Kissing the Countess (10 page)

He owed her an apology, and more, though he was not yet sure what to do, what to say to her. He had acted neither rationally nor gentlemanly. The damage was done. Her innocence had been intimately breached, and he was at fault for that—despite the fact that she had been curious and willing.

He scarely knew her, yet he desired her and felt bound to her. Long after he left the shieling, his heart would belong, a little, to her. No woman had ever had quite so intense an effect on him or so much natural power to drive him to madness. She had soothed him, suited him, understood him as no one ever had before, though he could not explain why.

Dipping his head, he kissed her brow. The magic still coursed between his body and hers—he could feel it like a magnet's pull. But the weather would soon clear, and the world waited for them, and all this would end.

He was exhausted, and she was asleep, and nothing needed solving quite yet. Holding her, he felt himself sliding back into dreams alongside her.

* * *

"Catriona!"

She stirred, hearing her name, thinking Evan had spoken, although the sound was oddly distant. She opened her eyes to bright morning sunlight seeping into the shadowed interior. She had slept far later than she had thought she might.

He lay beside her, his arm circling her. The warmth felt wonderful. "Evan," she whispered. "Did you call me?"

"What?" He blinked at her sleepily.

"Catriona!" The voice shouted again. "Where are you?"

Then she knew. "My father," she blurted, sitting up. "He's outside—"

"Catriona! Are you in there?"

She scrambled out of the plaid, but Evan pushed her down, pulling the wool over her. "Stay there," he murmured, getting to his feet. She reached toward him. "Stay down!" he said. "You're not dressed."

"Oh, no," she groaned, remembering that she was not. She clutched the plaid.

"Catriona!"

Then the door burst open, and pale light poured inside, silhouetting a giant of a man wearing a black suit and a bowler hat crushing a leonine mane of hair. He cast a formidable shadow as he stood gripping a long walking stick.

"Catriona," he thundered, peering into the dim interior. "Are you in here, girl?"

"Here, Papa." Heart slamming, she half sat and drew the plaid blanket to her chin. She glanced anxiously at Evan Mackenzie, who stood tall and calm beside her pallet.

"Thank the Lord! She's here!" Reverend Thomas MacConn shouted over his shoulder, waved, then crossed the threshold. He moved stiffly, using the walking stick like a cane. Four men came in after him, their large forms further blocking the light as they swept in fresh, chilly air. Catriona shivered.

"Girl, are you safe?" her father asked, striding forward. "The Lord be praised. We feared that something awful had happened again on these slopes—" He stopped, staring at Evan. "Sir," he growled. "And are you who I think you are?"

"Aye, no doubt." Evan inclined his head. "Greetings, Reverend MacConn."

"Papa, I'm fine," Catriona said hastily. "We were caught by the storm—oh, Finlay!" She greeted her older brother with relief as he came toward them. "And Mr. Grant," she greeted the third man, Kenneth Grant, the laird of an estate at the far end of the glen, who acted as the doctor in the glen. The fourth man she had never seen before. Good Lord, did her father have to bring the entire village in his search party? Soon the whole glen would know of her disgrace.

Under four gazes that registered various degrees of surprise and suspicion, she felt keen embarrassment. She sat on the floor in her chemise, her hair flowing loose. The plaid was obviously the only makeshift bed in the room, and it had clearly been shared. And the man beside her was dressed in shirtsleeves, unbuttoned vest, and trousers. Even worse, his shirt hem was untucked, his black hair mussed, and he had no boots on.

Surely the truth seemed as crystal clear as the cold morning air that poured into the shabby ruined interior. Kenneth Grant kicked the door shut behind him as if to punctuate a tone of disapproval, even anger.

As her father, brother, and the two others stared at Catriona and Evan, a few seconds felt like a slow agony.

Her father grew red in the face as he turned to Evan Mackenzie. "You, sir!" he said in English. "How is it you are here with my daughter, in a—shameful state!" It was not a question. Her father was not a man to ask, but to inform.

Evan regarded him calmly. "Reverend MacConn, I assure you there is an explanation."

"We were stranded in the storm, in the freezing cold," Catriona said. "Mr. Mackenzie was injured in a fall—"

"Injured?" Kenneth Grant asked. "I act as the physician in the glen, sir. Miss MacConn—are you unwell or hurt?"

"I'm fine," she said. "But Mr. Mackenzie—"

"It's nothing," Evan said.

"Mr. Mackenzie?" her father asked. "Is that what he told you his name was?"

She looked from him to Evan. "I do not understand."

"That is not just Mr. Mackenzie," her father said, glowering. Catriona looked at Evan in surprise. He glanced away.

"Father, they need the food and the plaidies we've brought with us." Finlay hefted a knapsack over his shoulder. "They have had a bad time of it, no doubt. First we should get them home and let Mr. Grant treat them. Later we can learn the details of their wee adventure."

Evan shoved a hand through his rumpled hair and glanced at Finlay. "Thank you, sir."

"I want the details now," her father growled.

"The important thing is that they're safe," Finlay said.

Grant nodded. "True. And if the gentleman is hurt—"

"They look hearty to me," Reverend MacConn said. He folded his arms and glared at Evan.

"Good grief, Kildonan, what happened to you?" The fourth man stepped forward. "Deuced good to see you, sir. Bad night, eh?"

"Bad enough, Fitz," Evan said quietly. "Good to see you. Miss MacConn, this is Mr. Arthur Fitzgibbon."

"I feared the worst when that storm blew in yesterday and you did not return," Fitzgibbon went on. "So I rode back through the glen and met these gentlemen, who were out searching for Miss MacConn. We had to wait until the weather cleared to come up here, though. Bad night all around, with that ice, and no picnic coming up here this morning, either. What luck to find you both together, Kildonan."

