Chapter Twenty-One #2
He said it so gently that she felt sure he suspected that something had happened between her and Aedan. “I do not know. And Edgar will be here any day.”
“Then you have a decision to make, Chrissy.”
She tilted her head. “What do you mean?”
“I think you know what I mean, princess.” He took her arm and guided her toward the library door. “And now, out you go. I must make some drawings from these books, and then meet Amy for a modeling session. And you have a good deal to do, too.”
“We are still clearing stones in the stone house on the hill. It’s true that Uncle Walter will be happy to know I may have found proof of his theories about Celtic Scotland.
But I am not sure that the hillside proves any of his theories about King Arthur.
I will have to tell him that too,” she went on.
“It does seem to be a Pictish site and an important discovery. But there is no indication of anything more—well, magical than that.”
He smiled. “But you did find magic here, I think.”
“The ancient site is an exciting find, but it hasn’t yielded anything extraordinary.”
“I’m not talking about the hillside.”
She felt herself blush. “What then?” she asked warily.
“I am not blind, my dear, even if I am focused on my work when you are posing, Chrissy. There is something magical for you here, and for the laird, too. I’ve done my best to encourage it.”
“You rogue! Now I see it, changing our poses, leaving us alone!”
“I thought you knew, but you are both distracted when you are together. You scarcely notice I am there while I nudge you along.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Look through my drawings, my dear, and you will see for yourself. Your laird is in love.”
She frowned. “I’m not so sure of that.”
“Ask him when he returns. He will confess if he is an honest man, and I think he is.”
“There is a curse at Dundrennan—”
“I have heard about that. But love conquers all, so they say. Be sure to find out before you leave, hey?” He drew her to the door. “Now, please ask Gunnie to send a maid to the dining room with tea and breakfast, if you will. I have work to do, and I am starving.” He winked and closed the door.
*
A blazing September sunset illuminated the city of Edinburgh, touching fire to countless windows, reddening brick and stone, highlighting the rugged outline of the Castle on its volcanic hill.
Aedan stood in Dr. MacBain’s house watching the sky from the front window, hands shoved in pockets as he waited for Dora and Effie to finish their consult.
Aedan gazed at the Castle on its high, black rock, and could just glimpse the long slope of the High Street, along with ribbons of side streets crammed with buildings, and carriages moving back and forth.
In some places, laundry hung like pale, tiny tiles, and people bustled about like ants, up and down the inclines that defined much of the city.
“A lovely view,” his sister said.
He turned to see Mary MacBride MacBain enter the drawing room where he stood.
Her wide-skirted gown in a dark-chocolate satin made look even more slender.
She glanced toward the closed door of Connor’s examining room, where Dora and Effie were closeted with her husband, and then joined Aedan at the window.
“I love the city at sunset. The colors are so vibrant and the silhouette of the castle is so powerful, watching over all.”
“Almost as beautiful as a Highland sunset.”
“You always preferred that.” She tucked her hand into his elbow. “It’s good to see you, Aedan, and I’m so glad you brought Dora.”
“Does Connor think he can help her?”
“I think so. He’ll explain when he’s done examining her. And so was good of you to offer to pay her expenses. That’s the generous, warmhearted wee brother I know.”
He shrugged. “I haven’t changed. Still your wee brother.”
She laughed, then angled to study his face. “Oh, I think you have changed. For such a long time, you have kept others away and built a wall around yourself, especially after Neil and then Elspeth died. Then Father went, and your wall grew higher and thicker. But I think you’re breaking out of it.”
“I have done that to some extent, I suppose,” he admitted.
“I haven’t seen you for a while, but you seem different. I hoped perhaps you might have found someone. Only that would soften you. Is it Amy? Or perhaps Dora?”
He huffed, shook his head. “I care for both of them, but neither of them has stolen my heart.” It belonged to Christina, but he was not about to tell his sister. It was difficult enough to acknowledge it to himself.
“Well, you’ve changed for the better, my dear. Last time you were here, you were brusque and rumbling like a bear disturbed in its den.”
“You might feel that way too, if you were at Dundrennan with Amy and Aunt Lill going full bore with tradesmen and work crew and the whole place draped in tartan and whatnot,” he drawled.
Mary laughed. “I’m sure you have little patience with that!”
He smiled faintly and watched purple streaks in the sunset fire. “I built a wall around me for a reason, and you know why. I felt as if Elspeth’s death, and Neil’s too, were my fault in a way.” He was surprised how easy that was to say, after carrying it for years.
“You had nothing to do with either tragedy, Aedan!”
“I should have gone to war when Neil did.”
“You were the levelheaded one who stayed home with our ailing father. You saved him in a way. He had energy for the house and estate with you there. If anything, Neil’s death is partly on my hands,” she added.
He drew back to look at her. “Why on earth do you say that?”
“You know they brought Neil into the field hospital where I was working as a nurse in those months. I had only met Connor recently, and we had a fierce argument, silly as it seems now, over bandage supplies. He demanded more and I insisted we had no way of acquiring more. And then Neil came in with others who were wounded, and I could do nothing to save him, could scarcely make him comfortable. Connor did his utmost to tend his wounds—but Neil died. If it was anyone’s fault—I was too late, tending to other men before I got to him.
Before I saw he was even there.” She caught her breath.
