“Then I shall give you peace once more.” Cat moved away from him, but before she could take more than one step, he gently took her arm.
She looked up expectantly as a myriad of emotions crossed his brow. But the one that made her ache was the torment she saw in those pale eyes. He wanted to say something, she could feel. However, he seemed incapable of getting it out.
“Is there something more?”
He let go. “Nay. You should return.” He knelt back on the ground.
Cat hesitated as she watched him splash water on his face. Part of her wanted to go to him and touch his rigid back. But the other could sense he wanted to be alone. Deciding to give him peace, she forced herself to walk away even though it was hard.
She didn’t know why she wanted to soothe him, yet she did. There was something about him that lured her even against common sense. She’d never felt like this about a man before. Sure, there had been men like Bracken who appealed to her in terms of looks and personality. Men who made her laugh and who were extremely attractive. But they didn’t make her warm just to glance at them. She didn’t want to soothe them when they were sad; nor did she ache simply because she thought they were troubled.
“Are you all right?” Bracken asked, as she returned to camp.
Suddenly she understood Lochlan’s reticence to answer. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
“Of course I do. At least as fine as someone running from the authorities. All in all, I think I appear quite happy.”
He laughed. “I’ve always admired that about you.”
“What?”
“Your ability to make light of any situation, no matter how dire. It’s a skill I wish I possessed.”
Cat smiled at him. “You are too kind. I think all of you have immense grace under pressure.” She moved past him to see Julia and Bryce fastening a makeshift spit above the fire so that they could cook the hares.
Once it was complete and they had the hares dressed and roasting, Bryce pulled out a small wooden flute from his satchel and began to play.
Closing her eyes, she listened to the notes and let the pleasure of them ease the worry in her mind. She didn’t know why, but the sound of music had always soothed her no matter what. She opened her eyes and smiled at the young man. “You’ve grown very talented.”
He paused in his song to smile at her. “Thanks, Cat.” Then he returned to playing.
Cat held her hand out to Julia. “Dance with me, Jules.”
She got up without hesitation and brushed the dirt from her skirt. Laughing, she took Cat’s hands so that they could turn a circle together.
Lochlan paused as he entered camp as saw the women dancing together. But what froze him to the spot was the way Cat danced. It wasn’t anything like he’d seen before. Unlike the dancers at court, she undulated and moved like a seductress. If this was how Salome had looked, he could well understand a man willing to do anything to placate such a woman.
The sound of her laughter and song caressed his ears. And when she spun alone the hem of her dress lifted, showing him the most incredible set of legs he’d ever beheld.
Catarina danced without care. Without rules. All that mattered to her was her enjoyment.
Her smile floored him as she came to his side and held her hands out to him. “Join us, Lochlan.”
Never in his life had he wanted anything more, but he couldn’t. He didn’t know how and the last thing he wanted was to look foolish before the others. “Nay, thank you.”
She tsked at him. “Come, my lord. For one moment, be free.”
He glanced to Bracken, who watched them curiously. “Nay, Catarina.”
Rolling her eyes at him, she went to Bracken, who took up her invitation with the same abandon.
A part of him hated the man in that instant. But the truth was he hated himself most of all. He could just as easily have danced, too. Only he was stopping himself.
You’ll look like a fool, boy. Men don’t dance. Only women, geldings, and jesters. If you want a woman to mock you, have at it. Trust me, they only care how a man battles on the field and how he performs in their bed.
His father was right. Besides, the one time he’d danced, the woman he’d loved had gone to bed with someone else…
Lochlan flinched at the harsh reminder. To please Maire, he’d belittled himself and it hadn’t been enough. He would never again stoop to such a level. People could take him as he was and if he wasn’t good enough for them, then he was better off without them.
So he contented himself with watching the others dance.
Until he realized the hares were burning.
Cursing, he ran to the spit to turn it, but it was too late. One side was already blackened.
