Kissing the Countess (27 page)

"It's very possible," he said. "There are enormous beds of white quartz among many northern Scottish mountain, crystals mixed in black gneiss above beds of sandstone, on massive bases of metamorphic rock. The most common crystal forms in the mountains are white quartz, and sometimes deposits of smoky quartz—in Scotland we call it Cairngorm."

"Cairngorm is quite common on the slopes here," she said. "Sir, have you ever heard of a sort of crystal... that glows in moonlight?"

Arthur nodded. "Some can have phosphorescence in them."

"Certain minerals have phosphorescent properties," Evan explained. "They glow slightly—it's quite eerie to see them winking like little bits of light in caves and fissures in the rock. It's a curious phenomenon and, I think, not well understood."

Catriona felt a sense of excitement. "Are they crystals?"

"Crystalline formations?" Arthur shrugged. "Not exactly, but phosphorescent minerals can be found inside crystals. Phantom crystals, they're called. Lovely things, quite rare. Definitely something to treasure if they are found."

Nodding, excited within to hear the possibilities, Catriona smiled. "Have you ever heard of a fairy crystal?"

Evan frowned, tapping his fingers on the tablecloth. "Aye. Certain types of clear or pale-colored crystals are called that, if they have several terminations clustered together, so that they resemble miniature fairy castles. Pretty little things. I had one once, as a boy," he mused. "I used to collect rocks and crystals—had a box full of them." He smiled at Catriona. "Why the curiosity, my dear?"

"I was wondering if a fairy crystal, especially one that glows, might be found on Beinn Shee."

"Why do you want one?" Evan looked at her with interest.

"I promised a friend that I would try to find one for her."

"On top of Beinn Shee? That would be nearly impossible," Reverend Wilkie said. "Did you know that Beinn Shee has another name in the Gaelic? I cannot remember the Gaelic words, but it translates to inaccessible pinnacle. They say it cannot be climbed, at least the high point of the peak."

Evan murmured agreement. "Fitz and I would have made an attempt on it ourselves, but the weather turned foul. And other distractions came up. Quite worthy distractions," he added with a quick smile toward Catriona.

"Kildonan did have an adventure he will not soon forget," Arthur said. "We must try again. What say you, Kildonan?"

"I am always interested in a mountaineering challenge."

"I shall suggest it to Miss Jemima and the others. Shall we try later today?" Arthur asked.

"This afternoon Miss Murray and the ladies are organizing a picnic on one of the most scenic peaks, where the climbing is not too difficult," Reverend Wilkie said. "If the weather holds out, perhaps we could attempt Beinn Shee tomorrow or the next day. Lady Kildonan will join us, I hope?" He smiled at her.

"The day after tomorrow is Sunday," Catriona said. "Will you make such an outing on the Sabbath?"

"I had quite forgotten," Wilkie said with a laugh. "Well, being a rather moderate minister of the Established Church, I am not a strict Sabbatarian, nor are the others. Does the idea cause you distress, madam?"

"Not at all, though you may find that some of the local people will not be happy to see you out and about on a Sunday," she answered. "And you may have trouble finding a guide or gillie to go with you, depending on whom you ask. That is only for the Sabbatarians. The Highlands still hold many Catholics even after all these years, and some moderate Established Churc followers as well. As for me, I am happy to follow Kildonan practices," she finished.

"My wife's father is minister of Glenachan here in Glen Shee," Evan said. "Free Kirk."

"Oh," Wilkie said. "Then you were raised—"

"Strict Sabbatarian, aye," Catriona acknowledged. "We were not permitted to do anything on Sunday but attend church, pray, and read the Bible. We could not even cook or clean—we prepared Sunday meals on Saturdays. As for hillwalking, or riding in carriages for pleasure—my father forbade it, other than the brief walk needed to get to his church. Though I will confess that I often found ways to bend the rules."

"If you would rather attend church on Sunday and have a quiet day, we would understand," Reverend Wilkie said. "I had thought to attend the local church myself in the morning before climbing with Miss Murray and the others. That would be your father's parish, then?"

"Aye. He would be pleased to see you there," she said. "As for me..." She paused and looked at Evan.

"Do whatever you feel is best, my dear," Evan murmured. "Go to church with your family, and perhaps later join the outing. It's up to you."

She nodded, realizing that he was right—she had a choice. Much of her life had been spent in the shadow of strict authority, either her father and aunt or the Kirk practices. She had always longed for freedom, finding it in small ways but never claiming it outright for herself—perhaps that was why she loved to walk endlessly in the hills on the excuse of the knitting scheme, and why she found such fulfillment in learning and cataloguing the old songs, when so many times during the year she was not permitted to sing at all.

Besides, she suddenly thought, Kenneth Grant would attend services in her father's church, as he always did. She had seen Grant there every Sunday for years, and had greeted him pleasantly, never suspecting that he might harbor ill will toward her or her family. Yet now she knew too well what he thought. And she had no desire to see him.

She was certain that Evan would never dictate to her what she must do or not do. He was indeed offering her a chance for freedom. But she would have to take a risk, step outside the perimeter of the life she had always known. If she did, Evan would be there.

This is what it is like to be loved, she thought, to be shown patience and given support for her own decisions. He was waiting for her to decide because he knew how to love, how to care for another. The thought was like a revelation.

She smiled. "Go out on Sunday? I would love to do that."

Chapter 19

"To a grand picnic on the heights, ladies and gentlemen," Lord Wetherstone said, holding his wineglass high.

