Kissing the Countess (25 page)

"Ah. Our guests. The climbing club arrived while you were out, along with a good friend. After luncheon they were eager to get out and about, so Jeanie and I sent them off to that rather respectable hill. The view from there is spectacular."

"It is," she agreed. "The whole of the glen and the range of the Torridons can be seen from up there. We call it Sgairneach Mhor in the Gaelic."

"What does that mean?"

"Big stony hill," she said. He laughed, deep and relaxed.

Some of the climbers perched on the hillside while others scrambled up the rocky slope. They wore suits and gowns, hats and bonnets, carried walking sticks and parasols. She saw several men and women divided in two groups, one near the top of the hill, the other lower down. Between them was the rough height of the hill, covered with bracken and rock, creased with narrow runnels filled with water and scattered with sheep.

She stared in disbelief. "They look like they're dressed for church, yet they are four hundred feet up."

"A plucky but proper bunch," Evan drawled. He drove the gig toward the foot of the slope, then halted the vehicle and waved. Some of the group waved and halloed to them, and Evan got out of the gig and went around to assist Catriona.

She liked the hard strength of his hands on her waist, loved the way he slid her effortlessly, slowly along the front of his body, making her blush, remembering moments that she should not think about—but wanted to, very much.

He set her down and she grabbed her walking stick. When he took her elbow, she winced suddenly. Kenneth Grant's treatment of her had left bruises on her arm. When Evan glanced at her, questioning, she only smiled.

"Have you got the stamina for introductions?" he asked.

"Of course," she said, feeling nervous.

Together they climbed the lower part of Sgairneach Mhor, and Evan helped her balance as they went up the rocky, inclined field, crossing small, gushing runnels.

Catriona moved in silence with Evan, although she was so used to climbing that she could have overtaken him easily. But she wanted to hang back, not eager to meet his friends so soon.

Lady Jean and Sir Harry were there, she saw, and Arthur Fitzgibbon too, but the others were unknown to her. They were mostly of an age with Evan, but for an elderly gentleman and lady in the lower group, who seemed fit and energetic. All of them laughed and chatted, calling up and down the hillside as if engaged in lawn tennis or golf rather than a steep climb.

Lady Jean and the other ladies all wore charming little bonnets, dark day dresses, and short jackets, and carried parasols. Looking up, Catriona even noticed crinolines and pretty side-buttoned boots.

Next to them she felt like a fishwife in her tartan shawl and plain skirt and blouse. She had no bonnet and gloves, her bronze-colored hair was slipping loose from its low knot, and her cheeks were no doubt flushed with wind and exertion. Tucking strands of hair back, she gave it up as futile.

The older lady waved. "Lord Kildonan, we have perfect weather for an excursion in the Scottish hills—a cloudless sky, pleasant breezes, and a nice hill—though not as exciting as the Alps, where Lord Wetherstone and I took our summer holiday." She looked stout but strong, and her black gown, veiled bonnet, gloves, boots, and fringed black parasol were all of the finest quality, Catriona noted.

"Kildonan, there you are, back again." The older gentleman extended his hand cordially. Wearing a brown suit and long coat, he was not tall, but he was broadly built, with white side-whiskers framing his jowled face.

Evan took Catriona's arm. "My dear," he said, "let me introduce Lord and Lady Wetherstone, who came up from London." He indicated the older couple, who nodded to her. "And Mrs. Anna Wilkie and her husband, Reverend John Wilkie, from Stirling." They were a young couple standing with Jean and Harry. "May I present Catriona MacConn, now Lady Kildonan."

"Lady Kildonan, what a pleasure," Lady Wetherstone said, taking Catriona's hand, smiling. "Congratulations."

Mrs. Wilkie also offered her hand and her congratulations on the marriage. She was a beauty, Catriona saw, a blonde of the fine china variety, small boned with translucent skin and blue eyes. Her hair was perfectly arranged beneath a little gray bonnet, and her jacket and skirt of pale gray wool complemented her delicate coloring. She held a pretty blue parasol over one shoulder.