Breathless, Catarina joined. “Oh no!”
“You see what such foolery gets you, don’t you?” he snapped.
She didn’t even react to it other than to laugh. “Aye, blackened hare and a smile. I’ll take that over morbidity any day.”
He wanted to argue, but the twinkle in her eye won him over and he returned her smile.
“One day, Lochlan, I will have you dance.”
“That will never happen, lass.”
“Are you challenging me?”
“Nay, I only speak the truth.”
Still her eyes were merry. “As do I and I will have my way with you. Mark my words.”
The only problem was at this moment, he wanted to have his own way with her in an entirely different kind of dance. He could feel the heat from her body and was desperate to taste her lips, among other parts of her.
“You’d best let me take that,” Julia said as she jostled him aside and took over roasting the hares. “We can’t afford for any more of the hares to burn; otherwise, you’ll have to be hunting again.”
He nodded even though he wasn’t quite sure what the girl said. He was too fixated on Catarina’s mouth.
Her dark eyes glistened mischievously before she stood up on her tiptoes and placed a quick kiss to his cheek. “One dance,” she whispered in his ear.
Chills spread over him, but they were quickly squelched by the knowledge that he would never yield to her charms.
And he would never dance.
Chapter 7
Even though they were all a bit nervous about the ones chasing them, the road to Rouen was uneventful. Not that their stress was alleviated by their arrival at the fair. Here there were king’s men all over, some of whom could easily identity Bracken or Cat.
She only hoped none of them knew that her father was currently seeking her.
Julia’s face brightened at the sight of the multicolored tents and competing music that surrounded them. It’d been a while since Cat had been to a fair this large. There were people all around them. Spectators, entertainers, and knights rushing to and from. There was a liveliness here that made her spirits soar.
“Jugglers!” Julia said, twisting in her saddle to watch them as they rode past. “Now there’s a talent I’d dearly love to have.”
Bryce scoffed at his sister’s interest. “Think you the jousts are still going on?” he asked Lochlan.
“Most likely,” Lochlan said. “They usually run to the very end.”
“I can’t wait until I’m old enough to compete.”
Bracken scoffed. “Spoken like a boy who has yet to be knocked off a horse, onto his backside. I think you’ll change your mind once you’ve tasted a piece of lance.”
“It never stopped you.”
Julia smirked. “That’s because he took such a blow to his head in his first match that it addled his brains and they haven’t worked properly since.”
“Ow!” Bracken snapped. “I’m being attacked by both of you snipes at once. Where is chivalry?”
“Certainly not here, Lord Grump,” Julia said an instant before she set her heels to her horse and rode on ahead of them.
Bryce frowned. “Does she know where we’re going?”
“I w
ould say not.”
The boy let out a sound of disgust before he went after her.
“Where are we headed?” Bracken asked.
Lochlan reined his horse before he handed his money to Bracken. “You find us tents to rent and I’ll see about finding this Stryder.” He dismounted and handed his reins to Bracken. “I’ll catch up to you later.”
Bracken inclined his head to him.
Before Lochlan could take so much as a single step, Cat slid from her horse and joined him. “I’ll come, too.”
He wasn’t so sure that was the wisest course of action. “You’d do better to stay with Bracken.”
“Nay. I would rather help you search.”
Lochlan started to argue, but he knew better. There was never winning a verbal argument with this woman. Unwilling to waste time or breath, he headed for the nearest gathering of nobles.
They paused their discussion at his approach.
“Forgive my intrusion. I’m trying to locate Stryder of Blackmoor.”
Two of the men burst out laughing while the others appeared less than amused.
Lochlan exchanged a confused look with Catarina before the one of the laughing men sobered.
He cleared his throat. “Stryder is on the field. If you want to speak to him, you’d better don armor. He’s not exactly in a friendly mood.”
His words brought more laughter from the others.
“Is there something I should know about the man?”
