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‘You’ve hardly met him.’
‘The way he said his vows...’
‘We were both lying and you know it.’
‘I don’t know it,’ Maggie said stoutly. ‘You went home last night, didn’t you? One night married, three hundred and sixty-four to go—or should I multiply that by fifty years? Jeanie, do yourself a favour and go for it. Go for him.’
‘Why would I?’
There was a moment’s silence while Maggie collected her answer. One of the guest’s cars was approaching. Jeanie could see it through the kitchen window. She took a plate and started arranging brownies. This was her job, she told herself. Her life.
‘Because he can afford—’ Maggie started but Jeanie cut her off before she could finish.
‘He can afford anything he wants,’ she conceded. ‘But that’s thanks to me. I told you how Eileen’s will works. He gets to keep his fortune and I...I get to keep my independence. That’s the way I want it, Maggie, and that’s the way it’s going to be.’
‘But you will go to see the otters tomorrow?’
‘Yes,’ she said, sounding goaded. Which was how she felt, she conceded. She’d been backed into a corner, and she wasn’t at all sure she could extricate herself.
By keeping busy, she told herself, taking the brownies off the plate and rearranging them more...artistically.
One day down, three hundred and sixty-four to go.
CHAPTER SEVEN (#ubfca6f34-cc34-5c4c-abb8-086e8bbe32c9)
THEY DID GO to look for otters, and Alasdair decreed they would go to Craigie Burn. It was the best place to see otters, he told her, the furthest place on the estate from any road, a section of the burn where otters had hunted and fished for generations almost undisturbed. The tiny burnside cottage had been built by a long-ago McBride who’d fancied fishing and camping overnight in relative comfort. But at dusk and dawn the midges appeared in their hordes and the fishing McBride of yore had soon decided that the trek back to the comforts of the castle at nightfall was worth the effort. The cottage had therefore long fallen into disrepair. The roof was intact but the place was pretty much a stone shell.
Jeanie hadn’t intended telling Alasdair about Craigie Burn—but of course he knew.
‘I spent much of my childhood on the estate,’ he told her as they stowed lunch into the day pack. ‘I had the roaming of the place.’
‘Alan, too?’ she asked because she couldn’t help herself. Alan had hardly talked of his childhood—he’d hardly talked of his family.
‘My father and Alan’s father were peas in a pod,’ he said curtly. ‘They were interested in having a good time and not much else. They weren’t interested in their sons. Both our childhoods were therefore lonely but Alan thought he was lonelier here. The few times Eileen brought him here he hated it.’
He swung the pack onto his back and then appeared to check Jeanie out—as she checked the guests out before they went rambling, making sure boots were stout, clothing sensible, the wildness of the country taken into account when dressing. He gave a curt nod. ‘Good.’ The dogs were locked in the wet room. Maggie’s mam would see them walked, for if the dogs were with them the possibility of seeing otters was about zero. ‘Ready?’
‘Ready,’ she said, feeling anything but. What was she doing traipsing around the country with this man when she should be earning her keep?
But Alasdair was determined to give her a...honeymoon? Whatever it was called, it seemed she had no choice but to give in to him. She was still getting over sitting at the kitchen table the night before eating the risotto he’d prepared. It was excellent risotto, but...
But the man had her totally off balance.
They set off, down the cliff path to the rocky beach, then along the seafront, clambering over rocks, making their way to where Craigie Burn tumbled to the sea.
The going was tough, even for Jeanie, who was used to it. Alasdair, though, had no trouble. A few times he paused and turned to help her. She shook off his offer of assistance but in truth his concern made her feel...
As she had no right to feel, she told herself. She didn’t need to feel like the ‘little woman’. She’d had two marriages of being a doormat. No more.
‘Tell me about your childhood here,’ she encouraged as she struggled up one particularly rocky stretch. She asked more to take Alasdair’s attention away from her heavy breathing than out of interest—she would not admit she was struggling.
But instead of talking as he climbed, Alasdair turned and gazed out to sea. Did he sense how much she needed a breather? He’d better not, she thought. I will not admit I’m a lesser climber than he is.
But...without admitting anything...she turned and gazed out to sea with him.
‘I loved it,’ he said at last, and it had taken so long to answer she’d almost forgotten she’d asked. But his gaze was roving along the coastline, rugged, wild, amazing. ‘My father and my uncle hardly spent any time here. They hated it. My grandparents sent them to boarding school in England and they hardly came back. They both married socialites, they lived in the fast lane on my grandparents’ money and they weren’t the least bit interested in their sons. But Alan loved their lifestyle—from the time he was small he wanted to be a part of it. He loved the fancy hotels, the servants, the parties. It was only me who hated it.’
‘So you came back here.’
