Highland Arms

by Cathie Dunn

  “So guileless. So innocent,” the old lady finally said. “You’re also more sensitive. You hide your feelings, but not all too well.”

  “Hide my feelings?” Catriona asked, taking a gulp of her wine, its heady taste causing her head to spin. “I don’t know what you mean.” She looked up and met her godmother’s gaze evenly.

  “Oh, I think you do, dear. This whole episode in Edinburgh left its mark. And then here—”

  “Edinburgh is history.” Catriona’s eyes blazed. “Father chose to believe Angus even though he knows my brother lies through his teeth whenever he opens his mouth. Yet he still chose to believe the worst of me. How could he?” Tears welled up, unbidden and unwelcome, and she blinked hard.

  Auntie Meg pulled a white, lace-edged handkerchief from a small purse at her waist and held it out to her. Catriona took it gratefully and dabbed her eyes.

  “I’m sorry.” She choked. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

  “Nae worries, dearie.” Auntie Meg’s voice was calm and quiet, soothing her frayed nerves. She patted Catriona’s knee. “Your father is a creature of these uncertain times. He’d have lost face if he refused to punish you. It’s always the women who have to pay. But I’m sure he’ll call you back home soon, once the scavengers have discovered another scandal to gossip about. Fortunately, your engagement has been revoked. You’ll be a free girl when you go back.”

  “You’d think that. But Angus has plans. Plans that involve his hawkish friends who are after girls with an inheritance. He wants to control my life. Use me to consolidate his business connections. And Father will probably believe it is for the best.” She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. “I’ll be a pawn in his games for the rest of my life.” She sobbed and blew her nose, any pretence forgotten. She had no-one else to confide in, not even her mother.

  “We’ll see about that. Your life might change before he can set his plans into motion.” Auntie Meg smiled.

  “I’m afraid he’ll be more determined than ever, after seeing how affluent you are. He’ll expect me to inherit some of your wealth although I most certainly don’t want to. His mind is always on money, and how to get more of it to waste on his pleasures.” She dried her tears with the handkerchief. “I’m so ashamed he’s my brother. And I know I shouldn’t be. We are family after all.”

  “Aye, dear. Family is all good and well but where are they when you need them?” The old lady sighed.

  “It’s all my fault. If I hadn’t left the salon, John wouldn’t have followed me.”

  “That’s nonsense. And well you should know it. The only one at fault is John Henderson.” She picked up the carafe and filled their glasses to the brim. “This is going to be a long night, Catriona. I want to hear all about that fateful incident. And about your brother and his associates. Then we’ll decide what to do about it.” She wrapped her arm around Catriona’s shoulders. “Don’t worry, lass.” She raised her glass with her free hand. “Here’s to your new family. Slainte mhath!”

  Catriona pushed the handkerchief into her sleeve and picked up her wine, her mouth curving into a smile. “To your good health, too, Auntie Meg. And thank you.” She took a couple of sips, savoring the rich flavor.

  Catriona never told anyone about the taunts she suffered from her brother when she grew up. Nor had she ever spoken about her mother’s obsession with appearances, which began when she was forced to relinquish her Highland heritage following her marriage.

  It felt good to tell all, to share the burden. Her initial reluctance evaporated when she realized that Auntie Meg was genuinely concerned, and interested. They talked into the wee, small hours of the next morning, long after the house fell silent.

  Neither Rory nor Angus disturbed them. Catriona wondered briefly whether they’d gone their different ways after the ladies left the dining parlor, or if they’d shared a drink. She did not think the latter very likely.

  Much later, Auntie Meg yawned and glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner. It was nearing one of the clock.

  “I’m glad we talked, Catriona, and I’m honored you confided in me.” The old lady patted her hand. “No worries, dearie. We’ll make sure your brother doesn’t get his wish this time.”

  “But how? I’m at Father’s beck and call. And Angus will direct him.”

  “Well, we won’t give him a chance.” Her small mouth was set in a determined line. “I shall retire now. When I rise your brother will hopefully have left us. And then we can focus on your future, lass.” She rested her gaze on Catriona, a little smile playing around the lined edges of her mouth. She pushed herself from the sofa. Catriona jumped up and took her godmother’s arm while the old lady clung to her walking stick with the other.

