by Cathie Dunn
“I’m sorry, sir. This inn has no other vacant chambers. Only one for the ladies. And Miss Catriona bein’ the only lady guest, she’ll have the chamber to herself.” Demurely, MacKinnon shook his head. “But your dinner will be served in the small, private parlor next door. If you’d follow me, sir. Miss Catriona.” He gestured toward the door.
Catriona jumped up and grabbed her cloak, shawl, and gloves, a low growl in her stomach reminding her she was famished. A good meal and quiet night’s sleep in a chamber all to herself was bound to restore her spirit. And knowing Angus had to share a room with several smelly drovers gave her a great sense of satisfaction. She beamed at the guide as she followed her brother toward the door to the parlor. The guide winked at her. Oh, she might come to like the Highlands after all.
As she passed Rory Cameron, his hand stretched out as if by chance, warm fingers sliding down her arm, sending delicious shivers throughout her body. Their eyes met, his piercing hers as if he knew how his touch affected her. He smiled.
“Sweet dreams, my lady,” he whispered, before withdrawing his hand to pick up his cup.
Chapter Two
Rory Cameron stretched after he bid the drovers goodnight, or rather good morning given the time of day, and emptied his cup with one gulp. The fire of the uisge beatha had long since evaporated, yet the smooth liquid running down his throat still warmed him. He needed all the warmth he could get. Crossing the pass before sunrise would be no easy feat. Yet it was the only way.
He withdrew several coins from the pouch tied to his belt and threw them on the table in payment for the drink consumed all night. Again, the drovers had pledged their support for the cause. They had managed to sell all the cattle, even those bulls they had lifted—or ‘borrowed’ as he called it—from the Duke of Argyll’s estate to the south. He grinned at the memory of the money those bulls made him, even after he deducted the drovers’ extortionate but well-earned share. Argyll, the Jacobites’ most powerful enemy, raged, but Rory was certain no trace led back to him. He chuckled as he wrapped his plaid tight around him, and fastened it securely against the harsh winds outside.
The chilly breeze hit him when he opened the door to the yard. With a heavy sigh, he left the heat of the inn and headed for the stables. All was quiet around him apart from the odd howl of a lone wolf in the distance. At leisure, he saddled his horse and led it outside. To his relief, the skies had cleared. The soft rays of the early morning sun crept over the hilltops like fingers stretching out across the expanse. As he sat up, his gaze fell onto a small window under the gables. That window belonged to the ladies’ chamber. He had enjoyed the cozy room on several occasions, in female company. A vision of the lady who presently occupied the chamber swam before his eyes.
Catriona.
Despite her dowdy exterior, Rory was in no doubt she was a lady. Her whole demeanor exuded breeding. Poor lass, to be burdened with such a pompous fool for a brother. But where were they headed? What was she doing out here? Next time he met Robbie, he’d find out.
As he left the yard, heading toward the steep incline to the pass, his mind strayed back to her curvy figure, her long legs hidden beneath the mud-stained skirt. She was unusually tall for a lady. Was that her problem? Together with her windswept black hair, and her large, amber eyes, she resembled a witch. A bewitching lass. Perhaps she was traveling to meet a future husband? His gut tightened at the thought. A shame.
He shook himself out of his reverie. She was a city lass. Her upper class accent gave her away. His anger broke through. She was someone who’d put her nose up at the Highland customs she was sure to encounter on her journey. Someone who would not, could not possibly understand. ‘Twas best he forget her.
In grim resolve Rory spurred his horse into a canter.
***
By morning the cloud had lifted, leaving the towering hills glistening with snow and ice in the early morning sunshine. Catriona wiped the condensation from the mullioned windows and gazed out, awed despite herself by the sheer beauty of the landscape. Again, MacKinnon woke them early, keen to reach their destination before nightfall.
While she dressed, Catriona heard the drovers leave in a ruckus of voices. Her mind drifted to the night before and her brother’s unfortunate confrontation with Rory Cameron. She went back to the window and scanned the yard. Several of the burly men from last night went on their way, but their leader was not in sight. Perhaps he was still inside? As her pulse quickened, she swiftly packed her necessities and headed down the stairs.
