“They’ve always known that their newfound prosperity was linked to you but that you were going to leave soon.”
Temperance toyed with the spool of thread. “I see. And James too, I guess,” she said softly. “You know, I think I’ve been acting like a selfish two-year-old. It can’t be pleasant to think that you must marry someone you haven’t seen in many years just so you can save a village.”
Temperance looked at Grace. “Is it just me, or is it odd that the villagers all assume that James will do this? Not one person has uttered a word of doubt that he’ll actually say the words that will link him forever with this woman. But what if she’s changed? According to everyone she was a lovely child and a selfless young woman, but people change. She’s lived in London, she’s been married, she’s lived on her own for years. Maybe she doesn’t want to return to this dilapidated old house.” The house I cleaned, Temperance thought. The house I have put life back into. The house—
“Maybe James would appreciate someone talking to him about these things. Maybe you two could put aside your personal differences long enough to actually talk. If I remember correctly, you two once liked talking to each other.”
Temperance didn’t want Grace to see how her heart leaped at the idea of spending time with James. They had hardly spoken to each other for weeks now, and, well, truthfully, she missed him. Just plain ol’-fashioned, missed him.
But she hesitated. “Maybe you should talk to him. He hates me.” Temperance kept her eyes on the thread and didn’t look up at Grace.
“Everyone in McCairn knows what I was to him, but only a few know about the night you spent with him.”
Temperance knew that her face turned brilliant red, and her extreme embarrassment made her throat close.
“Temperance,” Grace said with a voice filled with weariness, “you don’t have to be perfect. You are allowed to make mistakes in this world. You seem to forgive everyone everything, so once in a while, you should allow others to forgive you.”
Temperance could only give a weak smile; then she looked away. Grace’s words were wise and those of a true friend, but Temperance didn’t like to be the recipient of forgiveness. Worse, she didn’t like having done something that needed forgiving.
Without meeting Grace’s eyes, she stood. “I think I will go talk to him. It’s time that we cleared the air between us. After all, it’s almost over.”
“Yes,” Grace said softly. “Soon we’ll have a proper Lady McCairn, one who will oversee everything.”
“Right,” Temperance said and wondered why that thought made her feel so awful.
James was, as always, on top of the mountain, surrounded by sheep. When Temperance walked into the clearing, she ignored the startled looks the other men gave her. She didn’t want to think that everyone in the village knew that she and James had been on the outs, but worse, she didn’t want to think that they had any idea why.
“It’s almost over,” she whispered to herself, then straightened her spine and walked toward him.
He was bending over a big, curly-horned ram, looking inside its mouth. Temperance made herself look away from his heavy thighs, which were exposed by the kilt.
“I think we should talk,” she said.
He didn’t acknowledge that he knew she was there, and she knew he was ignoring her on purpose. “Talk!” she shouted so loudly that the sheep jerked and James had to throw an arm around its neck to keep it from running away.
“Oh?” James said calmly as he wrestled the big ram. “Would ye be speakin’ to me?” he asked in an exaggerated Highland drawl.
Temperance put her hands on her hips, and turning full circle, she scowled at the men around them. They were all openly listening and watching.
With smiles, they turned and left her and James alone.
“Are you going to continue trying to murder that animal, or are you going to stop and talk to me?”
Still holding the sheep, he looked at her, and when he did, she remembered their night together. They hadn’t been alone since that night weeks ago—and now knowing the men were nearby made her feel safe. “It depends on what you want to talk about.” He glanced down at her belly, and his voice lowered. “Have somethin’ ye want to tell me?”
“You overrate your fertility,” she shot back at him.
“Or maybe I overrated yours,” he answered quickly.
Temperance had to work to keep from laughing. She really had missed his vain sense of humor.
“There’s nothing wrong with my fertility,” she said, then realized that she was starting to defend herself—which meant that he was controlling the direction this conversation was beginning to take. “I hope he eats your hand,” she said, nodding toward the ram; then she turned on her heel and started down the mountainside.
Just as she figured he would, he stepped in front of her. “Come on, let’s go in here away from the others.”
Temperance started to follow him until she saw that he was leading her into the cabin. She dug in her heels and wouldn’t move an inch.
“Ah, yes, I see what you mean,” James said. “The cave?”
Temperance shook her head. She did not want to be that alone with him.
At her refusal, he motioned to a flat rock, and she sat down while he stretched out on the grass beside her.
“Now what has made you come all the way up here to talk to me, especially considering that you haven’t spoken to me in weeks—except to shout at me, that is? And are you sure a dunderhead like me will understand?”
It was on the tip of her tongue to say that she’d missed him, but she didn’t. “We need to plan your wedding,” she said.
“Ah, that,” James said as he picked up a piece of grass and put it in his mouth as he stared up at the sky. “Do whatever you want. Weddings are women’s business.”
“I think—I mean . . . Oh, damnation! Do you want to marry this woman?”
Slowly, James turned his head to look up at her. “Do you see another way I can protect this insignificant place? This place that people laugh at?”
