“This is yer niece an’ nephew?” Cicilia asked.
Alexander nodded. “Aye. Alice was born nae so long before me parents had their accident. Matthew is a wee bit younger, I think nine?”
“Ten, now. He just had his birthday,” Catherine corrected. “Och, an’ wait ‘til ye see him, Miss Cicilia. He’s like wee Sandy born again wi’ his dark hair an’ his serious expressions.”
Cicilia felt her heart flutter at the idea of little Alexander, adorable and innocent. “I look forward to meetin’ them,” she said politely.
“Aye,” Catherine agreed. “Now, Sandy’s gonnae go on ahead like a good uncle so he can have some time wi’ the bairns. Ye an’ me, Cicilia, are gonnae head up there together an’ have a wee talk, aye?”
“Nay,” Alexander said sharply. “We’ll all go together.”
Perhaps it was residual annoyance at his earlier behavior, but Cicilia found his disapproval served only as fuel to make her wish to do as Catherine suggested. “I’d love to get to ken ye, Madame Sinclair,” she said. Then she grinned. “The real ye, the one nae pretendin’ to be Kitty.”
Catherine laughed. “Och, me Mither called me Kitty when I was small. It was nae a true lie.”
“Ye can get to ken each other if we’re walkin’ together,” Alexander insisted.
Cicilia and Catherine glanced at each other, and then Catherine laughed. “Och, what are ye afraid o’, Sandy? What I’ll tell Cicilia? Or what she’ll tell me?”
Alexander huffed out an irritated breath. “Aye. Exactly.”
But the women’s minds were set, and eventually, Alexander left ahead of them. They waited until they were sure he was gone before the pair of them walked out together, first settling Catherine’s room with the owner of the establishment.
As the cool evening air buffeted Cicilia’s face, only now did she realize how heavy her burden had been over the past week or so. She still had work to do—certainly, she would need to continue her village visits—but things felt less oppressive now. Working out her anger and being held in Alexander’s arms had soothed a ragged part of her soul that she hadn’t even realized was injured.
“I was right, though, was I nae?” Catherine asked pleasantly as they walked through the village gates and on to the path back to the castle. “About ye an’ me brother?”
Is she askin’ me if I slept wi’ him in her room?!
Cicilia didn’t answer immediately, but Catherine’s patient silence made her realize after a moment that, no, that wasn’t what she meant. No, what she was asking was much more embarrassing, and weighed down on her a lot more heavily.
She remembered what Catherine had asked her before Alexander walked in and spoiled the ruse. ‘How long have ye been in love wi’ him?’
“I—” she started. “I—”
Catherine seemed to take pity on her. “Can I tell ye a story?” she asked after Cicilia struggled to answer for a little longer.
Grateful for the respite, Cicilia nodded.
Catherine seemed to think for a moment, then asked gently, “Has he told ye about Ilene?”
“Ilene?” Cicilia asked, frowning. For some reason, a feeling of irritation went through her at the sound, even though she’d never heard of anyone with such a name. “Nay, he dinnae.”
Catherine nodded. “Sandy was betrothed to Ilene. He would have moved heaven an’ Earth for her. It was just before he turned twenty…”
“Nathair mentioned somethin’, but he dinnae tell me her name,” Cicilia replied. She suddenly felt absurdly jealous.
Ilene. Such a pretty name. I bet she was fair bonny. I wonder what happened?
Catherine looked like she was hiding a smile at Cicilia’s reaction, but her expression was once again clear when she continued. “Well, Ilene was a Sinclair lass, a daughter o’ one o’ me husband’s councilmen. She was fair an’ lovely, indeed, an’ she kent just how to say the right thing at the right time to charm anyone.”
I dinnae want to hear more. It’s nae fair o’ me to feel such hatred for a lass I’ve never met, an’ yet…
“I dinnae like Ilene,” Catherine continued, and Cicilia instantly felt better. “But when me baby brother came an’ told me he intended to ask for her hand, what else was I to do? I o’ course gave me blessin’ an’ spoke wi’ her father on his behalf. I ken that Sandy was feelin’ the pressure o’ bein’ such a young Laird wi’ nae wife, an’ refined, clever Ilene was the perfect solution.”
“But they dinnae wed, in the end,” Cicilia said, trying to not let the strange surge of victory she felt sound in her voice. “Nathair said she left him the night before their wedding.”
“Aye. See, she liked bein’ courted by a Laird fine, but she dinnae have much patience for him an’ his ways. She saw his fussiness as a flaw, an’ nae one that she could accommodate,” Catherine said. She paused briefly, and by the way her lips pressed, Cicilia saw that the woman still felt angry about it after all these years.
She loves her wee brother so much.
“On the day o’ their weddin’, Sandy wakes up to find a note on her pillow. I still remember it word for word,
Dear Alexander,
I simply cannae love a man like ye. I must be free to live life as a person is meant to.
That was it. An’ she took all the clothes an’ jewels he’d bought for her, an’ nae body had a clue where she went.”
Catherine sighed. “She had every right nae to marry him if she dinnae love him, but to break his heart so was cruel.”
