Fiona had gone out through her dog door early and would eventually return with muddy feet and an appetite. Signy put food in the dog’s dish in anticipation of Fiona’s return, then heated water for tea. When it was ready and steeped, she took her mug to her hooded chair and turned it to face the waves rolling in on the beach below. She never used the double chair Ramsay had made for Gisela. If any of her furniture was haunted, it was that chair.
The waves were larger than usual because of the storm. Seabirds swooped into the churning waters in search of fish. She could watch the hypnotic sea for hours.
The previous day had scrambled her as badly as Ramsay, she suspected. She’d met him with rage, which had erupted into her painful revelations about Gisela’s death. Ramsay had deserved some of the blame, but Gisela had been a willing lover. She’d also forbidden her little sister to reveal the pregnancy to anyone.
Signy had wondered sometimes whether Gisela’s life might have been saved if Signy had gone against her sister’s wishes and summoned a midwife. It was true that Gisela was delicate, but an experienced midwife might have been able to stop the bleeding in time. Impossible to know, but Signy also carried some of the guilt.
As a girl, she’d adored her sister’s sweetheart, Ramsay, who had seemed so strong and mature and confident. And he’dseenSigny, talked to her as if she mattered, and he looked forward to their being members of the same family. Now she realized how young he’d been, only twenty when Gisela died.
She’d hated him for abandoning Thorsay and thought him cold and selfish. But in the past day, he’d shown kindness, sympathy, and understanding. He’d grown in strength and maturity with the years, and now she saw him as a fully rounded human being. A man to respect.
And he was interested in her. He’d made that clear, but she doubted his interest ran very deep. Perhaps he was looking for another anchor now that Duncan was gone. She hoped he recovered quickly; she didn’t want to be either an anchor or a wife.
She lifted her sketchbook and a piece of charcoal and did another swift sketch of Ramsay. This one was a little better than the first. The chiseled planes of his face and the bone-deep confidence were easy to capture, and this time she’d caught a hint of the vulnerability under his polished surface. But it wasn’t a brilliant sketch.
With a shrug, she crumpled the page and tossed it into the fire. She didn’t know him well enough yet to draw him properly. Maybe someday she’d do better.
She finished her tea, then determinedly rose and moved to get dressed so she could walk over to Skellig House. For now, she must continue one step at a time to do what must be done.
* * *
Ramsay left the cottage and made his way up the path to level ground. The air was bright and cool and bracing. He tugged on the knit hat and set off along the cliff path, thinking of everything that had happened in the hours since he’d arrived. Too much, and Signy was in the middle of it all. At least she didn’t despise him anymore, and if he was any judge, she was feeling some of the same attraction he was.
They both needed time to move beyond the shadow of Gisela. Not to forget her—that couldn’t and shouldn’t happen. But they needed to build a relationship that was grounded in the present. That would take time. No matter, he wasn’t going anywhere.
As Signy had said, he’d surely have to give a short speech about his grandfather. He must memorialize the things Duncan had done for Thorsay, and also convey who the laird had been as a grandfather.
He smiled a little, thinking of past whippings, all of which Ramsay had deserved. As he continued along the cliff path, phrases started to form in his head. His grandfather would have a fine send-off even if no burning boats were involved.
He felt composed by the time he reached Skellig House. When he entered the front hall, Mrs. Donovan bustled in. “There you are! I wondered where you got to after we laid the laird out.”
“I’m sorry.” He took off his coat and hung it in the hall closet. “I should have let you know that I was going to tell Signy the news. I thought she should know right away. One of the last things my grandfather said was that she was like the daughter he never had.”
“Aye, she was,” the housekeeper said, her expression softening. “The lass will miss him something fierce.”
“As will you, since you spent so much time with him.”
“Aye.” Mrs. Donovan’s eyes closed in a futile attempt to block tears. “Thirty years I’ve worked in Skellig House. Your grandfather was a stubborn old man, but a grand laird.”
On impulse, Ramsay stepped forward and drew her into a comforting embrace. The top of her head barely reached his chin. He seemed to be doing a lot of hugging since he’d returned. He’d half forgotten how Thorsayians showed their feelings more readily than the English, but it was coming back to him.
The housekeeper rested her head on his shoulder as she shed more tears, then determinedly moved away. “Thanks, lad. What did he say at the very end?”
Ramsay hesitated a moment before saying, “His last words were ‘Caitlin,’ then ‘Alastair.’ He said the names with an air of . . . pleased surprise.”
Mrs. Donovan nodded with satisfaction. “That’s all right, then. He told me his wife and son would be waiting for him on the other side, and it sounds like they were.”
“Do you have the second sight?” Ramsay asked a little warily. The ability to see more than the real world was not uncommon among Scots, but he found it disquieting.
“A bit of it. Enough to recognize that he saw the people he loved best on the other side.”
Ramsay hoped that was true. “I need to make myself presentable. By the time I reached Signy’s cottage with the news, I looked like a drowned ferret. She wouldn’t let me come back here for fear I wouldn’t make it safely.”
Mrs. Donovan gave him a sharp look at that, but said only, “Wise of her, considering the storm and the shape you were in last night.”
He grimaced. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but that was only an average Thorsay storm, wasn’t it?”
“Aye, they can be much worse, but last night’s storm was enough to see the laird out. Now get ready for the callers who will be coming to offer their condolences.”