  “I’ll take you to your room, Auntie Meg, and then I’ll come back and extinguish the candles. Leave it all to me.” Affection filled her as she held the door open. They climbed the staircase slowly, Auntie Meg clinging to her arm. She was exhausted and Catriona felt a stab of guilt at keeping her up too long. “You’ll have a long, undisturbed morning, Auntie. I’m sorry I kept you awake to such a late hour.”

  They stopped on the threshold to her godmother’s bedroom. Embers of a fire still glowed in the grate, and a lit candle flickered on the little round table by the side of the oversized, ornate bed. “I don’t want to hear any apologies,” the Highland lady whispered. “It’s been most enlightening. Good night, dear. Oidhche mhath.”

  “Good night, Auntie Meg.” Catriona kissed her godmother’s cheek and closed the door behind her. On tiptoes, she hurried downstairs and returned to the drawing room to extinguish the candles and secure the brazier. Content all was safe, she tiptoed back toward the stairs, a solitary candle in her hand to light the way.

  Her foot barely touched the first step when a grating sound came from the library further down the corridor. Aware the household was asleep, this could only mean one thing. An intruder!

  She heard tales about the dangers of life in the Highlands. Unsure of what to do, she blew out her candle and left it on the bottom step. Best she remained unseen. The sound was repeated, though more slowly this time. She frowned. Surely the windows did not make such a sound. Steadying herself with her hand on the wall, she crept toward the door of the library. A faint glimmer of light illuminated the edge of the door. Relieved, she found it ajar, and nudged it open a little more.

  A candle sputtered in a holder on the large desk. A shadow, the shape of a man, moved across her vision. She pushed the door open another inch. Then the shadow disappeared into the opening of the large fireplace.

  Catriona blinked.

  What?

  She held her breath, her gaze steady on the stone frame. The shadow reappeared. He’d indeed walked through the wall. No other explanation made sense. It was a ghost. A tall, male ghost. She swallowed hard, and her trembling hands grabbed hold of the doorframe. Ghosts and ghouls were said to haunt old manor houses up and down the land. But never had she expected to see one of them.

  Chapter Six

  The candle was lifted, and Catriona flinched as it made its way to the door, a shadow looming large behind it. Her heart burst with fear, and her pulse pounded in her ears. She was certain the sound reverberated throughout the house. With her hands, she felt her way toward a tall store cupboard further along the corridor and slipped behind the far side, praying the ghost didn’t come her way.

  She made it just in time. Though the light of the candle illuminated part of the hallway her hiding place remained in the dark. She poked her nose around the edge of the cupboard and stared, nearly choking. The shadow stopped in the library doorway. She held her breath, trembling, yet unable to tear her gaze from the apparition. Did ghosts sense human company? What if it came her way?

  And why did it need a light?

  As the ghost raised the candle high, it illuminated hitherto hidden features. One glance, and she turned with a gasp, ducking back behind the cupboard, knuckles in her mouth as her teeth came dow
n hard. Not a ghost, but a man. What was he doing here in the middle of the night, walking through stone walls?

  But Rory’s stern features were unmistakable. She sent a silent prayer heaven-ward, hoping he had not heard her. Catriona did not dare move or breathe. Then the light moved away from her, toward the stairs. As the length of the corridor was plunged into shadow, she peeked out to watch him hesitate at the bottom step.

  Had he spotted her candle? But he moved on, climbing the stairs as stealthily as a cat in the night until he was out of earshot, and out of sight. Something in his manner told her this was a regular occurrence.

  Catriona relaxed, taking deep breaths. After what seemed like an eternity, she crept forward, lifted her candle from the step, and very slowly made her way to her bedroom in complete darkness. Once inside, she turned the heavy lock, cringing at the noise it made, hoping fervently it had not alerted him. But his room was on the floor above. She should be safe.

  Catriona dropped the unlit candle on the table by her bed, and by the light of the dying embers in the grate she undressed with still shaking hands. So, Taigh na Rhon didn’t have ghosts after all, just Rory walking through the fireplace walls. The monstrosity was certainly large enough for a person to pass through. The frame was old-fashioned, at the height of a man’s head. But Rory’s height exceeded normal. However large the gap, he’d still have to crouch. But why sneak into the house in the dead of night through a hidden door?