“Aye, he’s been fighting with his wife all week. She’s holed up in the castle while he stands in the list. He’s in the foulest of moods, so unless you come bearing a peace offering with Rowena, I doubt he’ll be interested in anything you have to say.”
That wasn’t something he wanted to hear. Damn. The last thing he needed to do was walk into the midst of a marital spat.
Catarina pulled him away from the men. “I have an idea.”
Before he could ask after it, she headed for the castle. “Catarina?”
“Trust me, Lochlan.”
Did he have a choice? She was quickly making her way through the crowd, oblivious to everyone around her. What the devil was she about?
In fact, she didn’t pause until she was inside the hall, where a small group had gathered. Lochlan hesitated as he heard laughter and music.
Catarina approached a guard to their right. “Beg pardon, sir. Can you tell me where I might find the Countess of Blackmoor?”
The man smiled down at her. “Hear that voice that sounds like an angel in heaven? That be she, milady. She’s in the hall singing.”
“Thank you.”
Lochlan finally understood what Catarina was about. What better way to tame the lion and bring him to heel than to win over his lioness? It made sense to seek the lady out first and since Catarina was also a woman, no one would think it untoward of them.
Catarina headed for the small gathering of nobles. Lochlan stood back, afraid of disturbing them. Or worse, fearing one of them might wish to cause more angst between Rowena and Stryder and report to the earl that Lochlan had been seen speaking to his wife.
But luckily the countess was all but finished. She sang the last note and then handed her lute over to a young man to her left. He had to give Stryder credit, the countess was as beautiful as she was talented. With long blond hair and bright eyes, she was definitely striking.
The crowd applauded and cheered for her. She took her bow, then started away from them.
“Countess?” Catarina called.
She paused. “Aye? Do I know you?”
“Nay. I’ve come here with a friend.” Catarina glanced back at him and motioned him to move closer. “We must needs speak with your husband.”
The countess’s eyes sharpened as anger darkened her cheeks. “Then I suggest you don armor and seek him on the field as that is the only place that man cares to be.” She started away from them.
“Please,” Catarina said. “’Tis of dire importance. Lord Lochlan is seeking information on his brother who vanished in the Holy Land. He was told Lord Stryder was the last to see him alive.”
Those words succeeded in making the countess stop. “Outremer?”
Lochlan nodded. “We thought Kieran was dead. But a man bearing his plaid was killed in Scotland. I was told Lysander once—”
“Lysander,” she breathed. The anger fled her face. “Exceptionally tall and dark-haired?”
“Aye.”
Cat froze as she realized something. The countess was very concerned and if her husband had once been a captive in Outremer like Lysander…
She lowered her voice so that no one could overhear them. “Is Lord Stryder a member of the Brotherhood of the Sword?”
Rowena cast her gaze about furtively. “How do you know the Brotherhood?”
“Lysander and Pagan were like family to me. I traveled with them.”
Recognition lit the countess’s eyes. “Are you Cat?”
“Aye.”
All the suspicion left her face and was replaced by instant friendship. “I’ve heard many stories about you. ’Tis a pleasure to meet you finally.”
“Thank you.” She held her hand out toward Lochlan. “This is Lochlan MacAllister, laird of the clan.”
And again her face lightened as she heard his name. “You would be Lord Sin’s brother?”
“Aye.”
“Then we’re all practically family, eh?” Rowena grimaced as if she’d had a sudden thought. “But this means I must go make amends with the devil. Plague on the man and all his principles. Fine. ’Tis for a greater good. I do this for another and so the Lord in all his mercy will bless me.” She let out a frustrated breath. “At least He’d best bless me. Heaven knows the last thing I want to do is cater to the devil’s ego. I’ve had my fill of it.”
Cat glanced to Lochlan, who appeared as baffled as she was. “The devil?”
“My warring husband of course. Now come before I regain my senses and leave you on your own.”
