by Susan King
"A few times. I came to Kildonan fairly often when your father was in residence," Grant said. "That was during the years of your estrangement, I suppose. I treated the earl as his physician, and we went hunting together. He taught me a good bit. Superb stalker, your father."
"I was aware of that, though I did not have an opportunity to go out with him myself past the age of about ten. I was only allowed to walk with the beaters then," Evan said, half smiling. Truth told, he did not enjoy hunting for sport and had never put much effort into honing that skill. "Father had a fine collection of guns, but most of them are gone now. I had the lot of them packed up and shipped south. They fetched a handsome price."
"Sold them?" Grant blinked.
"Aye, and was able to pay off some of his debts and some of the duties on the estate," Evan said. "I had no need of them and my sister objected to having them displayed throughout the house, considering how our father died."
"Of course. How stupid of me to forget," Grant murmured. "Unfortunate incident, sir. How I wish I had been with him that day. I was away at the time and returned to find him already passed." He frowned thoughtfully. "If you do not hunt, sir, what sport do you prefer? Surely you find some way to relax and test yourself physically. Golfing, perhaps?"
"Kildonan is an excellent golfer, but he prefers climbing for sport," Arthur said.
"Climbing, of course. You were engaged in that just the other day," Grant said. "Just now it looks as if you've been tossing cabers, or breaking rocks in a quarry, sir!"
Evan glanced down at his dusty clothing, loose collar and rolled sleeves, and the sheen of sweat on his shirt. "I've just been doing some repair work on the old bridge."
"Why in blazes would you do that?" Arthur peered at him. "Hauling stones like a laborer?"
Evan pointed. "Just there, the center had collapsed, but the Highlanders still use it for a footbridge. Damned dangerous," he said. "So I wanted to shore it up in case anyone attempted to cross it. Really for now it must be closed off until it can be rebuilt entirely."
"About time," Mr. Grant said. "I mentioned the state of that bridge to your father more than once, but he was not inclined to have it fixed. Too expensive, he said."
"Oh?" Evan raised a brow. "Father never mentioned it to me at all, which is surprising. I am a bridge engineer by profession."
"I had heard that. I understood that you and the previous Lord Kildonan were estranged, sir, and did not speak."
"Not entirely true. I have not lived at Kildonan for years," he said, "but my father and I corresponded on matters regarding the family and the estate. He knew I would inherit someday, and he kept me apprised with occasional reports. And he knew what I was about, with the engineering work and so on."
"I was not aware. Forgive me."
"As to the bridge, I will have my factor post a sign and rope barriers. As soon as it is feasible, the bridge will be replaced. I will take on the expense, of course."
Kenneth Grant nodded. "Good of you, sir."
"It's my responsibility, sir."
Arthur glanced around. "Where is Lady Kildonan today?"
"Gone into the hills with Mrs. MacLeod," Evan said.
"Ah, the Highland knitting scheme," Grant said. "I was so impressed with Miss MacConn's—er, Lady Kildonan's—project here in Glen Shee that I suggested the idea to some of the ladies in the parish of Kilmallie. They are beginning a similar scheme, though without the admirable dedication of Lady Kildonan."
While Grant spoke, he stared at Evan intently, his narrowed brown eyes saying something entirely different than his mild, pleasant tone. For a moment, Evan could have sworn that the man disliked him—even hated him.
He frowned, aware that Grant had known Catriona for years and had been with the rescue party that had arrived at the shieling hut. Perhaps Grant disapproved, which would not be so surprising. Evan did not particularly care what the man thought.
"My wife enjoys her charitable work," he answered mildly.
"May I see the bridge?" Grant asked, and the three men walked toward it. "You've done a good job shoring up," Grant commented. "The people here have been leaping that gap for a long time and no one has been injured seriously. They're nimble as goats, most of them. Your wife will likely want to continue using it."
"I will be here to see that she gets across safely," Evan said.
"Of course. As a husband would do." Grant smiled, and again Evan saw a flash of something dark, something at odds with the man's amiable demeanor.
