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“I—” she started. “I—”
Catherine seemed to take pity on her. “Can I tell ye a story?” she asked after Cicilia struggled to answer for a little longer.
Grateful for the respite, Cicilia nodded.
Catherine seemed to think for a moment, then asked gently, “Has he told ye about Ilene?”
“Ilene?” Cicilia asked, frowning. For some reason, a feeling of irritation went through her at the sound, even though she’d never heard of anyone with such a name. “Nay, he dinnae.”
Catherine nodded. “Sandy was betrothed to Ilene. He would have moved heaven an’ Earth for her. It was just before he turned twenty…”
“Nathair mentioned somethin’, but he dinnae tell me her name,” Cicilia replied. She suddenly felt absurdly jealous.
Ilene. Such a pretty name. I bet she was fair bonny. I wonder what happened?
Catherine looked like she was hiding a smile at Cicilia’s reaction, but her expression was once again clear when she continued. “Well, Ilene was a Sinclair lass, a daughter o’ one o’ me husband’s councilmen. She was fair an’ lovely, indeed, an’ she kent just how to say the right thing at the right time to charm anyone.”
I dinnae want to hear more. It’s nae fair o’ me to feel such hatred for a lass I’ve never met, an’ yet…
“I dinnae like Ilene,” Catherine continued, and Cicilia instantly felt better. “But when me baby brother came an’ told me he intended to ask for her hand, what else was I to do? I o’ course gave me blessin’ an’ spoke wi’ her father on his behalf. I ken that Sandy was feelin’ the pressure o’ bein’ such a young Laird wi’ nae wife, an’ refined, clever Ilene was the perfect solution.”
“But they dinnae wed, in the end,” Cicilia said, trying to not let the strange surge of victory she felt sound in her voice. “Nathair said she left him the night before their wedding.”
“Aye. See, she liked bein’ courted by a Laird fine, but she dinnae have much patience for him an’ his ways. She saw his fussiness as a flaw, an’ nae one that she could accommodate,” Catherine said. She paused briefly, and by the way her lips pressed, Cicilia saw that the woman still felt angry about it after all these years.
She loves her wee brother so much.
“On the day o’ their weddin’, Sandy wakes up to find a note on her pillow. I still remember it word for word,
Dear Alexander,
I simply cannae love a man like ye. I must be free to live life as a person is meant to.
That was it. An’ she took all the clothes an’ jewels he’d bought for her, an’ nae body had a clue where she went.”
Catherine sighed. “She had every right nae to marry him if she dinnae love him, but to break his heart so was cruel.”
Cicilia felt a heavy sadness settle on her shoulders. She could see it now, Alexander, young and vulnerable and alone, no idea what he’d done wrong or why he’d been abandoned.
“Did she return home eventually?” Cicilia asked in a subdued voice.
“Nay,” Catherine answered. “We heard from her faither much later that she’d fled to Edinburgh an’ met some rich Sassenach businessman there. Apparently, they’re quite happy to this day. Me brother was crushed. Swore he’d never be so foolish as to love again. An’ I believed him, truly…until Nathair started sendin’ me letters about ye.”
Cicilia’s heart almost jumped out of her chest at the implication. Was Catherine seriously here because she thought that Cicilia, a simple farm girl, was somehow changing Alexander’s life for good?
Is she really sayin’ that she thinks he loves me?
The women walked in more silence for quite a while longer, perhaps a quarter of an hour or more, before Cicilia spoke again. “I…I think I do,” she half-whispered.
“Ye do?” Catherine asked gently. She was pressing, obviously wanting Cicilia to finish the thought, but not pushing too hard.
And Cicilia knew then that it was the truth. She knew she had to say it or she’d simply explode. She knew now for sure why she’d been so torn up during their time not talking, and why reuniting with him had made her feel so blessed. “I do love him, Catherine. More than me own heart, more than anythin’ except for me brother an’ sister. I love him.”
Catherine had happy tears in her eyes when she nodded. “Aye, I thought so,” she said. “An’ God bless ye for it, Cicilia O’Donnel. Ye’re bringin’ me wee brother back to life at last.”
But though it was sweet, Cicilia’s heart constricted with pain.
Aye, I love him. I’ve admitted it now, but to what end? There’s nae scenario where this ends well for us both. Nae scenario where everyone gets what they want.
