Kissing the Countess

by Susan King

  Evan hung there, his coat half pulled off of him by Grant's struggling, thrashing weight, for Grant had no good hold on Evan and had a grip instead on cloth.

  Gasping, sobbing, Catriona hoisted as far over the edge as she dared and pounded and forced the claw into another crevice beside the hook presently embedded there. She tested the claw, which seemed to grip almost instantly, finding hidden holds in the rock face.

  "Throw the rope down!" Evan called. She spooled the rope downward and watched as Evan heaved and swung toward the wall on the rope that held two men. He pulled on Kenneth's arm, desperately trying to help him grab the dangling rope, trying to save his life.

  Kenneth lunged outward to snatch at the free rope, letting go of Evan. Almost at the same moment, he kicked Evan, and the force of the movement jerked his own hands loose. His grip broke and he fell, sailing downward, spread-eagled in eerie silence.

  Catriona looked away, hiding her face in her hands.

  * * *

  "I understand, Catriona," Evan said much later. They stood side by side near the old fairy bridge, at the top of the hill that overlooked the glen.

  The castle sat like a jewel at the foot of the dark hills, and the mists floated over the land, over all of Kildonan and Glen Shee. The whole of it looked dreamlike and beautiful.

  Catriona sighed, still stunned and in shock, with a deep, hurtful sadness in the core of her heart for the death of a man she had once called friend. They had left him at the foot of the Black Notch, covered with his coat. Evan had said he would go back up with Finlay and others to fetch him down properly.

  She and Evan had come down from the mountain in silence, having circled behind Beinn Shee to follow the ridge to its other end, where it met the slope that led to the fairy bridge.

  Nearly home now, she thought, and only the little bridge left to cross. She looked up at Evan in concern and reached out to take his hand. His fingers squeezed hers.

  "What do you understand?" she asked softly.

  "What you and Finlay did. Why you did it." He looked at her, his expression somber. The wind lifted his thick dark hair. He had bruises on his cheek. His eyes were beautiful, deep and brilliant, and so sad.

  She loved him so. The feeling brimmed and filled and expanded in her, so much she could not express it. Flowed through her with such force it nearly hurt, as if she would have to grow just to give it space in her life. Reaching up, she brushed her fingers over a new bruise and touched the old one under his hair, where he had hit his head the first time she had met him.

  "What are you saying?" she asked.

  "I'm apologizing," he murmured.

  The lifting of her heart felt as if she had wings. Smiling, she shook her head. "I should apologize about the tenants, Evan. I should have told you, but I thought you would be angry—"

  "Angry? No." He gave her a bemused look, and his eyes sparkled just before he smiled. Reaching out, he slipped his arm around her, and the cup of his hand felt warm and good. "I was not angry about the tenants, my lass. That is easy to understand. I know how much you love Glen Shee—you and Finlay both." He looked out toward the long glen below, green, silver, and gold softened by mist and drizzling rain. "I understand that, because I care about the glen, too. I would have done the same, had I thought of it. Had you told me."

  "I see that now," she murmured softly. "What then? Why were you so upset?"

  "Because you did not trust me. Because you thought I was like my father, that I would just send those people away."

  "Now I know I was wrong. And I am the one who's sorry."

  Evan watched her, his hazel eyes beautiful, his gaze filled with clarity and quiet power. Feeling overwhelmed by relief and something more, by her own unquestioning forgiveness and the deep love she felt for him, Catriona smiled in silence and tipped her head so that her cheek rested on his shoulder.

  He leaned down. "Catriona Bhan," he whispered. "Catriona Dana, my brave, tall, fair lass. I love you."

  She caught her breath. Raising her head, she looked at him, wondering, stunned a little to hear words from him that matched so perfectly, so exquisitely, the feeling that poured through her like warm sunlight despite the cool air and rain clouds. Her heart blew open like a rose with the unexpected joy of it, and tears stung her eyes. Smiling a little, she leaned forward.

