by Emma Fraser
‘I like your mouth,’ he said softly. As his thumb traced the curve of her lips, a strange sensation gathered in the pit of her stomach. ‘Have you ever wondered what it would be like to be kissed?’ he asked.
She shook her head, unable to speak. It was difficult even to catch her breath.
He cupped her face in his hands. ‘Would you like to know?’
She had thought about it, of course she had. But kissing was for married couples.
However, when he drew her towards him she couldn’t bring herself to resist. At first his lips were gentle. Just the merest breath on hers. She opened her mouth in a little gasp – ‘Oh’ – and his tongue flicked against her teeth.
She liked it. And she liked the way he smelt of sea and the wind.
She leaned forward, pressing her mouth to his. He sat up and wrapped his arms around her and she buried her face in his shirt. Closer now, she could smell the salty, musky maleness of him and feel his chest hard against her face. His hands were entwined in her hair. ‘Mo ghaoil,’ he whispered. ‘You are so beautiful.’
Frightened by the strange sensations running through her body, she drew away and jumped to her feet. She glanced around, worried that someone might have seen them, but to her relief all she could see were flocks of sheep, grazing contentedly. ‘I should go. Mama will be looking for me.’
He studied her through half-closed eyes. ‘One day, when you’re older, perhaps you’ll find the courage to be your own woman.’
She tossed her head and glared at him. ‘I’m my own person now, Archie MacCorquodale. A woman already. And you should have known better than to kiss me.’
His eyes were pools of fire and ice. ‘A kiss you returned with more passion than a man could hope for.’
Her face burned. ‘If you’re going to try to kiss me, perhaps it’s better if we don’t meet again,’ she said stiffly. ‘It isn’t seemly.’ And, with the feel of his lips still imprinted on hers, she hurried away.
The kiss changed everything. Afterwards, she could no longer see Archie just as a friend, and they could never be anything else. For all that she cared about him, he was still a crofter’s son and it wasn’t as if they could ever be together. Not in that way.
Even if that alone hadn’t made it impossible, she was going to be a doctor and there was no room in her life for anything else.
For the rest of the summer she kept away from the hills and the boathouse, instead remaining with her mother in the drawing room when her father didn’t require her assistance. Although she missed Archie horribly, and longed to return to the easy camaraderie they’d once shared, she knew it could never be the same between them again. And for some reason the realisation made her heart feel like a handful of dust.
Chapter 7
Skye, August 1908
Jessie’s life was over. Dad was dead and, although she was only just sixteen, she might as well be dead too. Of course she still had Mam and Archie, but could she really spend the rest of her life here when her heart cried out to be in the city so that she could work as a nurse? But what choice did she have?
Using the pitchfork her father had made, Jessie gathered up the remains of the cut hay and threw it onto the cart. She placed her hands on either side of her aching back, knowing she was a long way from finishing for the day.
Although it was more than six months since he had died, she still missed him terribly. He wasn’t the only one to have been taken in the typhoid epidemic that had swept across Skye last winter. In their village alone, Peggy Ban had lost two of her children, and Jessie’s best friend, Fiona, had lost her mother. With Dad’s death, all the light had gone out of Mam’s eyes. At least Archie was home to stay.
He’d changed. His hopes of leaving Skye were over too, and they no longer spoke of him going to America. Without the money Dad had brought in from fishing, there simply wasn’t enough to be made from the croft for Jessie and Mam to pay the rent and keep food on the table. Archie had had to take over the responsibility of providing for them. Sometimes he’d be away fishing for days at a time and Jessie would be left with all the croft work as well as her own chores.
But that wasn’t what she minded. Her dream of going away to school was in shreds too. Although she’d won the scholarship there was no money spare for her to go to Inverness.
It was wrong to think like that. Daddy was dead and she shouldn’t be caring that his death had destroyed her dreams, but she couldn’t help it. How could she become a nurse without the proper schooling?
