Waking the Princess (34 page)

A blazing sunset illuminated the city of Edinburgh, touching reflected fire to countless windows, reddening house facades, highlighting the rugged outlines of the castle and hill. Aedan stood watching the changes in sky and town, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. From Doctor Connor MacBain's front window in his house on the slope of the Calton Hill, the view over most of Edinburgh was expansive and stunning.

Aedan gazed at the castle on its high, black rock and the rugged cone of Arthur's Seat, the great hill that sheltered the city from winds and pocketed fog on wintry days. Below, he saw the long ribbons of streets and buildings and the moving flow of carriage traffic on Princes Street opposite the drained loch, a small valley now filled with bright gardens. He could see part of the long slope of the High Street, which divided the city, and clusters of tenement buildings, closes, and narrow streets. Laundry hung like pale, tiny tiles, and people moved about like so many bustling ants up and down the innumerable inclines.

"Lovely, isn't it?" his sister asked.

He turned to see Mary Faire entering the drawing room where he stood. Her wide skirt of dark brown satin complemented her slender figure and gleaming black hair. Quietly she closed the door of Connor's examining room, where Dora and Effie MacDonald were closeted in consultation with Mary Faire's husband. She crossed the room toward Aedan. "I love this view of the city at sunset—the colors are so vibrant and the silhouette of the castle so powerful, watching over us all."

"Beautiful, aye, but I prefer a Highland sunset."

"You always did." She slipped her arm into his. "It's good to see you, Aedan, and I'm glad you brought Dora here."

"Does Connor think he can help her?"

"I think so. He'll explain when he's done examining her. And it was good of you to bring her here and offer to pay any expenses on her behalf. That is the generous, warmhearted little brother I remember."

"I haven't changed," he answered pragmatically.

His sister angled a little to study his face. "Oh, I think you have. For a long time, you seemed determined to keep others away. You built a wall around yourself, especially after Neil's death. It grew higher and thicker after Elspeth, and then Father, too, passed on. But you're breaking out of that at last."

"I didn't realize... I had done that," Aedan said quietly.

"Yes, to some extent. I haven't seen you for several months, but you seem changed now. I thought perhaps that you might have fallen in love with someone. Only that would soften a lad like you. Is it... Dora, perhaps? Or dear Amy?"

Laughing a little, he shook his head. "Both Dora and Amy have stolen someone's heart, but not my own." His own belonged to Christina now, but he was not about to admit that to his sister. Difficult enough, he thought, to acknowledge it to himself.

"Well, you've definitely changed for the better, my dear. When I saw you last spring, you were brusque and cold, glowering and rumbling like a bear disturbed in his den."

"You might do that, too, if you lived at Dundrennan, with Amy and Aunt Lill going full bore with painters, carpenters, and upholsterers," he drawled.

Mary Faire laughed. "I'm sure of it—neither you nor I would have much patience with that."

Aedan smiled faintly and looked over his sister's head as the sunset fire deepened to purple. "I built that wall for a reason," he said. "You know I felt as if Neil's death, and Elspeth's, too, were my fault." He was surprised how easy that was to say, after years of carrying it about inside.

"Aedan, you were not even there. Neil died on a battlefield half a world away. And we all knew the hazards of that dreadful war when he left Scotland. I saw it for myself. Connor and I met there, on one of those horrid battlefields."

He nodded. "Even you were there, and I was not. I should have gone, but I chose to stay here and pursue my engineering work. I might have saved him—pulled him out of the way or taken that lethal wound myself. You know what an impulsive, idealistic lad he was."

"And you were the levelheaded lad who saw the importance of staying home with our ailing father, when both your brother and sister had trotted off to jump into a pointless, brutal struggle. You saved Father, I think—added years to his life. If anything, Neil's death is on my hands," she added softly.

He reeled at that, drew back to look at her. "Yours? Why on earth would do you say that?"

"You know they brought Neil into the field hospital where I was working—I had just met Connor that morning, I remember, for we had a fierce argument, silly as it seems now, over bandage supplies. But I could do nothing to save my own brother, could scarcely make him comfortable while Connor tended to him and while Neil... died. If it was anyone's fault—" She stopped.

He put his arm around her. "You did your utmost. It was in God's hands. I know that now. You had best remember it, too."

"As for Elspeth's death," she went on, "I know you think the curse brought that on when you became heir to Dundrennan. Is that why you think your fiancée met tragedy?" She peered up at him.

He shrugged a little. "I've certainly wondered."

"Of course. Anyone would. But Aedan, you are a pragmatist in most things. Surely you realize that it was only coincidence. And besides, you were not the laird then."

"No," he said slowly. "But I am now."

She glanced up at him. "So there is someone."

"If there were, what does it matter? I will not risk that dreadful curse again. Love and happiness are not for me."

"What if you are wrong?" Mary Faire slipped her arm around his waist. "I think sometimes we can hold on to pain and fear as familiar things in a world full of the unknown, when all we need to do is let go and... well, free ourselves. Miracles do happen."

He was silent for a moment, thinking, hoping. Finally he nodded. "As always, you are the steady, wise one." He kissed the top of her head. "Miracles, is it? I promise to consider that."

"Good," she said. "Now, tell me—what is the state of things at Dundrennan? Will the house be finished by year's end, as Father's will stipulated?"

"It might be done in time for the queen's visit," he said, more brightly than he felt. Aedan still did not know if he would be able to keep the estate, though he had not yet told his sister the full truth of the ancient find. "The house looks marvelous."