Evan still frowned, looking at him. He had a nagging feeling that Grant looked familiar beyond Glen Shee, but could not pinpoint in memory where he had seen him before.
"Mr. Grant is a climber, as well, Kildonan," Arthur said. "Today we were discussing the merits of mountaineering. He tells me there are some singular challenges among the Torridon peaks. He's quite familiar with them."
"Oh? Excellent." Evan stooped to collect his jacket and then slipped it on, picking up his hat before heading down the slope with the two men. "You've done some climbing around here, Mr. Grant?"
"Aye, but I haven't yet made it to the top of the highest one—Beinn Shee—that jagged peak at the center there." He pointed to the loftiest height in the range of snow-topped mountains that ringed the glen. "I've made attempts in the past, but they were spoiled by bad weather. Temperamental mountain, that one. No one has ever climbed to the top, they say. I've had better luck scaling mountains elsewhere in the Highlands and on Skye."
"Very good climbing on Skye," Evan said. "Fitz and I went up there a couple of years ago."
"We took on Sgurr nan Gillean in a fine mist," Arthur said. "We made it to the top that day."
"An impressive peak, the highest in the mighty Cuillin chain, and some say well nigh impossible. You are expert climbers indeed," Grant said.
"Cautious but persistent," Evan said. "Sgurr nan Gillean has a rough surface that provides a good grip all the way up, despite its sharp incline. We simply kept moving upward."
"So no one has yet climbed Beinn Shee to the top?" Arthur asked. "It is a perfect quest for our Alpine group, as some of us are keener for a hard climb than a scenic scramble. The ladies will forego it, I dare say, as they should. Kildonan, we must invite Mr. Grant to join our adventure. He knows these mountains, and his medical expertise will be helpful."
"If Mr. Grant is interested," Evan demurred.
"I would be honored." Grant smiled.
"Our friends are due to arrive this afternoon," Evan said. "We will send word about our climbing plans."
"You would be an excellent addition to the Scottish Alpine Climbing Club, sir," Arthur said.
"My expertise is nothing to boast about," Grant said modestly. "By the way, you'll want the best Highland guide if you plan to attempt Beinn Shee."
"Who would you recommend?" Evan asked.
"The best would be John MacLeod, a crofter—Morag MacLeod's husband. His ancient mother lives on the lower slopes of the mountain. John has been up and down those slopes and peaks all his life, and he has been my guide in scaling the other Torridon mountains. But he's getting on in years. Or I could recommend your factor, sir. Your wife's brother. Finlay MacConn knows these mountains as well as anyone. Though I doubt he's been all the way up Beinn Shee," he said, scowling.
"Finlay?" Evan glanced at Grant. "I wasn't aware."
"He and his brothers and father used to climb regularly. But that was before the reverend was injured and before the older son's death on the mountain."
Evan nodded. "I heard something of that."
"Donald MacConn went climbing one day and the weather turned bad—just as it did for you, sir. He slipped and fell to his death. Finlay and his father went searching, and Reverend MacConn was injured also in a fall—terrible weather that day, treacherous slopes. The reverend has been a changed man since then. But he had his faith to comfort him in his grief. His wife died shortly afterward, as well, an illness brought on by grief, in my estimation. After that, many of their
kin were sent away by your father's evictions. The MacConns of Glenachan have not had an easy time of it here."
"Indeed," Evan said. "I had not realized the extent of it."
"There is much you do not know about your bride," Grant said. "Given the circumstances, it is not surprising." The smooth tone, the sly assurance, made Evan glance sharply at him.
"I am a quick study, and so is she," Evan replied.
"Indeed. Before I go, Lord Kildonan, allow me to make a request of you."
"Certainly." Evan waited, feeling wary and not sure why.
"I had word from my solicitor in Inverness that you might be taking offers for portions of your property. That, in fact, you have interested buyers already."
Evan narrowed his glance. "It is something I am exploring. That is all. The estate is very large, and there is some benefit in reducing its size." He was not going to admit to Grant that one of the expected guests was coming to look at the estate to perhaps buy a large part of the land and rent the castle on an extended arrangement.