Sitting in the cozy parlor, a fire hissing in the narrow grate, Catriona took a spoonful of porridge, careful not to burn her tongue on the sticky mess. Only half-listening to Angus complaining he hardly slept all night, her gaze shot up at the mention of Rory Cameron.
“The stench emanating from them beggared belief. That leader of theirs, that Cameron, was nowhere to be seen or I’d have exchanged a few words with him.” Angus emptied his cup of ale.
Catriona’s mind raced. If the Highlander had not stayed, where had he gone in the middle of the night? Too wound up to eat, her stomach in knots, she set down her spoon and stared out of the window. Resting her chin on folded hands, she wondered why the man affected her so. The depth of her attraction to him terrified and thrilled her. He was different, simply oozing adventure and danger. You would not find a man like Rory Cameron in Edinburgh, and most likely she’d never see him again.
As they mounted their horses, MacKinnon explained their route. “We aren’t goin’ to follow the drovers trail across the pass. It’s too strenuous for a lady.” With a smile of encouragement, he gave Catriona’s mare a slap on the flanks, sending the animal into a trot. She grabbed the reins, steering the horse toward the path, laughing at the guide’s insolence. He quickly caught up with her, leaving Angus to scramble after them. “Instead we’ll stay on this trail. It’ll shorten the journey but this means we’ll be crossin’ the water.”
She nodded. “Thank you, Mr MacKinnon. I wasn’t looking forward to scaling those peaks.” Her gaze scanned the shimmering surface high up, so glaringly white against the deep blue morning sky. Hidden under layers of cloud the day before, the steep hillsides now presented themselves in all their dangerous glory. Stunned by the beauty yet relieved she did not have to cross them, Catriona smiled as she gazed across crags as sharp as a dagger’s edge.
Relaxing in the stillness of her surroundings, she was surprised at her own reaction. Instead of the misery that held her in its grasp for the last few weeks, a new sense flowed through her.
A feeling of...belonging?
She shook her head in disbelief. What brought this on? The eerie stillness should unnerve her, but instead it calmed and steadied her. Taking a deep breath, she gave her mare a nudge with her heel. Perhaps this journey was going to be good for her after all. No longer banishment, but rather an escape. Perhaps even a fortunate escape.
By the time they reached a small settlement by the shore of Loch Linnhe, the sun had crossed its zenith. Melted snow, and the footfalls of men and horses, turned the ground into a muddy slush. A handful of cottages stood scattered along the path, their walls covered in a thick layer of mud to repel the winds. Smoke swirled through holes in the roofs, filling the air with the smell of peat.
Catriona took a deep breath, enjoying the dusky scent. While she waited for MacKinnon to return from a cottage he’d entered on their arrival, she nudged her mare to the water’s edge to let her drink. Her gaze roamed over the large loch, to the far shore and back to where a narrow arm of water branched off into Loch Leven, disappearing from sight between high peaks behind her. The rugged beauty pulled her in.
The guide came back a few minutes later. “The ferryman’s out on the loch now. It’ll be later today that we can cross over.”
As he pointed to the corner of land on the other side, Catriona nodded. “Yes, I can see the ferry.”
“I’m not going to cross the water in darkness,” Angus barked. He tied his horse to a br
anch and came to a halt beside them. “Does nobody else own a boat?” He looked up and down the shore and pointed toward a row of boats bobbing in shallow water, tied securely to stakes. “Can’t we use one of those?”
“They’re fishing boats, sir,” the guide said, a look of calm patience on his face. “And they need mendin’. Else they’d be out on the water too. Besides, darkness won’t fall here as early as you’re used to.”
Angus’ eyebrows shot together but MacKinnon turned to help Catriona off her mare.
“There ye go, lassie,” he said quietly. “Take a stroll. We’ve got plenty of time.”
She nodded and smiled. “Thanks for your help, Mr MacKinnon. We couldn’t have done without you.”
“Never mind, Miss. And it’s Robbie.” He inclined his head in an attempt to hide his reddening face and stalked away, her mare in tow, without another glance at Angus.
