Kissing the Countess (28 page)

"A bit," Evan replied wryly, and then sipped his wine.

"Quite a bit," Aedan said, and grinned. "I heard your good news. Allow me to congratulate you both. Though I admit, it was a surprise."

"It was," Evan said succinctly. Catriona avoided answering altogether by glancing around. "I'm sorry you could not bring Lady MacBride with you. Talk of surprises—news of your own wedding was astonishing. You swore never to embroil yourself in matrimony."

"Change is healthy, even for those who resist it." Aedan shrugged, then smiled.

"I'm glad you had time to come up here, if only for a day or so," Evan said. "You're bound for Skye?"

"Aye. The Parliamentary Commission asked me to evaluate some lands for a new road there. Dougal is putting up a lighthouse on the northwest coast, so we will both be on Skye for a while. We could both use your expertise, Evan. That's partly why I stopped here on my way into the west."

"Dougal said something of his new project in a letter recently. He asked if I would come out to do some diving to examine the underwater foundations of the new structure."

"Diving?" Catriona asked, surprised.

Evan nodded. "Diving skills are quite useful for bridges and dockworks, which rest on bedrock in rivers, lochs and harbors. I became a master diver several years ago, as is Dougal. He sometimes asks me to go down the deep to look at the integrity of the geological bed."

"Oh!" Catriona blinked. "It sounds quite dangerous."

"It can be," Evan admitted. He glanced at Aedan. "Have you seen Dougal recently?"

"He and Meg—Dougal's wife, Lady Strathlin," Aedan added to Catriona, "visited Dundrennan a few weeks ago."

"Lady Strathlin?" she repeated. "I've heard the name. She was very generous to the Highland people in the time of trouble. The, uh, evictions." She glanced at Evan and away.

"Lovely quiet lass, Meg," Evan said. "One would never guess that her fortune exceeds that of the very queen. She and Dougal are well suited. He does not have to work now, yet he he carries on with his lighthouses, and well done to him. I think he rather enjoys his mythic struggles to put the things up."

"Just as I find a strange, unholy pleasure in blasting through hillsides to build roads," Aedan said. Evan chuckled.

"What about you?" Catriona asked Evan. "Is putting up bridges mythic and exhilarating?"

Evan's smile disappeared. "Not really," he said abruptly, and frowned so deeply that she frowned, too, watching him.

"You seemed to enjoy repairing on our little bridge the other day," she said.

"Bridge?" Aedan asked. "You were repairing a bridge?"

"There's a small stone bridge on the estate that is in poor condition," Evan explained. "It's a damned hazard, to be truthful, yet the locals use it anyway. Catriona nearly fell off it."

"I did not," she burst out.

"Fell? Good God," Aedan muttered.

"The bridge will soon be replaced with a new one," Evan said sharply. Then he blew out a breath, calming himself. "Tell me, Aedan, how are Christina and your little one?"

"Both in excellent health, and Christina is finding time again for her academic work." Aedan smiled at Catriona. "Our son was born in September. Kept us up half the night for the first months—Christina wanted to handle most of his care herself. But the sprite seems to have settled in." He beamed proudly.

"How wonderful! Your wife is a fortunate lady to have such an understanding and doting husband," she said. Aedan smiled.

She glanced at Evan, tall and strong beside her, with his dark, wavy locks and hazel-green gaze, his deep voice that spun chills along her spine, his touch that conjured willing fire in her.

And she realized how fortunate she was herself, here and now. Her husband intrigued her, attracted her. Marriage to him was a dream fulfilled—why would she ever want that to end?

Then she knew, deeply and truly, that she wanted this—more of this, his passion and his attention, his love and companionship, his children, a life beside him. The power of the urge and the desire almost sent her reeling, though she sat still in the sunshine, on the rock, steady and certain.

She wanted to love him, wanted to be with him.

"I hope you will both come have a peek at the bairn," Aedan was saying. "Christina would love to see you both. Why not spend Christmas with us at Dundrennan House? Dougal and Meg will be there with their two little ones, as well."

"Oh, that sounds lovely," Catriona said, then glanced down, unable to look at Evan just then. They might be done with their ruse of a marriage by Christmas, unless they could agree.

Evan took her arm, his touch warm and protective. Something inside of her melted at that. "We will certainly consider it," he answered Aedan. "My dear?"

She nodded assent, wishing that her sense of freedom and privilege was real. She did not want to pretend any longer.

* * *

"The descent is much easier than the upward climb," Jemima assured them as they headed downward later.

Evan glanced at Catriona, who walked beside him quietly. Just for the excuse of being near her, touching her, he would have taken her arm to assist her. But his bride was probably the most seasoned hillwalker in the group, and he did not want to diminish that.

She moved downhill with natural grace, her dark gray skirt swinging about her ankles. Short enough for comfortable walking, now and then it gave a tantalizing glimpse of ruffled petticoats and slender ankles despite her sturdy leather brogans.

His Highland bride, he thought, smiling faintly to himself. The other ladies were experienced climbers and hillwalkers, but their outfits might be worn at a tea party or a social call—wide skirts, parasols, gloves, shawls, pretty little bonnets. Catriona's clothing was simple, practical and comfortable, and her Highland plaid shawl in blue, brown and cream was suited to this place, its colors and pattern in harmony with the scenery.

As they walked down a long hill scattered with stones and rocks, Jemima and the others stopped repeatedly to admire the view or to examine rocks. Arthur was quick to lecture about the geological varieties, so progress was slow. But the day was pleasant, the air brisk, and there seemed no threat of rain despite clouds and veils of mist on the mountaintops.

"Look, what's that?" Mrs. Wilkie asked, pointing to an adjacent slope where a cluster of rocks had a beehive shape. "It looks like a cairn of some kind."

