Chapter Seventeen #2
She laughed, aware that she looked like a crofter’s wife rather than a countess—and yet that did not seem to matter to most of these folks, Lady Wetherstone excepted. “Thank you, sir. Kildonan mentioned you were a friend. I have always admired your father’s work, by the way.”
“Thank you. He would have been most pleased to know that a true Highland lass valued his work.”
“The views from up here are stunning!” Jemima said then. “We should take a picnic up this hill tomorrow. It would be exhilarating. What do you think, Lady Kildonan? I understand you are native to this glen, so I assume you know your way around!”
“I do, a bit,” she replied. “Picnicking would be lovely if the weather stays good and the winds are not too brisk. Once you climb up, it is quite possible to walk from peak to peak across the ridges before you go back to the glen.”
“Perhaps Lady Kildonan can point out the most interesting climbs here,” Emily Murray said. “We like a bit of a challenge.”
“Of course,” Catriona said.
“You will find plenty of challenges here in Glen Shee, Cousin,” Evan added.
“I hear some of the higher peaks have not been conquered. Does that include Ben Alligin and Ben Shee?” Jemima asked. “I have been consulting the most recent maps with elevations.”
“I could not say. We do not see many climbing clubs here.” Catriona did not want to add that her older brother had fallen to his death on Ben Shee. She would trust Evan to caution these enthusiasts on the reality of climbing the glen’s high and rugged slopes.
Trust Evan, she thought then. Aye, she so wanted that. Perhaps it was time.
“You and I will conquer these lofty heights, Miss Jemima,” Arthur said gallantly.
Jemima laughed. “Certainly! Evan will come along, with Emily and the Wilkies. Sir Aedan must leave tomorrow, but Lord and Lady Wetherstone may climb with us. Evan, can you go, even though you were just married? And will your bride come along too? We could certainly use a knowledgeable guide. I am most eager to try Ben Shee.”
“Oh, I would never claim to be a climbing guide,” Catriona said.
“I will go, of course,” Evan said. “And my wife is most welcome. Catriona?”
She looked out over the beautiful expanse of the mountains that spread beyond the glen. The afternoon sun was warm, but the November wind swept chilly and insistent against her skirts. Her gaze settled on the dominant peak where her brother Erik had died.
Ben Shee was not a mountain she ever wanted to climb. But Mother Flora had tasked her to find a fairy crystal up there. She had to brave Ben Shee’s slopes for that, or her work with the songs of the Highlands would be incomplete.
But her quest to find the fairy wand would take her up that dangerous slope with Evan. The pull of that decided her.
She nodded. “I will climb Ben Shee with you.”
*
All was quiet that evening as Evan made his way through darkened hallways lit by the occasional oil lamp.
He turned them down as he went, seeing to his own home, not leaving it for the butler.
His solitary footsteps echoed on stone in the corridors of the central keep, despite the carpets strewn there.
As he entered the wing that housed his private rooms with Catriona, his footsteps were muffled in the modest, more modern dimensions of the long hallway.
Pausing at Catriona’s door, he was tempted to knock. Instead, he listened to the peaceful quiet, imagining he could hear her breathing as she lay asleep.
He missed her. Missed talking to her privately, something they could not do with so many others in the dining room sharing a simple Highland meal of mutton stew, brown bread, cheese, and oatcakes, followed by a sugar-crusted apple cake.
In her role as countess and hostess now, Catriona proposed that the ladies retire early, as they would be tired after a day of traveling and hillwalking.
Evan had felt touched by her gracious manner and proud of his new countess as the ladies followed her from the room to go to their various bedrooms in the castle’s old tower and two wings.
Evan remained to share port and cigars with Arthur, Reverend Wilkie, Lord Wetherstone, and Sir Aedan MacBride. Wilkie, who had authored a few books on travel and climbing adventures, had a knack for storytelling and kept them all entertained.
Later, relaxed with port warming his blood and laughter lifting his heart, Evan went upstairs at midnight to stand in the silent corridor outside Catriona’s bedroom. Again he fought the urge to knock. The hour was late, and he did not know the state of his marriage.
But all he wanted was to go to her and gather her into his arms in that big, deep, comfortable bed.
All he wanted was to recapture the night in the hut when they had held each other, caring more about the other’s welfare than their own needs, and letting that develop into something deeper, something more.
That night had been a crucible of sorts, with compassion and danger merging into a sense of love.
He had felt it linger in him, grow in him, ever since.
Standing at her door, not sure of his status yet, he knew he was not the man he had been on the day he had climbed that mountain in the mist and had fallen, to be found and rescued by the angel who slept on the other side of the door.
An angel of fire and honey, sweet, strong, and unpredictable.
As for himself, he knew now that love could spark quickly, unexpectedly. He knew passion could flare, fueled by caring and the need to survive, within hours. He knew now that such a quickfire could light embers that he was sure would burn and last a lifetime.
He hoped she knew that too. Yet all hung in the balance, and he had to be patient, had to let her decide. If he expressed the intensity of his feelings and influenced her, if she then agreed, he would never know for sure what she truly wanted. He would wait.
Later, in his own bed, he began to doze and felt that curious, subtle sense of falling that sleep sometimes brings. This time, he realized it was more than surrendering to the power of sleep. He was falling in love, plummeting fast as the power of it overtook him.