Scotland Christmas Reunion Read online

  “There was a certain urgency to our walk, I suppose.”

  “It’s to get us out of the castle so Claire and Cailleach can clean. A Christmas tree would only drop needles and the castle must be throughly cleaned by the last day of the year. It’s a Scottish tradition.” She sighed. “Claire has invited friends from London for a large party that day.”

  They reached the Orchard. Edith pointed out a growth of the parasitic mistletoe high in the branches of an older apple tree.

  “A party, aye?” A twinkle sparkled in Gray’s eyes. With the basket still on his arm, Grayson climbed the tree and hacked at the growth. “Will there be dancing?”

  “Yes, but this won’t be a formal ball like the ones we attended.” Edith collected the mistletoe as it rained down around her from the tree above. She placed the gathered foliage in the basket. “Many of the villagers will be in attendance.”

  “I suppose there will be drinking at this Hogmanay?”

  She smiled. “Yes, of course. Cameron will tap a barrel from the distillery.” She smiled up through the branches of the old apple tree. Was Grayson still the same nimble dancer that she recalled? Excitement began to build inside her at the possibility of dancing with him again. Granted, the dance might be a jig and not the more formal guided steps of a ballroom, but even a jig sounded thrilling if shared with Gray. “There should be pipers,” she yelled up to the tree. “And a fiddler or two.”

  She heard his sigh, a weary audible sound.

  “Then I’m disappointed that I shall miss it.” He began his slow descent from the higher branches.

  “But why?” she asked, feeling the unexpected happiness drain from her soul. “It’s only a few days away. Surely you can stay?”

  “I can not.” He jumped to the ground, then helped collect the fallen pieces of mistletoe. “I’m behind in my schedule as it is. As much as I would enjoy more time with you and participating in such a lively celebration as this Hogmanay, I can not stay here for a week when I can be out visiting other distilleries collecting contracts.”

  She turned away, not wanting him to see her disappointment.

  “What’s that?” he asked, breaking the silence. “Up on the hill? I saw it from the branches. It looks like a cave.”

  She turned and followed the direction of his arm. The trees had lost their leaves allowing a glimpse of the usually well-concealed man-made structure. “That’s Ossian’s Folly.”

  “Can we explore it?” he asked. “I’m not ready to return to the castle just yet.”

  “Of course.”

  She led the way to the structure, remembering how her husband had brought her to this very place when they were newlyweds. In her memory, she recalled the blanket he’d brought to spread on the ground inside the cave. It wasn’t the only thing fighting off the chill that day. Her cheeks warmed. She hadn’t visited that sweet memory in a long, long time.

  “It’s not very large in here,” Gray observed, standing in the cave-like structure. “In fact, it’s quite intimate.”

  “There’s a bench if you’d like to sit,” she pointed to the wooden bench along the stone wall. While the structure offered some protection from the elements, a cold wind traveled through the two open ends. The bench was situated out of that current, but those that partook had to suffer the moldy smell of rot that thrived in the folly.

  He waited for her to sit before he joined her. “Is there a practical purpose for something like this? You called it a folly.”

  “It’s called that because it’s man-made. I suppose it was built to give shelter to some one caught in the rain or snow while walking in the woods. It’s been here longer than I have.”

  He touched her hand, setting off a tingling along her ribcage.

  “I can think of another purpose for a hideaway such as this.”

  His voice was close and intimate and raised gooseflesh on her arms. She was tempted to lean in his direction, and perhaps sample his lips once again. But that was impossible. Too much time had passed, water over the damn.

  “I’m not certain one could consider this a hideaway.” She scooted away from his side just a little. ”It’s a well-known and well-visited spot.”

  His resulting soft laughter echoed in the cave-like conditions.

  “I’m sorry,’” he said. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. I haven’t been in the company of a beautiful woman in such a secluded location in a long, long time. I will do nothing to tarnish your reputation or cause you regret. I promise.”