Cat laughed at the woman. She didn’t know why, but she really liked her. “Thank you, Countess.”
“Call me Rowena.” She started for the door, looking very much like someone about to call for Last Rites.
Lochlan trailed after the women, trying not to get his hopes up. It was possible that Stryder knew nothing of Kieran’s whereabouts. But what if he did? What if, by some miracle, Stryder had seen him recently?
It was hard to keep himself in check. This was the closest he’d been…At last, he might have an answer to his brother’s fate.
Rowena led them straight to the tourney field. Without stopping, she went to the tent that was set up just on the edge of the lists. It was solid black and guarded by a well-muscled man who snapped to attention as he saw Rowena’s approach.
She inclined her head to him. “Good day, Val. Is the boor inside?”
“More like a boar with a raging tusk, my lady, if you take my meaning. Please have mercy on us all and speak with him.”
“Unfortunately, I must. But I promise you, it won’t improve his mood if I can help it.”
The man looked pained. “Thanks, my lady. Your kindness knows no boundaries.”
“And I’ll remember that tone when next you beg favor from me.”
“I am quite sure you will.”
“Counsel your tongue when you address my wife.” The surly growl coming out of the tent sounded like thunder. “That is your lady you speak to. You’d do well to remember it.”
Rowena looked less than pleased. “Don’t think taking up for me is going to get you back in my good graces, Warmonger.”
Stryder left the tent like an emerging dragon. His long, dark, wavy hair hung just past his shoulders. And even though he was angry, he had kind and intelligent eyes. “Think you by now I don’t know that? You’ll not be placated until I make an arse of myself before the entire court. I’ve done that once and…” His voice trailed off as he realized they weren’t alone.
“Ha!” Rowena said
triumphantly. “Look, you’ve already made a fool of yourself. What’s a little more humiliation?”
Stryder grimaced at his wife.
Cat suppressed her smile as she took a step forward. “Please forgive us our interruption, my lord. But Lord Lochlan would like a word with you in private.”
Stryder glared at his wife before he started away. “I haven’t time for this.”
Arms akimbo, Rowena put herself in his path. “You can run innocent men through with your lance later.” She picked up his gauntleted hand and held it in hers. “He has important”—she squeezed his hand tight—“business indeed.”
Understanding lightened the earl’s eyes. “Please join me in my tent.”
Lochlan allowed the women to go first before he followed the earl inside. The tent was surprisingly large, with a nice-sized bed and table set up. Stryder indicated the women to sit down before he faced Lochlan.
“Are you from Outremer?” Stryder asked him.
“Nay. I was told my brother knew you there.”
Stryder scowled. “Your brother?”
“Kieran MacAllister.”
The was no mistaking the pain that flared deep in the man’s blue eyes. Rowena actually stood up and moved to his side. She didn’t say a word, but she patted his back affectionately and it was obvious the man took strength from her touch.
“You must be his brother Lochlan. He said all his brothers were dark-haired save you.”
Emotions flooded him at those words. It was true. Stryder had known his brother and Kieran hadn’t died in the loch after all. He could almost cry in relief, but that wasn’t in him. “Aye. I’m Lochlan.”
Stryder squeezed his wife before he left her to walk over to a trunk by his bed. “Kieran was a good man.”
Lochlan couldn’t breathe as fear assailed him. “Was?”
He nodded. “Outremer changed many of us. Not necessarily for the better. There were two Scots among our prisoners. Brothers they said. MacAllisters.”
It couldn’t be. “Two?” How was that possible?
“Aye. Kieran and Duncan.” He pulled a small box from the trunk and returned to Lochlan’s side. He handed it over. “Kieran gave me that two days before we escaped. He told me to hold on to it in the event one of his brothers should ever look for him. It was his hope that all of you would continue to think him dead—he didn’t want you to know what had become of him. But his fear would be that one of you would learn the truth, then seek him out.”
The Warrior Page 9