Kidnapped: His Innocent Mistress

by Nicola Cornick

  I told myself that I did not resent his leaving me to travel on to Applecross without him but I knew it was not true. I fiercely begrudged losing him to the Navy and to his family. And a small part of me, a little voice that whispered unhelpfully in my ear whenever I felt tired or lonely, told me that he might not come back to me if Lord Strathconan persuaded him against our marriage. I hated that voice, and I tried to close my ears to it, but it never quite left me in peace.

  Before Neil had left me he had promised to meet me at Applecross in three weeks’ time for our wedding. He had sent word on ahead of us, and Mrs Campbell had travelled up to Gairloch to chaperon me home on the last part of the journey. This seemed a little superfluous to me after all I had been through, but I was not going to argue. I had already realised that when Neil was determined to observe propriety he could be stricter than a Scots Methodist minister.

  I sighed as I remembered our parting. We had stood in the courtyard of the Eagle Inn at Gairloch to say our goodbyes. Unsurprisingly I had refused to take the carriage from the Five Bells. It was a grey day, with the rain falling in a pale curtain. We stood under the dripping eaves and Neil drew me close to him. The rain was running down his face and his coat smelled of wet wool. It was not romantic, and yet I wanted to stay there in his arms for ever.

  ‘I don’t want to leave you,’ he said. He sounded strained. ‘Catriona, my heart, little cat.’

  He spoke softly, in the Gaelic, and my heart leapt to hear it, for it was not often that Neil’s civilised reserve broke to show the passionate Highlander beneath. I raised a hand to his wet cheek, and then he was kissing me with all the release of his pent-up desire, and he tasted of rain and salt, and a huge wave of love and need knocked me flat with emotion. I am sure that he could have made love to me there and then in the courtyard, without the slightest protest from me, but my chaperon, seeing the way that matters were going, stepped forward with a great clearing of her throat and practically grabbed me from his arms. I suppose she must have told Mr Campbell what had happened, now I come to think of it, and it was probably that which had confirmed the poor man’s opinion of Neil as a shameless ravisher of women.

  Mr Campbell sighed now, recalling me to the present. ‘If you are in agreement, Catriona, I will make the arrangements at once. Mr Sinclair suggests the twenty-fifth for the wedding.’

  ‘I am in agreement, sir,’ I said. I hesitated. ‘Forgive me, but you do not seem very happy with the match.’

  Mr Campbell sighed again. He turned back to look at me. His face was set in deep lines, and once again, as on the occasion when he had first sent me to Glen Clair, I was aware of the burden I was to him, and how determined he was for both my father’s sake and my own to do the best that he could for me. Dear Mr Campbell! It had not turned out so well the first time, and perhaps he was fearful that this might be as bad.

  ‘I realise that this marriage has to take place—’ he said.

  I blushed a fiery red. ‘I beg your pardon, Mr Campbell,’ I said, ‘but it does not. There is no necessity for me to marry, if that is what you mean.’

  He looked at me, and I think his lips almost twitched into a smile when he saw the depth of my sincerity and my indignation. ‘Then I beg your pardon, too, Catriona,’ he said mildly. ‘I did not intend to offend you. If you tell me there is no need…’

  ‘Not in the intimate sense,’ I said, almost ready to sink with mortification now, for nothing in my life had prepared me for talking about such personal matters with the minister who had baptised me and known me from childhood. ‘No need at all. Mr Sinclair has been the perfect gentleman, and I—’ I stopped, for in truth I could not claim a great deal of virtue for myself. There had been several occasions when only Neil’s self-control had stood between me and my ruin, and in those moments I would have welcomed his lovemaking with open arms.

  ‘Hmm,’ Mr Campbell said. ‘Not that that will stop anyone talking scandal.’

  ‘Unfortunately not,’ I agreed. ‘And most people would never believe me anyway.’

