Heart in the Highlands by Heidi Kimball
Chapter Thirteen
Kate hadn’t realized how much Rosemont Cottage had come to mean to her until she stood outside of it, ready to say goodbye. The shutters on the windows, the ivy creeping across the stone walls, the solid front door—all of it was dear to her. The two oak trees on either side sheltered the cottage, always so stalwart and dependable. The house itself, though not in perfect condition, had a welcoming aura, one that made a person feel at home almost immediately.
Home.That is what it had been to her these past years—after Callum had left, after Grandfather had died, when she’d been expecting and alone, this cottage had embraced her, had provided a sanctuary where she had come to feel a sense of belonging.
The familiar scent of honeysuckle drifted on the air, and with it came an acute sense of homesickness, though they hadn’t even officially departed. The rooms of Rosemont Cottage held so many memories. The night of Charlotte’s birth, which had brought both pain and joy. Charlotte’s first smile, first tooth, and first laugh. Her first steps near the worn old rocking chair that rested beside the fireplace in the front room. Her first words—“uh-oh”—spoken as she’d thrown food from her plate onto the kitchen floor. In saying goodbye to the cottage, it felt as though Kate were saying goodbye to those memories. Her throat tightened as she fought down the emotion that had been rearing its head all week as she’d packed.
“Mama, Mama! Papa said it’s time to go!” Charlotte came running out of the house at full speed, her hair flying behind her.
“Do you have Cleo?” Kate asked.
Charlotte nodded and smiled. “Papa is holding her.”
It was a ridiculous notion to bring a cat on the almost weeklong journey—by land and sea—up to Scotland. Yet Callum had agreed to Charlotte’s pleas, and true to his word, he appeared in the doorway carrying Cleo, though he held the feline away from his person, rather awkwardly. He caught Kate looking at him. “Shall we?” He set Cleo in the carriage and shut the door, and the cat began to meow.
Harriet and Archie came out and stood on the front steps. “You listen to your mother now, Miss Charlotte,” Harriet said sternly, her hands smoothing her apron.
Archie knelt down and bid Charlotte a quiet farewell. “Keep a sharp lookout for animals, for I’ll want to hear all about them once I arrive in Scotland.”
Kate considered hugging them both, but Harriet’s posture forbade it. “We’ll be a week or two behind you, once everything with the cottage is settled. You can trust us to leave it in excellent condition.” Harriet nodded, a pleased look on her face. She might not like Callum, but she didn’t mind the money he’d provided to make repairs to the cottage.
“I know I can,” Kate replied, and she gave Archie a tender look. “Goodbye.”
And with one final backward glance, her gaze drifting toward a hallowed spot under one of the old oak trees, she allowed Callum to hand her up into the carriage. Within a few minutes everyone was settled, and they set off on the road toward Ipswich.
Charlotte sat by Callum, petting Cleo as the cat paced back and forth across the seat, chattering happily about the sheep they would see, the pony that would be hers, and the ship they would take. “We’ll be on a big, big ocean, Mama. Bigger than Mr. Bernard’s fields. Papa said so.”
Papa said.It was a phrase Kate now heard at least several dozen times a day, and she had already grown quite tired of it. It wasn’t Callum’s fault Charlotte repeated everything he said like the parrot her uncle Arthur used to have, but that didn’t alleviate the irritation growing inside her. In truth, Callum’s behavior had been annoyingly decent. He’d gallantly taken charge of Charlotte so Kate could pack and offered any help necessary. Somehow the more he did right, the more he bothered Kate. The fact that he was constantly asking how he could be of assistance did nothing to put him in her good graces.
Kate had been doing things on her own for almost five years. As it turned out, that was a very hard habit to break. So when Callum offered to take Charlotte for a walk when they changed the horses, she curtly declined and took Charlotte herself. Instead Callum went and saw that Cleo was given something to drink.
The minute he was back Charlotte reached out for him, begging him to hold her. Kate’s irritation rose a notch. He played a counting game on his fingers with Charlotte on the next leg of the journey while Cleo used his booted feet as a pillow. And though Kate should have been pleased to have a bit of time to herself, she was beginning to feel invisible.
It was downright vexing how easily Callum had taken his place as a father. She’d expected to have to instruct and educate him over numerous things regarding Charlotte, but instead Callum had done it all as if he’d been born for the role. She tried to hide it for Charlotte’s sake, but Kate begrudged Callum’s easy manner with the daughter he’d known for only a week.
That night they stopped at a remote inn on their path and got what sleep they could. Kate had a headache from Cleo’s meowing and left the window open, rather hoping the cat would find a way to run off. But come morning, Cleo was fast asleep at the foot of the bed in the room Kate and Charlotte were sharing.
On the afternoon of the second day, Kate fell asleep to the steady clip-clop of the horses’ hooves. When she awoke, Callum was asleep on the seat across from her, head slumped forward, bumping and jostling with each jolt of the carriage. Charlotte lay against him, her head on his lap, his hand resting on her back. He ought to look ridiculous, especially with Cleo nestled in on his other side. Instead the sight of him asleep as he held his daughter and her cat was heart-melting.
Kate sniffed in annoyance. All morning she’d waited for Callum to lose his patience as the cat had climbed all over him, squashing his hat and leaving traces of hair on his overcoat. Surely, after another few hours of the odious meowing, he’d lose his head and insist Cleo was an English cat and could not be taken from her homeland. Instead he’d borne it all with good humor.
Irksome, exasperating man.
The carriage jolted, shifting Kate’s attention to the carriage window. The ocean had come into view, which meant they couldn’t be far from Ipswich. From there, they would take a packet ship to Aberdeen, and then it was another several days by carriage to Edinbane. It hardly seemed possible that a week past Kate had been comfortably settled in Rosemont Cottage, and now she was well on her way to Scotland with the husband she’d never thought to see again.