Catriona slid off her gloves, stretching her fingers, and tucked them into her sleeves. Crouching, she pushed her skirts behind her knees and dipped her hands into the icy water. The coolness chilled her but it also sent her pulse racing. This was refreshing. Bliss. A smile played on her lips.
“What’s amusing you, sister?” Angus’ voice invaded her happy thoughts. “Because I don’t find our situation funny. No sign of an inn anywhere nearby, and we have to wait for the darned ferry boat to come in.”
Straightening, she brushed her skirts down with wet hands and faced him. “Don’t behave like a spoilt child, Angus, just because you can’t drink yourself into a stupor.” It felt good to see him flinch. Her remark hit home. “I’m going to sit on that felled tree trunk and take in the views. Do me a favor, find a seat somewhere else, and be quiet.”
The incredulous look on his face lessened her shock at her own words. But so far away from home it didn’t matter. It was her revenge for all the years of having to live with his lies, for being a silent, if reluctant, witness to his deceptions, powerless to end or reveal them to her parents.
Leaving him standing, Catriona marched over to the trunk, kicked it with her boot, found it solid, and lowered her bottom onto it. She wriggled into a comfortable position, spread her traveling skirts over her outstretched legs, and let her gaze drift over the water. A feeling of peace washed over her as her breathing deepened, drawing in the fresh air. She closed her eyes, allowing her senses to relax.
Later that afternoon they crossed the loch. The ferryboat rocked fiercely with the waves. The horses were penned in, their scared whinnies mingling with the howling of the wind. Robbie stood at the helm, with the ferryman. Together, they stared ahead to the other side not saying a word. Highland men often kept silent, instead of wasting their breath, and time, with silly mutterings. Words of the kind her brother mumbled now. She rolled her eyes.
“I hate water.” Draped over the side of the boat, his skin a pale-greenish hue, he choked. “I shouldn’t have entered this hellhole. Should’ve just left you to it.” He bent forward and retched into the water again.
Catriona smirked, having positioned herself upwind from him. It was not even worth pretending she did not enjoy his discomfort. Loudly, she drew in a deep breath of the cool sea air. “Father would not have allowed you to abandon me and you well know it. He may prefer you to me, as the son and heir, but I’m sure deep down he knows why you told him those lies.” She grinned as she held a clean handkerchief out to him, and did not flinch when he slapped it from her hand into the choppy waves. “Suit yourself.”
The outlines of the cottages on the shore ahead of them grew with each yard the boat shot forward. A narrow bell tower belonging to a small chapel stood by the side of the water. The low sun nudged the peaks on the far side, casting a warm, orange glow across the hills around her.
Admiring the surreal colors, excitement gripped her. Once they reached the shore, Robbie managed to calm the frightened horses and lead them back onto firm ground one at a time.
“It’s only six miles to the manor, along the shore,” he said, pointing to a narrow track veering off to the left. “Just behind that far bend.” He helped Catriona mount her mare, and urged his horse into a trot, leading the way.
Riding in single file, Catriona and Angus followed him in silence. Eventually, their small party approached a large whitewashed stone house, a laird’s manor, set halfway up a hill away from the water’s edge. A path, just wide enough to allow two horses side by side, led to it. The brightness of the walls shone in stark contrast to the deepening evening glow.
Robbie steered his horse up the path. “Here we are, folks. Taigh na Rhon. The House of the Seal.”
“Seal?” Catriona asked and turned in her saddle to stare into the shimmering water for a sign of the elusive animal. “Are there seals here?”
Robbie chuckled. “Och, aye. Plenty of them at certain times of the year. But that’s not the reason for the name.” He winked at her and touched his nose with his index finger. “Legend has it there’s a beautiful cave nearby where the seals hide from hunters. Folks say a secret tunnel runs between the cave and the manor. Anyone wanderin’ through that tunnel from the house will have to follow the cries of the seals to find the cave.”
“Oh, how exciting! Perhaps I can visit it.” Catriona clapped her hands together and laughed.
“Ah, lassie. Not sure if you can do that. You see, nobody in livin’ memory knows where the tunnel is. Or the cave. Back in the olden days, half a century ago, smugglers used it all the time. Now, all that’s left is the rumor.”
