Kissing the Countess (37 page)

"We'll go this way toward the upper slopes of Beinn Alligin. That high notched peak in the center is Beinn Shee," Finlay explained, pointing. "These lower hills lead to the mountain and the drover's track and cut over to the main ridge."

Reverend Wilkie took a small memorandum book from his coat pocket and made notes and sketches. "Can we follow along the ridge to the other end?"

"We could," Finlay answered. "Beinn Alligin is a crescent several miles along. But we'll go to the center, past the first cluster of peaks to Beinn Shee and Sgurr Mhor, the Great Peak. Then we'll turn and come back this way."

"Finlay suggested that the best route is to turn at Sgurr Mhor and follow the ridge back again," Evan said. "At the other end, the descent ends in a ruined bridge. We've arranged to have the pony carts waiting for us."

"I hoped we might attempt to climb Beinn Shee for some true mountaineering," Jemima said, and Emily nodded.

"We can go up to the peak," Finlay said, "and around it, but it is not advisable to scramble inside the cleft, which is called Eag Dubh—the Black Notch."

"Beinn Shee itself cannot be climbed safely, Miss Murray," Grant said, stepping forward. "Though foolhardy folk have tried."

"Kildonan and I made the attempt," Fitzgibbon said defensively. "Would have scaled it, but for the weather."

"We started our climb from the base of Beinn Shee and worked our way upward," Evan said. "It was a difficult ascent, and the descent—well, I would not recommend it to anyone."

Catriona glanced at him quickly. He did not look at her.

"Our route today is challenging enough," Finlay said. "This is no afternoon hillwalk, up for luncheon and down for tea. And the weather could be unpredictable," he added, glancing up. "If it rains, we'll head down, no matter how far we get."

They began to walk again, making their way up rock-strewn hillsides tough with heather and gorse, and came to a fast-running burn where the water churned white over rocks. Finlay arranged a strong rope, held secure on either bank by Arthur and Grant. Catriona and Evan crossed first to help the others in leaping from stone to stone using the guide rope.

After most everyone had crossed the stream, Lady Wetherstone stopped, like a horse refusing a fence. Her husband and Evan coaxed her, but the hem of her gown was wet and she insisted on turning back. Lord Wetherstone agreed to take her back, though he seemed very disappointed.

"What a savage place, with no proper bridges, nor even good roads or paths—and climbing a mountain means walking all the way up!" Lady Wetherstone complained loudly to her husband after they had said their farewells for the day. "Why, we climbed Alpine mountains twice as high as these Scotch hills, and had an easier time of it! Do you recall, sir? They put us on donkeys at Chamonix, with halters led by adorable little children, and we rode nearly to the top, thousands of feet up! And never a stream to cross without a pretty little bridge!"

Catriona caught Evan's frowning glance and was sure that he shared her own thought—it was best that the Wetherstones had declined to purchase any of the property. The lady especially lacked appreciation for the Scottish Highlands.

Farther up, tall pines soared from rocky inclines, and water slid downhill in surging courses. The slopes became sharply angled stone fields, and tufts of moss, grass, and heather clung to the mountainside. Sheep and occasional wild goats grazed, clinging somehow to impossible inclines, skirting away placidly as the humans came near. Eagles skimmed past, and Catriona glanced down to look upon their shining wings and tails, their feathers outspread like fingers.

She walked just behind Evan and Finlay, followed by the Murray sisters and the Wilkies. Arthur and Grant brought up the rear of the group, moving more leisurely because Arthur stopped frequently to examine varieties of rock, gathering specimens and taking notes in a small journal.

Glancing back, she saw Grant look up at her, his gaze keen and disturbing. He had said little to her or to Evan that morning when he had arrived at Kildonan, having been invited days earlier to join the climb. So far she had managed to avoid him and planned to continue. No one else knew of his threats to her, which had been neatly ended by Evan's actions yesterday. She realized with a sense of relief that she need never tell Evan—or deal with Mr. Grant again.

But she had caught Grant's cold glance directed at her once or twice, and the chill she felt had been deep and real. Now, as she walked up the hill, she sensed his silent presence behind her like a dark shadow.

