Page 27 of The Highlander's Alluring Spy
“Ye already ken yer cousin, William,” Catrina’s mother had told her. “And this is Nathair Irvine. Laird MacFoihl the Younger. We’ll a’ be in his service one day.”
Nathair had only been eleven years old. He’d known nothing of women, of love, of the sweet agony they could bring. Yet he vividly recalled even now that second when her shrewd gray eyes met his green for the first time, and she gave him a polite smile of greeting.
It was like a flash of lightning, like a bolt from the sky waking something in him that he’d previously not known existed. All he’d known at that moment was that he’d do anything just to see that pretty smile one more time.
A flash I thought I’d never feel again, but now…
Guilt lanced through him, and he forced that thought away,
Back then, young William had noticed too. He’d teased Nathair about it almost every day before either of them had really known what the teasing meant. Catrina had spent a lot of time with her cousin over the next few months and years, which meant that she also spent a lot of time with Nathair.
Nathair was expected to marry a Laird’s daughter, so when he kissed Catrina for the first time at fourteen, William had been the only one to hear of it. His best friend had kept his secret, even joking in public about how he thought Nathair was simply not the marrying kind.
Those were sweet days. Catrina and William and my parents, all alive, all happy.
He’d been just seventeen years old when his parents were both killed. They’d been visiting England for tense peace talks, and apparently had been attacked by highwaymen. Nathair wasn’t sure he bought that story–not when the Lord they visited stood to benefit.
Nay, Nathair. Nay time for these conspiracies and wild fantasies now.
He’d been devastated, barely more than a child, but the duty of the Lairdship had now been his. So he’d set out to meet a wife, as a young Laird must needs have a Lady to help shoulder his rule.
He remembered how Catrina had come to him one night when she’d heard of his pending engagement. How she’d looked determined, the same determination he still saw burning in Elaine’s eyes to this day.
Ye asked me if I loved ye, Cat. O’ course I said aye, but that I didnae see how it mattered.
But it had mattered. It had mattered more than anything. Catrina had asked him to wed her, rather than the traditional way around, and Nathair had found it impossible to refuse. He’d argued with his advisors, his uncles, everyone who thought they should have a say.
But William stood by him, and Catrina had been steadfast and reliable, so married they were. They were supposed to spend the rest of their lives together. He had sworn it.
And when ye died and left me wi’ the bairn, I swore I’d never lose faith.
He’d meant it. He had no intention of loving again. No woman could replace Catrina; no woman could come close.
And yet when he thought of Magnolia’s lips against his, of that bright spark in her eyes, in the way she made Elaine laugh and smile, everything felt a little murkier than before.
“Remember what I’d want for ye and Elaine,”the apparition of Catrina had told him.
She’d want them to be together. She’d wish for Nathair to remember they were family. She wouldn’t want him dallying with some English nanny and insulting her memory. She wouldn’t want him to feel the complicated things he felt every time he heard Magnolia’s name.
Nathair grunted and turned to the side, finally looking at the portrait. Catrina’s eyes stared at him, knowingly, as if she was reading his very thoughts.
Forgive me, Catrina. Forgive me.
Though God only knew if he’d ever be able to forgive himself.
* * *
Elaine managed to slip away from Betty after breakfast, while the maid was talking to the cook. Elaine knew she didn’t have much time, because Betty always caught her when she ran off, but she needed to get to the forest.
Sorry, Betty. I hope I dinnae get ye into trouble!
She reached the little mound, far enough away from the edge that the Fair Folk couldn’t get to her and sat. She checked behind her–Betty hadn’t come after her yet. Good.
Elaine turned her focus to the forest and said, in as loud and clear of a voice as she could muster, “Mamaidh, I need yer help. Dadaidh is actin’ awfie strange, an’ Maggie is an’ all,” she frowned. “I dinnae ken what’s the matter.”
She sighed, folding her arms. “They were a’right for a wee while, and now they’re stranger than ever. Dadaidh is in his bed, says he isnae well. Dadaidh is never unwell! An’ he says Maggie might be sick too, and I dinnae ken what’s wrong wi’ them. I’m worried about—”
“Elaine!”a voice called from behind her, and she turned her head to see not only Betty but Magnolia too, hurrying towards her. Betty looked very upset.
