Page 38 of Highland Fire

Rand’s thoughts were moving in a different direction.

“I am not your brother! I don’t know how I am going to prove it to you, but I aim to try.

” Aware that his voice was gaining in volume, he checked himself.

Edging forward slightly until his knees were brushing her skirts, he said softly, “You need not fear that I shall insist on my conjugal rights. Is that what it is? Is that why you are so pale and drawn? I am not an animal. Rest assured, Kate, I intend to respect your scruples.” He hoped he could hold himself to that promise.

“Thank you. You have greatly relieved my mind.”

Her tone was so dry, so devoid of gratitude that he sat back, folding his arms across his chest, staring at her intently for some few minutes.

In the crisp night air, the words of the old love ballad which their escort was singing rose like the song of a nightingale.

The coach moved slowly, swaying from side to side.

Occasionally, soft masculine laughter from outside filtered into the coach.

When Rand adjusted his position on the banquette, Caitlin jumped.

“Kate,” he said, “if this is some kind of elaborate ploy to keep me at arm’s length, I swear I shall wring your neck.”

He caught the flash of her teeth in the dim light. “My lord, what other reason could I have for wishing to keep you at arm’s length? I am sure I must be the envy of every woman in Deeside, if not in the whole of Grampian.”

When they arrived at Strathcairn, servants came running with tureens of hot toddy which they doled out to every man in the cavalcade.

As Rand moved among the men, shaking hands, accepting their congratulations and advice in good part, Caitlin slipped through the front doors.

She had barely time to remove her cloak when Rand joined her.

He studied her closely, noting the high color across her cheekbones, the sparkle in her eyes, the little chin tilted at a provocative angle, and he smiled his approval.

“Now that is more like the girl I know,” he said.

“Mrs. Fleming will show you to your chamber.” And wanting to set her mind at rest, he brushed her cheek with a chaste kiss and whispered, “I shall see you at breakfast, then.”

Caitlin’s air of bravado was to last until she was in her night clothes, and Mrs. Fleming had finally taken her leave of her.

In solitary state, she surveyed her bridal chamber.

A fire was burning in the grate; several candelabra were set around the room, the light from the candles casting a welcoming glow.

She could smell beeswax and lavender and the faint fragrance of newly starched sheets.

It was evident that the servants had gone to a great deal of trouble to make the room comfortable.

She must remember to thank them in the morning.

Lost in thought, she stared at the huge tester bed.

One word from her, one hint that she had concocted the brother and sister story in order to protect her virtue, and she knew that Rand would be more than willing to share the bed with her.

He had never tried to conceal his desire for her.

Carnal lust, Caitlin amended scrupulously.

She was the object of that lust, an honor she doubtless shared with many women.

As she well knew, her husband was none too particular where he bestowed his sexual favors.

Until she had plotted her course, until she could see her way clear, it would be best not to complicate matters by taking that last irrevocable step.

And they would take that step if she confessed the truth to him.

For the present, she would let the fiction stand.

She hoisted herself onto the bed and sat cross-legged on top of the covers. For the first time in weeks, her brain seemed to have unfrozen itself. She was able to take stock of her position, calculate odds, set a course for herself.

Annulment. She didn’t know how it could be contrived, but she knew one thing.

Once the marriage was consummated, annulment was no longer a possibility.

She considered the problem from all sides.

An annulment seemed to be the only solution, not only for her sake, but also for Rand’s.

She was as aware as he of the great gulf that separated them.

She knew that she would never fit into his world, that she would be the proverbial millstone around his neck.

The thought of meeting his family sent shivers of trepidation dancing along her spine.

She could well imagine what they would think of her and this hastily contrived marriage.

One thing was certain: Rand would never demand an annulment.

His view was that they must make the best of it now the thing was done.

She could applaud his scruples. What she could not resign herself to was his contempt.

Oh God, why hadn’t he done as he had promised and found a way out of this fix they were in?