Even Flora McPhee had managed to get what she wanted. To everyone’s astonishment, she had succeeded in securing a job as a maid at Dunvegan Castle. The earl and countess were still there, although the renovations to their house in Glendale were finished. People said that Lady Glendale had become accustomed to living in a castle.
Life at the castle seemed to suit Flora too. Her figure had become voluptuous and her breasts the envy of the other girls in the village. She had taken to washing herself and, on the rare occasions she had come back to the village to see her mother, had looked almost beautiful in a dress that was obviously a cast-off from Lady Glendale or her daughter, Lady Dorothea.
But Flora’s triumph had been short-lived. Her pregnancy had caused a scandal when it had become known. She’d tried to claim that Lord Maxwell had made her fall, but no one believed her. What would a man like him want with a below-stairs maid? Flora was always trying to make herself out to be better than she was. When her pregnancy had become evident, she’d been turned away from the castle and sent home in disgrace. A few days later she was seen in the village with a black eye.
Archie had gone to see Lachie, Flora’s father, when he’d heard he’d returned to his old ways, and had told him that if he ever lifted a hand to one of his womenfolk again, he would personally throw him over the side of the cliff. Jessie wouldn’t have put it past him. Archie could be hot-headed.
She gathered up the reins and set off for the barn. After she’d finished unloading the hay, she unhooked the horse from the cart, rubbed him down and gave him water. By the time she was able to make her way home the sun was low in the sky.
Despite the light from the fire and the oil lamps, it took her eyes a few moments to adjust to the darkness. Mam was alone, sitting in her chair by the fire, staring into space, with her usually occupied hands empty. It made Jessie feel uneasy.
‘What’s wrong, Mam? Are you ill?’
In the last few months her mother’s hair had turned white in places. She had lost weight, too, and stooped now when she walked. Jessie could see how much her mother had aged and it frightened her. What would she do if God decided to take her too?
‘I’m all right, mo luàidh. Just a little tired, that’s all.’
Jessie knelt by her mother’s side. ‘Can I make you some egg-nog? Or warm some porridge on the stove?’
She shook her head. ‘I’m not hungry. Where is your brother?’
‘I don’t know, Mammy.’
Her mother plucked at the folds of her dress. ‘I wish I could have let him stay in Inverness,’ she said. ‘It’s not right that he had to come back here.’
What about me? Jessie wanted to cry. How can it be right that I had to give up my chance too? Of course she didn’t say anything. It wouldn’t change the way things were.
There was the scraping of boots outside and Archie appeared at the door. Over the years he had shot up to almost six foot and had to duck to avoid hitting his head on the lintel. He shrugged out of his wet jacket and set it next to the fire to dry. He ignored the empty chair next to their mother, which had been Dad’s, and took a seat on the wooden settle by the window. ‘She’s back,’ he said, tugging off his boots.
‘Who?’ Jessie asked.
‘The doctor’s daughter. Isabel. Their motor-car passed me on the road to Dunvegan.’
‘Did she talk to you?’
Archie’s mouth twisted in a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. ‘She waved.’
‘Archie,’ the
ir mother said gently, ‘the days when Isabel MacKenzie and you could be friends are past. She’s a young woman now and you’re a grown man. You mustn’t expect that things can continue as they were when you were younger. It wouldn’t be right.’
Archie lifted his chin. ‘Not right, Mam, because she’s a woman or because she’s the doctor’s daughter and I’m a crofter?’
‘Oh, Archie, don’t tell me you have hopes of her. It’s impossible. You must know that.’
‘You and the doctor’s daughter? She’ll never give any of us the time of day now she’s been to that fancy finishing school,’ Jessie scoffed.
Archie scowled. ‘Be quiet, Jessie. You know nothing about her. She might consider herself above most, but she doesn’t see me like that. She knows I have ambition, that I won’t always be a crofter.’