"Allow me to make an offer, as well, sir. If you are going to reduce the size of the estate, I would be interested in buying the land that borders my property of Kilmallie to the eastern end of the glen. I would like to expand my sheep runs, and this might prove the perfect arrangement for both of us."
"I will consider it," Evan said.
"Excellent. Good day, then. I must be on my way, for I promised to visit the rectory at Glenachan and take tea with Reverend MacConn and Mrs. Rennie." He gathered both his gun and Arthur's loaned weapon. "I enjoyed the day, Arthur."
"Give Reverend MacConn and Mrs. Rennie my regards," Evan murmured.
"Of course." Grant touched his bowler hat and strode away.
Evan turned to walk with Arthur toward Kildonan Castle, Golden in the sunlight, seen against rugged mountains and blue sky, it formed a striking picture.
"Selling land to Grant might be helpful," Arthur said.
"The sale would keep the land in the hands of a Highland laird, which recommends it," Evan said. "But there is something about the fellow. I am not sure I trust him."
"Good fellow, but he does have the look of the wolf to him. I'd be wary of his offer. He'll fleece you if he can. Picked up two grouse I shot today and claimed the brace as his own. Not sporting." Arthur shrugged.
Evan huffed a wordless comment. Then he glanced toward Kildonan Castle, seeing a few people strolling the castle grounds, including four women in wide belled skirts, carrying parasols. Stopping, he shaded his brow.
"I believe our guests are here." Evan quickened his pace as he strode down the hill.
* * *
Catriona walked toward the fairy bridge after parting with Morag in the hills, aware that Evan did not want her to take this route. But this was the fastest way back to Kildonan Castle, and she was not worried about crossing the broken bridge, which had not crumbled any further for decades.
As she left the forested lower slope and approached the bridge, she could hear the rush of the water in the gorge. Looking up, she saw Kenneth Grant standing on the other side of the bridge. Slowing her step, gripping her walking stick, she stopped to stare at him warily.
"Lady Kildonan, how nice to see you," he said.
She slowed. This was the only way across, though she felt as if she entered a trap. "What do you want?" she asked.
"Only to make sure you cross safely." He held out a hand.
"I can manage on my own, thank you."
"I saw your husband earlier. He's quite concerned about the condition of this bridge. He worked like a laborer today to make some repairs—so you would be safe."
She noticed additional stones wedged in the raw edges of the break and stout sticks braced across the gap. "It looks quite sturdy. I do not need help, Mr. Grant. You can go home."
"I thought we could talk again. Come," he said, beckoning.
Looking about frantically, she saw a man walking the moorland in the distance between the castle and the bridge. Relieved, she recognized Evan. The sight of him lifted her spirits—she need not fear Kenneth Grant here.
Reaching the middle of the bridge, she leaped the gap easily. As her feet touched stone, she felt the improved stability in the old bridge surface.
Grant took a long step toward her and grabbed her arm so fast that she gasped. As he yanked her toward him, she stumbled, and her left foot slipped off the ragged edge of the breach, knocking out one of the prop sticks.
Then he tilted her backward, so that she latched on to his arm in desperation. Waving her arm as she held her walking stick, she tried to use that to keep her balance. Grant struck it violently out of her hand, and she heard it clatter all the way down, then splash into the water.
"Be careful, my dear," Grant said, and he pulled her back up to stand beside him in a stable spot on the bridge. "You nearly fell."
Catriona stared up at him, heart slamming. Had he truly meant for her to stumble, or had he nearly lost his balance, with her beside him? She knew what he would claim. Stepping back, she pulled with her arm, but he would not release her.
"You did not tell me you and Kildonan were to be married that day. You should have said so," he hissed.
"I did not know it then. Stop hurting me—" She twisted.
He lessened the pressure, but did not let go. "Be careful not to fall again, my dear," he murmured. "And remember what you and I talked about."