  Evan leaned forward, too, and kissed her mouth gently. The wind swept over them, fluttering her hair, her plaid, fluttering his hair. She felt still and strong and peaceful, and more sure of love than she had felt of anything else in her life.

  "I love you, too," she whispered, and she accepted his kiss again, its tenderness melting her deep inside.

  "Oh," he said, pulling at the pocket of his torn, bedraggled coat. "I nearly forgot." Drawing his hand out, he opened his fingers. "Is this what you were looking for?"

  Winking, beautiful, the natural crystal sat in his palm, its pink heart captured pristine inside the gleaming, perfect wand.

  "Oh," she breathed, taking it from him, turning it in the pale light. "Oh, it's beautiful! Oh, Evan—thank you—" She threw her arms around him, pressed her face into his coat.

  He held her, dipped his head down. "Now you can take it to Mother Flora, and she will teach you all she knows."

  She nodded. "But—if you want to leave here—" She paused, glanced up. "If you want to leave, I will go with you."

  He leaned back a little, looked at her. "You would?"

  She nodded, tears pooling in her eyes. "I will. I love this place, and it is part of me, but... but you are in my heart now. Like this beautiful crystal—one is within the other, and they cannot be apart. I cannot be here without you." She held up the crystal wand, with its miraculous pink heart. "If you must be in Edinburgh, I would have to—"

  "Oh," he said. "I will need to be in Edinburgh sometimes, but I could stay in Kildonan and Glen Shee much of the time."

  "Aye?" She looked up at him.

  "Aye, my bonny countess," he said, leaning to kiss her head. "With you and our little ones—as many as you like and heaven sees fit to give us. And all our tenants, too, as many of those as you like, as well," he said, pulling her close.

  She half laughed, half sobbed, and turned into the circle of his deep embrace.

  "Let's go home." He took her hand.

  "We'll have to cross the old bridge," she said, as they walked toward it.

  "Aye, well," he said, stepping on to its stones and pulling her with him as they walked up the incline of the arch. "What was that fairy charm again?"

  She laughed, and he laughed, too, and led her toward the gap in the bridge. Whispering the charm, she heard him repeat it and watched as he stepped across with one long stride.

  He turned and half lifted her over, setting her down lightly, and took her into his arms. "Now," he said, leaning down to kiss her, "I believe in magic."

  Epilogue

  "So this is your groom," Flora said. Hand at her hips, she peered up at Evan, tipping her head back so that she could see him more easily. She stood in the doorway of her little house, while Evan and Catriona stood outside in a cold wind and drizzling rain.

  "English, if you please," Catriona said.

  Flora nodded, still gazing at Evan. "He's a tall one. Tall enough for you, girl."

  Evan suppressed a chuckle. The old woman was an elfin creature, wizened yet childlike. He liked her bluntness, and he liked her keen, direct gaze. He inclined his head toward her and smiled a little, waiting in silence.

  Catriona smiled and tucked her hand into Evan's arm. "He suits me well, I think," she said, laughing up at him. "My dear, this is Flora MacLeod."

  "I'm pleased to meet you, Mrs. MacLeod," Evan said, extending his hand. "I am Mr. Mackenzie."

  "Huh," Flora said. Reluctantly, she extended her small, gnarly hand and allowed him to take it. He bowed slightly. "We all know you are more than Mr. Mackenzie, but we will not speak of it here," she grumbled.

  "We need never speak of it, if you like," Evan said. "
Think of me as your landlord—or as the husband of this fine lass." He covered Catriona's fingers, still tucked over his arm, with his own. "But I would be most pleased if you would think of me as another Highlander, happy to be here in Glen Shee again."

  Flora tilted her head. "And who brought my great-grandson William and his wife Helen and their little ones back to me? Was it you, Mr. Mackenzie?"

  "Not I, madam," Evan said. "That credit goes to Finlay MacConn and his father and sister."

  "But they are here because you did not send them away."