So that was the way of it. Archie had feelings for Isabel. When Isabel had first come to Skye, he had spent a lot of time with her. As soon as work on the croft was finished he’d be off, sometimes without either his gun or a fishing line. Jessie had followed him once, curious to know what he was doing, and had seen him meet the doctor’s daughter, then stride along with her as Isabel, with steps almost matching his, chatted non-stop. Every so often, Archie would nod and laugh as if whatever she had said was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. But the last time Isabel had been back for the summer Archie had gone out and returned with thunder in his eyes. Jessie suspected that the doctor’s daughter had grown tired of him. Poor Archie. He was a fool if he thought she would ever let him woo her.
‘Anyway, I’m still going to go to America when I get the chance,’ Archie continued.
‘You can’t go to America and leave Mam and me!’
‘I’d send for you, once I’d made my way.’
‘I’m not going anywhere,’ their mother said quietly. ‘This is where Dad and your brother are buried. I’ll not leave them.’
A look of resignation crossed Archie’s face, and when he smiled, Jessie could tell he was making an effort for Mam’s sake. He pulled their mother out of her chair, placed his hands on either side of her waist and swung her into the air, making her giggle. ‘In that case, I’ll have to stay where I am, won’t I?’
‘How did Isabel look?’ Jessie asked.
‘She looked … grand. But different. You’ll see her yourself soon enough, I reckon.’
Whenever Isabel had been back on Skye she had helped her father, either at his surgery or on his visits, and more than once Jessie and her mother had met her on the road when she’d accompanied Dr MacKenzie to see a patient. Everyone had heard that she was leaving shortly to start her medical studies at Edinburgh University and Jessie envied her with all her heart.
‘I imagine I will,’ she said.
Unless Isabel had become too grand to come to the villagers’ homes with her father, sooner or later their paths would cross.
Chapter 8
‘The Earl and Countess of Glendale have agreed to host your coming-out ball,’ Isabel’s mother said, looking pleased.
‘Oh, Mama, is it necessary?’ Isabel flung herself onto the sofa beside her mother. What was the point in a coming-out do? It wasn’t as if she had any intention of marrying. At least, not until her studies were over and she was a fully qualified doctor.
‘Please don’t loll around as if you were a sack of potatoes, Isabel. Didn’t the school in Switzerland teach you anything? The moment you’re back on this island you seem to lose all sense of decorum.’
‘I’m sorry, Mama.’ Isabel sat up straight and smoothed her dress. She smiled at her mother. ‘Is that better?’
‘A little. Do you know your hair has come loose?’
‘Oh, never mind that, Mama. Aren’t you just a little pleased to have me back?’
Her mother patted her hand. ‘Of course I am, darling. You know how much I miss having my children with me. If only Andrew could be here too.’
Andrew, the younger of Isabel’s two brothers, was supposed to have joined them, but had been invited to tour the continent with the family of one of his friends before returning to Cambridge after the summer break. Isabel still hoped he would come to Skye, or Edinburgh at the very least, before the new term started. She’d seen too little of him over the last few years.
‘He couldn’t turn down the chance to see Europe, Mama. I’d love to be in his shoes – I wish I could go to Florence and Rome!’
The truth was, Isabel had been invited to stay with a friend in Italy but had turned it down. This was to be her final summer on Skye. She had missed the island – and her parents – and hadn’t told them about the invitation. Mama would have insisted she go.
‘And even if I do have to have a coming-out ball, why can’t we have it here at Borreraig House? It’s big enough. How many people do you propose to invite?’
A look of distress crossed her mother’s face to be replaced quickly with a tight smile. ‘This house is too small for even the small number of guests who will be coming from Edinburgh and London. Besides, the countess says she’d like nothing more than for you to use the ball she is giving for your coming-out.’
When Isabel opened her mouth to protest again, her mother held up her hand. ‘I know it’s not quite the same as having a proper coming-out ball in London, or even Edinburgh, but given Lady Glendale’s connections, it will suffice.’
‘You know I don’t give a fig about a party, Mama, but if it makes you happy, then do thank the countess for me.’
