Raonaid was not entirely wrong about Lachlan’s sexual power over women. Catherine had experienced it herself and had seen it in Abigail, the young barmaid, on the first night of their escape. But that did not justify Raonaid’s actions. She had cast a cruel spell on him—one that harkened back to his wife’s death and made him relive it over and over.
“Do you feel it is your place to judge people?” Catherine asked. “To hand out punishment and control their lives, as if you were God?”
Raonaid’s eyes darkened. “Are you in love with him?”
“That is none of your concern.”
Her sister regarded her shrewdly. “You are. I can see it in your eyes. Does he know it?”
Catherine was not sure. She had never spoken the words aloud, and she had refused his offer of marriage and suggested that what they felt for each other was not real.
“No, he does not,” she said at last.
Raonaid scoffed bitterly. “Then you’d best keep it that way, lass. He’s not the sort of man you want to pin your hopes on.”
* * *
Outside, Lachlan paced back and forth under the wide portico, wondering what poison Raonaid was feeding to Catherine now, when Alex approached and rested one booted foot on the bottom step.
“Don’t worry, Lachlan,” he said. “Lady Catherine will be fine. I just took a look through the back window. They’re only talking.”
“Do I look worried?” Lachlan replied, glaring down at the young clansman with a pungent rancor he could not suppress.
“Aye, you look about ready to burst through that door swinging your claymore.”
Lachlan inhaled sharply and looked toward the horizon. “That’s about the best idea I’ve heard all day.”
Alex sat down on the step. Lachlan decided he needed to relax, so he joined Alex, pulled the dirk out of his boot, and sat for a long time, turning it over in his hands, watching the sun reflect off the blade.
“It’s obvious,” Alex carefully said, “that you have feelings for Lady Catherine. I can hardly blame you, sir. She’s a treasure, that one, and she cares for you, too. It’s plain as day. Do you know what you’re going to do about it?”
Lachlan turned his eyes toward the young Highlander, who continually surprised him. “I’m going to do nothing, Alex. We come from different worlds. She’s a Lowlander under the guardianship of a cousin who detests Highlanders, and she’s an heiress on top of it. And things have not gone … smoothly between us.”
Besides that, he had already lost one wife. He could not bear to lose another.
“Ach.…” Alex waved a dismissive hand through the air. “What should any of that matter if you love each other? She’s old enough to make her own choices, is she not?”
Lachlan considered that. “Aye, but she’s not stupid, either. She knows I’m not the right sort, and she’s made that abundantly clear. So have you. And now, with Raonaid in there, filling her head with all kinds of unflattering stories about me…”
Alex shrugged. “Maybe Lady Catherine will see the truth in it, and choose you over her sister.”
Lachlan slipped the dirk back into his boot. “I doubt it. You know what they say about blood and water.”
“Aye, one’s thicker than the other, but does that apply when the sister is a witch?”
Lachlan inclined his head. “She’s not a witch, Alex. She’s an oracle.”
“That’s just splittin’ hairs. Either way, she’s evil. Isn’t she?” He tipped his head back to let the sun warm his face, then opened one eye to squint at Lachlan. “Or am I wrong?”
The front door opened, and Catherine stepped outside. Lachlan and Alex quickly rose to their feet.
“I’ve made a decision,” she said. “I have been discussing my memory loss with Raonaid, and she has explained to me that she always had her strongest visions at the stone circle at Callanais, not far from where she grew up. I told her about the standing stones at Drumloch, and how I, too, have been drawn to them since my return. We wish to go there together. It is my hope that she will experience a vision there, and perhaps see the missing years of my life.”
Lachlan could not hide his misgivings. “You intend to introduce her to your family?” It would create a scandal like no other.
“Yes. I know that it will not be easy—especially with my grandmother—but we both deserve to know the truth.”
Lachlan lowered his voice and moved closer to speak in her ear. “If that is your decision, lass, I will honor it. But are you certain you can trust her? What about your inheritance?”
“She is my sister, Lachlan,” she whispered in return. “And a Montgomery. I am prepared to share my fortune with her, once it is transferred to me.”
He shook his head when what he really wanted to do was shake some sense into her. “Are you sure that’s wise? You only just met her. Have you told her this yet?”
“Not yet.”
“Then, don’t,” he implored, keeping his voice to a hush. “Wait until we reach Drumloch. Take some time to think on it. That’s all I ask.”
A shadow of concern passed over her features as she looked up at him under the shaded portico. “Are you afraid she will give it to Murdoch, to support the Jacobite cause?”
“Among other things,” he replied, for there were a dozen things that worried him. Just delivering them both to Drumloch without incident was enough to keep him on the alert.
Catherine glanced over her shoulder. “I must go back inside. Can we leave in the morning? She will need time to collect her belongings, and say good-bye to Murdoch.”
“No,” he replied. “She can say nothing to Murdoch. God only knows what they might plot together if he finds out the Drumloch heiress is his lover’s twin. Tell her we are leaving now; otherwise she’ll have to find her own way. I’ll not risk your safety by spending another night here.”
Catherine hesitated, but in the end she agreed. “Fine, but if you could allow her a few minutes to prepare.”