Catriona felt big and gawky by comparison, certain that her vivid coloring and height made her look like a shaggy red cow beside this exquisite creature. The young woman smiled at her with genuine kindness, and Catriona liked her so well in that moment that all thoughts of self-conscious comparison fled.

John Wilkie, her husband, was tall, blond, and handsome in a charming way. Talking with him for a few moments, Catriona discovered he was a reverend of the Established Church. She told him about her father and the living of the Free Church at Glenachan—and wondered, when Lady Wetherstone lifted her eyebrows high, if she should have kept that to herself. Earls did not generally marry the daughters of ministers.

"Thank you—I am so happy to meet you," she repeated to each newcomer. "How kind of you to come to Kildonan Castle."

Standing there with her plaid slipping down from her bare, tousled head, wearing such unsophisticated garments, she was sure her manners must seem quite ordinary.

But her mother and her tutors had taught her and her siblings good manners from an early age. She could rely on that training. Welcoming the guests, she expressed gratitude and otherwise said little, only smiling and nodding.

She stayed by Evan's side, glad for the firm touch of his hand now and then on her elbow as he spoke with his friends.

"Hulloo! Come on up. What's keeping you?"

At the shout, Catriona looked up to see a woman waving to them, standing nearly at the top of the steepest part of the hill. She clung there with the ease of a mountain goat, her feet planted aslant, her hands on her hips. "Come up!"

"I think we're being challenged," Evan said, and he waved back. "Hulloo, Jemima! We'll be up!" He looked around. "Who's for it?"

"Not me," Lady Jean said, and she looked at Sir Harry, who shook his head when Lord and Lady Wetherstone also refused.

"I'll go up with you," John Wilkie said. "My dear?"

"I'll stay with Lady Jean," his wife replied. "Lady Kildonan, will you climb, or stay with us?" she asked, while Lady Wetherstone fixed Catriona with a direct and curious stare.

"Oh, my wife is a natural at this sort of thing," Evan said, extending his hand out to her and leaving her no choice. As his fingers closed firmly over hers, he pulled, and she stepped up beside him on the slope. Reverend Wilkie followed them, but kept several yards below, taking his time.

"Thank you," Catriona murmured to Evan as they mounted the slope beside each other. "For another rescue."

He grinned at her. "I thought you looked pale at the idea of entertaining the guests on the hill while I went up. And I thought you might like to meet the others on your own ground—these spectacular hills," he said, glancing around.

The climb was easy, an incline littered with rocks and tough heather plants all the way to the conical top. Catriona clambered upward with Evan behind her, Wilkie below them.

She used the walking stick a little and neared the top where the others waited, enjoying the view. The wind buffeted her cheeks and whipped at her skirt, and she paused before reaching the very top.

The view was magnificent. Kildonan Castle perched between a slope and a shining lochan that reflected the castle, the sky, the mountain peaks. Glen Shee spread out for miles, colored wine, gold, and green, its hills dotted with croft houses and sheep. Narrow burns and small lochs glimmered like bits of mirror dropped in the grass.

Massive mountains surrounded the glen like proud, fierce guardians, the highest peaks coated with snow. Catriona raised a hand to her brow and turned, looking. The wind tore at her hair, loosening strands and spilling them across her cheek.

"Beautiful." Evan came up beside her. "You've shown nice courage, Lady Kildonan. I admire it."

"Courage?"

"It's not easy to face these people when you've just come to the castle yourself and you're still settling into your role."

"What role?" she asked crisply. "We have not yet agreed on what that should be."

He reached out to sweep back the loose tendrils of her hair, tucking them behind her ear. Shivers spilled down her back, quite unlike the chill of the wind or the dread of meeting more guests. "I am thinking about that all the time," he murmured.

"So am I." She stared up at him, yearning suddenly.

"Here's Wilkie." He turned as the reverend joined them.

"What a glorious view," John Wilkie said. "Let's see it from the top," he suggested, and he turned to go higher.

