Her turbulent thoughts were broken by the ringing of Alex's mobile phone. Kate handed it to him. He answered it, voice terse, his brow descending lower and lower in a ferocious scowl.
Whatever the call was about it didn't please him.
Kate wiped the last of the dishes, then the benches keeping her back to him to give him privacy.
"Kate, can I ask you to take Sarah home?"
"Yes." He was too preoccupied with his call to notice her agitation. "Is something wrong?"
"I hope not." His expression was so grim, Kate shivered. "There's a major emergency in the city. You won't dither?"
Kate's chin shot up and her eyes glittered. "You can trust me with Sarah, Alex."
"Trust works two ways, Kate," he said harshly. "Remember that."
As he went striding out into the night, Sarah moved closer to Kate's side, upset by his abrupt departure. "Can we go home now?"
"We'll go now, caraid." She was saddened that Sarah felt lost without her father. It distressed her to know she was almost a stranger to her own child.
When they reached The Birches, the front door opened before she had time to get out of the car. A plump, dark haired woman bustled down the steps.
"Maria, we've had an exciting day." Sarah's exuberance returned now she was on familiar ground.
"Did you, caro." Maria patted the child on the head. "Mr. Korda phoned me to expect you, Ms. Audley. He asked if you could stay and bath Sarah and see her into bed for him."
Kate glowed with pleasure. She followed Sarah upstairs to her bedroom and her heart dropped. Noni was hugging Sarah, her jet eyes gleaming triumphantly above the little golden head.
"Kate's come to bath me and put me to bed." Sarah wriggled out of Noni's arms.
"There's no need." The old woman's eyes glittered jealously.
"Alex asked me to bath Sarah and tuck her in, not quarrel with you, Noni," Kate said firmly. "He won't like having his orders flouted."
The old woman looked daggers, then turned on her heel and flounced out, leaving Kate alone with Sarah.
"Show me your bathroom, poppet."
Sarah talked nonstop as Kate ran the bath and poured in bath crystals. She undressed and sloshed in the soap bubbles.
"I'm a submarine." She chortled and dived under the water and came out the other end, her face covered in bubbles. "Watch me, Kate."
Kate's eyes misted. So many bath and bed times missed.
Sarah played until the water cooled. Kate pulled the plug and lifted the slippery body, wrapping her in a fluffy towel and carrying her back to the bedroom. Sarah yawned as Kate slipped her nightgown over her head.
"Let me brush your hair."
Kate sat her on the stool in front of the wide mirror, gently separating the strands of silky hair as she plied the brush. Sarah watched her in the mirror.
"Daddy said you are a friend of my mother's."
Kate's shocked gaze met Sarah's in the mirror. It was several moments before Kate found her voice and her wits. "Yes"
"What's she like?"
Dear heaven, how do I describe myself to this child?
"What did your daddy tell you?"
"He said she was too young to be able to look after me."
Sarah turned on the stool and looked at Kate, her eyes filled with that disconcerting wisdom beyond her years.
Kate considered every word carefully. "Seven years ago when you were born, she was eighteen and that's very young to be a mother. She's older now of course, just as you're not a baby anymore"
Sarah nodded and picked up the Cullum music box, turning the key with careful concentration. The notes of the Eriskay Love lilt filled the room and Kate struggled with emotion. "This was my mother's."
Kate touched a trembling hand to the golden head. "Did your dad ever tell you the story of your music box?"
"No. It has a story?"
"It's very old," Kate said slowly. "And most old things do have stories to tell."
As Sarah's eyes lit up, Kate gave a soft relieved sigh at shifting the focus of her interest. She didn't want to upset Alex by a careless slip of the tongue. "Would you like to hear the story of the music box?"
"Yes please."
"Hop into bed then." Sarah scrambled into bed. Her eyes shining as Kate picked up the music box and sat beside her.
"See these?" She pointed to the small numbers carved near one edge. "These are silver hallmarks and tell us the year it was made. It was bought for Ilona Mackie as a birthday gift by her brother Angus nearly three hundred years ago."
"Was she my grandmother?"
"Much, much older than grandmother." Kate remembered her own attempts to put generations on the time span. "In those days, Scottish Highlanders were fierce warriors. Ilona Mackie was fourteen when Hamish Cullum began raiding the villages of the Mackie clan.
"The Cullum had his stronghold across the sea from Dumfermline on the tiny island of Tillyfore. After the raids he escaped across the stormy stretch of sea, enraging the Mackie clan.
"His men captured several young women as brides."
Kate imagined those scenes of long ago. What sort of lives had those women lived? Wasn't that exactly what Alex had done with her? Had they fallen in love with their captors as she had done? And wasn't this how this enchanting golden haired child had come into existence?