  How she missed those eyes crinkled in silent mirth.

  “I’m not certain one can tarnish the reputation of an old woman,” she said, embarrassed that he’d correctly interpreted her movement.

  “You? You’re not old,” he protested.

  But she knew better. “Gray? What happened? I know your father had political connections and needed to return to America due to concerns of war. But you could have remained safe in London. Why didn’t you stay?”

  “And leave my family and homeland in the midst of a civil war?” He shook his head. “I could never do that. I had to go back.”

  “So you fought? For which side?”

  He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. In a war of brother against brother, there can be no victors. Those were bitter years and they’ve left a mark on my soul, but one that my wife, God rest her soul, helped me overcome.”

  “When my mother told me that your ship had floundered, I must admit I was glad you weren’t subjected to that bloody horrendous war.”

  His eyes crinkled. “I’m sorry to disappoint you.”

  “That you survived?” She laughed. “That makes me all the more a fool.”

  “You’ve never been a fool, Edith.” The laughter disappeared, his tone lowered. “Your parents had higher aspirations for you than marrying the son of an American diplomat. And look what their foresight gained for you.” His fingers stroked her chin. “You’ve lived in a castle on a grand estate, the wife of a whisky lord. You have a handsome son and a fine daughter-in-law and--”

  “Two sons,” she corrected. “I had twin boys but the oldest died in a fire.”

  “I’m so sorry,” he patted her hand. “The loss of a child never truly leaves you. It’s not just the child, it’s--”

  “Grandchildren,” she said.

  “--Entire generations that are forever lost.” He kissed the back of her hand, and they shared a moment of silence, watching lazy snowflakes drift by the opening to the folly.

  In that moment, sitting with someone who had experienced equal pain, she found a peace that she hadn’t realized she’d been seeking. For all of her internal grumblings about the lack of a Christmas celebration, she’d been seeking a festivity to hide the pain of her loss. She didn’t shed tears, as she’d been down that road and knew that tears wouldn’t fill the hollowness of mourning. But she could leave her pain behind here, in Scotland. She could say goodbye and be at peace and find joy in what Providence provided.

  “If I can judge by the way the laird looks at his new wife, you won’t be long without grandchildren,” Gray said. “New life and new possibilities.”

  “That sounds like a toast,” Edith said, discretely brushing moisture from her eyes.

  “I don’t suppose you keep a bottle of Scotch on the premises, do you?”

  “If we had, it would be drained by now.” She felt her own eyes crinkle. “This truly is a well-known spot.”

  “We haven’t any alcohol, but we do have this.” He held a piece of the mistletoe they’d collected above his head. She tilted her head towards his, anticipating a sweet peck on her cheek, but he had other ideas.

  He kissed her, soft and gentle, at first, much as he had when they were younger. But she was no longer the inexperienced child that she had been back in the days before marriage and children. She was a woman now, who hadn’t been kissed since her husband had passed away.

  She opened her mouth beneath his, inviting hi
s exploration. He pulled her tighter, closer, and kissed her quite thoroughly, claiming her with his touch.

  “I’ve been wanting to do that ever since I realized who you were,” he said when they broke for air.

  “I was hoping you would still want to kiss me. I’m not as young as I was back then,” she admitted, giving voice to her silent fear.

  “But you are still as beautiful,” he said. “Life has given you blessings along with the pain.” His finger slipped along her lips. “I’m so surprised to find you here that I think...I think your presence must be a Christmas miracle. I think you are here precisely so I could find you once more.”

  She smiled, joining in with his infectious frivolity, until he kissed her again. There was nothing frivolous about the way he ravaged her lips.

  “I wish I didn’t have to go.” He hugged her close.

  Her heart sank. “It’s a holiday,” she protested. Since her arrival, the castle seemed more empty than full. As soon as Cameron returned from the distillery, Claire would slip away to be with her husband. Edith was pleased to see the two of them so happy and in love, but it left her alone and in need of company. “You’ve made such a difference in just the day you’ve been here. Surely you could stay for Christmas?”