She entered the house and was about to shut the door behind her when Lachlan stopped it with his boot.
“I’ll need to make sure she doesn’t leave some sort of letter behind. And tell her to summon the housekeeper. I want to speak to her, too, about what she saw here this morning.”
Catherine nodded and stepped out of his way.
Chapter Thirty-two
Drumloch Manor
Nine hours later
Lachlan heard the shot before the coach made it halfway up the drive.
“What the devil?” He saw a flash of movement up at the house and spotted John Montgomery, Catherine’s devoted cousin, clambering down the front steps, pointing his pistol at the sky.
Another shot rang out, and Goliath whinnied and reared up, clawing his hooves at the air. Lachlan fought hard to stay in the saddle.
“Whoa!”
The coach pulled abruptly to a halt. The door swung open and Catherine leaped out onto the lane, waving her arms and shouting, “It’s me, John! It’s Catherine! Do not shoot!”
Lachlan regained control of his mount and trotted closer to her. “Are you mad, lassie? Get back inside!”
“No! I will not let him shoot you again!”
She picked up her skirts and started marching up the hill, on a wild mission to put her cousin in his proper place. She was like a pistol ball herself, Lachlan thought, and he quite loved that about her. God help him, he loved everything about her, and it was killing him.
“I have come home, John!” she shouted. “The Highlander has brought me back, and if you shoot him again I will knock your bloody head off!”
The earl lowered his gun and bellowed into the house to inform the servants of Catherine’s return, then came running the rest of the way down the steps.
Catherine, too, began to run while Lachlan slowed his horse to a walk, convinced now that she was safe.
He watched her throw herself into her cousin’s arms. The earl picked her up and swung her around.
Lachlan inst
ructed the driver of the coach to wait there on the lane, then cantered forward to face the earl’s impending displeasure.
Drumloch turned to face him. The earl’s cheeks flushed instantly with antagonism. “I received Lady Catherine’s letter three days ago. She insisted that you did not abduct her—that she went willingly—but after what you tried to do to her, I am hesitant to believe it. I still have half a mind to string you up by the heels!”
“I spoke the truth,” Catherine insisted. “You must listen to me, John. This man has helped me solve many mysteries about my past, and he deserves our thanks. Allow me to properly introduce him to you. This is Lachlan MacDonald, Laird of War of Kinloch Castle.” She gestured back to her cousin. “The Earl of Drumloch.”
Lachlan nodded. “My lord.”
John scowled up at him. “And what mysteries did you help solve, sir, which required you to steal my cousin away in the dead of night, without permission from her family?”
“You ought to speak to Lady Catherine about that,” he replied, “for it is a family matter, and not my place to say. I’m sure she will tell you all you need to know.” Goliath grew restless and took a few steps backwards.
Catherine strode closer. “Wait,” she said. “You’re not leaving, are you? No, you cannot. You must stay until all this is settled—or at least long enough to replenish your supplies before you return to Kinloch.”
And there it was. The assumption, spoken aloud, that he would not be a part of her life now that she was home again. But why should he be? He had fulfilled his duty by delivering her to Kinloch, where she was able to discover the truth about her identity—that she was indeed Lady Catherine Montgomery. He had also reunited her with her sister. It was time now to return to his home in the Highlands. To the life he knew before the curse. It was time to put all this behind him.
Perhaps one day he would be thankful that she had refused his offer of marriage, which had been proposed under extraordinary circumstances. It’s bound to make things seem more intense than they really are.…
With a sudden knot of grief pulsing in his gut, Lachlan turned in the saddle to look back at the coach, which was still waiting halfway up the drive. He was surprised that Raonaid had not thrown a tantrum by now. He had never known her to be patient or docile.
Catherine turned to her cousin. “I have brought someone I wish you to meet.”
The earl nodded, then waved a hand at the driver, signaling for him to approach. “Is this the person you mentioned in your letter?” he asked with some unease.
“Yes.”
The coach, led by four chestnut horses, rumbled up the drive and pulled to a slow, creaking halt in front of them. A footman hurried down the steps to open the door, and Lachlan watched it all unfold with a terrible ache in his heart.
* * *
Catherine kept her eyes fixed on her cousin’s face, for she wished to measure his response. Had he known about this missing link in the family? Had he been keeping it secret from her all this time? Or would he be as shocked as she to learn of it?
John strode forward, curious and eager to view the woman inside the coach.
Raonaid’s small foot emerged first; then her gloved hand reached out to accept the footman’s assistance. At last, she showed herself. She stepped fully into the pink light from the setting sun and lifted her face.
Catherine glanced quickly at her cousin. His cheeks went pale. His eyes deepened with wonder.
“My word.…” He moved closer to take Raonaid’s hand. “I am astounded. You are a perfect likeness.”
Raonaid regarded him with suspicion. “Did you know about me?” she asked.
“I assure you, Lady Raonaid, I did not—at least not until recently.”
It was the first time she had been properly addressed as a member of the aristocracy, and the importance of that moment was not lost on anyone. Especially Raonaid, whose head drew back in astonishment.