Temperance took a deep breath and counted to ten. “I think that you and I should forget what was said . . . and done . . . between us. What we’ve heard since then overrides our own personal problems.”
James looked down at her ankle, and Temperance could remember his kissing the little bone there and saying— No! she told herself, it was better to forget that night. How many times had she told women to forget what they’d felt when a certain worthless man had held them?
“Perhaps I’ve overestimated you and you aren’t capable of forgetting anything,” she said as she put her nose in the air.
When James didn’t respond, she looked down at him and his eyes were cold. “As long as you’re not in the family way, I can forget anything,” he said quietly. “From this moment on, that night didn’t happen.”
“Good!” Temperance said firmly. “We are agreed then?” She held out her hand to shake his.
The instant they touched, she knew it was a mistake. He held her small hand in his for a moment, and she knew that if he so much as tugged a hairbreadth, she’d be in his arms. She didn’t dare look into his eyes.
But he didn’t pull her. Instead, he released her hand, and Temperance let out her pent-up breath. “All right,” she said, still not looking at him. “I think we should get started.” She withdrew a pencil and a little notebook from her pocket. “I need to know all that you can tell me about her, about . . . Kenna,” she said, “so I can plan the wedding. What kind of flowers does she like? What’s her favorite color? Do you think she’ll want something formal or not so formal? Who were her favorite friends in McCairn?”
Temperance paused for breath, then waited, pencil ready; but when James said nothing, she looked at him. He was lying back on the grass, the weed in his teeth, and staring up at the sky.
“I have no idea,” he said.
“About which question?”
“Any and all. I don’t seem to remem
ber her very well.”
“But according to the village, you two were madly in love. Passionately. With all your hearts. Separating you was like splitting two souls.”
James gave a snort of laughter, then switched the weed to the other side of his mouth. “We were children together.”
Temperance put down the notebook in frustration. “But I distinctly remember that you told me that you were in love with a village girl. ‘In love’—that’s what you said.”
“So maybe I was. Who knows what being in love is?” Turning his head, he looked at her. “Do you know?”
“Not at all,” she said quickly, then picked up her notebook again. “All right, tell me about the first lamb that you helped to birth.”
James grinned up at the sky. “White with a black face, three black legs. I hid him here on the mountain so the cook wouldn’t feed him to me for dinner.”
“And what was the lamb’s favorite food?”
“Daisies,” James said before he thought, then looked at Temperance.
“You can remember a sheep but not your first love,” she said, her eyes narrowed at him.
“All right, I remember that she had lovely long legs,” he said, smiling. “Kenna, that is, not the lamb.”
“I see,” Temperance said, writing in her notebook. “Like your horses. That’s understandable.”
“Not quite like the horses,” James said softly. “Kenna was the prettiest girl that McCairn ever produced. Her father was an ugly little thing, and her mother died when she was young. He doted on his daughter. Anything she wanted the man got for her.”
“I see,” Temperance said, writing. “Spoiled only child.”
“Are you jealous of the girl, that she gets to marry me and not you?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Temperance snapped. “I have no wish to marry anyone. I need to get back to New York as soon as possible. There are many people there who—”
“—need you; yes, so you’ve said. Now, where was I?”
“So far you haven’t told me anything about her that would help plan a wedding. Did your aunt tell you when she’ll be here?”
“Three or four days,” James said with a shrug. “I don’t remember. Whenever it is, it’ll be soon enough.”
At that Temperance again put down her notebook and looked at him. “James, it isn’t any of my business, but marriage is a very serious undertaking, and maybe you should think about this before you do it.”
When James turned to look at her, his face was serious. “And what choice do I have?” he asked quietly but with much feeling. “Do I put my wants over those of all those people down there?” he asked, motioning toward the village at the base of the mountain. “Do I say that, no, I don’t want to marry a woman who I used to care about, then stand by while families that have lived here for hundreds of years are thrown off the land? What happens to someone like Blind Brenda if I don’t marry?”
“She and her whole family will live off the proceeds of Brenda’s books,” Temperance said. “The books I have just recently found a publisher for.”
“You have an answer for everything, don’t you? You know how to solve all the problems in the world, don’t you?” James said quietly.
At that Temperance stood up. “I used to know what to do about everything,” she said, and to her horror there were tears in her voice. “My life used to be sane and sensible and it had meaning. Now I don’t know anything anymore. I don’t know who I am or what I want or . . . or anything about anything.”
She was looking down at him with her fists clenched at her side, but James didn’t move. He still lay on the grass, his hands behind his head, looking up at her calmly.
And when he said nothing at all, Temperance kicked the bottom of his foot, then turned and went down the mountain.
She had no idea that, behind her, James lay still, staring up at the sky and smiling. “Love does that to people,” he said after a while; then, eventually, he got up and went back to the sheep, where he called Ramsey to him. “I want you to go into Edinburgh tonight and deliver a letter.”
“It’s not to her, is it?” Ramsey said with a sneer.