The packing had been done quickly. Too quickly. Kate’s things filled one paltry trunk. Charlotte’s clothes and a few toys filled another. The third held a strange mixture of Kate’s painting supplies, her sketchbooks, and some of Charlotte’s baby clothes—exquisite, tiny things Kate couldn’t bear to part with.
As it stood, those keepsakes might be all she had left of Charlotte. Over the course of one week, Kate had been completely replaced. It was now Callum whose lap Charlotte wanted to sit upon as she ate, Callum who chose which dress she would wear, and Callum to whom she first showed her drawings.
In one thing, at least, Charlotte had been faithful. She still wanted Kate to put her to bed every night. She insisted that Kate brush her hair and wash her face, and then sing her a lullaby as she fell asleep. Callum may have stolen a great deal from Kate, but that much was still hers. And his novelty would wear off at some point, wouldn’t it?
Kate had been there for every day of Charlotte’s three years and ten months. It didn’t seem fair that after such constancy, she could be so easily discarded. Confident no one could hear her, she let out the sigh that had been building for the past week.
Callum’s head jerked as the carriage jolted. He kept his eyes half-closed, not wanting Katie to know he’d awakened, for she was always guarded around him, her face a carefully composed mask. This was a perfect opportunity—a chance to watch her when she didn’t know she was under scrutiny.
He shifted carefully so as not to awaken Charlotte or her devil cat. That little beastie had ruined his best hat, spread cat hair all over his traveling clothes, and yowled like a banshee for most of yesterday’s journey. Callum had nearly thrown the cat out the carriage window at one point, and the only thing that had stopped him was Katie’s watchful gaze. She seemed to be waiting for him to make a mistake, as if it were inevitable.
Justified though Katie might be in expecting such, he certainly wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of being right. He’d been patient. In fact, he’d been downright saintly in extending grace to the devil’s spawn Charlotte had named Cleo. But it had paid off. Charlotte thought him a hero and had declared him “the best papa in the world.”
And though Katie hadn’t been so vocal, he’d seen her surprise as he’d petted and cajoled the cat, allowed her to nestle up against his thigh, and taken the time to get the creature food and water at each change of the horses.
Callum might be a long way off from earning Katie’s trust, but he was almost positive he’d seen some grudging respect in her eyes. And that was a start. The trick, though, was not to allow her even a glimpse of how very difficult he found the whole endeavor. She’d take far too much satisfaction in watching him suffer.
Across from him, Katie shifted and let out a sigh that sounded almost mournful. He peered through his eyelashes, enough to get a clear view of her glaring at him, a scowl wrinkling her nose.
“What have I done now?”
She startled, and the sight of her so off-balance brought a smile to his face.
Her mask was back in place in a heartbeat. “You? Nothing. I am tired is all.”
“Ye’ve changed a great deal, Katie, but ye’ve not improved as a liar.”
She straightened her back. “I am tired,” she said staunchly and began fiddling with her gloves.
“I could move Cleo and make a place for ye to rest right here,” he said, gesturing to the spot beside him. “Ye once found my shoulder quite comfortable.”
She kept her gaze on her lap. “That was a long time ago.”
“My shoulders can’t have changed too much, can they?” he prodded.
“I’m sure I haven’t noticed the first thing about your shoulders,” she replied.
“But they are as broad as you remember, aren’t they?” he asked, pretending concern.
She looked heavenward, and Callum nearly laughed at her obvious struggle. “Your shoulders are as broad as ever,” she said finally and huffed out a breath.
“Are ye . . . are ye flirting with me?” he said, barely managing to keep a grin in check.
Her eyes widened. “What? No! I—”
“I thought ye had rules very decidedly against that,” he said gravely. “If ye wish to break them, I willnae complain—”
“You provoked me into commenting on your shoulders, Callum, and I’ve a mind to—”
“Ah, there it is.” He grinned. “Ye’ve been itching for a fight the last few days, and I’ve wondered when your frustration was going to come out of your fist.”
She froze. Her shoulders were so stiff it looked as though they were nailed to the back of the carriage seat. “Don’t be ridiculous. We agreed to be civil.”
“In front of Charlotte,” he said, nodding toward their sleeping child.
She turned her head to look out the window. “We also agreed to avoid spending too much time together when Charlotte isn’t around. Or awake. As such, you can consider yourself safe.”
“I think I’ll be on my guard, all the same,” he said and winked to see her squirm. He couldn’t help but enjoy their banter. Their time apart hadn’t changed that.
“How far until Ipswich?” she asked, obviously anxious to change the subject.
“Half an hour at most. Perhaps we could take a brief walk along the coast to stretch our legs before getting settled.” Charlotte twitched, and he smoothed a hand along her forehead.
Katie’s gaze moved to their daughter. “We should get Charlotte some supper first. She’ll be hungry when she wakes.”
He nodded. He trusted Katie to know what Charlotte needed, for she had years of experience he couldn’t hope to compete with. It was one of the things he’d enjoyed most these past days—watching Katie mother their daughter. A swell of gratitude filled him. He knew that whatever Katie had felt about shouldering the load of parenting alone, she’d never made Charlotte feel anything but loved and wanted. No child could be more cherished.
What he hadn’t expected was how appealing mothering had made Katie. The way her hand clasped Charlotte’s, the way she gently corrected misbehavior, the way her eyes lit with amusement when Charlotte mispronounced a word. Sometimes the force of her beauty in those moments took his breath away.
Charlotte began to move and stretch. “Are we there?” She raised her head and looked at Callum. “How long until we be home, Papa?”
“Five more days, lass. Only five more days.”