Evan took Catriona's arm to guide her off the rock. They made their way up the last part of the hillside. At the top, a narrow ridge of hills dipped and undulated like a dragon's spine as they flowed along the line of the glen.

"Welcome to the peak!" Arthur crowed.

"My dear, let me present my cousins—Miss Jemima Murray and her sister, Miss Emily Murray. And this is Sir Aedan MacBride," Evan said of the tall, dark-haired gentleman who stood behind the Murray sisters. "My I present Catriona MacConn, the new Countess of Kildonan."

"And mistress of all you see around you," Arthur added.

Catriona smiled. "I'm so pleased to meet all of you."

"What excellent news—a countess for our earl at last!" Pretty, brown-haired Miss Jemima Murray had a fearless quality about her, a wide smile, a rich laugh, and a firm handshake. Catriona quickly learned that Jemima was not only Evan and Jean's second cousin, but the tour leader and vice president of the climbing club. Arthur Fitzgibbon, Catriona then discovered, was its newly appointed president.

Privately she thought Jemima capable of leading an army, let alone a few travelers, for her energy and enthusiasm seemed infectious and boundless.

Miss Emily Murray was her sister's pale opposite, a quiet-spoken young woman who seemed as naturally athletic as Jemima, though shy as she took Catriona's hand and smiled quickly.

Catriona would have noticed the last gentleman in the group anywhere. He seemed singular not only because of his good looks, but also because of his air of simmering intensity. Black haired and blue eyed, a true Celt in appearance and a gentleman in demeanor, Sir Aedan MacBride of Dundrennan was the only man in the group wearing a kilt and jacket. He moved with athletic, unconscious grace in the garment, even while hillwalking, and reminded Catriona somehow of a Highland warrior prince.

"Lady Kildonan!" He took her hand in his gloved one briefly. "Kildonan and I have been friends a long time. He's a fortunate lad to have such a Highland beauty for his countess."

She laughed, thinking of her unkempt appearance. "Thank you, sir. My husband has mentioned you fondly and told me that he spent holidays with your family. I've always admired your father's poetry, by the way."

"Madam, he would have been most pleased to hear it," he said graciously.

"The views are so stunning," Jemima said. "We could take a picnic in the hills and climb a few peaks before sunset—it would be quite an exhilarating day. What do you think, Lady Kildonan? You know these hills better than we do."

"It can be done," Catriona said. "Climbing some of the higher peaks takes hours, but once you are up in the heights it is often possible to walk from peak to peak over the ridges—providing the weather is good." She glanced at Evan.

"Perhaps Lady Kildonan can direct us to the most interesting hills to climb," Emily Murray said. "We'd like a bit of a challenge, of course."

"You'll find plenty of challenge here in Glen Shee," Evan answered.

"Some of the highest peaks have never been climbed, I hear, such as Beinn Alligin and Beinn Shee," Jemima said.

"You and I will conquer their heights, Miss Jemima," Arthur said gallantly.

Jemima laughed. "Certainly! Evan will go also, and my sister, Emily, and Reverend Wilkie. Sir Aedan plans to stay only until tomorrow, but I think the Wetherstones will climb with us, Mrs. Wilkie, as well. Evan, will you go, even though you were just married, and might want to stay with... your bride?"

"I would be glad to go, if my bride would consent to join us as well. Catriona?" He looked toward her.

Standing a little apart, she heard him, caught his glance, looked away toward the beautiful expanse of the mountains, glen, and lochs spreading into the distance. The sun was warm but the wind swept chilly against her skirts. She stared calmly at the great, overbearing mountain where her older brother had died and where her father had been injured.

Beinn Shee was not a mountain she ever wanted to climb. But Flora had given her a quest to find a fairy crystal, and unless she braved those slopes to fetch it, her heartfelt work with the songs of the Highlands would be forever incomplete.

Yet she understood why Evan and his friends wanted to climb these mountains for no other reason than to do it. Up on the heights, she too felt the wild, incredible lure of freedom.

No matter what became of their marriage, whether they stayed or parted, she knew then that she must climb that mountain beside Evan. She felt compelled.