Page 80 of Keeping Kate
Chapter 22
Bending over the silken pillow in her lap, Kate switched the slender thread bobbins back and forth, plaiting and twisting the threads to form a fine mesh for the strip of lace she was creating. When she finished a small section, she paused to move the brass pins that held the fine net of threads in place. Her fingers moved quickly and deftly. She had not sat to the lacemaking in a long time, and returning to it was soothing indeed and left her mind free to wander.
Though all she could think about was Alec. His marriage proposal last night had set her spinning, and her thoughts and feelings had not come to ground since. She had to sort out the right choice for her, for him, for the clan.
Click, click.The bobbins tapped lightly against one another as she switched the threads, twisted the spindles, wove the threads in and out, in and out.Click, click.
The repetitive work was calming, reliable, entrancing, a skill she had learned in the English Convent in Bruges, where she had her sister Sophie had been educated.Click, click, clack.She lost herself in the rhythms as she wove the threads, switched the bobbins, plaited and twisted the delicate pale threads.
For a moment, she glanced at her sister Sophie, who sat at a table nearby, perusing a large book. Sophie’s advancing pregnancy made her favorite occupation of gardening a bit impractical, so she was spending the morning in the library reading about botanical matters.
“I would rather be mucking about in the garden than reading about it,” Sophie said, seeing Kate’s glance. She flipped a page. “But Connor suggested that I read some of the gardening books he has at Kinnoull House—he studied horticultural science at university, did you know?”
“Ah, not the fine art of brigandry?” Kate murmured, working. Sophie laughed.
“He is a master of that,” she agreed. “I hope to be able to get back to the garden next spring, once this babe comes around the turn of the year.” She smoothed a hand over her rounded belly. Her sack dress of pale blue reflected her light blue eyes, its style giving her growing figure room to expand. Kate smiled, watching her flaxen-haired sister. Sophie looked lush and blooming, happy and bright as one of her beloved flowers, which blossomed almost magically wherever their mistress planted them.
Kate had loved learning how her sweet-tempered older sister had held her own with the rogue Connor MacPherson, outwitting him at his own game, as he himself admitted. Sophie and Connor had found a deep and genuine love, a happiness that brought a peaceful atmosphere not just to Connor’s home of Glendoon but to Duncrieff as well. It was welcome after the tragic events of years before.
Perhaps there was something to the fairy legend, Kate thought. Once more, a loving marriage had brought benefit to the clan.Love makes its own magic,she thought, remembering the motto on the rim of the Duncrieff fairy goblet. And that gave her hope for her own future.
“I love these Dutch tulips, the variegated sort, like red and yellow flames,” Sophie mused, turning another page. “I wonder if Connor would let me send for more bulbs from the Netherlands.”
“The man would let you do anything,” Kate said as she plaited delicate threads, gradually creating a pattern of acanthus leaves. “It will take me years to finish this strip of lace,” she muttered. “I do not have enough time to work on it.”
“Not enough time? Are you in a hurry?” Sophie asked.
I might go to prison, she nearly said aloud, and never complete it. But she pressed her lips together. Did Alec really expect her to ride off to Edinburgh with him and marry him on the chance it might help her case? She could not see how that could make any difference. She was, after all, a spy. And he was a captain and a lawyer, but not judge and jury.
“I like this one very much,” Sophie said, studying another page. “A handsome variety of red tulip. I do love bright-colored flowers.”
”I do too,” Kate said, twisting threads. “Oh, I do not know what to do.”
Sophie looked up. “What is it? Kate, is it the red soldier? The captain?”
“Of course not.”Tap-tap-tap-tap. “Sorry.”
Sophie got up and came over to stand beside Kate’s chair. “Are you sure? You know, I went to see him this morning. I had not had a chance to visit with him before.”
“You did?” Kate looked up, startled. “What did he say?”
“We only spoke briefly. He was resting, so I did not stay,” Sophie said. “That sort of injury takes a good deal from a man, though he is healing quickly. I wanted to get to know him a little,” she confided, smiling. “He is very bonny, your Captain Fraser.”
“Not mine. Though I suppose he is bonny,” Kate said, focusing.
“I like him, I think. He seems calm and strong. I think he is a good man.” Sophie touched the little crystal she wore on a fine chain, a twin of Kate’s necklace. “Though he is a red soldier. He said that you—” She stopped.
“What?” Kate looked at her sister.
“He said he looks at things differently now, since he met you,” Sophie said. “He said he will never forget you, and he hopes you will forgive him someday.” She tilted her head, watching Kate, who shrugged. “For what, Kate?”
She shrugged. “For doing his duty, I suppose. As an officer.”
“Perhaps. He said he appreciates our hospitality, but he plans to leave today. He did not think you would want to say farewell to him before he went.”
Kate dropped the bobbins, put a hand to her mouth, and began to weep, fingers shaking, as if she could not control it. Sophie slipped an arm around her shoulder.
Alec walkedalong the corridors in Duncrieff, passing one room after another, well-kept, handsome rooms along hallways elegantly decorated with paintings and carpets. But he did not take time to pause or explore. By the time Mary had brought a breakfast tray of coffee and porridge, he was already dressed in plaid, waistcoat, and the mended red coat and officer’s sash, which he had found folded outside his bedroom door where Kate had left them. He had insisted to Mary that he was recovered enough to leave. Then she informed him that Duncrieff himself had arrived home late the night before and wanted to speak with him in the drawing room.