‘We were dumped,’ he told her. ‘Both of us. Our parents dumped us with Eileen every school holidays and she thought the castle would be good for us. Alan chafed to be able to join his parents’ lifestyle.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘Maybe I was just antisocial even then, but here...’
He paused and looked around him again. A pair of eagles was soaring in the thermals. She should be used to them by now, she told herself, but every time she saw them she felt her heart swell. They were magnificent and Alasdair paused long enough for her to know he felt it, too.
‘Here was home,’ Alasdair said at last. ‘Here I could be myself. Eileen usually stayed when Alan and I were here. You saw the place before she renovated. She and my grandfather didn’t appear to notice conditions were a bit...sparse. I don’t think I noticed, either. I was too busy, exploring, fishing, trying not to think how many days I had left before I went back to school. Alan was counting off the days until he could leave. I wanted to stay for the rest of my life.’
‘You didn’t, though. You ended up based in Edinburgh. You hardly came here until...until Eileen got sick at the end.’
She was trying hard not to make her words an accusation but she didn’t get it right. It sounded harsh.
There was a long silence. ‘I didn’t mean to be accusatory,’ she ventured at last and he shook his head.
‘I know you didn’t. But I need to explain. At first I didn’t come because I was immersed in business. I took to the world of finance like a duck to water, and maybe I lost perspective on other things I loved. But then... When Eileen started spending more time here, I didn’t come because you were here.’
That was enough to give a girl pause. To make her forget to breathe for a moment. ‘Did you dislike me so much?’ she asked in a small voice and he gave an angry shrug.
‘I didn’t know you, but I knew Alan. I knew I hated him.’
‘Because?’
‘Because he was the sort of kid who pulled wings off flies. I won’t sugar coat it. My father was older than his, so my father stood to inherit the title, with me coming after him. Alan’s father resented mine and the resentment was passed on down the line. I don’t know what sort of poison was instilled in Alan when he was small but he was taught to hate me and he knew how to hurt.’
Whoa. He hadn’t talked of this before. She knew it instinctively and who knew how she knew it, but she did. What he was saying was being said to her alone—and it hurt to say it.
His eyes went to a point further along the coast, where the burn met the sea. ‘It came to a head down here,’ he told her, absently, almost as if speaking to the land rather than her. Apologising for not being back for so long? ‘I loved the otters, and I used to come down here often. One day Alan followed me. I was lying on my stomach watching the otters through field glasses. He was up on the ridge, and he’d taken my grandfather’s shotgun. He killed three otters before I reached him. He was eighteen months older than me, and much bigger, and I went for him and he hit me with the gun. I still carry the scar under my hairline. I was dazed and bleeding, and he laughed and walked back to the castle.’
‘No...’
His mouth set in a grim line. ‘Thinking back...that blow to my head... He nearly killed me. But I was twelve and he was fourteen, and I was afraid of him. I told Grandmother I’d fallen on the cliffs. Soon after that his parents decided he was old enough to join them in the resorts they stayed at, so I didn’t have to put up with him any more. I never told Eileen what happened. In retrospect, maybe I should have.’ And then he paused and looked at her. ‘But you... You loved him?’
‘No.’
‘It doesn’t matter. It’s none of my business, but these last years... Just knowing you were here in the castle was enough to keep me away.’
‘I’m so sorry.’
‘You shouldn’t have to apologise for your husband’s faults.’
‘But as you said, I married him.’
‘I can’t see you killing otters.’
‘Is that why you took me to look at the puffins first?’ she asked. ‘To see how I reacted?’
‘I was hardly expecting a gun.’
‘I’d guess you weren’t expecting a gun from Alan, either.’ She sighed and took a deep breath—and it wasn’t only because she needed a few deep breaths before tackling the rise in front of her. ‘Okay, I understand. Alasdair, we don’t need to go there any more. I’ll stop judging you for not spending more time with your grandmother if you stop judging me for being married to Alan. I know I’m still...tainted...but we can work around that. Deal?’
He looked at her for a long moment, seeming to take in every inch of her. And then, slowly, his face creased into a smile.
It was an awesome smile, Jeanie thought. It was dark turning to light. It lit his whole face, made his dark eyes glint with laughter, made him seem softer, more vulnerable...
A warrior exposed?
That shouldn’t be how she saw him, but suddenly it was. He was the Earl of Duncairn, and he wore armour, just as surely as his ancestors wore chain mail. His armour might be invisible but it was still there.
Telling her about the otters, telling her about Alan, had made a chink in that armour, she thought, and even though he was smiling she could see the hint of uncertainty. As if telling her had left him vulnerable and he didn’t like it.
She had a sudden vision of him as a child, here in this castle. It was wild now; it would have been wilder then. Eileen had told her she’d brought both boys here during their school holidays. Jeanie had envisaged two boys with a whole estate to explore and love.
