“What use would a girl have for all this?” Father William blurted out. “I'm telling you, lad. Tradition has declared that these subjects can ruin a girl's morals—make her think she's as intellectually capable as a man.”
“Can't a woman be as intellectually capable as a man?” Colin asked.
Celia shot the priest a threatening look.
“Perhaps,” Dunbar responded, ignoring her glare. “But what will she gain by it? There's still her future to consider.”
“Future? How?”
“By becoming undesirable as a wife. No husband would accept that in a wife.”
Celia had already heard this from Father William. Now she wanted to hear Colin's response.
“I have to disagree. I think you have a misconception about what men need in their wives.”
“Do I, lad? Then why don't you correct me on that.”
Colin looked at Celia as he chose his words.
“Men need their wives to be soul mates,” he said softly, never shifting his gaze from Celia's face. “They need them to share their lives as well as their beds. To bear their dreams as well as their children.”
This young heir is certainly a charmer, Dunbar thought, noting the exchange of tender glances. And the things he says certainly show promise.
“Then why would a woman need an education for that?”
“For the same reason that a man needs an education,” Colin answered, turning his attention back to the curmudgeonly cleric. “We all need the languages that give us access to Socrates, Plato, Horace, Virgil, and even Ovid. We all need the history and the logic and the mathematics that give us a sense of where we come from and who we are. These are the elements of education that produce knowledge of our human worth, that produce self-respect.”
The three had reached the harbor's edge, and Dunbar stepped in front of the other two, placing his hand on Colin's arm. He had to admit, Edmund had been right about Colin Campbell. This is a man whose values are not of the common order. This is a man whose vision extends beyond the end of his own table. This is a man whose intelligence seems to match his obvious strength. If there be any man worthy of Celia, this could be the man.
“Wouldn't you be intimidated by that,” the priest questioned. “By a wife who has as much intelligence, as much learning, as much discipline as any man?”
Colin now understood clearly that Father William's baiting comments had all been leading to this. The warrior looked down at this combative priest and knew why Celia cared so much for him. He was clearly devoted to protecting her.
“Nay,” Colin answered, gazing steadily into the little man's steel blue eyes. “She's the woman whom I've been waiting for.”
Colin reached down and took Celia's hand in his, holding it tightly against his side.
“Then I suppose I do not need to tell you, lad,” Dunbar concluded. “Women like that are very hard to come by.”
“That's true,” Colin responded, looking at the woman beside him. “You do not need to tell me.”
Father William reached down and clasped their entwined hands in his.
“Well, Celia, this journey's not over yet, but we've certainly come a long way since leaving Linlithgow Castle.”
“Lady Celia,” Ellen whispered through the adjoining doorway. “May I come in?”
“Of course, Ellen,” answered Celia from the window where she stood watching the four Campbell ships sailing along the shoreline in the glowing sunset. Colin had told her that they would be firing the guns at the craggy bluffs south of the castle. She could see the castle's inhabitants gathered on the curtain wall overlooking the sea.
Ellen's fair-skinned face was somewhat paler, Celia thought, noting that as the woman stopped in the middle of the room, she was wringing her hands. Clearly, something was bothering her.
“What's the matter, Ellen?” Celia asked gently, taking her companion by the hand and leading her to the chairs beside the window.
“I was wondering...I didn't know...” Ellen paused, stumbling over her words. Embarrassed, she avoided Celia's eyes and stared steadily at her lap. “M'lady, will we be staying much longer at Kildalton?”
“Why, Ellen?” Celia asked quickly. “Is there something wrong?”
“Nay, m'lady,” Ellen answered, looking up instantly. “Just the opposite.”
Celia smiled into the face of the young widow as the meaning of Ellen's consternation sank in.
“Would this have anything to do with Runt, Ellen?” she asked softly.
“I do not want you to think I'm going to fail in the oath that I've taken, m'lady...”
“So it is Runt,” Celia interrupted with a smile.
“Aye, Lady Celia,” Ellen admitted, lowering her eyes again. “Since we came here, he's been watching over us, and we’ve spent time together. Then he was hurt.”