She could say nothing to Evan, who still did not know of Grant's threats regarding Finlay or his physical advances toward her. The memory of those ugly incidents gave her an urge to shift closer to Evan, and their arms bumped. He took her elbow in silence. Despite the unresolved rift between them, she felt protected and comforted, and she gave him a faint smile.

Catriona climbed slowly and steadily, pausing with the others to admire magnificent mountainous views to the east, Loch Torridon to the west, and a tantalizing glimpse through fog to the far-off sea and the blue isles of the Hebrides. Fragile mists drifted past, but the rain held off.

Finally they reached the knobby ridge that flowed from peak to peak like the curved spine of some great mythic beast, the steep hillsides its sloping back and body. Three thousand feet up—they had climbed that far in three hours—the height was dizzying, the world below misted and lovely beneath the wide sky.

Arthur picked up a few stones and watched them bounce and skid thousands of feet. Laughing, Jemima picked up a rock to do the same.

"Try not to look down," Grant cautioned her. "It could give you vertigo. Pity if a bonny lass should follow those stones."

He turned to look at Catriona and smiled, flat and humorless. Her heart slammed, and for a terrifying moment she wondered if he was capable of real harm. She could not forget his threats, remembering the awful instant where he had nearly tipped her off the broken bridge.

Ignoring him, she turned away. grateful for Evan's ready hand at her back as they moved along the ridge in single file. Finlay took a rope from his knapsack and tied it around his waist, then helped tie it around Jemima and Emily to reassure them. At first the sisters had been giddy with the exhilaration of the climb, but they grew quiet and serious as the effort became more demanding. Reverend Wilkie took another length of rope and tied it around his waist and his wife's.

When Evan offered to do the same, Catriona shook her head and moved onward. But she was always glad for his strong, familiar grip on her hand or elbow. A lifetime spent in the high hills gave her no fear of heights and inclines, but the strong, cold winds on the exposed ridge and the hint of moisture in the air were disconcerting.

Thin clouds moved in to ring the mountaintop below them, and Finlay urged the others to rest on a level spot between two knobby peaks. They shared lemonade in flasks and a simple meal of oatcakes and cheese, carried inside knapsacks. Anna Wilkie and the Murray sisters made sketches that they tucked away in deep skirt pockets, while Reverend Wilkie made notes in his memorandum book, and Kenneth Grant and Arthur spoke with Evan, then wandered along the ridge to look at the view.

Here the air felt clear, thin, and cold. Catriona sat on a sloping wedge of rock, tucking her booted feet under her skirts while she looked with awe at the stunning vista.

Evan sat down beside her, resting his arms on upraised knees, joining her in companionable silence for a few moments.

She glanced at him, began to speak, and he did, too, both tripping awkwardly over the other's words. A day of helping hands and the bond of the climb had naturally healed some of the rift between them. She wanted to explain, to apologize, and opened her mouth to try—

But the Wilkies came to join them then, as did Finlay and the Murray sisters. Kenneth Grant came toward them, too, dangling a silver flask in his hand. He held it out and turned to offer it to Catriona. She refused with a shake of her head.

"It's more invigorating than lemonade," he said. "I think we could all use a little of it up here. That wind cuts like a knife."

She realized, from the edge in his tone, that Grant had been drinking a little already. "We don't need a spirited drink when we're walking along the Beinn Alligin ridge," she said.

"Of course not," Grant agreed. He smiled. "But it's customary among mountaineers to sip a fortifying liquid when one reaches a peak. Usually it's brandy, but since this is Scotland, I have whisky for the occasion." He sipped again.

"We haven't reached the peak yet, so I advise putting that away so you can keep a clear head," Evan warned, glaring at him. "A sip is customary, not a whole flask."

"We're nearly at the top," Grant said, and saluted the peak above with the raised flask. "We'll soon scramble over these rocky pinnacles and reach the Black Notch, the fairy's own hollow. A few sips should definitely mark that occasion." He indicated with a sweeping hand the surrounding conglomeration of black ledges and steps that formed three rough pinnacles that they would soon scramble over or walk around.