Mama fixed her pale blue eyes on Isabel. ‘Just one thing. Please don’t mention the fascination you have with medicine. It is neither polite nor interesting. Find something more suitable to discuss with the other guests.’
‘Of course, Mama. I shall talk of nothing but the latest fashions, even if I get my silk mixed up with my chiffon. Will that please you?’
‘Don’t be sarcastic, Isabel. It’s not becoming. And speaking of fashion, we must have new gowns for the occasion, although goodness knows how I’m to go about it when I’m miles from a decent dressmaker.’
Leaving her mother to fret over what they would wear, Isabel went to her room to bathe and change. She wondered whether she would see Archie. She’d often thought of the way he’d kissed her when she was sixteen and it still made her feel hot and strange. But the kiss had spoiled their friendship. Even at sixteen she’d known that Archie could never be anything but her friend, and that had been two years ago. Surely he would understand now that he had mistaken her friendship for something that could never be.
As her maid helped her out of her dress, Isabel sighed. Perhaps it was better to avoid Archie while she was here. What could they possibly have in common now they were adults?
On the evening of the ball, Isabel and her parents set off for Dunvegan Castle. Her father had been away on the mainland so she had been confined to the house, with only her mother for company, over the last two weeks. It had made her long for the ball. That, and the way she’d looked when she’d seen herself in the mirror. The ivory silk her mother had had made up for her suited her complexion perfectly, and although she wished she had more curves, the tight bodice and the fashionably narrow skirt flattered her rather boyish figure. With her hair upswept into a chignon, but for a few loose curls framing her face, and crowned with the ruby tiara her parents had given her for her birthday, Isabel knew she wouldn’t be out of place at the castle.
Her father had bought one of the new motor-cars and had insisted on driving them there himself. Isabel, in the seat next to him, held on tightly to the door handle to keep her balance as it lurched over the potholes. Her mother was in the back seat with her eyes screwed tightly shut. Her father told Isabel that Mr MacDonald had refused point-blank to have anything to do with the vehicle so he had taught himself to drive, but unlike the gentle touch Papa had with his patients, he tugged the steering-wheel this way and that, as if it were a badly behaved horse.
‘You should teach me to drive,’ she suggested, as the car tipped onto two wheels when
her father mistimed another pothole.
‘I don’t think so,’ he replied. ‘It takes strength to keep these beasts under control.’
It wouldn’t if he would only keep out of the holes. She’d teach herself to drive when he was otherwise occupied. It couldn’t be that difficult. In the meantime, she’d watch exactly what he did so she could try on her own later.
At least the car roof prevented the rain from soaking them. It had eased off in the last hour, but now a thick mist mingled with the smoke coming from the crofters’ chimneys and obscured the views of the sea and cliffs, which she missed whenever she was away from Skye.
At last the car pulled into the long driveway at Dunvegan Castle. Although, like the rest of Skye, the castle had no electricity, it was lit up as if a thousand fires burned within. A frisson of excitement danced up her spine.
After the butler had taken their wraps and her father’s coat, he showed them into the already crowded ballroom.
The countess came across to them and kissed her mother’s cheek. ‘My dear Clara, how well you look tonight. And, Isabel, you’ve grown since I last saw you. You’re quite the young lady now.’
Why did people always say that? Did they honestly think people got smaller as they grew older? Come to think of it, perhaps they did. She certainly never remembered her father being so small. Anxiety gnawed at her. Despite the unpolluted air of Skye, his cough had worsened over the years and he was pale, his cheekbones increasingly prominent. He should take some time off. Even doctors needed rest.
Mama, on the other hand, was glowing. She was wearing a dress ordered especially from London that emphasised her still tiny waist and long neck. Her eyes glittered with suppressed excitement, although no one besides Isabel and perhaps her father would have noticed. Mama was too adept at portraying the slightly bored, languorous air that women in her position seemed to think was the only acceptable expression in polite company.
‘My dear Henrietta, how kind of you to have us. Is Glendale well?’ Mama asked.