"Did they get caught?" Sarah's eyes were wide.
"Not that time. Their next raid was more daring. The Cullum struck closer to Castle Mackie."
Sarah shivered as Kate eerily recounted the centuries old tale. "His next raid failed. Mackie's men wiped out the band of marauders and carried home The Cullum as prisoner. At Castle Mackie they paraded him in front of booing, hissing clansmen before chaining him in a stone dungeon. In the morning Cullum was doomed to be tortured to death."
"Ooh how horrible." Sarah put small hands up to her cheeks, eyes wide with anxiety. "Did he die?"
"No pet, he didn't die." Kate smoothed a reassuring hand over Sarah's head. "Not that he expected to be saved. He was far too proud to beg for his life and was too strong and courageous to break under torture."
"Then how?"
"Ilona watched as they dragged him into the castle. She was sad such a proud, magnificent man would die so horribly. She looked into his rugged face and knew, with the canny sight Gaelic women have, The Cullum would make a strong, virile lover. Far better than the weak chieftain her father was forcing her to wed. He was a man any woman would be proud to call husband and she was helpless to save him.
"Then she hit upon a bold plan. It was dangerous and she knew she would die if she was caught, but she preferred risking death than being wed a man she despised. Her mother was an invalid and often in pain. Ilona stole her mother's bottle of syrup of poppies and persuaded her maid to lend her a dress and mob cap."
"Why?" Sarah sat forward her eyes alight, her lips parted with anticipation.
"The maid helped wait at the table. If her plan was to succeed, Ilona needed to take her place. Her maid agreed to help, but made Ilona promise to take her with them. That night disguised as the maid, Ilona waited at the table and with cunning, poured syrup of poppies into the huge whisky decanters.
"She knew, you see, that night everyone in the castle would drink a glass of whisky to celebrate capturing the Cullum. Her plan worked. By midnight everyone in the castle was in a drugged stupor.
"Ilona," Kate whispered spookily, "slipped the huge dungeon key from the belt of the guard and opened the door. The Cullum sat on a wooden bench, his head buried in his hands. He was chained to the wall by one wrist and both ankles. His head jerked up, eyes hard and watchful as the slender girl slipped into the room and closed the door.
'Who are you?'
'Ilona Mackie. She glided towards him. 'I've come to free you.'
'Why?' he demanded softly, but no less menacing.
'I don't want you to die.' She knelt at his feet, unlocking the shackles then reached up to unlock the shackle on his wrist. She held
out her hand. 'Come. Everyone's asleep. I drugged their whisky.'
"The Cullum couldn't miss the chance to escape, but hesitated, he knew how clans dealt with traitors. 'You'll die for this.'
"Ilona lifted her chin, held fierce and proud. 'Better me than you.'
'I'd rather die than hide behind a woman's skirts.'
'Take me with you. My father's going to wed me to a man I hate.' She stamped a tiny foot in temper. 'We must hurry.'
"The Cullum stared at her proud face with keen eyes before nodding in agreement and the deal was done. He took the key from her hand and relocked the chains and the door before catching her hand in his. He leaned over the drugged guard and withdrew the dagger from his belt and catching her hair, cut off a golden lock and wrapped it around the key and laid it on the man's chest. 'Lead me out.'
"Ilona led the way to a small door overlooking the steep rocky escarpment. It was bolted and she thought they were both trapped. Cullum using all his great strength managed to jack the unused door open enough to get through.
'Be careful the dogs come almost back to here,' she whispered as they reached the door. Pride insisted she give him the chance to leave without her if he chose. 'Go down this rocky hill and there's a small boat hidden in the trees to the left directly below here. Godspeed.'
'Not without you.'
"A shout rang out. They'd been discovered. Cullum tore the white apron from Ilona grabbing a dark piece of the skirt, ripping it free with his powerful hands, tying it over her golden hair. He slung her over his shoulder, scrambling down the rocky escarpment, as sure footed as any mountain goat on the rugged, unfamiliar terrain.
She clung to his belt to stop falling. When they reached the bottom he kept to the deep shadows.
"Did they find the boat?" Sarah asked all thought of sleep banished.
Kate smiled. Sarah reminded her so much of herself, of her own eagerness when her mother had told this stirring tale.
"Cullum carried the boat to the water's edge. They were about to shove off when the maid, thoroughly frightened by the commotion at the castle, came out of hiding and ran to them, a few of Ilona's possessions tied in a shawl slung over her shoulder.
"They heard the sound of pursuit. Cullum heaved the unfortunate girl into the boat where she landed beside Ilona. He leaped in after them and grabbed the oars, pulling strongly. Away from the shelter of shore, the little boat was battered by raging seas and high winds.
"Cullum bent his huge body to the task of rowing the tiny boat to safety. The maid was screech fearing they'd all drown.
