by Sara Logan
"My clan," she muttered, trying to be reasonable and failing.
"Yes, but I don't have any authority over you, you know. More's the pity…"
"What?" she questioned.
"Never mind. We're blocking traffic here. Do you forgive me?"
"Well, I…" she began.
"Chris," he said seriously, holding both of her shoulders in a firm warm grip, "I give you my word as a Stewart that I never intended to upset you and I sincerely apologize. Will that do?"
She smiled at him ruefully, unwillingly. "Yes," she said, in a small voice.
"Well," said an arch voice behind them. "I had no idea you were so important, Mr. Stewart."
Alex turned and met Monica's wide, ingenuous look, and a wry smile touched his lips. His eyes shifted to James MacDonald's face and he forcibly choked back a laugh. Mr. James MacDonald looked thoroughly disgruntled, to put it mildly.
"You didn't tell us, Chrissy," James accused, his color high with the heat and his frustration. "My lord," he said, turning to Alex. "I had no idea that your cousin was Lord Auldern."
Christina and Alex exchanged a quick, amused look. James, now that he knew just who Alex was, was going to be polite if he was killed in the process.
"Please," Alex said quickly, "call me Alexander. I don't usually use my title. Chris, I see Rory beckoning to us. James, Monica, will you excuse us?"
When they were deep into the crowd and out of earshot of James, Alex stopped. His face was deeply creased in a smile that was echoed by the twinkle in his eyes. "Your James MacDonald is a bit of a snob, Chris! Now he's going to kill us with kindness! Oh, well, I suppose that's better than open hostility,"
She was laughing helplessly. "Did you see the expression on his face, Alex? He was so surprised and so mad to find out who you are. I'll never forget it. You're forgiven, I guess. The sight of his face made it all worthwhile."
"I agree," he said, looking around. "Where can we find something to eat? I'm starving, and you must be, too."
They laughed. He was obviously relieved to find that she was already willing to joke about his deception.
"We need something to drink, too," she said. "It must be ninety degrees out here."
As she spoke she looked at Alex. The only thing that betrayed the fact that the temperature was uncomfortable was Alex's hair. It had escaped from its firmly brushed order and was curling around his ears and the nape of his neck. He looked years younger. Other than that, he appeared cool and composed.
"Your cousin…" she began.
"Has vanished again. Never mind. We'll find them later."
After waiting in line for what seemed a terribly long time they were at last admitted to a tent where, in the shade, it seemed somewhat cooler. There they ate the Scottish fare with gusto. They washed down a Scottish meat pie with American soft drinks and then finished with Scottish shortbread.
"Quite a Continental lunch," Alex commented, reaching for another piece of shortbread. "What's next?"
"We should sign in at the Stewart tent."
After doing that, they joined the crowds watching the various athletic competitions. The first thing they watched was the caber toss.
"The tossing of the caber is the most traditional of the Scottish athletic events," Alex explained. "Although it dates back to the sixteenth century, no one is precisely sure of the purpose of it. Some people believe it may have been begun as a military discipline."
Christina grinned. "Or it could have started as an excuse to show off. Have you thought of that?"
Alex laughed. "No, but you're probably right."
They watched as a bearded giant in Highland dress exhibited his strength, accuracy, and skill by tossing the hundred-pound, eighteen-foot-long caber, which resembled a telephone pole, end over end.
"The distance the caber is thrown has no bearing on the outcome of the event at all," Alex explained. "Each contestant has three opportunities to throw it in such a way that the small end is pointing away from the contestant, and it's his accuracy that the event is judged on."
"You don't say," she commented dryly.
Alex laughed again. "I forgot. Anyone who attends these games as often as you do probably knows more about it than I do."
After the caber toss, they wandered over to the stone toss, a distance match, and watched young men take turns throwing a sixteen-pound stone.
"I'm sure you know that in Gaelic this event is known as clackneart," she couldn't resist saying, and he smiled.
"You even have the pronunciations right," he said. "I am impressed."