  I knew this was true, because I had already had a visit from Lady Bennie and the Misses Bennie. They had ostensibly called to show their sympathy for the terrible ordeal I had suffered, but they had also implied, with a slight withdrawing of skirts, that that although it was all very well for the scapegrace daughter of the late schoolmaster to behave as I had done—indeed, it was almost to be expected with my ramshackle upbringing—it would certainly not have done for the daughters of the squire. One look at the faces of the Misses Bennie had told the truth, though. It was clear when the wedding was discussed that they both wished they had had the opportunity to be ruined by the wicked Mr Sinclair.

  ‘Which is the material point, unfortunately,’ Mr Campbell said, once again drawing me back to the present. ‘Your reputation is ruined, whatever the truth behind the situation.’ He shook his head distractedly. ‘Oh, dear, for all that Mr Sinclair has offered you the protection of his name, like the gentleman he is, I cannot quite believe that he is good enough for you, Catriona. He may be a very worthy young man—’ Mr Campbell did not sound entirely convinced of this ‘—but you are special, and I am not sure that he deserves you.’

  I got up and went over to kiss his cheek. I so wanted to smooth the worried lines from Mr Campbell’s face. ‘Pray do not concern yourself, sir,’ I said. ‘Mr Sinclair is a very good man, and I am happy to be marrying him.’

  I think that I convinced him. Certainly his anxious expression lifted a little, and though I heard him sigh for a third time it was in resigned acceptance. I think that I almost convinced myself as well. I had resolved to marry Neil Sinclair and I am not the sort of person to waver and bend with the wind. So each time a doubt nibbled at the corner of my mind I would dismiss it. I dismissed my fears that Lord Stathconan would refuse permission for the marriage to go ahead, I dismissed my anxiety over what shape my future life would take, and most of all I dismissed the knowledge that Neil did not love me.

  It was perhaps fortunate—or unfortunate, depending on your point of view—that I was given very little time for thinking between choosing my trousseau from the travelling peddler, Mrs Campbell fussing over dress fittings, Mrs McLeod, the cook, wishing to talk about the wedding breakfast, and Lady Bennie and her daughters calling every other day to check as to whether I had had news of Mr Sinclair. I had not. The time slipped away and I managed most successfully to keep my thoughts at bay.

  Two days before the wedding, Neil came back. Lord and Lady Strathconan were with him. A whole procession of carriages and coaches followed them down the narrow road into the village. People spilled out of them—friends, relatives, acquaintances—all of whom Lord Strathconan had decreed should be present to witness his heir’s marriage.

  And I think it was then that everything started to go wrong.

  ‘I had no choice,’ Neil said. He had caught my arm and drawn me aside for a brief moment, whilst Lord and Lady Strathconan descended their carriage. ‘I could hardly deny my uncle and aunt the right to attend my wedding.’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘No, of course you could not. Of course they had to come.’

  But I felt the cold touch of reality intrude, for here was the first tangible sign that my life was going to be very different in future, and that I might not always have the ordering of it. The Earl of Strathconan wanted to see his nephew and heir wed, and when Lord Strathconan asked, no one gainsaid.

  I did understand. Even so, my heart ached for the quiet little wedding I had wanted in the chapel at Applecross. I had thought that there would be no one but Mr and Mrs Campbell to hear Neil and me take our vows. I had imagined the autumn sunshine making pools on the ancient stone flags of the floor and the dust motes dancing in the still air, and the tranquil atmosphere conjuring memories of my father and mother so that in the peace I could have time to think of them and believe them to be there in spirit, watching over me and blessing my future.

  Now all that had changed. Lord and Lady Strathconan and all
their entourage were staying with Sir Compton and Lady Bennie, there being nowhere in Applecross village remotely suitable to accommodate the exacting requirements of an Earl. That meant that the Bennies must be invited to attend the wedding, as well as all of Lord Strathconan’s friends and relatives, who included Johnny Methven, standing as Neil’s groomsman, and his mother, Lady Methven, who was apparently Lord Strathconan’s sister. The wedding breakfast would now be held at the Manor, putting Mrs McLeod’s days of preparation to waste and her nose firmly out of joint.

  It soon became apparent that my modest trousseau was completely unacceptable to Lady Strathconan and Lady Methven. Lady Strathconan, who seemed as charming as Ellen had once told me, sifted through the little pile of gloves and scarves and ribbons I had bought from the peddler and shook her head slightly.