  “As you said, Christmas is just another workday in Scotland and I’m already behind schedule due to that wagon accident.”

  “Will you be back on Christmas Day?” she asked hopefully.

  “As much as I would love to say yes, I cannot. My schedule will take me too far from Ravenbeck to return in time.”

  Her head slumped toward her chest. Christmas would feel even more lonely without Grayson’s bright fire.

  “However, I’ll promise you this,” he said. “I’ll do my best to be back by Hogmanay.”

  She brightened. “There’s to be a dance on Hogmanay.”

  “Then that’s all the more reason for my return. Will you save a dance for me?”

  She smiled. “I’ll save them all for you the instant you come through the door.”

  They left as the daylight dwindled. Walking arm-in-arm through the orchard to the back entrance of the castle. No one seemed to have noticed their long absence. Edith left the basket of gathered mistletoe on a table in the kitchen, then hurried upstairs to change. If Gray was to leave to continue securing contracts, she wanted him to remember her in her finest attire.

  Cameron announced over dinner that the wagon had been fixed. Grayson was welcome to borrow a horse from the stable to get into the village and his mode of transportation. He could leave the horse at the livery for Cameron to bring home.

  “Thank you so much,” Gray said, lifting a glass in a toast. “I shall forever be grateful for my unfortunate accident as it brought me to your wonderful family” --he winked at Edith at his side-- “and their warm welcome into their home.”

  THE NEXT MORNING, Edith still hurried to dress and come downstairs for breakfast. While she and Grayson had said their goodbyes the night before, she hoped to catch him before he departed. But she was too late. Grayson was gone. Even James was scarce on this day before Christmas. Edith wandered aimlessly about the castle. She tried to concentrate on a book she discovered in the library that spoke on the economic impact of America’s civil war, but her attention wandered. It was hard to imagine her Gray in the midst of that battle. Her Gray. When had she begun to think in those terms? Tonight would be Christmas Eve. A magical time that they might have spent together. Were contracts for whisky barrels so very important?

  She shared a quiet intimate dinner with Cameron and Claire, feeling much like an intruder in what was once her own home. She excused herself early and slipped up to her rooms to think about Gray and her reawakened emotions. Was she an old fool that she wished she’d allowed him intimacies? Was it possible to fall in love twice in a lifetime? Was this love or just wishful yearnings on her part? With such thoughts, she drifted off to a luscious dream of she and Gray...and soft white snow that held only warmth.

  THE FOLLOWING MORNING, the MacPhersons exchanged gifts amid their smoldering glances. Edith gave Claire a beautiful fan and a jeweled comb for her hair, gifts that she would have liked to receive herself. Yet Claire found more pleasure in Cameron’s gifts which all dealt with her photography obsession. Just another indication that Edith belonged in a different world, away from the one in the castle.

  James tapped her on the shoulder after the family had exchanged gifts.

  “There’s one more gift for you, my lady, but you’ll have to come with me to see it.”

  “For me,” Edith exclaimed. “Why would a gift be outside?”

  “You’ll have to come with me to see.”

  SHE BUNDLED UP in her heavy fur coat and hat, and stuffed her toes into serviceable boots. Then grabbed her muff for added warmth for her gloved fingers, and met James by the back door. He led her along the familiar path to Ossian’s Cave, the very spot she and Gray had passed the previous afternoon lost in kisses.

  “It’s in there,” James said, holding a lantern. “But give me just a moment before you come in.”

  At first she imagined Gray had not really left and waited for her inside. She was just about to charge through the opening in spite of James’s instructions, but it was James’s voice and not Gray’s bidding her to come inside. She hurried toward the dark interior.

  Only the interior wasn’t dark at all and the scent of a balsam fir filled the tiny interior. Lit candles and handmade decorations adorned the small tree bringing the holiday season into the intimacy of the cave.