Catriona looked in that direction. "Aye, it's a very old cairn. No one knows what it commemorates, though."

"Is it a grave?" Lady Wetherstone asked, pausing. She seemed glad of any excuse to stop arid catch her breath.

"Not necessarily," Catriona said. "Many cairns are piles of stone set up to mark an event or to honor someone who died, or just walked past that very spot on their way to somewhere. That one has been there a long while. And over there, beyond it," she added, pointing, "is a remarkable thing, even more ancient—a stone with a natural hole in it."

"I have heard of those! I must see it—do you mind if we take a detour?" Reverend Wilkie and his wife began to walk in the direction of the cairn, and the others followed.

Evan strolled beside Catriona, who soon led the way. The stone, when they reached it, frankly amazed him. Standing five feet high, it was an upright monolith with a sizable hole in its upper end, like a crude stone sewing needle stuck in the ground.

"What an odd thing," Jemima said, sticking her hand into the hole. Emily did the same, then peeked through.

"It's quite pretty," Emily said, running her hand along it. "There are carved markings—swirls and crosses and things."

Sir Aedan stepped forward. "Pictish carvings, perhaps." He traced his finger over the designs. "My wife is an antiquarian expert in this sort of thing. She would be fascinated by these marks and very envious that I saw them without her."

"I'll make a rubbing impression on paper and send it along for Lady MacBride," Catriona offered, and Aedan smiled.

"Fascinating," Reverend Wilkie said, walking around the standing stone. "Actually, I've heard that stones with holes in them are the gifts of the fairies."

"I know a local Highland wife who would agree with that," Evan said, thinking of Morag MacLeod.

Catriona nodded. "The hills here are inhabited by fairies, so it is said. That is why it is called Gleann nan Sitheach, the Glen of the Fairies."

"Nonsense," Arthur said, coming close to examine the stone. "Holes are rare, but can occur naturally in stones from the wearing action of water over eons. More than likely, this stone was transported here by some ancient tribe to be used for some superstitious purpose."

"This stone is thought to have magical properties," Catriona said. "I've always heard that."

"How marvelous!" Anna Wilkie set her face in the hole next. "What sort of magic?"

"They say if you look through the hole, you will see the future," she answered.

Wilkie stepped forward. "What do you see, my dear?"

"The whole of this wonderful glen—it's like paradise," Anna replied. She stood and smiled at her husband. "That must mean our future will be lovely." He took her hand.

One by one, they each peeked through the stone. Evan took a turn, too, looking through it toward the downhill angle, as the rest had done, to see the beautiful vastness of the glen and the mountains marching into misty infinity. "Our futures all look good, apparently," he said, and he turned toward Catriona, who had hung back, the only one who had not had a turn at the stone.

"Do you want to see your future?" he asked quietly.

She shook her head and gazed at him. "I want to decide that for myself."

He felt her words like a punch of excitement, of anticipation. "Good," he murmured.

They stood with the upright stone between them, she above and he just below on the hill, each with a hand on the cool, gritty stone. He rested his fingers on the curve of the hole as he spoke.

"There's another use for this stone," Catriona said, as the others turned to listen. "This is called the Marriage Stone. In ancient times when a couple wanted to wed, they would come up here and say their vows, holding hands through the hole in the stone. That way they had no need of a priest," she added.

"How convenient," Lord Wetherstone said, as some laughed.

"How fitting that our newlyweds should stand there now," Anna Wilkie said, looking up at Evan and Catriona. "Though it's too early for you to renew your vows quite yet!"

"We must come back up here another time, then," Evan said. He looked up at Catriona just above him on the slope, and she returned his gaze somberly, the only person not smiling.

"Look how far ahead the gillies are!" Lord Wetherstone called. "We shall have to hurry to catch them."

As the others made their way down the hill, Evan stood waiting for Catriona. She did not move to follow, but stayed there with the stone between them. Her gaze swept the landscape and found and met his glance.

She moved her hand so that her fingers brushed his where they rested inside the hole. A casual, accidental contact, yet it seemed almost deliberate. A fluttering sense spiraled through him. He took her fingers in his before she could pull away and drew her closer in silence.

She did not protest, only watched him, her gaze direct and serious, filled with meaning and with a single question.

He knew the answer, somehow had always known it, and he wondered if she knew it as clearly as he did. Stepping up on the hill to come around to where she stood, he kept his fingers closed on hers inside the eye of the hole.

"Catriona—" Then he bent his head, unable to help himself, and she tipped her face upward and met him kiss for kiss, tender and slow, so slow, while he tightened his hand over hers inside the magical stone.

Pulling in his breath, he drew her to him with one hand while he kissed her again and then renewed it even more deeply when she leaned toward him. Entwining his fingers with hers inside the stone, he knew her hunger matched his, felt her lips open beneath his.

The wind whispered cold over the slope, and he knew this could not continue, not here, standing on this windy hill. Dimly he heard someone call, heard another laugh. He pulled away reluctantly, but kept her hand in his, within the stone.

"Tonight," he said. "Come to me tonight." He knew he should not push her to agree, but he could wait no longer—his body could not wait, nor his soul. He felt compelled to be with her, driven by something strong and eternal. Perhaps it was this place, he thought—the ancient stone, the lure of that mystery.

Drawing back to look at her, seeing how the wind tousled her hair and kissed her cheeks, he knew that he loved her. For him, the joining of hands through the ancient stone was a silent promise. He knew what he felt, what he wanted.

This union was sudden but right and it would last. He trusted the voice inside that insisted calmly and clearly. But she was not sure. She took few risks, and he could not rush her.

He kissed her cheek. "We must go," he murmured. "They're enjoying this almost as much as I am."

"Oh, Evan," she whispered beside his ear. His name on her lips sounded like the wind, and he heard desire and anguish in it.