  Intrigued by his secretive behavior, she saw only one option—to take a closer look in daylight.

  Catriona slid into bed, arranging the blankets around her. Clearly, he did not want anyone in the house knowing about it. She could not stop thinking about where the path led and what Rory was doing out so late at night? The whole mystery piqued her curiosity. As did Auntie Meg’s unspoken plan. She snuggled into the warmth of the covers and pillows. The days ahead suddenly seemed less boring. Relaxing in the cozy wrap, she drifted off to sleep.

  ***

  The dining parlor was empty when Catriona walked in the next morning, but she was unsure whether her brother had left or not. Knowing him, most likely he was still abed. Excitement gripped her the moment she awoke at an hour her mother called ungodly, despite her late night. She walked over to the sideboard and helped herself to a cup of tea. Earlier, she had gone to the kitchen — this time dressed — and left her wishes for breakfast. Fresh bread and eggs. Holding her cup in her hand, she sat with her back to the window to wait for her food. Once she was done, she’d go to the library. Best have a quick peek while the house was still. She jumped when the door opened. Grabbing hold of her teacup with both hands, she carefully set it down and glared at Rory. Damn!

  “Good morning, Catriona,” he murmured and raised an eyebrow as he glanced at the spilt tea on her saucer. “I didn’t startle you, did I?” He strolled over to the sideboard and helped himself to tea. “Up so early?” he asked, his sarcasm obvious, when she remained silent.

  Fuming, she forced a smile. “Yes, I just couldn’t sleep any longer. It’s a fine day, so I thought I’d make the most of it.” Gingerly, she picked up her teacup again and sipped, holding her hand underneath it to stop the spilt tea trickling onto her dress.

  Rory’s gaze rested on the window, his eyebrow still raised.

  He chuckled. “I guess you’re talking about your brother’s departure and not the weather?”

  Catriona turned to look outside for the first time that morning. Usually the view stretched to the other side of the loch, outlining the hills in the distance. But today low, white fog hung over the water, obscuring it all. The mist reflected on the water made it seem much lighter. Oh, a fine day indeed. If you loved fog.

  She turned back, her cheeks flaming, glowering at him. “Yes, of course I mean my brother’s departure. What else would I mean?” She put the cup down and clutched her hands in her lap to prevent him from seeing her distress.

  “So, where is he?” He took another sip, his gaze never leaving her face.

  “He must still be asleep. He’s a late riser.” Why was she making excuses for her brother? This was ridiculous. Rory made her uncomfortable, his open scrutiny causing her to feel giddy like a little girl. He was a distant cousin, nothing more. She swallowed and met his gaze. “He has a long journey ahead of him.”

  “Aye, I believe so. Still, you’d think he’d rise early to get home quicker. Oh well, none of my business.” He stood and put his cup back onto the sideboard. Stopping at the door, he turned and looked at her. “Sadly, as you can see, today is not ideal for sight-seeing, so I bid you good day.” He winked at her and left her to her own thoughts.

  Dear God, how infuriating he was. She slammed her flat hand on the table when Mairi came in bearing a tray of freshly baked bread and two eggs.

  “Something amiss, Miss Catriona?” The maid went to the sideboard and picked up the pot of tea. Refilling Catriona’s cup, she regarded her thoughtfully.

  “Sorry, Mairi, ‘tis nothing.” She stared at her food, all appetite gone. Then she met the maid’s gaze and squeezed her hand. “Thank you for this. It looks delicious. And do not fret, Mairi. Like I said, nothing’s amiss.”

  “I saw Master Rory leave the room. He did not upset you?” The maid hovered over her, seemingly reluctant to leave her alone.

  “No, Mairi. He did not upset me. Has my brother risen yet?” She broke off a small chunk of bread.

  “Yes, but only recently. He rang the bell a little while ago for his morning tea. He’s still waiting,” she added, a glint in her eye. “Your breakfast was ready first.”

  Catriona threw her head back and laughed. “Well, best not keep him waiting too long, else he’ll be stranded here for another day.” She chuckled as she took a bite.

