will be attached to this horrible scandal."
"It would be more horrible if the girl had frozen to death—pardon me, Father, but you know it is true," Finlay said. "In her wet clothing, buttoned to the neck, while Kildonan sipped whisky and borrowed her plaid to warm himself. If it were me, I would have done the same as he did—helped the lass, whatever it took and however it appeared to others later." He nodded to Evan.
"It is a disturbing situation," the reverend said, and he lifted his hands as if he did not know what else to say or what to do. "I thought I had lost the lass—but this—this is almost worse." He shot Evan a furious glare.
"Regardless, Catriona cannot live under the minister's roof after this," Mrs. Rennie said. "We are simply too upset and distressed, for so many reasons. And it's unthinkable for her to stay in the reverend's house while in a state of sin."
"How can you suggest that?" Finlay asked angrily.
"I shall simply have to stay here myself and take over the running of this household," Mrs. Rennie sighed. "We have kin in Glasgow who might take her in."
"Glasgow!" Finlay burst out.
Evan sat forward. "You have my sincere apology. Hold any grudge against me that you like. Do not punish the girl."
"An apology is not enough," Mrs. Rennie replied. "Catriona is not some dairy lass to be taken at the whim of the earl. This is not the Middle Ages."
"Madam, that is an insult," Evan said. "She saved my life."
"It may be best that she leave here for a little while," Thomas MacConn said. He glanced almost guiltily at his sister.
"My brother could lose his living over this scandal," Mrs. Rennie said. "You do not know what you have done, sir. Or perhaps you do," she added.
A dark ferocity rose up in him—anger or will, guilt and remorse, or all of those. Evan stood, breath heaving, and turned to the reverend. "You would condemn her and send her away from her home and this glen, for saving a man's life?"
"I—" Thomas MacConn looked down. "She was a brave lass, but I am not convinced that you both needed to stay the night."
"It pains us," Mrs. Rennie said, though Evan had not addressed her. "But her father is God's representative. He must uphold only what is virtuous."
"Compassion is virtuous, madam," Evan snapped back. "Gratitude for her safe return is virtuous."
Blasting out an angry, exasperated sigh, he spun away, fisting his hands, his thoughts roiling. Catriona would be sent away—and like the Highlanders who had been cleared off this land, he realized, her bright, warm spirit would wither if she left the glen that she loved.
Her brave rescue of him and her generous act of loving him, would reap heartbreak for her, and it was all his doing. He already carried the burden of another catastrophe, which he believed he had caused, at least in some part. Last night had taken no lives, but he had ruined something beautiful all the same—a bright, innocent Highland girl.
But this disaster he could right. She had saved his life, and he owed her a rescue in return. He knew what he must do.
Turning, he regarded her family. "I will marry the girl."
"You what? Oh! Catriona!" Mrs. Rennie's voice was hushed.
Heart pounding, Evan glanced up.
Framed in the doorway, Catriona stood very still, her face pale, her eyes wide with a look that bordered on shock. She stared at him—only at him.
"I said," he murmured, watching her, "that I will marry Miss MacConn, if she will have me."
* * *
At first Catriona was not sure what Evan had said, as if he spoke in some strange language. Staring at him, she felt caught in his thrall as he moved toward her. His gaze was penetrating, the hazel green of his eyes intensified by the sunlight that filtered between the curtains. She could not look away.
He approached her. "Miss MacConn, will you marry me?" His tone was soft and low, his gaze wholly on her, as if they two were the only ones in the room.
Stunned, she stepped back. What had he admitted to her family
"It would be more horrible if the girl had frozen to death—pardon me, Father, but you know it is true," Finlay said. "In her wet clothing, buttoned to the neck, while Kildonan sipped whisky and borrowed her plaid to warm himself. If it were me, I would have done the same as he did—helped the lass, whatever it took and however it appeared to others later." He nodded to Evan.
"It is a disturbing situation," the reverend said, and he lifted his hands as if he did not know what else to say or what to do. "I thought I had lost the lass—but this—this is almost worse." He shot Evan a furious glare.
"Regardless, Catriona cannot live under the minister's roof after this," Mrs. Rennie said. "We are simply too upset and distressed, for so many reasons. And it's unthinkable for her to stay in the reverend's house while in a state of sin."
"How can you suggest that?" Finlay asked angrily.
"I shall simply have to stay here myself and take over the running of this household," Mrs. Rennie sighed. "We have kin in Glasgow who might take her in."
"Glasgow!" Finlay burst out.
Evan sat forward. "You have my sincere apology. Hold any grudge against me that you like. Do not punish the girl."
"An apology is not enough," Mrs. Rennie replied. "Catriona is not some dairy lass to be taken at the whim of the earl. This is not the Middle Ages."
"Madam, that is an insult," Evan said. "She saved my life."
"It may be best that she leave here for a little while," Thomas MacConn said. He glanced almost guiltily at his sister.
"My brother could lose his living over this scandal," Mrs. Rennie said. "You do not know what you have done, sir. Or perhaps you do," she added.
A dark ferocity rose up in him—anger or will, guilt and remorse, or all of those. Evan stood, breath heaving, and turned to the reverend. "You would condemn her and send her away from her home and this glen, for saving a man's life?"
"I—" Thomas MacConn looked down. "She was a brave lass, but I am not convinced that you both needed to stay the night."
"It pains us," Mrs. Rennie said, though Evan had not addressed her. "But her father is God's representative. He must uphold only what is virtuous."
"Compassion is virtuous, madam," Evan snapped back. "Gratitude for her safe return is virtuous."
Blasting out an angry, exasperated sigh, he spun away, fisting his hands, his thoughts roiling. Catriona would be sent away—and like the Highlanders who had been cleared off this land, he realized, her bright, warm spirit would wither if she left the glen that she loved.
Her brave rescue of him and her generous act of loving him, would reap heartbreak for her, and it was all his doing. He already carried the burden of another catastrophe, which he believed he had caused, at least in some part. Last night had taken no lives, but he had ruined something beautiful all the same—a bright, innocent Highland girl.
But this disaster he could right. She had saved his life, and he owed her a rescue in return. He knew what he must do.
Turning, he regarded her family. "I will marry the girl."
"You what? Oh! Catriona!" Mrs. Rennie's voice was hushed.
Heart pounding, Evan glanced up.
Framed in the doorway, Catriona stood very still, her face pale, her eyes wide with a look that bordered on shock. She stared at him—only at him.
"I said," he murmured, watching her, "that I will marry Miss MacConn, if she will have me."
* * *
At first Catriona was not sure what Evan had said, as if he spoke in some strange language. Staring at him, she felt caught in his thrall as he moved toward her. His gaze was penetrating, the hazel green of his eyes intensified by the sunlight that filtered between the curtains. She could not look away.
He approached her. "Miss MacConn, will you marry me?" His tone was soft and low, his gaze wholly on her, as if they two were the only ones in the room.
Stunned, she stepped back. What had he admitted to her family
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