“But all is well now,” Celia said gently. “We should be thankful that he's feeling better, Ellen.”
“Aye, m'lady, I was so worried about him,” Ellen gushed. “No man ever took a sword wound for me the way he did. He truly cares for me, m’lady.”
“Has he made his intentions known to you?”
“Aye, he asked me this afternoon,” Ellen whispered. The delight of the thought lit her face.
“What was your answer to him?” Celia asked gently, taking Ellen's ice cold hands in her own.
“I told him that I couldn't answer him,” she responded, her disappointment apparent in her eyes.
“Do you love him, Ellen?”
The young woman answered slowly. “Aye, m'lady. I never thought that I'd be able to love again after my bairn died. But caring for Kit each day, feeling the wee one's need for me. And then, being here at Kildalton...the object of Runt's attentions...Lady Celia, I do have a life again. It's almost like I've found a home for the first time. Here, in a place I'd never been before.”
Celia leaned forward out of her chair and hugged Ellen. She knew exactly what Ellen was feeling.
“Ellen, I promise you. If Runt is the man you've set your heart on, I'll see to it that you are able to be with him. I do not know what the future holds for us. I do not know how long we'll be staying. But I'll make sure that you do not lose this chance for happiness.”
Celia had not finished her words when Ellen began to cry. The two women stood and held each other tightly, and Celia felt her own tears well up and overflow.
Celia had been anxious, fretful, waiting for the sounds of Colin's return.
She was sitting before the fireplace in the near darkness of her room, listening to the crackle of the dying embers of her fire and the occasional sounds from the South Hall. There was the edge of a chill in the room that the fire could not dispel for Celia. Tucking her bare feet under her, she gathered the white robe closer about her, lost in the glowing coals of the fading fire.
After Colin had walked Celia and Father William up from the village, he'd returned to the ships in the harbor to direct the final preparations. Lord Hugh and Alec and Edmund were all aboard the vessels when they sailed down the coastline, and all of them, including Colin, were still on the water when Celia, Ellen, Kit, and Father William had joined Agnes in the South Hall.
As they had entered the hall, Celia had taken the baby, giving Ellen a chance to eat her dinner with Runt, who was making rapid progress in his recovery. As soon as Ellen had turned toward the table where he sat with several others, Runt had quickly cleared a place beside him for the fair-haired beauty. Watching them together had confirmed in Celia's eyes everything Ellen had told her earlier.
After she'd returned to her room, Jean had come with a load of wood and turf for her fire, and his familiar friendliness reminded Celia of how much her position had changed at Kildalton. Somehow Agnes had managed to convey to the household Celia’s true identity. Jean no longer treated her like a guest. His patter about the excitement of the household and the villagers had the tone of a longtime confidant. It made her consider the openness of the villagers that they had passed today. They had all saluted her by her real name, and none seemed surprised to see her at Colin's side.
Like Ellen, Celia felt an acceptance of her that made her feel at home. It was not simply hospitality. It was a real sense of approval that she felt from everyone, especially from Lord Hugh and Agnes.
And she owed all that to Colin. Not only had he saved her from a horrible fate at Argyll's castle, he had offered her all of the things that she longed for in her life. And he had accepted her unconditionally, making certain that everyone knew it.
But what had she given in return?
When the booming sounds of the guns had commenced, Celia had been drawn back into a time in her past when she had heard that same far off thunder. It was that time of childhood when she had put her faith in her father. That faith, that special trust, had been forged from the love that father and daughter had shared. It was a trust that had never diminished to the day he died.
But this afternoon, in her conversation with Lord Hugh, Celia had been hurt by the unknown reality of her childhood. There was a part of her father that she had never known. It was a part of his life that he had not shared with her.
Celia thought of Edmund, who had been beside her all these years, caring for her, watching over her, and yet all the time knowing the truth about her father. He had never even allowed her a suspicion of anything that might diminish her cherished memories. But the memory of the love and trust that she had thought boundless had been abruptly tempered by the words she had heard. Her father had not truly trusted her.