Cicilia felt a heavy sadness settle on her shoulders. She could see it now, Alexander, young and vulnerable and alone, no idea what he’d done wrong or why he’d been abandoned.
“Did she return home eventually?” Cicilia asked in a subdued voice.
“Nay,” Catherine answered. “We heard from her faither much later that she’d fled to Edinburgh an’ met some rich Sassenach businessman there. Apparently, they’re quite happy to this day. Me brother was crushed. Swore he’d never be so foolish as to love again. An’ I believed him, truly…until Nathair started sendin’ me letters about ye.”
Cicilia’s heart almost jumped out of her chest at the implication. Was Catherine seriously here because she thought that Cicilia, a simple farm girl, was somehow changing Alexander’s life for good?
Is she really sayin’ that she thinks he loves me?
The women walked in more silence for quite a while longer, perhaps a quarter of an hour or more, before Cicilia spoke again. “I…I think I do,” she half-whispered.
“Ye do?” Catherine asked gently. She was pressing, obviously wanting Cicilia to finish the thought, but not pushing too hard.
And Cicilia knew then that it was the truth. She knew she had to say it or she’d simply explode. She knew now for sure why she’d been so torn up during their time not talking, and why reuniting with him had made her feel so blessed. “I do love him, Catherine. More than me own heart, more than anythin’ except for me brother an’ sister. I love him.”
Catherine had happy tears in her eyes when she nodded. “Aye, I thought so,” she said. “An’ God bless ye for it, Cicilia O’Donnel. Ye’re bringin’ me wee brother back to life at last.”
But though it was sweet, Cicilia’s heart constricted with pain.
Aye, I love him. I’ve admitted it now, but to what end? There’s nae scenario where this ends well for us both. Nae scenario where everyone gets what they want.
“It doesn’ae matter,” she said sadly. “Even if he…even if Alexander wanted the same, an’ I’m nae sayin’ that I think he does—”
“He does,” Catherine assured her, but Cicilia pressed on as if she hadn’t heard.
“Even then, I couldn’ae…I wouldnae act on it beyond what we’ve already done. I couldn’ae wed him. I couldn’ae leave me Faither’s farm, nae before Jamie is old enough to take over. I will nae ask Alexander to abandon his seat, an’ I’ll even less likely ask him to wait eight years or more for me to be ready.”
She
shook her head, and she knew her words were true even though they tore at her heart. “I cannae let meself love Alexander, an’ I cannae let him love me. It only ends in heartbreak. I should end what we’re doin’ now. I should finish me work in the village, an’ then when the renovations are done, I’ll go home to me farm an’ we can forget about each other.”
Catherine let out a long sigh that reminded Cicilia so much of Alexander’s frustrated noise that she did a double-take. “That is the opposite lesson I wanted ye to take from this, Cicilia,” Catherine complained.
Cicilia smiled sadly. “Aye, I ken what ye intended. Ye’re a good woman an’ a better sister. But I will nae be another Ilene. I will nae break his heart. It’s better that he’s hurt a bit now than we both suffer more later.”
Catherine tutted, but nodded. “If that’s what ye believe. But, Cicilia, will ye do me one favor?”
“Aye?” Cicilia replied. She figured that, whatever the Laird’s wife asked, it was the least she could do. “What can I do for ye, Madame Sinclair?”
“Two things,” Catherine told her. “First, stop callin’ me Madame Sinclair. If Sandy is Alexander, then I’m Catherine, aye?”
Cicilia chuckled sadly. “Aye, all right, Catherine. An’ the other thing?”
“Dinnae break it off just yet,” the Laird’s wife entreated. “Nae yet. If ye insist that pullin’ apart is the best way forward, then I understand, but please, for me sake, wait until yer renovations are near complete. Let yerself an’ me wee brother be happy for just a touch longer. Please.”
Cicilia hesitated. Part of her wanted to refuse outright, but another, stronger, part was crying out for her to agree. After all, she didn’t want to give Alexander up. She didn’t want to live in a way that meant she’d never kiss him again, never feel his skin against her own. She didn’t want to…
But does that make me selfish? If I let us get deeper into this, kennin’ how it’ll end, can I really call meself a good person? How am I better than Ilene?
She resolved to talk to Alexander about the whole situation, and soon. The thought scared her, but it was the only way ahead. In a few days, when the dust had settled, she’d sit him down and confess her feelings. Then she’d explain the issue and leave it up to him if they continued on until she left for good.
It’s a solid plan. So why does it make me heart ache so much?
The Castle was looming on the horizon now, and Catherine touched her shoulder. “Cicilia?” she asked. “Can ye do it?”
Cicilia looked between Catherine and the Castle, her own heart all aflutter once more, the bundle of emotions almost too much to bear. “Can I do it?” she repeated. “Honestly, Catherine? I have nae idea.”
Chapter 24
Cui Bono?
Good for Whom?
Annys and Jamie were extremely taken by Alexander’s niece and nephew. In fact, Annys quite boldly announced, much to the amusement of everyone at breakfast, that she would wed young Matthew as soon as the pair of them were old enough.