They watched the stone toss for a while and then were drawn into observing an exuberant tug of war. They did see Alex's cousin, Rory, and his wife, later in the afternoon, while the sporting events were still going on. They had come to watch Alex give a demonstration throw of the twenty-eight-pound hammer. Christina stood beside them and gazed with admiration as Alex, stripped of his coat, gripped the heavy iron weight, started his turn, and threw it an astonishing distance. The crowd was obvious and audible in their approval. Then, when competition in the event began, she watched the entrants attempt to emulate his skill and fluid grace. They all failed to do so.
"Alex is good, you know," commented Rory, breaking into her thoughts. She turned startled eyes toward him.
"I'm sorry," she murmured, "I was a million miles away. Yes," she agreed, turning to watch the stalwart figure of Alexander Stewart where he stood on the sidelines, "he is good."
"He used to win this event regularly at Balmoral. I have a dreadful memory, Christina," Rory said, changing the subject rapidly, "but I don't think… I mean, have I met you before today?"
She laughed. "Indeed not, my lord. You haven't."
"Rory, please. Any friend of Alex's is a friend of mine. Tell me, have you ever been to Scotland?"
"Thank you. And no," she said, in answer to his second question. "I haven't been to Scotland yet. My grandfather is an import dealer in North Carolina and he handles the buying trips. He and Alex are old friends."
"I see. I didn't think I had met you before, and Lorna didn't remember, either, did you, my dear?" He turned to the silent woman on his other side, and she looked appraisingly at Christina.
"No, I don't recall Alex ever mentioning you," she murmured, "but then we can't be expected to keep track of all his women!" The ugly remark and something in the chilly black eyes told Christina that Lorna MacRae was less than pleased to make her acquaintance. The ensuing, rather strained, silence was broken by Alex's arrival.
"Ah, Alex!" said Rory. "That was a fine throw. You haven't lost any of your skill, I see. What time is it? That late already? I'm scheduled to listen to the piping competition and I don't even know where to go."
Alex grinned. "Don't worry yourself, laddie. Here comes someone obviously sent to fetch you. Chris, do you want to watch the piping or stay and see the rest of this?"
"Actually, I have to report to the main tent right now. The Scottish dancers I once belonged to are giving a demonstration in half an hour and I'm supposed to be in it. I agreed to do it when we decided to come," she added.
"I wondered," he admitted, admiring her vest and kilt. He had guessed she wouldn't normally wear the dancer's black vest and tartan kilt and had wondered about it. "I'll go with you and find something cold to drink while you get ready."
"Lorna? Shall we go?" Rory said.
Lorna smiled sweetly at her husband. "I think I'll go with Alex, dear, and find something cold to drink too. We'll join you later, Rory." Ignoring Christina entirely, Lorna turned to Alex, took his arm in a light grasp, and added, "Find us a cool place to sit down, please, Alex. It's so hot!"
His lips tightened slightly but he nodded to Rory and took Christina's arm with his free hand. "I'll see you to the refreshment tent, Lorna, and then I'll go watch Chris dance."
As they moved away from Rory Christina overheard Lorna say, "But after all, Alex, what's one more dancing competition?"
Alex didn't answer but pil
oted both women through the crowd, and at last they reached the main tent. He looked coldly at Lorna over Christina's head and, smiling down at Christina, he directed his next remark to her. "I'll get Lorna settled and come back."
"You don't need to do that…" Christina began, and Lorna interrupted, "See, Alex, she doesn't even want you to watch. You know how these little amateurs are. It would probably make you nervous, wouldn't it, dear?"
Before Christina could muster an answer to that patronizing remark Alex announced, "Nonsense! I wouldn't miss it. See you in a few minutes, Chris." With that he took Lorna's elbow and guided her firmly to her cold drink.