Aedan put his arm around her. “You did your best. It was in God’s hands. We cannot change these things. You know that.”
“As for Elspeth,” she went on, “it was not because of Dundrennan’s curse. It was illness, just a devastating and fast illness. Even if it coincided with your becoming heir to Dundrennan after Neil died—that is not what caused her illness or death.”
He sighed. “I’ve always wondered.”
“Of course. But you are pragmatic in most things. Surely you realize it was only coincidence. And besides, you were not laird then. You were the heir.”
“Not then,” he said slowly. “But I am now, and so I have to be careful how I—”
“So there is someone!”
“Even so, I cannot risk that dreadful curse ruining—something that could be good.”
“What if you are wrong?” She pressed his arm. “Sometimes we hold on to pain and fear because it is more familiar than the unknown. We can let that go. Miracles do happen.”
He was silent for a moment, thinking, hoping. Then he nodded. “You are always the steady, wise one.” He kissed the top of her head. “Miracles, is it? I wish that were the case.”
“Maybe it is. Now, will you tell me—”
“I will not.”
“Then tell me the state of things at Dundrennan. Will the house be refurbished by year’s end, as Father’s will stipulated?”
“It might be,” he said. “It is looking rather marvelous.”
“I thought you hated chintz.”
He grinned. “I’m growing more fond of it. And the mural in the dining room promises to be stunning. Father would have been very pleased with it. Mr. Blackburn—John Blackburn—is a gifted artist with a real sense of that legend.”
“I cannot wait to see it. What about the old wall you discovered on Cairn Drishan?”
“It could be the location of an ancient settlement. Mrs. Blackburn—John’s sister, as I explained earlier—has not yet made her determination. When she does, the museum will send others to investigate.”
She tilted her head. “Mrs. Blackburn? You’ve mentioned her more than once today.”
“Aye, Christina Blackburn, the antiquarian. She has been digging in the hill, finding some very intriguing things, while her brother, who came with her, has taken over the abandoned mural project.”
“You also mentioned that she is posing for the briar princess for the mural. She must be lovely to be chosen for that, even if it is her brother’s work.”
“Stunning, rather,” he murmured. “Did I mention that I am posing for the prince?”
She laughed. “Now I must see this painting! And meet the stunning Mrs. Blackburn. Did she talk you into posing? However did she convince you—” She peered at him. “Aedan Arthur MacBride! Are you smitten with Mrs. Blackburn?”
“Smitten? Hardly.”
“Stop hedging. Is she the one who has changed you so?”
“Oh, I doubt I have cha—” He stopped. He did feel different. Lighter within, made of finer, kinder stuff in thought and emotion, and he was finding it easier to show how much he cared about others. He laughed more, too, felt more relaxed, less burdened.
But for the curse of Dundrennan that loomed over what he truly wanted—a life with Christina, free to love her, free to be happy.
The sunset glowed through the window and he felt a touch of that incandescence within himself. Love filled him, and he could not deny it any longer. He must face it, though it held a risk. It was too late now to turn away from that.
“Ah, here they are,” he said almost in relief when a door opened and voices came through the hallway.
“Miss MacDonald, Mrs. MacDonald, please come in!” Mary said, welcoming Dora and Effie into the drawing room. Connor MacBain, tall and fair haired, followed.
“Thank you for seeing Dora, Connor,” he said as the doctor approached.
Blond and handsome, looking more like a Viking marauder than a reserved and rather shy physician, Connor smiled. “There is good news. It’s quite possible I can help her.”
As the women chatted—Dora began telling Mary what the doctor had said—Aedan leaned to hear Connor, who indicated he wished to speak privately.
“She has cataracts of the eyes, unusual in a girl so young and otherwise healthy.”
Aedan nodded. “Can you treat the condition?”
“Generally cataracts are treated by couching, that is slipping the tissue downward with a probe. It takes a very careful hand,” Connor explained.
“I have had good success in removing clouded tissue with delicate use of tiny instruments. The operation does require ether, which has risks. I explained all to her and she is considering it.”
“If anyone can help her, it is you,” Aedan said.
“She could do very well with it, I think. She’s young and strong and deserves this chance. Otherwise, she will lose her sight almost entirely.”
“Dear God,” Aedan murmured.
Dora came toward them. “Dr. MacBain, I would like to try this,” she said. The sunset light turned her red hair to gleaming bronze and shone over her strangely veiled eyes. The pretty glow in her face, Aedan realized, was hope. “But it is beyond our means just now.”
“If you want this, Dora,” Aedan said, “everything you need will be provided for.” Dora smiled, and turned as her grandmother and Mary MacBain joined them by the window.
“Ye’re a dear, Sir Aedan, always were that. And lately that kind heart o’ yours shines a bit brighter than before. I’m glad to see it.”
“I was just telling him the same thing, Effie,” Mary said. “He claims it’s stuff and nonsense. But something has happened to change our grumpy lad for the better.”
“Oh aye, and about time, too. Now, tell me,” Effie said, pointing toward the gathering twilight, “is it too late to get some of that fruit ice cream I was promised for coming all the way to the city?”
Aedan laughed. “We could all hurry out to see if the shop is still open. We have something to celebrate for Miss Dora.”
“And for you, too, Aedan MacBride, if you would only admit it,” his sister said.
“Oh, but I like my secret,” he murmured, heading for the door.