“Mind your manners!” James snapped at his son. “But no, it’s not to Kenna. It’s to your uncle Colin.”
At that name, Ramsey perked up. His uncle Colin was a great deal of fun.
“I want him to send for someone in New York.”
“New York!” Ramsey gasped. “But that’s where she wants to go. That’s where—”
The look James gave Ramsey silenced him. “Have I ever given you bad advice? Have I failed you yet?”
Ramsey gave his father a look that was identical to one of James’s. “I think you should court her. You don’t give her the attention that you do to one of your horses.”
“When I need the advice of a boy, I’ll ask for it. You aren’t getting into trouble with Alys, are you? I’m not ready for grandchildren yet.”
“I’m ready for a sister,” Ramsey muttered, but his father heard him.
“I’ll do my best to give you one,” James said solemnly.
“But with what mother?” Ramsey snapped, tight-lipped.
“It’s my choice, isn’t it? Now go and get the letter. It’s in my bedroom on my desk. Make sure you give it directly to Colin and no one else. He’ll know what to do. Now, go, and if anyone asks you where you’re going, lie.”
“But—” Ramsey began, then stopped at the look from his father. With a sullen look, he started down the mountain. He didn’t want Temperance to leave. With her here, he saw hope for all of McCairn, but if his father married a local girl, what hope had they? What would a local girl know of hatmaking businesses and the publishing world? Or about marketing alcoholic beverages? Temperance was a woman of the world. What did this woman Kenna have to offer?
As Ramsey neared the bottom of the mountain, he debated whether or not to go into Edinburgh, and he wondered what his father wanted with Uncle Colin. For all that the men were twins, they were very different, with his father being the serious one, the one who was all work and no play. But Uncle Colin loved to play. He said that he’d travel a thousand miles for a laugh.
When Ramsey reached the house, he went up to his father’s bedroom and on his desk was a thick envelope with the word “Colin” written on the outside. Beside the letter was a torn piece of newspaper and a letter that looked as though it had been dropped and walked on. But Ramsey didn’t notice these two items.
Instead, he put his father’s letter into his pocket, shrugged, and thought that at least he’d get good food at his uncle’s.
Twenty
“She’s here,” Grace said, out of breath from her run up the stairs.
Temperance looked up from the sea of papers around her. Her mother had written that Angus was so happy that James was at last marrying that he was going to foot the bill for the biggest wedding that McCairn had ever seen.
“Does he think that will be difficult?” Grace asked when Temperance told her of Angus’s generosity. “Or maybe he plans to use the change in his pocket.”
Since the announcement of the pending marriage, Grace had become a different person, Temperance thought. The calm Grace she’d first met was now sarcastic and nervous. And, try as she might, Temperance couldn’t find out what was bothering her. However, Temperance liked to think that maybe Grace was upset at the thought that Temperance would soon be leaving them and returning to New York.
It had now been four days since Temperance had spoken to James on the mountain. She had been embarrassed by her outburst, and when she reached the house, she’d had a little talk with herself. She was behaving like a child with all her moods and petulance. She had to stop herself from trying to figure out why she was constantly either angry or wildly happy or melancholy, or whatever the mood of the moment was. Instead, Temperance made a vow to get on with this final task of preparing a wedding; then she was going to leave McCairn forever. She was going back to New York, the place where she bel
onged, where she didn’t live in a world of constantly changing moods.
“Such a waste of time,” she told herself, then looked at the list of merchants that her mother had sent her, all of whom were to be consulted before the wedding.
“I don’t know why Kenna can’t plan her own wedding,” Grace said, her mouth drawn into a tight, prim little round shape.
“I guess she’s busy,” Temperance said, refusing to be drawn into whatever was bothering Grace. Temperance had her own problems; she didn’t need more. With every day that passed she was thinking more about never seeing the people in McCairn again. Would Alys get into medical school if Temperance wasn’t there to bully some hard-nosed administrator into admitting her? What was Ramsey going to do with his life? Had anyone ever thought of that? Maybe she should talk to his parents, whoever they were.
Temperance halted her thinking because she’d yet again picked up the sketch for the wedding dress that Finola had drawn. Such talent! Temperance thought. Such a beautiful dress. “I hope mine looks just like this,” she said under her breath.
“What?!” Grace snapped.
“Grace, I think we need to talk about—”
“She’s here!” Alys said from the doorway. “Don’t you want to meet her?”
Grace looked at Temperance; Temperance looked at Grace. Both women almost said, “No,” but then they turned back to Alys and gave her weak smiles.
“Of course,” Temperance said. “Of course we want to meet her.”
“She’s ever so lovely,” Alys said dreamily. “Just like a storybook princess.”
At that Temperance looked down at what she was wearing. Ever since the three wonderful days she’d spent in the village, she’d left her beautiful clothes in their trunks. After all, silk skirts snagged on brambles and silk stained easily. Her cotton blouse and heavy skirt with its wide belt seemed perfect considering that she had so much work to do. But right now she wished she’d thought of making a bit of effort this morning.
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