Christina watched them go and wondered. Was it just her imagination, or was Lorna doing everything in her power to get Alex alone? First she had managed to free herself from going with Rory to listen to the piping. Then, oh, so sweetly, she had attached herself to Alex and Christina. Immediately after that she tried to engineer the situation so that Christina would be out of the picture. What was Lorna to Alex? What could she be but his cousin's wife? Would she be clever enough to keep Alex from watching the dancing? Christina felt her anger rise at the thought that Alex would probably allow himself to be cajoled into missing the one thing that she, Christina, participated in. Then she reminded herself that Alexander Stewart was nothing to her. So why did she care what he was doing? She headed for the dressing room, annoyed, and with all her questions still unanswered.
The dances,—the Highland fling, the hornpipe, the seann triubhas, and the ever popular lilt—were received enthusiastically. Alex, his black head towering above the others in the audience, clapped the loudest of all when the demonstration was over. So he had managed to escape from the clinging Lorna after all, Christina thought happily, and then wondered why his presence should make such a difference.
After the demonstration, Christina gladly relinquished her velvet vest and she and Alex rested for a while in the shady tent reserved for the special guests. Then, afraid they would miss something, they wandered around the field, enjoying the other events. They admired the advanced pipers who were competing and listened to the scheduled program of pipe bands and Highland music.
During all of that otherwise pleasant afternoon, Christina was acutely and uncomfortably conscious of Lorna's cold and appraising stare whenever they happened to meet. She did not actually interject herself into Christina and Alex's company again; she just seemed to be there, on the edge of the crowd, always a few feet away, watching. Christina found herself becoming increasingly uneasy as the afternoon progressed. At one point she considered asking Alex why Lorna was acting so strangely, but she rejected the idea, for Alex seemed not to notice Lorna at all. He was deeply involved in enjoying each one of the activities. With an almost conscious effort, Christina determined to ignore the woman, too, so she turned her back on her and tried to pretend that she wasn't there.
Christina forced herself to concentrate on a very fine pipe band from Washington, D.C. She was then particularly fascinated by the men dancing the traditional sword dance.
"Do you know how to do that?" she asked Alex, admiring the way the nimble dancers leapt back and forth over the crossed swords, spinning, turning, moving so quickly that it was hard to follow them.
"No," he admitted. "I don't. And, as I told you, I don't play the pipes, either."
"I think you should. All Scotsmen are supposed to do the sword dance and play the bagpipes!"
He merely grinned at that. "Well, I don't, and most of the men in Scotland don't, either. Sorry to disappoint you. I do, however, dance a very mean reel, as you'll find out tonight."
Christina smiled back at him and glanced swiftly around. She noticed, with relief, that Rory had found Lorna, tucked her arm in his, and was leading her to the far side of the meadow. Good, thought Christina, and almost at the same moment wondered once again why she cared.
They finished another cold drink, and then Christina suggested that they watch the Border collies at work. She always enjoyed seeing the little black and white dogs, and, besides, she could see James and Monica moving in their direction. Having successfully evaded those two, Alex and Christina watched the beautiful animals run through their routines, and Christina commented that she enjoyed that part of the games as much as anything else.
"I like to see animals doing what they were meant to do. Too many sheep dogs do nothing but doze their lives away."
Alex smiled. "Let me remind you that a Border collie is a beautiful dog and 'beauty is its own excuse for being.'"
As he spoke he was looking at her with such an intent expression in his eyes that she realized that he was no longer talking about the collies. She blushed, and there was a brief silence.
"Heavens, what time is it?" she asked briskly. "We promised to meet Rory and Lorna for a drink before dinner." This last was said reluctantly.
Alex glanced at his watch, thinking longingly of a tall, cold drink in a cool, dark bar, and sighed. The late-afternoon heat was overpowering and he could feel his shirt sticking damply to his back. The day's events wouldn't be over for at least an hour, and Rory couldn't leave until they were over. "Do you want to stay until the end?" he asked. "I'm hot, tired, and ready for a bath and a drink. I'll just tell Rory we'll meet them at his hotel and we can go on. It will do you good to get some rest before the dance."
"I'm ready to leave if you are. I see James and Monica headed this way again and a little bit of them has gone a long way today. They'll probably be at the dance, though. James usually goes."
