Chapter Twenty-Six #2
Grant hurled her aside, beginning to rise, but Evan heaved himself toward Grant. As they grappled viciously at the cliff edge, Catriona lunged to grab Evan’s coat and pull him back. But she missed, and he shoved her out of the way.
They were flailing now, punching, wrestling so violently she could not come close as they struggled only inches from the cliff edge. The wind howled and spun around them, adding its strength to the fight.
Grunting, locked in a wicked embrace, they rolled again, hands taut at necks, faces grimacing. Grant shifted beneath Evan and tried to hurl him into the gap.
Another gust, powerful and sudden, shoved so hard that as Grant kicked at Evan, the momentum drove him halfway off the edge. He grabbed, found a wedge of rock, held on.
Evan lunged to drag him back up, but Grant took a fistful of his jacket, and both men careened over the edge into the dark, gaping cleft. Catriona screamed, her heart falling with them. She crawled to the edge, peered.
The claw held, still attached to the rope around Evan’s waist. He dangled several feet below the edge.
Kenneth Grant clung to his coat, legs whipping in midair.
Grasping the taut, straining rope with one hand, Evan snatched at Grant, trying to hang on to the man who had tried to kill him, and whose struggles now could kill them both.
“Get the other rope and claw!” Evan shouted.
Scrambling away, Catriona snatched Evan’s knapsack from the slope where it lay. Finding the coiled rope and claw already tied together, she ran back to the edge, hands shaking fiercely.
“Fix it somehow—drop it down,” Evan gasped as he fought to keep Grant’s thrashing weight from dragging on the rope and loosening the claw that barely held.
Shaking, Catriona found a fist-sized rock, then lay down to hoist herself as far over the edge as she dared. Pounding with the rock, she forced the claw into a crevice beside the first hook. It took hold in the rock face and seemed to grip almost instantly.
“The rope!” Evan called. She spooled the attached rope over the edge. Evan heaved and somehow swung far enough to grasp the new rope. He offered it to Kenneth Grant, helping him take hold of the second dangling rope.
Kenneth lunged for it, letting go of Evan’s coat. At the same time, he kicked Evan hard in the stomach. The force of his movement jerked his own hands loose, and his grip on jacket and new rope broke.
He fell, sailing downward, spread-eagled, strangely silent.
Catriona looked away, hiding her face in her hands. Moments later, Evan set his forearms on the rock beside her, surged up, and knelt. Then he reached for her.
“I understand it now, Catriona,” Evan said later, as they approached the old fairy bridge together and stopped above it. “This has been hard indeed, but I think I know. Come here, love.”
He pulled her close, and they stood gazing over the long glen, with its high hills, rusty in autumn, its water sparkling even under gray skies; sheep grazed the slopes like lazy dabs of pale paint on a canvas; and the castle sat like a jewel at the foot of a hill.
Soft mist floated over all of Kildonan and Glen Shee. The whole was dreamlike and beautiful.
Catriona sighed, leaning on Evan’s shoulder. She felt stunned, still in shock, nursing a deep, hurtful sadness in her heart for a man she had once called friend. They had left him deep in the shadows of the Black Notch, clearly dead.
“What about Mr. Grant?” she asked then, glancing up at the dark mountain slopes.
“As we talked about on the way down—I will go back with Finlay and others to fetch him up and home again properly. It was an unfortunate accident,” he said. “None need know what happened up there, if that is what you want.”
She was not entirely sure what she wanted. But forgiveness was necessary, and would surely come in time.
“We should keep it to ourselves,” she finally said. He tightened his arm around her and rested his head against hers for a moment.
“Nearly home now,” he said. “Just a broken bridge left to cross.”
“Soon to be fixed.” She looked at him. “This is a hard day, aye. But you said—you understand now. What did you mean?”
“I know why Finlay did what he did, and why you helped.” His expression was somber. The wind lifted his thick dark hair, and she saw a great bruise on his brow. His eyes were beautiful, deep and brilliant, and so sad.
She loved him so. The feeling brimmed and filled and expanded so much that she could hardly express it.