“When Catherine disappeared for the second time,” John continued, “I took it upon myself to look into her past. Then her letter arrived only a few days ago and confirmed what I had been able to uncover on my own.” He turned to address Catherine. “I have information for you both,” he said, “regarding your birth. If you will join me in the drawing room.”
Catherine felt an almost-dizzying rush of eagerness, for she was about to discover the truth at last.
She turned to Lachlan. “Will you come with us? I would like for you to be there.”
In actual fact, she had never needed him more than she did in that moment.
He stared down at her, as if considering how best to reply, then simply dismounted and handed Goliath over to a groom.
* * *
“Where is Grandmother?” Catherine asked when Mrs. Silver, the housekeeper, appeared in the doorway to the drawing room, looking pale and distraught as she set eyes upon Raonaid.
“She will not be joining us,” John explained. “I am afraid she has been keeping to her rooms lately.”
“Why?”
Her cousin hesitated. “You will understand soon enough.”
John waved Mrs. Silver into the drawing room, escorted her to a chair, and went to pour her a glass of brandy. It was hardly proper for an earl to wait on a servant in such a way, which left Catherine feeling shaken, for whatever information Mrs. Silver was about to divulge must indeed be most unsettling.
John poured drinks for everyone else, himself included, and sat down. “Mrs. Silver has proven herself to be an invaluable source of information,” he said. “What she is about to tell you will, no doubt, be disturbing to you both, but it is time the truth was known. Please, Mrs. Silver, describe the events of twenty-five years ago to Lady Catherine and Lady Raonaid, as you remember them.”
Catherine felt Raonaid tense beside her at the shock of hearing her name spoken for the second time with the proper form of address.
“When it was announced,” the housekeeper timidly said, “that your mother was expecting a child, everyone of course hoped for a boy, to secure an heir for the earl, but shortly before she went into labor, a woman came to the door, bold as brass, and claimed she was a gifted midwife. She told me that the countess would deliver a babe with powers from beyond, and that she would need to put an enchantment on the child to cure it of this malady. She was mad, I believed, so I sent her away, but when I told the dowager of it, she ordered me to send a footman to fetch the woman and bring her back.”
“Surely Grandmother would never believe such a tale,” Catherine said with skepticism.
“Oh, but she did, my lady. And the very next day, your mother began her labor—two weeks early. She collapsed in the stone circle with terrible pains in her belly.”
“Is that where we were born?” Catherine asked, feeling a cold shiver ripple up and down her spine at the memory of her own behavior on the night she walked in her sleep to the standing stone on the hill. “In the Drumloch Circle?”
“No, my lady. We managed to bring the countess back to the manor house, but the dowager insisted on using the midwife who had come to the door. Everyone else was kept out of the room—everyone but me—and it was many, many hours before you both were born. You came first, Lady Catherine, and then your sister. Your mother struggled hard. She gave you both everything she had, and I believe it’s important for you both to know that she held you together in her arms for a full hour before she passed.”
Catherine reached for Raonaid’s hand and held on to it while a tear trembled down her cheek. She looked up at Lachlan. He was watching her intently, with concern, and she was grateful that he was here to learn all of this.
“What happened next?” Raonaid asked.
Mrs. Silver’s hand quivered as she took another sip of brandy; then she lifted her eyes to meet Raonaid’s and faced her squarely. “As soon as the countess passed, the dowager took you out of her arms, Lady Raonaid, handed you to the midwife, and told her to drown you in the river.”
“Good Lord!” Catherine stood up.
“The woman did exactly as she was told, I thought,” Mrs. Silver continued, “as that was the last I ever saw of you. I was instructed never to speak of it again, not to anyone, especially the earl. Your father never knew your mother had delivered twins.”
An eerie silence ensued, and Catherine sank back onto the sofa cushions. No one spoke for a long moment.
“Why me?” Raonaid sharply asked. “Why not Catherine?”
“Because you had a birthmark on your neck,” Mrs. Silver replied, “and the midwife told us that it was the sign of your unearthly power.”
Raonaid drew her hand away from Catherine’s and spoke in a contemptuous tone. “What was the midwife’s name?”
“Her name was Matthea,” the housekeeper replied. “Obviously, she did not end your life as the dowager believed. She took you away.”
“Aye,” Raonaid boldly replied. “She took me to the Hebrides and raised me as her own—and she was very kind to me, until the day she died.” Raonaid shot Catherine a heated look. “I don’t envy you, Sister, being raised by the dowager.” She glanced quickly, poisonously, at John. “Where is she now? Why has she not shown her face? I suspect she fears me worse than she fears her own death. Does she expect me to cast some vengeful spell on her? Change her into a frog or a rat?”
Catherine glanced uneasily at Lachlan, whose expression stilled and grew very grim.
Raonaid scowled. “Well, tell her not to worry. I wouldn’t waste my bones on her. She will simply have to live with what she did to her own flesh and blood. God will judge her soon enough.” She stood up. “I want to leave here. Now. Lachlan, will you take me back to the Highlands? I don’t want to see these people ever again. I want to go home. Please.”
Seduced by the Highlander Page 22