  ‘My dear child,’ she said, smiling gently at me, ‘I am afraid these simply will not do.’

  Lady Methven was not so charming. She picked over my undergarments like a crow picking over a cadaver. She looked like a crow as well, with her sharp chin and darting eyes. ‘Dreadful cheap quality,’ she cawed, and as her gaze slid over me I knew she was expressing her opinion of me as well as the clothes.

  ‘It is fortunate,’ Lady Strathconan continued, determinedly ignoring her sister-in-law and smiling through, ‘that I brought you some items from my own dressmaker in Edinburgh, dearest Catriona. As a wedding gift, naturally…’

  Put like that, of course, I could not be so ungracious as to refuse the gift, but I looked at my sad little pile of purchases and felt an angry resolve that I would not throw them away.

  ‘Never mind the fripperies, Emily,’ Lady Methven said sharply. ‘We must do something about the gown.’ She flicked dismissively at the lace and lawn that Mrs Campbell had sewn with such loving care. ‘Indeed, the chit cannot wear this! She will look utterly unpresentable!’

  ‘Yes,’ Lady Strathconan said, ‘the gown…’ She sighed and her plump, pretty face drooped.

  I could see that Emily Stirling must once have been an extremely attractive woman, pretty enough to tempt Lord Strathconan into the indiscretion of marrying beneath him. And it seemed to me that on her marriage she must have moved from placating difficult children for a living to placating snobbish aristocrats instead, for I imagined it had taken a great deal of work and many years before Lady Methven had welcomed this former governess into the family.

  Such was not going to be my fate. In that moment I resolved that I was not going to spend my future begging for favour from Lady Methven and her ilk. I would rather pull out my own eyelashes than bend to her will.

  ‘What is the matter with my wedding gown, ma’am?’ I enquired, all innocence. ‘Mrs Campbell has worked her fingers to the bone to have it ready in time.’

  Lady Methven snorted with disgust. Lady Strathconan sighed. ‘It is very pretty, Catriona,’ she said, and Lady Methven snorted again, ‘but I am afraid it is a little too simple for the occasion. I have brought a gown and a veil from my own dressmaker that will require very little alteration…’

  Of course she had. Somehow I had known that already.

  ‘That dress will never be ready in time,’ Lady Methven opined. ‘The chit is far too skinny—the bodice requires taking in by several inches.’

  ‘Then I shall wear my own dress, my lady,’ I said, ‘for it is already made and, as Lady Strathconan says, is very pretty.’

  And though Lady Methven bullied me and Lady Strathconan cajoled me, I would not be swayed. Mrs Campbell had worked with love to produce that gown for my wedding, and so many of our plans and arrangements had been overset already. I was not going to go quietly.

  They must have realised it, for several times over the next day I saw Lady Strathconan looking at me with speculation in her eyes, and Lady Methven with deep disapproval in hers. I think they were wondering how long it would be before they could break my recalcitrant spirit. It is true that they held all the cards. But if they were spoilt tyrants I was headstrong, and disinclined to meet them halfway, so it was inevitable that we would clash.

  As for Lord Strathconan, beyond his first greeting he had not spoken to me at all. He was a short, rotund man, with a complexion that argued ill health and a choleric manner that suggested that he was in constant pain. Secretly I had hoped to find him far more congenial, and was gravely disappointed. When Neil introduced us the Earl had not minced his words to me. He had looked me over, and the flinty expression in his grey eyes had not softened one iota.

  ‘So,’ he said, ‘you are the gel my nephew is obliged to marry. He tells me that you are well bred and well educated and charming. I sincerely hope so. You are a Balfour of Glen Clair, so I understand?’ His bushy eyebrows bunched together as he frowned. ‘I’ll not pretend that you are the bride I would have chosen for my heir.’

  Well, if it came to that he was not the uncle I would have chosen for myself. I seemed to have poor luck when it came to uncles.