But later Eileen had said she’d often had to leave the boys with the housekeeper when she’d had to go back to Edinburgh, and Jeanie saw that clearly now, too. A twelve-year-old boy would have been subjected to the whims and cruelty of his older cousin. It wouldn’t just have been the otters, she thought grimly. She knew Alan. There would have been countless cruelties during the years.
‘This next bit’s rough,’ Alasdair was saying and he held his hand out. ‘Let me help you.’
She looked down at his hand.
He was a McBride. He was yet another man who’d caught her at a weak moment and married her.
But the day was magic, the hill in front was tough and Alasdair was right beside her, smiling, holding out his hand.
‘If I had one more brain cell, it’d be lonely,’ she muttered out loud, to no one in particular, but Alasdair just raised his brows and kept on smiling and the sun was warm on her face and the otters were waiting, and a woman was only human after all.
She put her hand in his and she started forward again.
With Alasdair.
* * *
What followed was another magic day. Duncairn’s weather was unpredictable to say the least, but today the gods had decided to be kind—more, they’d decided to put on Scotland at her most splendid. There was just enough wind to keep the midges at bay. The sky was dotted by clouds that might or might not turn to rain, but for now the sun shone, and the water in the burn was crystal clear.
Without hesitation Alasdair led them to a ledge near the cottage, a rocky outcrop covered with a thick layer of moss. It stretched out over the burn, but a mere ten feet above, so they could lie on their stomachs and peer over the edge to see what was happening in the water below.
And for a while nothing happened. Maybe it wouldn’t, Alasdair conceded. Otters were notoriously shy. They could well have sensed their movement and darted back under cover, but for now they were content to wait.
Alasdair was more than content.
It was a strange feeling, lying on the moss-covered rock with Jeanie stretched out by his side.
His life was city-based now, mostly spent in Edinburgh but sometimes London, New York, Copenhagen, wherever the demands of his company took him. Under the terms of Eileen’s will he’d need to delegate much of that travel for the next year. He’d thought he’d miss it, but lying next to Jeanie, waiting for otters to grace them with their presence, he thought suddenly, Maybe I won’t.
What other woman had he ever met who’d lie on her stomach on a rock and not move, not say a word, and somehow exude a quality of complete restfulness? After half an hour the otters still hadn’t shown themselves. He knew from past experience that half an hour wasn’t long for these shy creatures to stay hidden, but did Jeanie know that? If she did, she didn’t mind. She lay with her chin resting on her hands, watching the water below, but her eyes were half-closed, almost contemplative.
Her hair was tumbling down around her face. A curl was blocking his view. He wanted to lift it away.
She’d been Alan’s wife.
Surely it didn’t matter. He wanted to touch...
But if he moved he’d scare the otters, and he knew...he just knew that this woman would be furious with him—not just for touching her but for spoiling what she was waiting for.
She was waiting for otters, not for him.
Right. Watch on. He managed to turn his attention back to the water rippling beneath them.
‘There...’ It was hardly a whisper. Jeanie was looking left to where a lower overhang shaded the water, and there it was, a sleek, beautiful otter slipping from the shadows, with a younger one behind.
‘Oh,’ Jeanie breathed. ‘Oh...’
She was completely unaware of him. All her attention was on the otters.
They were worth watching. They were right out from under the shadows now, slipping over the burn’s rocky bed, nosing through the sea grasses and kelp, hunting for the tiny sea creatures that lived there.
‘They eat the kelp, too,’ Jeanie whispered but Alasdair thought she was talking to herself, not to him.
‘They’re stunning,’ he whispered back. ‘Did you know their coat’s so thick not a single drop of water touches their skin?’
‘That’s why they’re hunted,’ she whispered back. ‘You will...keep protecting them? After I’ve left?’
And there it was again—reality, rearing its ugly head. At the end of this year, this castle would go to Jeanie’s creditors. He’d buy it and keep it—of course he would. He’d keep it safe. But he glanced at Jeanie and saw her expression and he thought, She’s not sure.
He’d promised—but this woman must have been given empty promises in the past.
She was resting her chin on her hands and he could see the gold band he’d placed on her finger two days ago. For a year they were required to be officially married, and officially married people wore rings.
But now... What worth was a promise? Jeanie didn’t trust him and why should she?
He glanced down at the otters, hunting now in earnest, despite the humans close by. They must sense their shadows, but they’d waited for almost an hour before resuming hunting. They’d be hungry. They’d be forced to trust.
As Jeanie had been forced to trust. She’d been put into an impossible situation. How to tell her...?
The ring...
* * *
One moment she was lying watching otters, worrying about their future, thinking would Alasdair really keep this estate? Would he keep caring for these wild creatures she’d come to love?
The next moment he’d rolled back a little and was tugging at his hand. Not his left hand, though, where she’d placed the wedding ring that meant so little. Instead he was tugging at his right hand.
At the Duncairn ring.