“An’ will ye come live in the Sinclair lands an’ be a joint ruler o’ the Castle when me husband steps down?” Catherine asked her.
“Aye! An’ when Cil is rulin’ here, our family will be in charge o’ two clans!” Annys said with a giggle.
Alexander glanced at Cicilia, seeing her discomfort as she stared deliberately down at her plate. He sighed. The children had been gossiping, and he suspected that Alice, in all of her young adolescent wisdom, had declared that Cicilia and he would be wed.
He’d meant to talk to Cicilia about it since the day in the inn a few days previously. He’d realized, then, how he felt—how he loved her. He’d told Nathair such, and the response had been a resounding, “Aye, an’ water is wet.”
Rude, but accurate. Everybody kent except me, even me sister that I have nae seen in such a long time.
The thing was, though, he couldn’t just bring it up. He and Cicilia didn’t have the luxury that Nathair and Jeanie had, the freedom that came with their positions. Both had responsibilities, but both were quickly able to adjust to suit the other. Though there would be some adjustments for them, Jeanie would be able to leave Wauton behind and move into the Castle with her new husband without disrupting anything much.
Nathair had admitted to him, after apologizing for not telling him about the betrothal sooner, that if Jeanie hadn’t wanted to move, he would have gone to her. Yes, he would have missed being Man-at-arms—but love was love.
Such a luxury to be able to think in such ways. I wonder what it must feel like.
Because Cicilia was not Jeanie, and Alexander was not Nathair. The Laird of Gallagher could not simply abandon his people because he wished to live out his days on a farm with a beautiful woman. And no more could Cicilia leave the O’Donnel farm to be taken over by those outside of her family.
He was almost sure, now, that she felt the same way that he did. If anything, though, that made him feel worse. This terrifying, beautiful, chaotic, perfect woman had changed everything about him, and soon, too soon, she would slip away from him.
An’ it’s me duty to let her go.
He had meant to talk to her, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it yet. Everyone was so happy, everything so calm outside of the occasional bickering and making up-between them, that he didn’t want to disrupt it.
An’ ye just dinnae want to. Ye cannae lie to yerself, Alexander.
The awkward silence at the table was broken by his sister, who, acting as if she had not heard the last part of what Annys said, turned to Cicilia. “Ye’re goin’ down to the town today, then? Will ye take the bairns?”
Cicilia gave her a grateful look, as did Alexander. “Aye, I’m goin’. An’ I was gonnae take them, but—”
“Nae!” Jamie protested. “That’s nae fair, Alice said she was gonnae teach us to play her special marbles game!”
“Aye, an’ I want to play wi’ Matthew,” Annys insisted.
Alexander looked over at his nephew and was very amused to see the ten-year-old blush. Both children were too young for real flirtation, but it was sweet to see how they seemed to like each other anyway. It was a kind of innocence he missed from his own childhood, and he was glad they could experience it, at least.
Cicilia looked a little helpless. “I ken, but I promised the baker’s wife I’d meet wi’ her an’ her friend today. They wanted to ask me some questions in exchange for information, an’—”
“We dinnae want to!” said Jamie.
“That’s all right, Cicilia,” Catherine said brightly. “I ken Jeanie an’ Nathair are away for the day, but ye can still leave the bairns here. I’m keepin’ an eye on me two, anyway. I may as well watch the twins.”
“I dinnae need to be watched,” Alice protested. “I’m practically a woman grown.”
“Aye, well, ye can help me, then,” Catherine replied smoothly.
Alexander hid his smirk at how deftly his sister handled it before it became a strop.
“If ye’re sure?” Cicilia asked.
“An’ Sandy will help me, too, won’t ye?” Catherine added.
Probably not. Alexander had his own worries to deal with today. The rumors of an uprising were getting louder. Nathair and Jeanie were purportedly out on a couple’s day, but the Man-at-arms and his bride-to-be were actually gathering information to prepare for the inevitable upcoming attack. He would not tell either his sister or Cicilia this, though. He would not worry them.
“Aye, o’ course,” he replied as the children cheered. “After I do some work in me study.”
Cicilia smiled that heartwrenching smile of hers once more, then said, “All right, then. If ye insist, I’ll leave when we’re done here.”
Aye. An’ maybe when ye get back, I’ll have prevented a war.
Susan was waiting at the town square when Cicilia arrived. She had not just one friend with her, but several—two Marys, an Annabel, and an Anne. To Cicilia’s relief, the women all jokingly assured her that they didn’t ex
pect her to remember which of them was which or call them by name.
The six of them sat together, and Cicilia told the women the same stories she had already told the baker’s wife. She told them what Alexander had done behind the scenes all these years, and she told them how kind he was at heart. She even admitted how she had been working against the set laws and running the farm, and emphasized how he supported her.
“A man supportin’ a woman in business?” one of the Marys said, sounding impressed. “Perhaps his Lairdship is really nae as bad as they’re sayin’ after all. I told me husband nae to get mixed up in all the nonsense.”
A Hellion for the Highlander: A Steamy Scottish Historical Romance Novel Page 21