  ‘I am sorry that you feel like that, my lord,’ I said, very politely, and saw his brows snap down further as he realised I was apologising for nothing other than his own lack of courtesy to me. He had stumped off, and Lady Strathconan had made haste to follow him to smooth matters over.

  You may be wondering where Neil was in all of this. I was wondering much the same myself. After our brief, snatched conversation on the day he had arrived, I had barely seen him. The ladies had informed me that it was bad luck for me to spend time with my groom until the day of the wedding itself, and had surrounded me like a witches’ coven, never letting me out of their sight. I had never been so closely chaperoned in my life, and it drove me mad always to have someone at my elbow, and to have no privacy nor any time to myself. Lady Bennie had given me a bedchamber that could only be accessed through an outer room, and Lady Methven had stationed a servant there at all times as though she suspected I would be creeping out for an assignation with Neil—or he would be creeping in—if we were not close-guarded. It was ridiculous.

  I wanted to find Neil and suggest that we elope somewhere, taking Mr Campbell with us to perform the wedding ceremony, to get away from this circus of guests and gowns and wedding breakfasts. The Neil Sinclair I had known on Taransay would have run off with me in an instant. Of that I was certain. But this Neil Sinclair? The man who was heir to all this pomp and ceremony was a stranger to me.

  That was when I started to have second thoughts. Suddenly I was crippled with shyness and doubt, wishing desperately that Neil and I could go back to how we had been in that little white hut by the sea, just the two of us alone in all existence. But that seemed impossible now. The kidnap, the shipwreck and our lives on Taransay seemed like a dream. It had been another world, and one that I had lost. All that excitement and adventure was gone now. We were back in a place with rules, regulations and reputations.

  I almost ran away from the wedding. I was so miserable and afraid that I almost left Neil standing at the altar. I know his horrible relatives would have been glad to see me scampering away up the glen in my poor-quality wedding dress.

  What was it that stopped me? It was my pride, naturally. I could not bear for all those stiff-necked aristocrats to believe I had run because I thought I was not good enough for them. For that was what they would have thought. That was the one thing that prevented me from backing out, and it was a poor enough reason to go through with the wedding, but that, alas, was typical of me with my Balfour pride.

  And so I married Neil. And then I ran away.

  Chapter Sixteen

  In which I run away and Neil runs after me.

  Actually it was not as melodramatic as it sounds. I ran away from the wedding breakfast, not from my marriage.

  By the time that the dessert had been consumed and the guests were dissolving into alcoholic merriment I could stand it no longer. Neil had sat by my side throughout that interminable meal, but we had not had a single private conversation. He had helped me to the food, most attentively, had poured my wine him
self and had complimented me on my appearance—in my second-rate gown—he had smiled at me frequently but we had not said one meaningful thing to one another. How could we, with Lord Strathconan on my other side and Lady Methven seated next to Neil and demanding the best of his attention?

  I began to see how it was possible for a married couple never to have a moment to themselves. And I also saw that no one thought this odd; indeed none of the married couples around the table appeared to want to speak to one another, for they were either busy getting drunk or flirting with someone other than their husband or wife, or forcing down their throats mouthful after mouthful of Sir Compton’s finest food.

  I do not think anyone noticed when I slipped away. I do not think they cared. Perhaps Mr Campbell noticed, but he was unlikely to give me away. Lady Bennie, seated further down the table, had claimed Neil’s attention, and Lord Strathconan simply grunted when I excused myself. Only the servants watched as I made for the door and walked straight out into the rain.

  Yes, it was raining. The morning had been fine for the wedding, but now a sea mist had blown in from the west and the hills had disappeared beneath the lowering clouds. Darkness was falling. I ran down to the strand and stood there, while the rain soaked my wedding gown and clung to my skin and beaded on my hair. I let the cold wind blow through me and felt the chill in my soul.

  ‘Catriona?’

  I turned. Neil was standing only a few feet behind me. He had come after me. I felt my heart lift with pleasure that he cared enough to follow me, and then plunge at the thought that maybe he was only there to force me to return to that interminable wedding breakfast.

  ‘I’m not going back in there,’ I said, before he could say another word. ‘I’m not. I can’t stand it.’