Rising to tower over her, Cameron straightened the dark blue and green Leslie kilt he’d worn for the funeral. “Never?”
“Ever.”
“But you’ll have your pick of the young men.” Cam ran a hand back through his straight, wheaten hair. “Surely there must be some fellow…” He frowned, then smiled. “Duncan. Maybe you’d consider Duncan? He has land of his own, and the village maidens are forever tittering over his good looks—”
“He’s a fool.” When Caithren stood, Cam took a step back. “He’d be no better for Leslie than Adam. And he’d never let me have a hand in running things, or you, for that matter.”
“James, then. James is no fool.”
“Aye, you’ve the right of it there. But James isn’t one for the land. He keeps his nose in a book all the day. He’d be no better than Adam, either.”
Cam walked to the window and gazed out at the pouring rain. “Surely there must be someone.” His voice bounced muffled off the uneven glass. “What sort of life would you live, then? Your folks were so happy…don’t you want as much for yourself?”
She joined him there and watched familiar gray clouds glide slowly over the green rolling hills where her family had lived for generations. Beyond a stone wall, the ponies she and Cameron were breeding fed in a nearby field, swishing their long tails. Tenant farmers worked in the distance—people she knew as well as her own kin.
She’d lived her entire life in this fortified house that looked like a wee, turreted castle. Da had built it for her mother—he’d always treated Mam like a queen. Love owercomes the reasons o’ mind, Mam used to murmur when she walked up the path to her home; the heart always rules the head. But she’d said it with a laugh and a blush of pleasure.
Aye, Mam had been loved. But she’d still been the property of a man.
“For all Da loved her, Mam had nothing to call her own. I want no master. And I want us to run Leslie together, Cam, the way we’ve been doing it since Da fell ill. Any husband of mine would inherit my property upon marriage, and no man would allow you an equal partnership.” One of her fingers traced the crooked line of a raindrop as it trailed down the pane. “We’d never realize our grand plans. Even my own father plotted to manipulate me from the grave. All men are the same.”
“Not all men, Cait.”
When she turned to him, Cam’s eyes held a challenge.
“Maybe not all,” she conceded. “Not you.” Turning back to the window, she traced another raindrop…two…three.
Sudden hope made her gasp. “You!” She whirled to face him. “I shall marry you! Leslie should be yours in any case—how many times have I said it?”
Cameron stared, incredulous. “Me? Are you daft? We’re kin.”
“So? Kin often marry. We’re cousins, not brother and sister.”
“First cousins.” MacLeod’s voice came stern across the room. Caithren had forgotten all about him. “I’ve heard it said that such inbreeding can result in diseased children.”
“Inbreeding?” Cam was still sputtering beside her. “Cait, I…I love you, but not that way. Not the, er, breeding sort of way. More like a sister.” He was red as a cherry.
“I knew as much. And my love for you is the same.” She sighed. “I never expected to wed at all, much less for romantic love.” She felt a lump rise in her throat as her excitement gave way to defeat. “It’s hopeless.”
Her fingers went absently to play with her laces as she wandered back to MacLeod, tears swimming in her eyes.
“Is there no other way? Must I wed or see it all go to Adam?”
“Well…” The family lawyer met her gaze, then looked away.
“Aye? What are you thinking?” Slapping her palms onto the desk, she leaned toward him. “You’ve an idea, don’t you?”
MacLeod glanced heavenward. “May your father forgive me for circumventing his plans.” He smoothed his fine wool doublet. “If you could persuade your brother to sign over his rights—”
Caithren’s heart galloped in her chest. “That would work? Such a paper would be legally binding?”
“I cannot see why not. It wouldn’t be signed under duress, and who would there be to challenge? I assume, in exchange for a generous allowance for his keeping, that Adam would jump at the chance to relinquish his responsibilities. If I know your brother at all—”
“Aye, you do,” Cameron said in wry confirmation. He walked closer to Cait. “And he’d still have the title. Sir Adam Leslie, Baronet. Not that he deserves it.”
“I don’t care about that, but it’s all he cares about, which is why this should work.” Caithren turned around to think. “I must go to Adam.” She spun back to her cousin. “My letters never seem to reach him, and he may be off to India soon.”
“India?” Cameron frowned. “Do you know where he is now?”
“A letter came just yesterday.” She hurried to the desk and pulled out a sheet of parchment. “He mailed it the first of August, from Chichester.” She scanned the single page. “He said he was in the company of two friends on their way to West Riding near Pontefract, where Lord Scarborough had invited them hunting. Then to London for Lord Darnley’s wedding on the thirtieth. And he hopes to make it home for Hogmanay, but there’s talk of a voyage to India.” She looked up. “He should still be at Scarborough’s. Pontefract is about halfway to London, isn’t it? Not so far.”
“I’ll go.”
“Nay, Cam. I must ask this of Adam myself.”
“You don’t trust me to ask him to sign a piece of paper?”
Caithren winced at the hurt look on her cousin’s face. “It wouldn’t be the same request, coming from you.” Setting the letter aside, she put a hand on his arm. “I do love him, you know, but I also see him for what he is.”
Cam’s hand covered hers and squeezed. “Then I’ll accompany you—”
“Nay, it’s here you’re needed. The harvest approaches.” She