"I'm glad you warned me," Alex said lightly, slipping an arm about her shoulders and hugging her. She wondered if he was doing it to impress James. "We'll take care to avoid them," he promised.
They merged into the crowd, found Rory and Lorna, and made their excuses.
"It is hot, and surely we've seen everything there is to see, haven't we?" queried Lorna. "I believe I'll let Alex take me back to the hotel, dear."
"Nonsense," said Rory firmly. "There's a lot we haven't seen yet, and you can last another hour."
Before Lorna could voice another protest Rory determinedly bore her off into the crowd. Christina smothered a giggle at how neatly Rory managed his wife.
Relieved of Lorna's possessive presence, Christina and Alex followed the path back down to where the shuttle bus waited. On the ride back to the car, Christina again found herself wondering about Lorna. She certainly didn't seem to be enjoying the games much, and Christina had become more and more aware of the tension that grew whenever Lorna and Alex were together. She wondered at the reason for it and whether Rory noticed it.
"Have Rory and Lorna been married long?" she asked Alex as they collected the car from the parking lot and started back to the Lodge.
"A year," he said shortly, and she realized he didn't want to talk about it, but some devil forced her to persist. She had noticed his shuttered expression and the curt tone of his voice, but she questioned him further anyway.
"She's very beautiful," Christina added softly.
"Yes, she is."
"I gather you've known her for a long time," Christina pursued, not sure why, but finding that her curiosity had grown by leaps and bounds.
"We all grew up together. Rory is two years younger than I am and Lorna is twenty-eight, I believe. She was a model before she married Rory."
Christina let the subject die after that, since it was obvious that getting even this much information had been like pulling teeth. She pondered again on the reason why the atmosphere was charged whenever Lorna was present or even discussed. It was hard to define it, she thought as she left Alex to go to her room. All the time she was changing and bathing she wondered. She sensed a watchfulness, on Lorna's part, and something else, something challenging. It was almost as if she dared Alex to ignore her. He seemed withdrawn, coolly polite, and not very responsive to Lorna's practiced invitations. Had he disapproved of the match? Christina wondered, relaxing in the blissfully cool room after hanging away her kilt and vest. Did Lorna kno
w it and was she trying to win him over so he would accept her marriage to Rory. That didn't seem to be it, though. There was something there, that much Christina knew, but what? Sliding into a tepid bath, she admitted to herself that, in spite of everything, she had never enjoyed a day at the games so much. Once the introductory ceremonies were past, Alex had been a wonderful companion, careful of her comfort and attentive to her interests, making sure she saw everything she wanted to see and keeping James and Monica at bay. It was quite a change to have someone so solicitous of her comfort and pleasure, she thought, after being used to James's selfish manner. Alex had played his part very well, it seemed. James had glowered at him much of the afternoon; Lorna had spent considerable time studying them both; even Rory seemed to sense that there was more between his cousin and the American girl than just friendship. Christina bit her lip and stepped out of the bathwater. This charade might rebound on them yet!
Chapter Six
Her uneasiness about dinner proved to be well founded. They drove in silence to the luxurious club at the hotel where Rory and Lorna were staying and Christina found this silence strangely disturbing. Alex had lost his carefree mood of the morning and seemed to be deeply preoccupied with his own thoughts. From the grim expression on his face, she knew his thoughts were unpleasant, to say the least. He scarcely spoke on the drive, just acknowledging her directions with a curt nod. Christina felt a flutter of nervousness seize her stomach as they walked into the dining room of the club.
She knew that she was looking her best in her long, slim-fitting white dress with a brilliant tartan sash pinned high on one shoulder. Even her hair had cooperated by swirling in soft, shining curls around her face. Yet the instant she saw Lorna rise from the table to greet them, all her own self-confidence vanished as if it had never been. Lorna's striking coloring and superb figure were more than amply complemented by the dress she wore. It was black, with a deeply plunging neckline and tiny straps that called attention to her creamy shoulders. The rich fabric, shot with silver, glittered as she moved. A magnificent diamond necklace encircled her slender white throat and matching earrings glittered at her ears.
