Chapter Nineteen
“To a grand picnic on the heights!” Lord Wetherstone held his wineglass high, sunlight glinting like fire through the stained glass red hue.
Seated on a sun-warmed boulder beside Evan, Catriona raised her glass with the others seated on blankets or boulders.
They had shared a luncheon of cold meats and cheeses, bread rolls, apples, sugary cakes, and more, served with lemonade and wine on pretty china and glassware with plaid linens, all packed by Mrs. Baird and the kitchen staff.
Two gillies from Kildonan had carried the baskets up the wooded and heathered slopes to a high plateau in a corrie on a mountainous slope.
Open to the wind, the natural bowl of rock and turf lay partly in sun and partly in the shadow of a mountain.
After two hours of climbing long, rocky, pine-covered slopes, Jemima Murray had spied this spot, perfect for a picnic where they could rest and admire the beautiful views.
The climb had been steep but not difficult, especially with the help of stout walking sticks and the two gillies at hand to help wherever needed.
Catriona sipped a cup of lemonade while Evan, beside her, chatted with Aedan MacBride.
Feeling content, she half listened as she gazed down over the glen and thought about what she would have been doing just now, had she not married Evan Mackenzie so quickly.
She might have been at Glenachan, slicing vegetables for stew or overseeing the washing of bed linens.
She might have escaped for the afternoon to walk with Morag MacLeod collecting knitted scarves or learning a new song.
At night, she might have worked at the small desk in her bedroom by candlelight, transcribing music and lyrics from Gaelic to English for her song collection.
Then she would have climbed into her comfortable but lonely bed, just the Plain Girl of Glenachan.
But today she sat in sunshine overlooking a beautiful landscape, sharing fine company and excellent food. She was a lady, a countess, with servants and a grand home, enjoying leisure time with her husband, an earl. A dream come true, yet far more complex than she could have imagined.
Evan sat beside her, his shoulder pressed to hers, like a secret comfort.
His quiet voice and laughter thrilled her.
The sight of his classic profile and the mossy-green flash in his hazel eyes made her melt inside.
She yearned for this to last, and yet she was not sure if it could—and her big, comfortable bed was still lonely.
She watched him as he spoke with Aedan MacBride.
Reverend and Mrs. Wilkie sat with Emily Murray and the Wetherstones, while Arthur Fitzgibbon walked with Jemima Murray, examining the rock formations in the corrie.
He reached out now and then to assist her, and seemed to be giving a lecture of sorts.
Catriona smiled to see it. Meanwhile, the gillies, Davey and Allan, were putting away the picnic things in two baskets.
“Look there, Fitz has cornered Cousin Jemima,” Evan murmured, leaning toward Catriona.
He gestured toward Fitzgibbon, who stood waving an arm about as he spoke to Jemima.
“Sounds like he’s explaining his theories on the movement of the glaciers that shaped Scotland’s mountains.
Our Fitz, my lass,” he went on, leaning his shoulder to hers, “is adamant that Skye and Lewis tore away from the northwest mainland eons ago.”
“It does make sense, given the sort of rock found only in those regions, even though sea and land separate now,” Aedan commented.
“It must be the Lewisian gneiss that appears on Lewis and Skye and the Torridons,” Catriona said, “with its distinctive striations of black and white.” She smiled mischievously.
“Professor Fitzgibbon has been working his charms on my bride,” Evan drawled.
“He sat beside me at supper last night.”
“I hope Miss Murray’s interest in mountains runs to geology lectures,” Aedan mused.
“She seems spellbound,” Evan said.
“Sir Aedan,” Catriona said, “do your interests run to geology as well as climbing?”
“More to geology, as I need to know a good bit about rock for my work. I do some climbing, though not as much as Kildonan. I’m a civil engineer, building highways, mostly.”
“Oh, like my husband?”
“We studied together at university, but took different directions,” Evan said.
“I was interested in roads and pathways, while Evan was fascinated by the principles of structure and the beauty of bridges. Another friend, Dougal Stewart, designs lighthouses. He’s keen on taking a risk. So is Evan. Daredevils, those two, in their work.”
“Risk does not appeal to you, sir?”
“Oh, I prefer a steady and predictable life. I like to think I am reliable and determined, though my wife says I can be a dull fellow. Though I suspect she rather likes the dull, reliable sort now.” His blue eyes sparkled.
“Do not listen to him,” Evan said. “He will blast through any mountain that gets in the way of his reliable determination.”
“Blast!” Catriona said.