The flow of it had a force that nearly hurt, as if her heart and soul would have to grow just to give it space.
Reaching up, she brushed her fingers over Evan’s new bruise, and then touched the old one under his hair, where he had hit his head the first time she had met him. The bump was gone. Time had moved on.
“I am glad you understand,” she said. “Finlay felt he had no choice but to help them.”
“I know. And I want to apologize.”
A sudden lift in her heart made her feel as if she had wings. She smiled, shook her head. “I should have told you about the tenants. But I thought you would be angry, and that Finlay would be punished. But—I did not know you well.”
“We both know each other much better now, vastly better.” He gave her a bemused smile, and his eyes sparkled.
Shifting, he cupped her face in his hands, the cradle of his touch warm and good.
“I was not angry about the tenants, my lass. I just felt—I just hoped you would trust me. I hoped you would know I am not like my father.”
“I know that now. And I am the one who is sorry it took me so long to realize it.”
Evan watched her, hazel eyes beautiful, gaze filled with quiet power. Feeling a rush of relief and more—forgiveness, trust, love—she smiled.
“Kildonan,” she said. “I love you desperately.”
He leaned his forehead to hers. “Catriona Bhàn,” he whispered. “I should call you Catriona Dana, my brave lass. My tall, fair, never plain, lovely lass. I love you.”
She caught her breath, for his words exquisitely matched the feeling that poured through her like warm sunlight, no matter the cool air and looming rain clouds. Her heart blew open like a rose with unexpected joy, and tears stung her eyes.
Evan kissed her gently. The wind swept over them, fluttering her hair, her plaid, fluttering his hair and coat.
They stood, connected and tender, lost in each other, heedless of wind and the first spatters of rain.
She felt still and strong and peaceful in his arms, certain of love, sure of everything in her life.
“Oh,” he said, reaching into his waistcoat, then inside his shirt to pull out a cloth bundle. “I nearly forgot I had this. But it pinches, and perhaps you would like to carry it.”
She cupped her hands for the wad of cloth. “What is it?”
“I hope it is what you’ve been looking for, lass.”
Opening the cloth, she saw a jumble of crystals, tiny raw beauties in the bowl of her hands. In the center, winking, lay a white crystal. Captured inside the gleaming wand was a pristine pink heart.
“Oh!” She picked it up, turned it in the silvery, rainy light. “Oh, Evan, you found it! Thank you!” Holding the wrapped crystals in one hand, she threw an arm around his neck and pressed her brow to his bristled jaw.
He dipped his head to kiss her. “Take it to Mother Flora so she can teach you all she knows.”
“I will. But—if you are still planning to leave here—” She glanced up. “If you want to leave the glen, I will go with you.”
He leaned back to look at her. “You would?”
She nodded, tears pooling in her eyes. “I will. I love this place and it is part of me, but—you are in my heart now. Like this crystal, see. One is within the other, and they cannot be apart.” She plucked the crystal wand from the rest. Its miraculous pink heart glowed in the shadowy light.
“If you must live in Edinburgh, I will go too.”
“Love,” he said, “I do need to be in the city and elsewhere at time. But I have decided to stay in Kildonan and Glen Shee most of the time, but for work.”
“Bridges and such need your time and attention too.” She smiled.
“They do, if my bonny countess does not mind.”
“Not at all. Build as many bridges as you like. And repair some too.” She laughed.
“Like this one? Oh aye, as soon as possible.” He kissed her head. “I want you and our little ones—as many as you like, as many as heaven sees fit to give us—to be safe. And I want all of our tenants to be safe too. As many tenants as you and your brother and father can bring back here.”
She gave a half sob, half laugh, and turned into his deep embrace.
“Let’s go home, love,” he said.
“Be careful crossing this old bridge,” she said as they walked toward it.
“Aye, well.” He stepped on its first stones and took her hand. “What was that fairy charm again?”
She laughed and told him the charm. As they reached the gap in the center of the arch, he repeated it. Then he picked her up in his arms and stepped over, skirting the gap in one long stride.
“Now,” he said, kissing her, “now I believe in magic.”
She returned the kiss. “So do I, sir.”