  Mairi smiled. “Yes, Miss Catriona. I’ll see to his convenience. And not to worry—all his bags are packed. Once he’s broken his fast, he’ll be on his way. Robbie is already saddling up.” After a brief curtsey she left the room.

  Catriona was still smiling when her brother walked in. She had just finished her breakfast, and was keen to make her move. The library beckoned. She sighed.

  “Good morning, Angus.” She put her plate and cup onto the tray and turned to him. “Are you ready to take your leave?”

  “I’m sure this is a good morning for you.” His face bore no trace of a smile. The grim set of his mouth and the dark shadows around his eyes told her he’d been drinking more whisky the night before. “Yes, I’ll be on my way very soon. But not before talking to you. Sit.”

  She bristled. “Sorry, I was just about to head out to—”

  “That can wait. Sit!” He took her by the shoulder and forced her back onto her chair. She pushed against him but he held her down, showing a strength she found surprising. “Stay! I’m not going to tell you again.”

  She shrugged his hands off and leaned back. “What do you want to talk about, brother?” The chill in her voice surely made her feelings clear.

  “You, my dear. Remember what I told you yesterday?”

  Her eyes widened. What was he scheming now? “Yes, you mentioned some gentleman friends of yours.” She nearly spat the word.

  He chuckled. “I’m glad you remember. I did some more thinking on this last night and came to quite like the idea of you marrying a particularly trusted friend of mine. You see,” he added, sitting opposite her, “I’d really like to help him. And you.”

  Catriona snorted, most unladylike. He was unbelievable. “You want to help me? How so?”

  “You see, this gentleman comes from good stock, despite his...erm...indiscretions.” He grinned at her, not a trace of humor in his eyes. “I’m sure I can convince Father to call you back home, say, in a month’s time. By then a suitor will have come forward to rescue you from future embarrassments. That suitor will be Francis Moore. I’m sure Father will be happy to accept. It would take you off his hands, albeit at a good price.”

  Catriona shuddered. Francis Moore’s reputation as a hell-rai
sing rake was all the talk about town. True, he was of rich Lowland stock. But he was also a libertine. No lady of good standing would ever consider marrying him. The thought of letting him anywhere near her was repulsive. John Henderson had been a bad choice as a betrothed, but Francis Moore was far worse. She shook her head.

  “I’m not a prize mare sold at market, Angus. How dare you! No way on earth would I ever agree to marry that...rake. I’ll refuse to return if Father should agree to your little scheme. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need some fresh air. Have a safe journey.” She stood and marched to the door. He jumped up, his hand reaching for her arm which he grabbed in a firm grip, nearly twisting her flesh. She winced. “Let go! You’re hurting me.”

  His face came close to hers, nose to nose. His eyes were dark, the look sending chills down her spine. He was mad.

  “Listen, dear sister. You’ll do as I say. You will marry Francis, and disappear out of my sight. You will attend the occasional ball with him, once or twice a year, and then leave him to his own life pretty much as he leads it now. And of course you’ll bear him an heir. With his money, you’ll want for nothing. Is that clear?”

  She gasped, both at the pain and the audacity. The thought of such a marriage sickened her to the core. She knew the man in question, of his adventures, his pleasure-seeking lifestyle, and his abuse of girls young enough to be called children. Locking eyes with her brothers, she was in no doubt Angus was going to get his way. He’d convince Father it was for the best. For her best.

  Catriona muttered through clenched teeth, “Go to hell. I’d rather stay here than return to do your bidding.”

  He suddenly let go of her hand, pushing her away. She staggered backwards, her hands seeking the sturdy edge of the dining table. It was all that kept her from collapsing.

  “You’ll do as I, or as Father tells you to, Catriona.” He snorted. “Don’t imagine for one moment you have any say in this. Unless, of course, you would agree to re-instate your betrothal to John Henderson. I’m certain John would be amenable to the suggestion—he appears to have taken a fancy to you for some inexplicable reason. Either way, your fate is sealed, sister, and I’m the one sealing it. A good day to you.” He gave her a mock bow and slammed the door behind him. Sobbing, she collapsed into a heap.