"Up there," Grant said, "getting to the summit of the Eag Dubh, the Black Notch, is no real challenge. We can take the high ridge and keep going. But to really climb Beinn Shee, one must scale the Black Notch, not go around it. No one has ever done that. Not you, Lord Kildonan, nor your lovely countess's brother, or Mr. Finlay here." He nodded. "Lady Kildonan," he said. "Why don't you tell us the story of the Eag Dubh?"

She stared up at him and saw Finlay's face harden into anger. Stunned, she could not imagine that Grant meant for her to tell the story of her brother's tragic fall or her father's injury. But there was another story, and she nodded, glad to deflect her brother Finlay's attention from Grant.

"Its full name is the Eag Dhubh na h-Eigheachd," she said, "which means the Gash of the Wailing. This part of the mountain has been avoided for generations by shepherds and others. Legend says that sometimes crying or wailing can be heard from the great split in the mountain and that it may be the call of fairies caught within the rock. But these are not fairies who might be disposed to help humans—these are darker creatures who lie in wait or are trapped in the center of the earth. Evil creatures," she went on. "Some say the wailing sound is the voice of the mountain crying for a sacrifice. They say that when the voice is heard, it does not stop until... someone dies there."

The others stared at her for a moment. Reverend Wilkie began scribbling in his notebook, and his wife looked pale.

"Oh," Jemima said. "I wish we had heard that story before now. I might not have come up here." Beside her, Emily nodded vigorously.

"It's just the wind wailing through the stones," Evan said.

Grant nodded. "It's silly to think it anything more—but it's a good story, nonetheless."

"Lady Kildonan," Arthur said, coming near them. He had been walking around one of the rocky pinnacles. "You asked me earlier about crystals on this mountain."

"Aye!" She turned, glad for the distraction.

He held his hand out, opened his fingers. "Look what I've found. Something very precious—a whole cluster of crystals and quite lovely ones." In his palm, several of clear crystals, faceted and multipointed, glittered in the light.

"Oh," she said, getting to her feet. She took them from him, smiling with delight. "Where did you find these? I must see!" He turned, beckoning, and she followed.

The others got up as well, and Arthur led them behind a high rise in the rock, almost like a protective parapet. At the base of the curving section, Arthur pointed to a bed of small, perfect crystals that sparkled and spilled out of the many crevices in the black rock.

Gasping, dropping to her knees, Catriona looked at the crystals and traced her fingers over them in wonder. While the other women exclaimed and knelt to examine them, Catriona scanned the bed for the fairy crystal that Flora had mentioned.

Though the rocky parapet shadowed the area and lent some darkness to it, she saw nothing that glowed with its own light. She glanced up at Evan, who knelt beside her.

"Beautiful," he murmured.

"Aye," she agreed. "But not what I'm looking for."

"Still," he said, reaching out and snapping off a small, jewel-like cluster to hand to her, "they are lovely, and you may want to bring some down with you."

She nodded and snapped off another, finding that it broke away easily. The crystal was perfectly shaped, glossy as thick glass, and though she was thrilled with the discovery, she felt that it was not quite what Flora had sent her to find.

Chattering and enjoying themselves, the others harvested a few crystals for themselves—there were so many, Catriona saw, once she stood again and looked around, that the great black rock seemed to sprout them like flowers and mosses.

Mrs. Wilkie stepped back and turned to take some of the crystals she had found to her husband, when she suddenly cried out, falling to her knees on an incline covered with scree—broken and unstable stones. "Oh!" she gasped, beginning to slide downward. Anna's feet and skirts seemed to dangle in midair as she scrabbled for a hold on the rock.

Catriona whirled to see Evan, Wilkie, and Finlay run toward her. Evan reached her first, dropping to his knees and stretching out his hand to grab her and pull her at him. Pulled up to her knees, Anna cried out and threw herself at him. Wrapping his arms around her, Evan murmured to calm her until her husband reached them. Helping Anna to her feet, Evan stood back as John Wilkie turned his wife into the safety of his arms.