"Marvelous? I thought you hated chintz."

He grinned. "I'm growing fond of it. And the mural in the dining room promises to be a beautiful thing. Father would have been very pleased."

"What about the old wall you discovered on Cairn Drishan?"

"It may be the location of an ancient settlement. That is yet to be determined. Mrs. Blackburn has not finished her work with that, and the museum will send others to investigate."

"Mrs. Blackburn?"

"The antiquarian sent by the museum, Christina Blackburn, has been digging in the hill. Her brother is the artist who has taken over the mural project. And Mrs. Blackburn is posing for the figure of the briar princess. I... well, you will be surprised, but I am posing for the prince in the painting."

Mary Faire smiled in delight. "You? I must meet this Mrs. Blackburn if she talked you into that. She must be rather wonderful to convince—" She looked at him closely. "Aedan Arthur MacBride... are you smitten with your Mrs. Blackburn?"

"Smitten? A laird of Dundrennan? Hardly."

"Stop hedging. Is she the one who has changed you so?"

"Oh, I doubt—" He stopped, realizing that he did feel different—lighter within, made of finer, kinder stuff in thought and emotion, finding it easy again to show that he cared about others. He laughed more, too. Felt younger and less burdened overall, yet with the hard-won wisdom gained of experience.

Watching the sunset glow pour through the window, he felt that incandescence within himself. Love filled him, and he knew it, and at last must face it. Though he might not be ready to take the risk, he suspected it was far too late to choose.

"I believe their consultation has come to an end," he said, turning as he heard a door open. Voices and laughter sounded out in the hallway.

"Oh, Miss MacDonald, Mrs. MacDonald, please come in," Mary Faire said, stepping forward to welcome Dora and Effie into the drawing room. A tall, fair-haired man accompanied them. Aedan strode forward to greet them.

"Thank you for seeing her, Connor," he said.

Blond and handsome, his appearance more like a Viking marauder than a studious physician, Connor MacBain smiled. "I think we have good news, Aedan. It's very possible that I can help Dora." He smiled at the girl and indicated to Aedan that he wanted to speak to him privately. They strolled together to the other side of the room. "Dora has cataracts of the eyes, an unusual condition in a girl so young and otherwise robust."

Aedan nodded, glancing across the room at the women, who chatted together while Mary Faire rang for refreshments.

"How would you treat such a condition?" Aedan asked.

"Generally the cataracts are treated by couching—slipping the tissue downward with a probe," Connor explained, "but I have had good success in removing the clouded tissue with the delicate use of certain instruments. The operation requires ether, which has its risks. I explained it to her and asked her to think about it."

"If anyone can help her, it is Connor," Mary Faire said quietly, coming toward them. She took her husband's arm.

"Dora will do well with the treatment, I think," Connor said. "She's young and healthy."

"And I'd like to try it," Dora said, turning toward them. The light of the sun turned her red hair to molten bronze and shone upon her strangely veiled eyes. Seeing the pretty glow in her face, Aedan realized it was hope.

"If you decide to do this, Dora," he said, "anything you need will be provided. I will see to it."

Effie MacDonald smiled, seated beside Dora. "Ye're a dearie, Sir Aedan, and always were. And lately yer kind heart shines a wee bit brighter than it used to. I'm glad to see it."

"I was just telling him the same thing, Effie," Mary Faire said. "He claims it's stuff and nonsense, that he hasn't changed a bit, but whatever has happened to Aedan has been for the better."

The old woman nodded. "Aye, and about time, too. Now, tell me," she said, pointing toward the gathering darkness through the window, "is it too late to get some of that fruit ice cream I was promised for coming all the way to the city?"

Chapter 23

Sheep wandered the slopes, black-faced with dingy fleece, munching grass, while the gray clouds rolled overhead. Christina glanced around as she stood on a high slope of Cairn Drishan. A strong, cool wind tugged at the brim and the ribbons of her hat.

She wished she could just toss away her bonnet and let the wind tousle her hair. Craving that sort of freedom, she realized what she really wanted was the freedom to tell Aedan honestly what she felt for him and how much Dundrennan meant to her now.

Coming to Dundrennan to investigate his discovery, she had discovered love instead—and she had failed to keep it, once again. And she did not know how to save it.

Soon her life would return to its previous dull, safe state. Edgar would arrive to take over the excavation on the hill, and she would go back to Edinburgh, leaving Aedan and her dreams.

The sky grew darker, and the wind felt laden with rain. To the west, a distant loch shone like a pale mirror, and the hills merged in the gathering mist. Christina breathed in deeply of the primeval beauty that surrounded her. She did not want to leave Dundrennan and all that it had come to mean to her.

Southward, she saw Aedan's crew, tiny figures along the raw strip of the road. The red steam engine glinted like a drop of blood. Nearby, a man in black sat on a gray horse.

Startled, she recognized Aedan. He must have just returned from Edinburgh, she thought. Her heart quickened, and she hoped he might take the path toward the hill where she stood, but he turned Pog and disappeared from sight past an outthrust of the ridge. Disappointed, she turned away to climb the slope with the aid of MacGregor's walking stick.

Reaching the level of the excavation, she looked out over the moorland from that higher vantage point. She could see Pog grazing now in the small yard beside Effie MacDonald's house.

Moments later, a red-haired woman in a tartan shawl came out of the house, followed by Aedan. Christina realized that the girl was Hector's daughter, Dora. They walked together across the yard, obviously talking.