That thought sent her to her dressing table. From a delicate porcelain dish she retrieved the ring she had worn throughout the day on the fourth finger of her right hand, the ring she had found in her mother’s effects after her death.

To her knowledge, her mother had never worn this ring, and if it had any significance, Morag Randal had never explained it. Caitlin knew she would always wonder if this ring had once belonged to her father.

Her thoughts slipped away to another occasion when Morag Randal had taken it upon herself to keep her daughter to the straight and narrow.

It was the day her mother had come upon a Caitlin of fourteen years helping one of the gillies with his salmon catch.

The young lad had stolen a kiss, and Morag Randal had known it.

“There is nothing a lad will not do, no trick to which he will not stoop, to lure you into his bed. It’s in the nature of the beast, so be on your guard.”

“What tricks?” asked Caitlin. She was thinking of the kiss, wondering if it would look too obvious if she offered to help Johnny with his catch on the morrow.

“Some men have been known to promise marriage and then renege on it.”

She would wait a day, she decided, before offering to help Johnny again. Absently, she answered, “But I couldn’t marry without your consent.”

Rather more sharply, her mother retorted, “There are ways around that! This is Scotland, lass. If a man and woman want to marry, they can pledge themselves to each other without witnesses. But mind my words; if a man decides not to honor pledges made in private, the woman has no recourse. I’m telling you this so that you will keep yourself chaste until you wed your husband in church, before the whole congregation. ”

Caitlin was really looking at her mother now. “Is that what happened with you and my father?” she whispered. “Did you pledge yourselves without witnesses?”

The answer was a long time in coming: “Aye. That’s what happened to your foolish mother.” And more than that, her mother would not say.

Caitlin was left to draw her own conclusions. It seemed to her that her parents had married secretly. It was no real marriage, but an elaborate hoax, the ploy of an unscrupulous rake to lure an innocent girl into his bed.

She studied the ring closely, the cluster of tiny opals and rubies set in filigreed gold.

Was this the ring her father had given her mother to persuade her that his intentions were honorable?

She could tell that the ring was worth a pretty penny.

Shaking her head at the impulse that had prompted her to wear it on her wedding day, she opened a drawer in her dresser and tossed it carelessly inside. She would never wear it again.

Rand’s wedding ring glinted from the fourth finger of her left hand.

She touched it gently, almost reverently, with the tips of her fingers.

She had to give the man his due. He might be English bred and a tad too high handed for her taste, but no one could accuse him of taking advantage of an innocent young girl.

In fact, if anyone had been taken advantage of, it was Rand.

Far from chastening her, this thought amused her, and she giggled.

She wondered if she would be giggling when he discovered, as he must, that they were not related by ties of blood.

The Randal on the rampage—now that was a sobering picture.

Smiling, chuckling, she doused the candles and slipped into bed.

The following morning, Rand introduced Caitlin to all the members of his staff.

For a girl in the habit of taking care of her own meager needs, the experience would have been daunting had she not had a nodding acquaintance with most of those assembled in the great hall.

In Deeside, families who could place a son or daughter in domestic service with the local gentry were considered fortunate indeed.

There was little else to keep young people in the Highlands.

Caitlin strove to overcome the awkwardness of her position.

Young men and women with whom she had once freely mingled were now as stiff and formal as though they were being presented to the queen of England.

A few inquiries respecting the members of their various families soon broke the ice.

Two of the staff were unknown to her, Rand’s personal valet, Hobbes, a little man who put her in mind of a dancing master, and the French chef who looked exactly as Caitlin imagined a French chef should.

Gallic and temperamental, he was named Ladubec.

Behind his back, the other servants called him “La-dee-dah” among other things.

Knowing this, Caitlin could not prevent her lips from twitching.

Her smile faded rapidly when Rand introduced her to the unsmiling man who stood next to the chef.

“My factor, Mr. Serle,” said Rand.