  "I did not," Evan agreed. "I will not. And I think we can manage to bring a few more MacLeods back to Glen Shee, once we find them."

  Flora nodded once, curtly, though Evan saw her lower lip quiver for a moment. "Well," she said. "Well, then."

  "May we come in, Mother Flora?" Catriona asked softly.

  "Huh. I suppose." She stepped back to allow them to step over the threshold. "Watch your heads, both of you. Tall people," she muttered. "My husband knocked his head on that lintel more times than I could count, but he built the inside of the house tall enough to make him happy. Well, sit down."

  As they entered the dim little house, Evan found the place roomy and neat, though it smelled suspiciously of goat. Escorting Flora and then Catriona to small wooden chairs, he took a seat on a bench beside the fire.

  "What have you brought for me?" Flora asked, leaning forward to poke at the basket that Catriona had insisted they carry with them. "Not more stockings, I hope. I have enough of those. I still need a scarf, though."

  "And I have one here," Catriona said, reaching into the basket to draw out the soft, knitted folds of a dark blue scarf.

  Flora took it with a low cry of delight and wrapped it around her neck so that the ends dangled down into her lap. She perched her hands on her knees. "What else?"

  "Some fruit," Catriona said, showing her a sack of apples.

  "Bah," Flora said. "I have some just as nice as those. Morag and Helen brought them the other day." She leaned forward curiously.

  Catriona glanced at Evan and smiled, her secret dancing in her blue eyes. More than one secret glowed there, he was sure, but she had not spoken of it to him yet. He wondered if she knew herself. The blush upon her cheek and the vivid sparkle in her eyes of late had given it away to him. He smiled in silence.

  "Well, there is one small thing I brought for you," Catriona said, still smiling as she drew out a piece of folded linen.

  Looking at Catriona in silence, Flora took the cloth and unfolded it gently. There, gleaming on the pale fabric, the little fairy crystal sat in her palm, its rosy heart glowing. Delicate rainbows of light and color dazzled along the smooth facets of the outer crystal wand.

  "Ach," Flora breathed. "You found it!"

  "I found it," Catriona said. She folded her hands in her lap and smiled, watching as the old woman turned the stone so that it winked and sparkled in the light of the hearth fire.

  After a moment, Flora lowered her hand, the stone still clasped in it. "You climbed Beinn Sitheach for me, and for the sake of the fairy songs?"

  "I did," Catriona said. "But it was Evan who found the stone. He risked his life to fetch it from the rock."

  Flora looked at him. "I heard the story of what happened up there," she said. "Morag told me how the doctor died. Well, it is sad and tragic. He did not know as much doctoring as I know, but he had his place here in the glen. I thought he was a bit crazy, that man. You should have asked me."

  "I wish I had, Mother Flora," Evan murmured. "You seem like a very wise woman."

  "I am," she agreed. She peered at him for a moment, nodded to herself, and then looked at Catriona. "Well, then, I suppose you want me to teach you my fairy songs now."

  "I would like it very much if you would," Catriona said.

  "I could do that, I suppose," Flora said. "But we will have to work quickly. In a few months, you will not want to come up here to see me."

  Catriona looked surprised. "Of course I will want to come up here to see you. Why would I not?"

  "Ask him," Flora said, glancing at Evan. "He knows why."

  Catriona turned to him. "You do?"

  "Well," he said. "I think so. You have a secret, my dear."

  She laughed softly, and the sparkle danced again in her eyes. "And what is that, sir?"

  He took her hand, lifting it to kiss her knuckles softly. "Mother Flora," he said, still watching Catriona. "I would ask you one favor, if I could."

  "Ask me, Mr. Mackenzie," Flora said. She sounded pleased, and she grinned, watching him. "Ask."

  "I want you to teach me one of your fairy songs," he said. "I want you to teach me a lullaby." Catriona gasped, and he saw tears glisten in her eyes as she smiled up at him.

  "Ah," Flora said, nodding. "And why should I do that?"

