Late to return, he entrenched himself in his study from which she did not see him emerge unless she stood guard by her window to a wisp view of him booting his way to his horses. Like now, for example.
All this hard-work caused admiration, of course. Autumn did not lay far when the livestock would have to be brought back from the pastures into barns for protection during winter.
But she missed him like a woman missed a man. Her man.
The void he left caused an intense longing and not only in the bedchamber. Everywhere. She remembered their conversations in the breakfasts and dinners they had had together. Their bantering that led to kisses. The kind-hearted way he treated the animals under his care and the people, his niece and nephews, siblings, father. Those commands he delivered in bed undid her, and out of it, enraged her.
Still, she loved him with all he was. With all her heart.
How untimely to discover what she felt for him exactly when he put this precipice-like distance between them. This could not go on, though. She must find a means to bridge this gap and reach him, find out what was going on inside that stubborn head of his. She required strategy for that, and she would develop one. Being married revealed to be not a war, but a learning of tactics and diplomacy to carry it out, leaving no loose ends along the way.
After sending the letter, she would go check on Fiadhaich, as she often did since she came back, and take her ride with Debranua.
Anything but sitting here wallowing in her sloshy emotions. They could lead to tears, and this was something she refused to do.
Luncheon had proved a solitary affair, a new routine these days. Before tea, Catriona sat with Mrs Thomson, the housekeeper, to discuss the needs of the manor. That was when Mr Thomson, the butler, came to announce Lady McDougal and Lady McKendrick’s call.
Catriona breathed in relief to have people to talk to in these hollow hours through which she dragged herself. She had formed a friendship with Freya due to the nearness of their manors, but Aileen had given her a positive impression at the meeting, and she hoped they could become good
friends, too.
In the drawing room, she greeted her sisters-in-law with a brittle smile despite her sincere welcoming of them. She rang for tea and invited them to sit. They wore their usual garments with their husbands’ plaids, as did Catriona.
“We wished to come before I return to the McDougal,” Aileen said with a smile.
“You did well, Aileen,” Catriona approved. “When are you returning?” She sat on a settee, hands folded on her lap.
“Later this week, I’m afraid.”
Catriona marvelled at the other woman’s beauty that carried the marked features of the McKendricks with their varied shades of brown hair and eyes. Would Fingal’s and her children have the same family traits? Her own family held different appearances.
The blasted laird did not deign to even talk to her; thinking about babies seemed very out of place at the moment. Though they had been rather…active since the wedding. Who knew? A child might be on the way to keep her company if her husband refused the role.
“You had a shorter stay this summer,” Freya was saying.
“Too many things happening in the McDougal,” she answered. “Did I tell you Sam is becoming successful in Oxford?”
“Sam is Laird McDougal’s heir, by his first wife,” Freya explained.
Catriona remembered Taran McDougal had been a widower for long before he married Aileen. His son, a lanky, red-haired young man, had the fame of being bookish behind his large round spectacles. “I believe I met him once.” About three years ago, when she had last visited, if memory served.
“He’s about to start his third year as an undergraduate botanist, and the professor he used to correspond with invited him to stay on after he graduates.” The pride in her stance was unmistakable.
“Lucky Taran is still young, so Sam need not assume his role as heir for several years yet,” Freya commented.
“True. And Taran expects him to choose a lass from one of the clans until then,” Aileen completed. “Enough of us,” she changed the subject. “How is married life agreeing with you?” she fired close-range.
An intense tide of red invaded her cheeks. Her eyes looked everywhere, restless as her hands twisted on her lap. “I seem to be getting along with the changes.” She hoped the inane reply came out convincing at least.
“None of my brothers are easy,” Aileen confided. “If Fingal gives you trouble, just tell me and I will personally throttle him.” Her sister-in-law did not give signs of her obvious sharpness. She might very well have read between the few lines Catriona said.
And if her husband needed throttling, which it seemed he did, she would have immense pleasure in doing it herself.
A bubble of laugh came to her lips at her own thought and Aileen’s offer of help. “Thank you, I’ll let you know.”
“I do think Fingal did a good job with the refurbishing,” Freya said, introducing a new subject.
Tea arrived and they continued chatting in a friendly atmosphere.