"I don't understand—why are you so angry with me, so set on punishing me and my family? We have always trusted you."
"I trusted you, my dear, but you hurt me to the quick with your hasty marriage. I do not intend to hurt you, but I had always hoped that if you decided to marry, you would turn to me for that. What changed when you saw Mackenzie? Did he charm a lonely, plain young woman? Or did you set out to trap him for his title and his fortune?"
"How dare you! You know the circumstances. We had no choice but to marry." She felt vulnerable standing with him on the narrow bridge, on a part of the arch just below the crack—but Grant did not allow her to move to the safety of the path.
"So, an admission of your sin. When we found you in the shieling hut, I saw the way you both looked at each other... and I knew then that you welcomed his affections. The Plain Girl of Glenachan could not resist Kildonan," he growled.
"You do not understand." But she would not explain the details to him or to anyone.
"I have bided my time, but never expected you would give yourself to a stranger. I never thought that particular man would come back here, to be truthful. I thought his sister and Sir Harry would run the estate. I am understandably upset, for his return has ruined my life—and yours." He stared at her, looking cold and suddenly dangerous.
She yanked her arm. "What is it you want?"
"I want what he took from me," he growled, pulling her to him, bending to kiss her mouth while she twisted in protest. Lifting his head, he held her tightly. "I want you to take heed, Plain Girl," he finished.
She glared at him. "My husband and my kinsmen will not tolerate this—"
"But you cannot tell them. You pay a price for my silence, as I told you before. I can ruin your family. They will leave this glen... like the others did."
Breath heaving, she knew deep in her gut, like a twist of fear, that he was right. She could not speak or her family would suffer. The people of the glen would suffer, too, without Finlay to help them, without her father to shepherd their souls.
"So will you tell your earl and ruin your family?" He cupped her head to kiss her again, but she wrenched away.
"Leave me be," she hissed.
"Is it prison for Finlay, then, and ruin for Thomas? Pity. I like them both. Well, I have written letters to the sheriff and of course to the earl. They only need posting." He let go of her.
She stepped back, rubbing her forearms. "I never thought you could be so hateful."
"Where shall we meet again to discuss our bargain? We could use the shieling hut where you dallied with y
our earl. You could tell him that you are going out with Morag MacLeod."
"No," she said, breathing hard.
"I think you should, Catriona," he said, voice low. Then he glanced toward Kildonan Castle in the distance. "Ah, look. Your bridegroom is coming to your rescue." He pointed.
Catriona turned and saw Evan walking up the hillside toward them. "Evan!" she called, while Grant squeezed her arm. "Evan!"
Chapter 17
"Kildonan! Here!" Grant waved and called, to Catriona's surprise. Then he tugged her off the bridge and waited with her at the top of the hill as Evan came closer.
Her heart pounded, and she fought tears, yet she stood calmly. She realized that Evan would know nothing of what had just transpired. From the low angle of the hill, he could not have seen them clearly on the bridge.
And she did not dare tell him what had happened.
"Lucky thing you came by, sir," Kenneth Grant said as Evan reached the top of the hill and came toward them. "Your bride had quite a fright. She nearly fell from that infernal bridge. I'm very glad I happened to be passing this way."
Evan's face turned grim as he strode toward them. "Dear God," he said, and set an arm around Catriona, pulling her against him. She leaned, resting her head on his shoulder, relief pouring through her. "Are you hurt?"
"No. I'm fine." She wanted to dive into the safety of his embrace. Instead, she clutched the back of his frock coat and stood close, felt safe now, while she faced Grant.
"Your bride stumbled on the bridge," Grant said. "I was near enough to catch her. You are wise to barricade the area and forbid use of the bridge, sir. It should have been done long ago."
"I am in your debt, sir." Evan shook Grant's hand.
"Not at all. A pleasure to help. Good day to you both." He barely glanced at Catriona. "I will see you soon, when we go climbing, sir."
"Indeed," Evan said. Grant doffed his hat and walked away.
"Climbing?" Catriona asked. "He's going with you?"