  Evan leaned forward and kissed Catriona gently and slowly. Then he drew back. "Because I would like to sing to my son."

  Catriona caught back a sob, smiling up at him through her tears. "And what if the babe proves to be a daughter?"

  "I'll sing to her, too," Evan whispered, leaning forward again to rest his brow against hers. He rested his hand on her back, and felt the slight, beautiful thump of her heartbeat. A sense of deep gratitude filled him, for her, for the love she brought to him, for the child she protected inside of her. "And when our daughter is older, she can sing the songs to her brothers and sisters, and to her own little ones someday."

  Catriona came into his arms then, and he wrapped her in his embrace, smiling to himself. Glancing at Mother Flora, he saw the old woman wipe away a tear.

  "Now," Flora said. "Enough of that, you two. We have some work to do. Now listen." She began to sing, her voice earthy and low, filled with quiet power.

  Evan held Catriona in his arms, and closed his eyes as he listened. He felt the peaceful grace of the old music pour through him, and he felt the healing of love.

  Then, as Catriona began to sing softly, Evan began to hum the lyrical, lovely melody in harmony with her.

  The End

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  Author's Note

  Victorians were simply mad for mountaineering. Exuberant explorers, they scrambled and hiked and clambered up the slopes of Britain and the Continent with a little basic equipment, a lot of enthusiasm, and a huge appetite for adventure. Not only that, they delighted in writing about their escapades.

  In researching mountain climbing for Kissing the Countess, I enjoyed reading Victorian accounts of mountaineering by men, and women, too. They described in fascinating detail their experiences and expressed a poetic appreciation for the beauty of the landscapes they encountered. Nineteenth-century photographs show Victorians picking their way over ice fields or across Alpine meadows on slopes thousands of feet high—all the while dressed in their prim Sunday best, with walking sticks and Manila rope, a knapsack or two, and the inevitable picnic basket. Scottish accounts were especially interesting to me, and some were recorded by Queen Victoria herself in her Highland journals. She enjoyed more than one jaunt among Scottish mountains, happily picnicking or admiring the glorious views, and stopping to pluck the occasional Cairngorm stone before trotting back down the mountainside.

  Besides their appetite for mountain climbing adventures, Victorians were also mad for folklore collecting. In
Scotland in particular, the gathering and preservation of Gaelic songs and folktales was of genuine service to a waning Gaelic culture endangered by the Clearances and the efforts of modern improvements. The better-known song and story collectors were Alexander Carmichael and John Campbell, but the lesser-known Miss Frances Tolmie provided real inspiration for the character of Catriona MacConn. Fanny Tolmie's dedication to collecting Gaelic songs preserved music that would otherwise be lost to us, and her tall, red-haired, big-boned Celtic appearance matched that of my already-imagined heroine with wonderful synchronicity. When that happens, an author knows that a book is on the right track.

  Cairngorm stones are good smoky quartz, gleaming with a peaty tint and lovely clarity and are a particular Scottish treasure. Phantom crystals with embedded phosphorescent minerals are also quite real, and have been discovered in remote Scottish mountainous locations.

  Fairy crystals are real, too. While I write this, there is one sitting on a little velvet cushion on my desk, winking in the light.

  I hope you have enjoyed my Scottish Victorian trilogy, which includes Taming the Heiress, Waking the Princess, and Kissing the Countess. Please look for my next Scottish historical—it's too soon yet to reveal the details, but I know you will love it!

  Please visit my website at www.susankingbooks.com to learn more about my books, and visit www.wordwenches.com too—I'm a founding member of that wonderful author blog. I look forward to hearing from you.

  Happy reading!

  Susan

  Missed the first book in this series?

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  TAMING THE HEIRESS

  The Scottish Lairds Series

  Book One

  Or skip to an excerpt from

  THE STONE MAIDEN

  The Celtic Nights Series

  Book One

  Excerpt from

  Taming the Heiress

  The Scottish Lairds Series