Kissing the Countess Read Free Page B

bridge—it is not easy when the stones are slick."
    "I'll be fine, dear. I like hillwalking and the rain. And I can leap that bridge like a goat if I must." Laughing, Catriona hugged her friend, tugging the older woman's shawl snug in a maternal way, though Morag was past seventy.
    "Let me have the basket," Morag said. "I will keep the knitted things dry at my house." She took the bulky basket Catriona held. "Meet me Wednesday by the bridge and we will go to see Mother Flora. And by then... will your brother have good news for me?" She lifted her brows.
    "About your kinfolk who left the glen?" Catriona shook her head. "I do not know, Morag. He tried to find them—even went to Glasgow to inquire—but he has had no success yet. Did you tell Mother Flora my brother is trying to locate her kin too?"
    "Not yet. Ten years is a long time, and most of them went far away. Well, perhaps Finlay will have good news for our family someday. He was able to bring the MacGillechallums back to their abandoned homestead on the slopes of Beinn Alligin," she said, smiling. "Angus MacGillechallum was out watching the sheep as he used to do, and no one the wiser but for those of us who would never tell."
    "So long as the new earl keeps away from Glen Shee, Finlay can bring whomever he likes to do the work of the estate. I'm glad he was appointed Kildonan's factor, though I did not like it so much at first," Catriona answered. "But he will do well for the land and its people."
    "As if the new earl cares what happens here," Morag said. "He will grow fat and rich from the sale of Kildonan wool, though he has no interest in the process."
    "So we can do what we like." Catriona smiled.
    "True! Now run, Catriona Mhor. Let those long legs carry you home." Morag waved, then turned to hurry along a narrow track that led over a hill.
    Catriona followed the drover's track that wended downward between ancient pines clinging to the steep hillsides. The wide path was overgrown, for no cattle came this way any longer, though numerous sheep and a few wild goats grazed. She moved steadily downward.
    Overhead, heavy clouds gathered, sweeping in toward the mountains. The rain grew colder, carrying stinging sleet.
    Perhaps she should have accepted Morag's invitation after all, Catriona thought. She decided to avoid the old stone bridge, which would be slippery, and take the longer route over the drover's track. Ice already accumulated underfoot from falling sleet, and her father's manse, Glenachan House, was still several miles away.
    Drawing her plaid over her hair, she hurried onward.
    * * *
    Evan moved a little, testing his limbs, opening his eyes. He realized that he had landed, very fortunately, on an outcrop of rock, a mossy ledge coated with sleet. Breathless, his head aching, he looked around.
    The gneiss wall soared far above him, where he could just see the faint trail of his fast descent in the snow. He had slid downward and had fallen to the ledge, hitting his head, but otherwise felt unhurt. His knapsack dangled from a shoulder and the rope was still tied to his waist, but he had lost the ax.
    Shifting, groaning a bit, he rose gingerly on hands and knees, then untied the rope and claw and shoved them into his knapsack. He edged carefully along until he reached a broad incline, an angle of the rocky mountainside.
    The hill was littered with stones and boulders, and the fog was thick. Aching, he stood slowly there, his balance uncertain, and began to move downward.
    He could hear a voice through the sleet and fog, a sweet song, almost magical. He remembered suddenly a red-haired girl, years ago, standing on a hillside singing just such a haunting tune.
    Vision or reality, he had never forgotten her, and hearing that strangely disembodied voice now in the fog, he felt as if he had found a compass in that sound. Slipping on icy grass, he kept his feet, then moved toward her voice.
    Dizziness and the steep incline overtook him, and he realized that he was