"They have to be," the constable replied. "The only horses belong to the laird. Everyone else uses oxen and ponies."
They emerged into the light and the road leveled out. The few trees visible were stunted and twisted by the wind, but masses of gorse surrounded them. The yellow blossoms glowed golden in the setting sun.
As they drove toward the center of the island, they passed scattered farms of rugged gray stone and carefully tended fields. Once they descended into a small valley lush with taller trees and a blue haze of wild hyacinths. Catherine's heart lifted. It would not be hard to love a place that looked like this.
The sun had dropped below the horizon by the time they reached the laird's residence. The massive building was crowned with battlements and clearly had begun as a castle, though additions had been added later. Davin climbed from the carriage first and helped Catherine out.
As she straightened her skirts, a middle-aged woman emerged from the house. "Hello, Mrs. Melbourne, Captain Melbourne. I'm the housekeeper, Mrs. Tregaron. Your baggage will be taken to your room, but the laird will see you right now."
Michael said, "We've had a very long journey. My wife might prefer to refresh herself before meeting her grandfather."
The housekeeper's brows drew together worriedly. "The laird was most particular that you come up right away."
"It's all right." Catherine bit back Michael's name, which she had almost said aloud. "No doubt he's as curious about me as I am about him."
He studied her face, then nodded. "As you wish."
His concern for her was warming. She took his arm and they set off after Mrs. Tregaron. The house was a warren, with the jumble of furnishings characteristic of very old houses. Sheraton chairs sat next to carved Jacobean oak chests, and shabby tapestries hung next to paintings of stiff Elizabethans. Catherine glanced at one of the portraits and saw aqua eyes staring out at her.
The route twisted and turned, but stayed on the ground floor. Finally they came to a heavy oak door. Mrs. Tregaron knocked, then swung the door open. "They're here, my lord."
A deep voice said gruffly, "Send them in." Catherine raised her chin. The main act of the masquerade was about to begin.
Chapter 21
Intensely grateful that Michael was with her, Catherine entered her grandfather's bedchamber. A pair of lamps illuminated the stern features of the man propped against the pillows of the massive four-poster bed. She caught her breath, startled by the familiarity of the long, lined face under the thick silver hair. If her father had lived to such an age, he would have looked very like the laird.
Her appearance appeared to be equally surprising. The old man's veined hands curled into the counterpane as he stared at her. "You've a look of your grandmother about you."
"I'm sorry I never knew her, but I'm glad to be meeting you." She moved to the side of the bed and took his hand. The bones felt brittle under the thin skin, but his eyes still burned with will. His aqua island eyes. She squeezed his hand, then released it. "Grandfather, this is my husband, Colin Melbourne."
Michael bowed respectfully. "A pleasure to meet you, sir."
The laird's eyes narrowed. "I'm not sure that's mutual. From what I've learned, you're an irresponsible rascal."
"There's some truth to that," Michael said mildly. "A really responsible man would not have allowed his wife and child to campaign through Spain." He smiled at Catherine. "But I defy any man to resist my wife when she has made up her mind."
The warmth in his voice when he said "my wife" made her throat ache. If only she were different…
The laird asked, "Where is my great-granddaughter?"
"Amy is with friends in London," Catherine replied.
He scowled as he waved them to chairs near the bed. "You should have brought her."
"The trip is long and tiring, and I didn't know what Skoal would be like."
"It didn't have to be so tiring," he said acidly. "You came quick enough when you learned there was a legacy in the offing."
His tone made her feel like a greedy fortune hunter. Well, she was one. "I'll admit that the possibility is welcome, but I was also interested in meeting you. Since Mr. Harwell said your health was poor, it seemed best to come quickly."
His heavy brows drew together threateningly. "Don't think that I'll automatically leave everything to you just because you have a pretty face. Your cousin Chve was born on the island, and he knows it well. Far better than you."
She guessed that her grandfather was deliberately baiting her. "The decision must be yours, of course. The responsibility for so many lives should not be given lightly."
"It won't be." His gaze went to Michael. "Much depends on you. I don't know if I'd trust my island to a soldier. My son William was mad to go into the army. He was selfish and disobedient. Unfit to rule a henhouse."
Catherine's face tightened. "I wish you would not refer to my father like that. He and my mother were brave and generous and the best of parents."
"I'll speak of them any way I please," the laird said harshly. "He was my son, until he ran off with that round-heeled farmer's daughter. Your mother set out to trap him and succeeded. Wrecked both of their lives."
Coldly furious, Catherine said, "I can't prevent you speaking as you choose under your own roof, but I don't have to listen. I understand now why my father left and never spoke of the place again." She stood and stalked toward the door.
"If you walk out of this room, you can say good-bye to being Lady of Skoal," the laird snapped.
She hesitated for a moment, remembering her dire financial situation. Then she shook her head; she would never be able to deal with her grandfather if he was so malicious about her parents. "Some prices are too high." She glanced at Michael. "Come, my dear. I suppose it's too late to leave tonight, so we must try to find an islander who will take us in."
The laird's voice rose. "Are you going to let your wife throw away a fortune, Melbourne? How the devil did you manage to command a company when you can't control your own wife?"
"The decision is Catherine's," Michael said in a flinty tone. "I will not ask her to endure insults to her parents for the sake of an inheritance. We don't need you or your money-I am quite capable of supporting my family." He moved forward and put his hand at the back of her waist. The light touch helped counteract her fatigue and bitter disappointment.
Before they could leave, her grandfather gave a crack of laughter. "Come back here, girl. I wanted to see what you'd do. You're a Penrose, all right. I'd not have thought well of you if you groveled for the sake of money."
She said warily, "You won't speak ill of my parents?"
"No more than they deserve. You can't deny that your mother was reckless to elope and follow the drum, or that William was stubborn, since you obviously take after both of them."
She smiled a little and reclaimed her chair. "No, I can't deny it, though I'm usually considered quite reasonable."
"Except in the defense of those you love," Michael said quietly. "Then you are a lioness."
Their gazes caught and held. Her heartbeat accelerated. He was an excellent actor; anyone watching would think he was a man who loved his wife deeply.
The laird's voice ended the moment. "You've much to answer for, Melbourne. Twelve years of marriage and only one daughter to show for it? Surely you can do better than that."
Catherine's face flamed, but Michael said calmly, "War does not create the best conditions for building a family. But even if we never have another child, I won't feel a failure. No man could ask more than a daughter with Amy's wit and courage."