”
She frowned. “Evan and I scarcely know each other. I am not sure what to do.”
“He will listen to you.” He smiled. “Just gain me some time to finish what I’ve begun.”
“I can try.” With a sigh, she added more things to the portmanteau.
Finlay went to the door. “See you downstairs for the ceremony. All will be well.”
“Will it?” she asked softly as he left.
No one knew what Kenneth Grant had said and done today. She worried that her marriage would spur him to carry out his threat to expose Finlay, fretted for her brother and the Highlanders he was bringing home to the glen.
Aware this could all go wrong, she felt a heavy lump of fear in the pit of her stomach.