“Evan does that too, when it’s needed. In fact, I came up to Glen Shee not to climb, but to meet with him about a construction project. And to see what sort of mischief Kildonan has found for himself up here.”
“A wee bit of mischief,” Evan said, grinning at Catriona, who laughed.
Aedan grinned too. “I am happy for you both. Though I admit, it was a surprise.”
“It was,” Catriona said, glancing at Evan.
“I’m sorry you could not bring Christina with you,” Evan said. “Speaking of surprises, you swore never to risk matrimony. Then suddenly you were married.”
“Change is healthy, they say, even for those who resist it.”
“It looks good on you. When do you head back home?”
“After I go out to Skye. The Parliamentary Commission asked me to look at some territory where a new road is needed. Dougal is up there building a lighthouse on the northwest coast, so we will both be on Skye for a while. We could use your help, Evan.”
“Aye, so you said. And Dougal recently wrote to me about his new lighthouse. He wants me to come out and dive with him to examine the underwater foundation.”
“You would dive in a cold Hebridean sea?” Catriona asked, surprised.
He nodded. “The equipment is protective. And diving skills are useful for building bridges and lighthouses where there is a considerable depth of water. I often go down the deep to evaluate a geological bed.”
“Truly, it sounds quite dangerous,” Catriona said.
He lifted a shoulder. “At times, but we are careful.”
“I saw Dougal recently when he and his wife visited Dundrennan,” Aedan said. “He’s married to Lady Strathlin, if you know her,” he added to Catriona.
A Highland girl was unlikely to know such a wealthy lady, yet Catriona had heard of her. “I know the name. She was very generous to Highlanders in the west who were forced from their homes.” In the moment, she could not meet Evan’s steady gaze.
“Lovely lass, very approachable,” Evan said. “No one would guess she has an enormous fortune. She’s very private about it. She and Dougal are a good match, each doing what they love, Meg with her charities, Dougal with his lighthouses, yet they are devoted to each other.”
Devoted. She felt a pang of something—envy, yearning. “Building lighthouses and bridges takes courage. It’s admirable work.”
“They are very good at what they do, and they like a touch of danger,” Aedan said.
Evan huffed a laugh. “Admit it. You take great pleasure in blasting through hillsides,” he told Aedan.
“And Dougal enjoys the sort of mythic struggle of putting up a lighthouse in a raging sea. Bridge work is a bit tamer. Though it was rather satisfying to make a few repairs on the wee bridge yesterday.”
“You made repairs yourself?” Aedan asked.
“There’s a small old stone bridge in the glen that’s in poor condition. A hazard, to be honest, but the locals insist on using it. Catriona nearly fell through a gap there.”
“Good God,” Aedan murmured.
“I was fine,” she insisted.
“She was. But it needs to be replaced.” Evan shrugged. “But tell me, Aedan, how are Christina and the little one?”
“Both in excellent health, thanks. Christina is finally finding time for her academic work again.” Aedan turned to Catriona.
“Our son was born in September. Kept us up half the night for weeks. Christina insisted on handling most of his care herself, which is admirable. The wee lad is settling in nicely now.” He beamed proudly.
“How wonderful. Your wife is fortunate to have such an understanding husband.” She looked again at Evan, tall and strong beside her, with his dark, wavy locks and hazel-green gaze, his deep voice that spun chills down her spine, his touch that conjured such a willing fire in her—so willing and magnetic that she had to force herself to stay away.
Here and now, she knew how fortunate she was, and how grateful. Her handsome husband intrigued her and attracted her. Marriage to him was a dream fulfilled. Why would she ever want that to end?
Gazing at him, she knew then, deep and true, that she did want this—his attention, his passion, his companionship.
His love, his children, and a life beside him for as long as could be.
The powerful desire sent a thrill of need straight through her, though she sat still on the sunny rock, steady and certain and smiling.
She wanted to be with him. Wanted to love him, felt it pushing against the cage of her heart like a bird that wanted to be free. If only she knew that her brother would be safe—and that Mr. Grant would leave them be.
“You two must come to Dundrennan for a peek at the wee bairn,” Aedan was saying. “Christina would love to see you. Why not spend Christmas with us? It’s just next month, if you can manage it. Dougal and Meg will visit as well.”
Evan set a hand on her forearm, his touch warm and protective. Something inside her melted. “Shall we consider it, dear?”
“It sounds lovely.” She so wished this sense of contentment, freedom, affection—and aye, love—could last forever.
*