  “He said you should have a Christmas tree, and this little one seemed to be the right size.” James smiled at her.

  “When did you do all this?” Her heart expanded with wonder and joy. It was the reminder of the season that she’d missed in the castle.

  “Grayson did most of the work. I just assisted a little.” James shrugged. “I found a box of the candle holders for the branches. They must have been used before your husband finished Ravenswood.”

  She nodded, remembering those days. “He thought if we had a residence with all the modern amenities, I’d be more comfortable so far north. Once we had electricity, there was no need for candles.”

  “Grayson decorated the tree yesterday before he left. He gave strict instructions that I couldn’t tell you about the tree until today.”

  Before he left. As if she needed that reminder that she couldn’t even thank him for his personal and thoughtful gift. Tears filled her eyes, causing the light from the tiny candles to glow beyond their proportions.

  Paper chains had been wrapped around the tree with care not to be placed too near the candles. White feathers had been tied together and dropped over some branches giving the appearance of angel wings. She even saw a few wine corks, tied with a colorful ribbon to earn spots of color. It was the most beautiful Christmas tree she’d ever seen.

  “He left this as well.” James handed her an envelope. “I’ll leave you now so you can read your letter in private.” He bobbed his head with a tap to his cap. “A Merry Christmas to you, mum.”

  “A Merry Christmas to you as well.” She glanced away from the envelope. “Thank you for for collecting me for this.”

  He grinned a moment then turned and left.

  She ripped the envelope open. A sprig of mistletoe fell into her lap.

  My Dearest Edith,

  I wish I could be there to see your eyes widen at the sight of my gift. The tree can not compensate for the gift that you’ve given me, hope that we might again share some of that magic from our past. I never in my wildest dreams believed that our paths might cross again, or that you would find yourself alone in life, such as myself. I live in anticipation that our time together has not ended. I shall endeavor to return in time to claim that dance.

  Forever yours,

  Henry

  Breathing deep of the fresh fir, she drew her legs onto the wooden bench, clutching both th
e mistletoe and the letter to her chest. She counted the days on the fingers until Hogmanay. Six days would bring him back in sufficient time. She offered a fervent prayer that there’d be no more accidents, or sudden storms, to keep him from fulfilling his promise.

  ON DECEMBER 30th, the castle put its many bedrooms to use housing Claire’s guests as they arrived from London. She’d invited her friends, members of a group she referred to as the Rake Patrol. Edith recognized Faith, of course, the attractive blonde that she’d favored over Claire for her son’s interest. However, the others, including one young couple that had returned from a honeymoon in Egypt of all places, were unfamiliar. They were all polite and kind, but none of the men and women were of her generation. Though tempted to run to the folly where her feelings of isolation and abandonment wouldn’t be noticed by the others, she remained at the castle, greeting each new arrival, waiting for Grayson to appear. But he did not.

  The following day, the celebration of Hogmanay began in earnest. All the furniture in the parlor and great hall had been cleared or pushed to the wall to allow room for the evening’s festivities. Musicians and villagers arrived for the celebration. Crailleach kept the side board filled with a variety of foods so that the house guests could eat amid the fervor of preparing the castle for the party that evening. And still Grayson did not appear.

  Disappointed and morose, Claire slipped upstairs to her room to dress for the evening. She’d selected a gown that she hoped Grayson would appreciate, but as he wasn’t in attendance, her heart was not in her preparations. She felt old and out of tune with the younger crowd downstairs. In the late evening, she slipped upstairs to the library, to wait till the ritual toasting of the New Year at the stroke of midnight. No one searched for her in the library. Her absence not noticed.

  Shortly before midnight, she returned downstairs. Whisky flowed. As the clock struck midnight, the crowd sang the traditional Robert Burns song which ended with a cheer and a toast. In the quiet few moments before the fiddlers began the next round, a knock sounded at the door.