Ilona grabbed a second set of oars and pitted her small might with the Cullum's against the raging seas. She sang one of the old Gaelic chants of good luck. And guess what?
"What?" Sarah responded in hushed awe.
"Out of the black storm came a ghostly silver light and the area around the small boat became calm. Cullum ordered the maid to bail out the water."
"What was the light?"
Sarah listened entranced, her eyes glistening in the subdued light from the bedside lamp. Kate swallowed hard to clear the lump of love and longing in her throat. She looked down at the wooden music box, running a shaking finger over the polished wood.
"Ilona called up the spirits of her ancestors to aid them. They reached the safety of Tillyfore where The Cullum married the girl who'd risked her life to save his. When Ilona unwrapped the contents of the shawl, she found this music box. Ever since, it's been handed down to the eldest son.
"She was never able to go back to her family. She would have been killed for her treachery. Your grandmother was the last Cullum, and so the box has come to you."
For several moments there was hushed silence after Kate's voice faded away. Sarah yawned and Kate spared a guilty glance at her watch. She tucked the blankets in around the child. "Would you like me to sing for you?"
"Yes, please."
Kate sat in the old rocker and sang softly, the love lilt of the music box. Sarah's eyelids grew heavier as Kate changed from one lilting melody to the next.
Before the last notes faded away the child was fast asleep.
Moving softly, Kate went to the bed and stood looking down at her sleeping daughter. Poignant tears filled her eyes as she brushed a finger down a petal smooth cheek.
"Goodnight, my darling baby," she whispered huskily, leaning down and kissing the sleeping child.
Chapter Fifteen
Alex leaned against the door frame, unbearably moved by the tender scene he'd watched unfold. Guilt seared him at Kate's tender expression as she kissed Sarah.
Was she ready to accept her place in Sarah's life? Her place in his own life? He could not pressure her, but being spotted by that reporter could prove disastrous.
Despair warred with hope.
The future loomed, bleak and empty if she chose not to return.
Unable to still his despairing thoughts, he shifted and Kate looked up and saw him. The familiar wariness and apprehension clouded her expression. It was an expression he hated, but knew he deserved nonetheless. Their gazes clung for a long, timeless moment. That reporter had made things difficult. There was now very serious pressure, where he'd hoped to have limitless time.
"A very stirring tale, your ancestors were as ruthless as mine."
"I was just thinking that." She stood up, watching as he crossed the room and kissed Sarah.
"You solved your problem? It was nothing too serious, I hope." Her words tripped over each other.
"Serious enough to be worrying," he admitted catching her nervous glance. "Come through to the sitting room, Maria is bringing supper."
He escorted her downstairs and along the east corridor and opened a door into a small sitting room. She looked around the room, frowning.
"We had the ballroom converted into several smaller rooms." He correctly interpreted her puzzlement. "This one, it's what the Victorians called a morning room. We also built a library and a music room. Have a seat."
Instead of sitting, Kate wandered around the room.
He watched her as she picked up a simple modernist glass sculpture, and then put it down again. She wandered across the room to study two delicate watercolours he'd seen and brought on a whim, because they reminded him of the lush beauty of Maude Island. In creating this room, his brief to the interior designer was to create a clean, uncluttered space with minimal decoration.
And now, he waited for Kate's reaction.
At last she walked across and sat in a comfortable brocade wingchair next to his before she looked at him. "This room is lovely, I like it."
"Do you?" He smiled, wondering how she would react if he told her he'd created this room specifically for her.
Maria entered carrying the supper tray.
"Thank you." Alex took the tray and put it on a small table beside Kate. "Catriona can pour for us. We won't need anything else tonight."
As she poured coffee and he took his, absently stirring in sugar.
"What's wrong?"
His frown eased. "That reporter was tipped off."
She lifted a shaky hand to her lips. "What sort of tip off?"
"Far too accurate to be coincidental, he knew I was taking Sarah and her mother on a family outing at the zoo," he said quietly gripping her shoulder as the colour drained from her face. "I've ensured the story won't be printed."
"For how long?" She gave him a beseeching look and he knew she feared a media feeding frenzy. The thought didn't exactly fill him with joy either, but at least he was used to it.
"Hopefully long enough." It had been a tough job to get the editor's agreement. He'd been furious when he'd seen the photographs taken with a telephoto lens.
"Who tipped them off?"
"They refused to reveal their source."
After so many years of protecting Kate and Sarah from media intrusion it was sickening to be discovered at this critical time.
"What shall we do?"
He didn't miss the revealing we and despite the gravity of the situation was pleased she instinctively looked to him for security against a darker, external threat.
"Sarah needs to know who you are, Kate. It could be very damaging if she was to hear it from any other source."