Catriona felt her heart falter as realization suddenly dawned on her. She stared up at Evan. "Kildonan?" she whispered.

"Aye," he said, his gaze on hers steady and grim. "I am Lord Kildonan."

Chapter 7

Catriona said nothing as the group carefully walked the long drover's track, which was still treacherous with ice. She avoided glancing at Evan Mackenzie—Lord Kildonan, she reminded herself bitterly—and concentrated on watching her father's progress. His old back injury made long, steep walks difficult for him now, but Thomas MacConn refused to accept her hand on his arm on the rougher parts of the terrain. His rejection of her help—and his silent but clear disapproval of her situation—hurt more than she wanted to admit.

Still silent upon reaching her home, she was swept away by her aunt, Judith Rennie, and their family friend Mrs. MacAuley, who ran the glen's only inn. Swept along on a tide of anxious cries, surrounded by the swishing black skirts of the two widows, Catriona let the women guide her upstairs to her bedroom, where a hot bath, fresh clothing, and a hot meal awaited her.

She felt Evan watching her as she walked away, but she did not glance back, although she heard him ask Arthur Fitzgibbon to ride back to Kildonan Castle to fetch Evan's sister, who Evan said should have arrived at the castle that day to meet him. So there was even more Catriona did not know—he had been at his castie for a few days, apparently, and she had not heard about it.

Leaving Evan standing in the hallway, Catriona felt drained of physical and emotional energy suddenly, as if his quiet strength had shored her up for the past twenty-four hours. Now it had been withdrawn. For her, Evan Mackenzie no longer existed as she had known him. And now that she was back in the tense and critical atmosphere of her father's manse, she felt herself pull inward protectively through silence and dull compliance.

All she wanted was to rest and to be left alone. She needed time to think about what she had done and what must come next. She felt hurt and weakened. Her father and her aunt were furious and shocked by the fact that she had spent a night alone with a man, but the greatest blow was Evan's deception, which felt like a betrayal. He was not the kind, loving stranger she had thought; nor was he a man she could dream of endlessly, later, when she felt lonely.

Instead, he was the son of the hated Earl of Kildonan and reputed to be no better himself, and she had allowed him—in fact had encouraged him wantonly—to use her.

They had shared risk, and warmth, and intimate passion, but he had not shared the truth with her. She did not know if she could forget, let alone forgive, that.

Nor could she bring herself to look back at Kildonan himself, though he stood in her hallway, watching her, his silence as grim as her own.

* * *

"Considering the exposure to severe cold and a fall into icy water, I'd like to be sure there's no lung ailment, Miss MacConn. Excuse me while I check the health of your heart and lungs." Mr. Grant leaned forward and thumped gently on her upper chest. Seating himself beside her on the horsehair sofa in the drawing room, he tapped his fingertips up and down her back in a pattern, angling his head close to listen.

Sitting straight backed and breathing slowly, Catriona was glad that Mrs. MacAuley had tied her stays loosely after she had bathed and changed into a fresh gown of gray-and-blue-striped silk. She waited in silence while Kenneth Grant completed his examination.

Her aunt waited in silence, too, standing by the closed doors of the drawing room while she chaperoned the doctor's examination. Hands folded primly, handsome face pulled in a harsh frown, Catriona's aunt Judith made her disapproval of the entire situation clear. The widow of a Perthshire laird, Judith Rennie was a strong-minded woman with an iron will. She had quickly surmised that Catriona's experience with the Earl of Kildonan was not a dangerous adventure but a shocking escapade.

Although the misinterpretation offended her, Catriona was not surprised by her aunt's conclusion. Nor did she have the energy to correct Aunt Judith. Guilt, if nothing else, silenced her. She had been very foolish, indeed, just as her aunt thought. Sighing, she glanced at Kenneth Grant as he leaned back.

"All seems well. One moment." He picked up his stethoscope and placed it against her chest, listening through the layers of her clothing. "Aye, clear." He removed the stethoscope and laid it aside. "You're in excellent health, as always. Just tired, I think."

"Aye, tired," she agreed in English, the language normally used in her father's household but for the kitchen and the nursery when she had been a child. Her father conducted his church services in Gaelic for the benefit of his Highland parish, but at home he demanded English in dining room and drawing room.

Kenneth Grant glanced up. "Your niece had taken no harm from her ordeal, Mrs. Rennie, but she will need rest for a few days. I'd advise against long walks over the hills until you have your strength back, Miss MacConn. No going about with Morag MacLeod," he cautioned.

"Catriona and Morag MacLeod have work to do—they collect the knitting assignments, as you well know," Judith Rennie said. "A worthy charitable act that must be done regularly."

"A few days will make no difference," Grant answered.

"She is in good health, and I understand Lord Kildonan is in good health, too. Not so much the emergency, was it, Catriona?" Judith looked smug.

"The situation seems to have been serious, Mrs. Rennie," Grant said solemnly. "Lord Kildonan has a knot on his head and is bruised from his fall down the mountainside. He is a lucky man and fortunate to have such a strong physique. He needs only some rest to be hale and hearty again. And he insists that Miss MacConn saved his life. You must be proud of your niece for her Good Samaritan deed, Mrs. Rennie."

"She is a minister's daughter, and exemplary behavior at all times is expected of her, though with Catriona exemplary is not a word that always applies," Judith replied with a sniff.

"We endured some terrible conditions, yet we are both well and unharmed," Catriona pointed out. "I should think that would be cause for giving thanks, Aunt, especially in this household."