Seated on a sun-warmed boulder beside Evan, Catriona raised her glass with the others, who sat on blankets or on various boulders. After sharing the toast, they shared the luncheon packed for them, chatting among themselves while they ate an assortment of cold sandwiches, fruits, cheeses, and cakes, along with lemonade and wine, served on china with linens and glassware. Davey and Allan, the two gillies from Kildonan, had carried the baskets up the wooded slopes to the four-hundred-foot-high level where the group now gathered.

Catriona set her glass down on a flat part of the rock she shared with Evan. The picnic site was located in a corrie halfway along one of the slopes of Beinn Eighe. The natural bowl, slightly tilted, was shadowed by the mountain to one side and bathed in sunlight to the other, the whole open to winds.

The corrie commanded a wide, pristine view of Glen Shee and the mountains on this silvery day. Jemima Murray had suggested stopping there for the picnic to admire the view and enjoy the fresh mountain breezes.

Catriona was glad to rest and was hungry after two hours of walking and climbing. Leaving pony-drawn carts at the end of the road that ribboned through the glen, the group had walked two miles along a wooded trail, then climbed steadily upward on a rough path following a long slope covered with tall pines and thickets of russet-colored bracken.

Stopping at a tall, narrow waterfall that spilled in frothy streams down the raw rock, Catriona and the others had quenched their thirst with the cold, clear water in the pool beneath the waterfall. Then they continued upward.

The climb was steep but easy. The travelers had stout walking sticks, and two gillies helped whoever needed a boost or an extended hand. Higher, the view overlooked the tops of a pine forest, and slopes covered in bleak grasses, tough old heather and scatterings of stones.

Sitting now, having finished part of a ham sandwich and some fruit compote, Catriona smiled as she looked around, inhaling the clean pine-scented air.

Beside her, Evan chatted with his friend Sir Aedan MacBride. She half-listened, feeling peaceful. Content, she realized; a sweet, simple happiness.

Gazing down on the glen, she thought about what she might have been doing with her time these days, had she not married Evan Mackenzie so quickly.

She might have been slicing vegetables for stew in the kitchen, or supervising the washing of bed linens, or dusting the parlor. She might have escaped for an he afternoon walk with Morag MacLeod to collect knitting and learn a new song. At night, she might have sat in her bedroom with a single candle, painstakingly transcribing music and lyrics from Gaelic to English to add to her collection of Gaelic songs. Then she would have climbed into a lonely bed. Just days ago, she had still been the Plain Girl of Glenachan.

Now she sat in clear sunshine above a beautiful scenic view, with fine company and excellent food. She was sipping wine. She had servants to see to everything. She was a lady, a countess, enjoying some leisure time with her husband, the earl.

Best of all, he sat companionably beside her, his shoulder pressed to hers, providing comfort and security. His mellow voice and quiet laughter thrilled her, and the sight of his handsome profile made her melt inside.

She felt free and happy, filled with hope and excitement. Still, it seemed more like a dream than reality. She did not want it to end.

Evan leaned over to refill her wineglass as he continued to speak with Sir Aedan. Reverend and Mrs. Wilkie sat with Emily Murray and Lord and Lady Wetherstone, while Arthur Fitzgibbon strolled over some large, smooth boulders with Jemima Murray, reaching out now and then to assist her. Davey and Allan were cleaning up, putting away the food, wrapping up the dishes and placing all in the baskets.

"Fitz has cornered Cousin Jemima," Evan remarked, gesturing toward Fitzgibbon, who stood on a boulder, waving an arm about as he spoke to the lady. "He's explaining his theories on the glaciers that shaped Scotland's mountains through the pressure of ice over eons. Fitz, my lass," Evan murmured, leaning toward Catriona, "is adamant that Skye and Lewis tore away from the northwest mainland eons ago."

"It makes sense, given the types of rock found only in those regions, with seawater between them," Aedan commented.

"Ah," Catriona said. "Lewisian gneiss appears on Lewis and Skye as well as in the Torridons. Its distinctive striations of black gneiss and white quartz are quite attractive." She looked at the men and smiled mischievously.

"My bride has been cornered by Professor Fitzgibbon as well," Evan said, lifting a brow.

She laughed. "He did sit beside me at supper last night."

"I hope Miss Murray's interest in mountains runs to lectures in natural philosophy," Aedan mused.

"She seems spellbound," Evan said, and Aedan chuckled. Catriona noticed that Miss Murray looked fascinated while Arthur chatted enthusiastically, waving his arms about.

"Sir Aedan," she asked, "do you also have an interest in climbing and geology?"

"I do some climbing, though not for sport as Kildonan does," he answered. "There are respectable hills in Strathclyde, where I live, though I climb them for work more than for enjoyment. As for geology, I need to know a good bit about rock. I'm a civil engineer, building highways, mostly."

"Like my husband?" she asked.

"We took classes together at Edinburgh University. I was interested in routes and pathways, Evan was fascinated by the physical principles and the beauty of bridges. Another friend designs lighthouses. He's very keen taking risks, is Dougal."

"Risk does not appeal to you?" she asked, interested.

"Not by nature, madam," he said, his blue eyes sparkling. "I like life to be quite steady. My wife says I am dull in that way. I prefer to think of myself as reliable and determined."

"Though Aedan will not hesitate to blast through a mountain if it gets in the way of his reliable determination," Evan drawled.

Catriona laughed. She liked Sir Aedan, and she liked to see Evan so relaxed and very much himself in his company.

"I came to Glen Shee to visit your husband, not to climb, Lady Kildonan," Aedan said. "Evan can be a daredevil like our friend Mr. Stewart, the lighthouse builder. I only came to Kildonan see what mischief Evan has wrought for himself."