Katrine shuddered. “But now he won’t even acknowledge Morag’s existence.”
“Don’t judge him too harshly, Katrine. It isn’t easy for a man to forget the kind of helplessness Raith was faced with then. He fair went mad, seeing his son and Ellen like that. I vow war is far less traumatic. Raith blames himself for not fetching a surgeon from Edinburgh before the birth, but I doubt even that could have saved Ellen. The surgeon who came afterward said there was nothing more that Morag could have done for either mother or child.”
Katrine fell silent, thinking of the tragedy and wishing there were something she could do to ease Raith’s pain. At the very least she could cease taunting him about his shunning of Morag.
Callum suddenly shook his head and summoned a roguish grin. “How morbid we’ve become! Cheer up, bonny Katie. This is no mood to be in before a wedding. Have you ever attended a Scottish ceremony?”
“No,” she admitted, managing a smile.
“Pity you can’t come with us. You would enjoy it. The celebration should last some time. We won’t be back before morning.”
“Morning? But I thought marriage was a simple thing in Scotland.”
“It can be. This is to be a proper church service in the kirk, with a score of festivities afterward. And then it will take us several hours to travel home.” Callum gave a mock grimace. “I prefer the simple method myself, where you declare yourself married before witnesses and you’re legally wed. No fuss or bother.” His mouth remained twisted as he stared down at his hands. “At least we managed to hold on to our laws during the union with England.”
His tone was dry—another indication, Katrine reflected, that Callum wasn’t as sanguine about the fate of his country as he appeared. She knew what he was referring to: recognition of Scots law had been an integral part of the Act of Union, the treaty by which England and Scotland had combined to form Great Britain.
After the union, marriage laws in Scotland had remained unchanged; no prescribed form of words was required in order to marry, nor any rite performed by a minister. Marriage was a simple contract, completed by nothing more formal than mutual consent, yet it was thoroughly valid and completely binding, and was even recognized in England. Katrine remembered only a few months ago teasing her youngest sister about eloping across the Scottish border in order to avoid the vast preparations for her wedding.
She left off her musings about nuptials, though, when Callum suddenly shrugged his elegantly clad shoulders and gave her a wicked grin. “We’ve kept a number of our customs, too. Did you know that in the Highlands we still practice bridestealing? You’d best beware, bonny Katie. Some young swain may catch you unawares, and you’ll find yourself the overworked wife of a crofter with a dozen bairns tagging at your skirts.”
Smiling at his banter, Katrine shook her head. No one was likely to steal her for his bride. At least not the only man she wanted.
“If I might venture to interrupt, cousin,” a harsh voice came from across the room, “the horses are waiting.”
At the sharp comment, Katrine looked up abruptly, her pulse suddenly racing. Raith stood in the doorway, fixing his cousin with a grim look.
Dressed in tartan finery even more splendid than Callum’s, he appeared every inch t
he Highland laird. The bright red and green plaid looked for all the world as if it had been invented to complement his dark good looks, while the velvet and lace of his costume proclaimed him the equal of any English nobleman. Seeing him, Katrine could easily understand why the Highlanders admired their lairds so much. She felt a glow of pride in Raith herself—which was absurd, considering how he felt about her.
He gave her only the most cursory of glances, but that, Katrine decided, was perhaps fortunate, considering the color that was now flooding her cheeks. For she had just noticed that Raith wore no wig. Beneath his bonnet, which sported two eagle’s feathers, his raven hair was unpowdered and tied back with a bow. Remembering how her fingers had wound in his hair only a few short hours ago while she was experiencing the height of passion, Katrine found herself unable to stop flushing.
He didn’t acknowledge her existence with even a bow, however, before he turned on his heel and left. Katrine stared after him, knowing her face showed the longing she felt, but unable to prevent it.
She could feel Callum watching her, though. With an effort, she gathered her pride, forcing herself to meet his eyes. “I suppose you had better go.”
Nodding, Callum rose slowly and reached for her hand to take his leave. But instead of carrying it to his lips, as a courtier might, he curled his fingers around hers in a gesture of friendship and support. “Take heart, Katie. He’ll come around.”
She wasn’t so certain, but she managed a grateful, if wan, smile.
She sat there a long while after Callum had gone, thinking about Raith and wondering if they would ever have a future together. She wanted desperately to stay here in the Highlands with him. Here was everything she had been seeking. All the adventure and excitement she could wish for. All the romance. All the duty and responsibility. Raith had a life of obligation and purpose, a life she might share if only she could be clever and quick enough.
Eventually her thoughts returned to weddings and marriage. Remembering her discussion with Callum, she found herself reflecting on Scottish law. And it was then that she began to get the glimmer of an idea.
Fate and Raith conspired against her, though. Two days passed before she even saw him again, for he managed to avoid her entirely. She thought he might be away from the estate, but there was no one to ask. Since the night she had spent with the laird, Flora had lost all trace of her recent grudging friendliness and returned to being her dour self again. And the maidservants all took their cue from the housekeeper. As for the men, Callum and Lachlan and even Hector were nowhere to be seen. A young lad brought Meggie’s lamb to visit, and he refused to say a word to Katrine. It was as if she had reverted to being the hated Campbell enemy again, despite the guest status her new bedchamber gave her.
At first Katrine thought Raith might have returned to Fort William to interview governesses for Meggie, and that Callum was on one of his smuggling runs—if that was truly his occupation. But with some of the other men gone, Katrine eventually concluded Raith had taken some of his clan on another trip south, to meet with his Duart kin. The possibility filled her with dread. Soon she would run out of time to persuade Raith to let her stay. Yet she forced herself to swallow her impatience, biding her time while she reviewed her limited options. There was too much at stake to do anything else.
She was in the nursery with Meggie when Raith and his kinsmen finally returned. The moment she heard the horses in the courtyard, Katrine was at the window, watching Raith dismount. When he entered the stables with the others, she surmised that, as on past occasions, he would be headed for the great chamber in the mews, where he would share a dram with his men.
It was precisely what she had been waiting for—a gathering of his clan.
Setting Meggie to work drawing a robin, Katrine sped downstairs to the kitchen. As she’d expected, she found Flora doling out ale into pitchers and arranging tankards on trays.
“Would you like me to help?” Katrine offered.
Flora gave her a suspicious look, but made no objection when Katrine picked up one of the laden trays.