“A letter fromUncle Walter? Very nice,” John said when she showed him the envelope, having filled him in on Walter’s letter, Edgar’s too, and Aedan’s trip to the city.
“Aunt Emmie wrote it for him. She said he was too weak to hold the pen that day.” She handed it to him and he read it, nodding. “He’s not doing well, John. She says in her postscript that he shows little interest in reading history now. It is so unlike him. Though she also said he has very good days, she wonders if he will see the winter.”
“I saw her postscript. She does exaggerate, but—it is concerning.” He gave her the letter, his expression grim. “If you are done with your work on the hillside, you should go to Walter and Emmie. Their home has always been like your second home, and our house in Edinburgh is a bit far for daily travel to see him. Uncle Walter will want to hear all about your Pictish house, with its curious cellar and pots and all. That will bring back the spark in him. He will be very excited about it.”
“I hope so. He will want to hear all about your mural painting of the legend, too. You are right, I should go to him. Except for you and your work here, there will be nothing further for me here once Sir Edgar takes over. You know how he likes to be in charge. And this time—I would rather not act as his assistant.”
“Ah.” John nodded, watching her for a moment. “Nothing here for you, truly?” he asked gently. “When does Sir Aedan return from Edinburgh?”
He said it so gently that she felt sure he suspected that something had happened between her and Aedan. “I do not know. And Edgar will be here any day.”
“Then you have a decision to make, Chrissy.”
She tilted her head. “What do you mean?”
“I think you know what I mean, princess.” He took her arm and guided her toward the library door. “And now, out you go. I must make some drawings from these books, and then meet Amy for a modeling session. And you have a good deal to do, too.”
“We are still clearing stones in the stone house on the hill. It’s true that Uncle Walter will be happy to know I may have found proof of his theories about Celtic Scotland. But I am not sure that the hillside proves any of his theories about King Arthur. I will have to tell him that too,” she went on. “It does seem to be a Pictish site and an important discovery. But there is no indication of anything more—well, magical than that.”
He smiled. “But you did find magic here, I think.”
“The ancient site is an exciting find, but it hasn’t yielded anything extraordinary.”
“I’m not talking about the hillside.”
She felt herself blush. “What then?” she asked warily.
“I am not blind, my dear, even if I am focused on my work when you are posing, Chrissy. There is something magical for you here, and for the laird, too. I’ve done my best to encourage it.”
“You rogue! Now I see it, changing our poses, leaving us alone!”
“I thought you knew, but you are both distracted when you are together. You scarcely notice I am there while I nudge you along.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Look through my drawings, my dear, and you will see for yourself. Your laird is in love.”
She frowned. “I’m not so sure of that.”
“Ask him when he returns. He will confess if he is an honest man, and I think he is.”
“There is a curse at Dundrennan—”
“I have heard about that. But love conquers all, so they say. Be sure to find out before you leave, hey?” He drew her to thedoor. “Now, please ask Gunnie to send a maid to the dining room with tea and breakfast, if you will. I have work to do, and I am starving.” He winked and closed the door.
*
A blazing Septembersunset illuminated the city of Edinburgh, touching fire to countless windows, reddening brick and stone, highlighting the rugged outline of the Castle on its volcanic hill. Aedan stood in Dr. MacBain’s house watching the sky from the front window, hands shoved in pockets as he waited for Dora and Effie to finish their consult.
Aedan gazed at the Castle on its high, black rock, and could just glimpse the long slope of the High Street, along with ribbons of side streets crammed with buildings, and carriages moving back and forth. In some places, laundry hung like pale, tiny tiles, and people bustled about like ants, up and down the inclines that defined much of the city.
“A lovely view,” his sister said.
He turned to see Mary MacBride MacBain enter the drawing room where he stood. Her wide-skirted gown in a dark-chocolate satin made look even more slender. She glanced toward the closed door of Connor’s examining room, where Dora and Effie were closeted with her husband, and then joined Aedan at the window. “I love the city at sunset. The colors are so vibrant and the silhouette of the castle is so powerful, watching over all.”
“Almost as beautiful as a Highland sunset.”
“You always preferred that.” She tucked her hand into his elbow. “It’s good to see you, Aedan, and I’m so glad you brought Dora.”
“Does Connor think he can help her?”
“I think so. He’ll explain when he’s done examining her. And so was good of you to offer to pay her expenses. That’s the generous, warmhearted wee brother I know.”