Catriona’s smile died as her anticipation evaporated. “Aww, what a shame. You think it was all invented? The tunnel doesn’t exist at all?”
“Aye, folk have come to think so. But don’t let me stop you tryin’ to find it.” He challenged her with a grin.
She laughed. “I’ll have plenty of time to spare here, so maybe one day I’ll go in search of it.” Her gaze fell on her brother who cast his eyes toward the sky.
“Nonsense! Never heard such stupid tales.” Angus shook his head. “You’d believe in faeries if someone told you they’d seen them.”
“Not necessarily.” Catriona retorted. “But the faeries might find you, dear brother. I’m certain Robbie has come across them out here. Haven’t you, Robbie?” She winked at the old man.
“Aye. They love playin’ pranks on fine city gentlemen.”
“Oh, stop it.” Angus pushed his horse past them.
The double doors swung open as they approached the clearing in front of the house. An old woman wearing a plain linen dress, her graying hair tied into a tight knot at the back, came to greet them.
“So you have made it, my dears.” She took another step forward and beamed. “You must be exhausted.”
“Announce us to your lady, will you?” Angus bellowed, heaving himself from the saddle. “And call the stable boy.”
The woman looked him up and down. Then her eyes, one brow raised in mock appraisal, met his. “I am Lady Margaret Cameron Macdonald, laddie, owner of this manor and the lands around it. You’ll find the stables at the back. That way.” She pointed to the side of the house, ignoring his flushed face. Turning her back to him, she opened her arms toward Catriona who was struggling to suppress the bubble welling up in her chest. A giggle burst through, quickly stifled as her hand covered her mouth.
“Failte gu Taigh na Rhon, Catriona.” She pronounced her name in the soft lilt that reminded Catriona of the night before. “Welcome to my humble home.”
“Thank you, Lady Margaret.” Catriona stepped forward, awed and intrigued by the formidable Highland lady. Robbie took her reins and led their horses round the back, nodding a silent greeting.
“Go into the kitchen when you’re finished with the horses, Robbie MacKinnon, and help yourself to some food and ale. And you, young lady, may call me Auntie Meg.” She smiled, a warm gaze meeting Catriona’s, and clasped her hands. “I am so proud to have you here. Follow me.”
“Hey, what about my horse, MacKinnon?” Angus called after Rob
bie but the guide disappeared around the corner.
“You go and find the stables, Angus. Then you may join us in the drawing room.” Auntie Meg pulled Catriona with her through the sturdy doors and pushed them shut.
Catriona giggled. “He won’t like it. He’s used to others obeying his orders.”
“Well, lassie, he needs to learn that things are different out here. I take it he won’t stay long?” Auntie Meg led the way along a barely lit, narrow corridor, past a huge oak cupboard that left little space for maneuvering.
Catriona shook her head. “Perhaps a day or two at the most. He hates the Highlands.”
They came to a halt inside a small drawing room, comfortably furnished with armchairs and a settee. A fire burned brightly in a large iron grate. Auntie Meg turned to her.
“And you, Catriona? Do you hate it here, too?” She helped her out of the sodden coat and dropped it onto a chair. Catriona was too perplexed to protest. Auntie Meg was a lady. Did she not have any servants?
“It’s beautiful. I...” She hesitated, not quite certain of her own feelings now that she had arrived. “It’s quiet and peaceful. But so far away from home.” Unable to hide the wistful note in her voice, she allowed Auntie Meg to nudge her toward a large sofa, covered with thick cushions.
“Fret not, lassie. It’s never quiet for long. Nor peaceful.” She nodded. “Now sit here by the fire and warm yourself up. I’ll get the tea.”
Only after Auntie Meg left her and she was lulled into a sense of contentment by the comforting heat, Catriona realized her godmother had called Robbie by his name. Did everyone in the Highlands know each other? A thought struck her. Would her godmother have heard of Rory Cameron? A delicious shiver ran down her spine.
***
After a brief chat with Auntie Meg over a cup of tea—real tea from the Colonies—Catriona retired to her room and slept for an hour. Although the fatigue from her journey still lingered, she felt refreshed, her mind settled.
