But what if he did not die?
What if she had departed Inveraray while the laird still lived? If he recovered, what would become of her then?
Cat walked through the stableyard and took a deep breath as she paused to watch the sun as it rose over the trees.
“My Lady?”
Cat turned, surprised to hear another voice, and saw a monk come through the pillars toward her.
“You are mistaken, Brother,” she said with a smile. “I do not have any title—” The monk returned her smile, but his expression was as thin as paper and something twisted in Cat’s stomach. “What is it?” she asked. “Tell me.”
“The laird. H-he is…” The monk paused and seemed to gather himself before speaking again. “Nathan McArthur has succumbed to his wounds. You are to come at once.”
“Who commands it?” she asked, but her voice wavered just a little.
“The laird,” he said. “You must come with me. They have been looking for you.”
Cat pressed her lips together. She did not have to tell the monk where she had been, but she felt some guilt looming at the possibility that she had given her husband some measure of worry over her absence. She said nothing, but nodded briefly. The monk smiled gratefully and turned to lead her back into the keep.
She followed the monk’s quick steps and her mind spun with possibilities. If the laird was recovering, she would rejoice in his good fortune and the skill of the healers. But if he was not—
The stone corridor that led to the laird’s chambers was lined with guards. The monk stepped aside as she entered the room and Cat paused for just a moment. The room was quiet, and the monks stood quietly at the side of the room, away from the figure on the bed which was covered with a woollen blanket.
Lachlann stood by a window and stared out at the rising sun.
“Lachlann, what is the matter— Is the laird?”
“Ye’re addressin’ the laird,” Graham Eliott said from a chair. Cat looked at him in surprise, but the man only chuckled and drank deeply from a wooden cup. His shoulder was bandaged and his arm was tied tightly against his chest.
“It cannae be,” she whispered.
She looked to the figure on the bed and the monk’s words came back to her. ‘The laird has succumbed to his wounds… The laird commands your presence.’
“Oh, Lachlann,” she said softly. She went to the window and touched his arm gently. His armor had been removed, and his wound had been bandaged, but he seemed not to have noticed any of it. His gaze was focused on the sunrise and the red-gold light that flooded over the fields and the smoking ruin of Manus Camran and his traitorous rebels.
“He named me,” he said softly. “The monks held the parchment for him to sign…”
Cat did not know what to say; instead, she placed her hand upon his waist and leaned her head against his uninjured shoulder.
“Did ye find yer sister?” he asked.
Cat bit her lip, wondering whether or not she should lie. But the monk had found her in the stables… If anyone asked, he would not lie about where he had found her. “No— I followed the staircase in Maili McArthur’s bedchamber.”
Lachlann turned from the window to look at her curiously. “Did ye now?”
“Aye—”
“Did ye find her?”
“No… She’s gone. The staircase led to the stables. A horse was missing—”
Lachlann pulled her into his arms. “Y’should have waited fer me.”
“I dinnae think ye’d fit down that hole,” Cat teased him gently, but her mood sobered in an instant as she remembered the corpse upon the bed. “My lord.”
“Dinnae call me that,” Lachlann grunted.
“What am I tae call ye now?”
He brushed a finger across her jaw where she had scraped it against the stone. “Husband,” he said quietly.
Cat smiled and caught his hand so that she could kiss his knuckles. “Well, husband… I shall have tae find my sister tae tell her the good news.”
“Do that,” he said and released his hold upon her waist so that she could step away from him. She was acutely aware of the monks’ watchful eyes as she walked from the room. Graham Eliott raised his cup to her, but she could only incline her head toward him.
How was a lady supposed to act? She had not been taught such things...
She walked down the corridor, past the guards and turned the corner toward the chamber where she had last seen Donnal being tended by one of the monks. Two guards fell into step behind her, and she paused to look at them curiously. “What’re ye doin?”
“Attendin’ ye, my Lady,” one of them replied.
“I dinnae need ye,” she said.
“We follow the laird’s command,” the man said.
Cat rubbed a hand over her face, and she remembered that she had not slept. “Fine,” she grumbled.
Her hands clenched into frustrated fists and she walked as quickly as she could toward the chamber where she had left Morag. The door was slightly ajar, and Cat pressed her hands against the wood to push it open when she heard a moan.
She peered into the room and felt heat rush to her face as she saw her sister’s naked back. Donnal lay back upon the bed as Morag sat astride him. Morag’s head was thrown back in ecstasy and Cat let out a breath and pulled the door closed. She braced herself against the doorframe and met the eyes of the curious guards.
“I— I am… I’m quite tired. Can ye… can ye take me tae my chambers?”
The men nodded and Cat breathed a sigh of relief as she followed them back through the keep. Her mind was full of questions, many of which would not be answered.
Morag.
Cat smiled to herself and pressed her fingers to her lips to smother the laugh that was begging to escape. One thing was clear, her sister had forgiven Donnal for abandoning her.
“We’ll be plannin’ a weddin’,” she said incredulously.
“My Lady?” one of the guards asked as he pushed open the door of a chamber.
“Nothin,” she said. “Will ye send fer a washtub and hot water?”
“Of course, my Lady.”
Cat sighed heavily and walked past the guards into the room. The bed was laid with the finest coverlet and blankets she had ever seen, and the temptation to fall face down upon it was stranger than she could have ever imagined.
Lady of Argyll.
Epilogue
“Are ye goin’ tae sleep forever?”
Cat groaned and tried to roll over. She rubbed at her eyes and blinked sleepily. Lachlann brushed her hair out of her face and Cat tried to hide under the blankets once more. “Yes, I’ll sleep forever if I want tae.”
“Your sister is to be married this mornin’,” he said.
“I know,” she growled into the blankets.
Lachlann chuckled and lifted the blankets to join her in her warm nest. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back against his chest.
Cat arched her back and felt his hands come up to massage her breasts and Cat moaned softly as she felt the stirring of his cock against her.
“I willnae get tired of the feel of ye,” he groaned.
One of Lachlann’s hands moved lower and dipped between her thighs. Cat reached back to pull at her husband’s tunic, tugging it aside to remove the barrier between them. She was eager and ready for him and he groaned against her back as his fingers slipped into her silken heat.
Cat sighed and moved against his hand, encouraging his touch and helping him to drive her desire for him higher.
He had been so busy with his new duties that they had not spent more than a few hours in each others’ company. And they had certainly not been alone.
Lachlann nipped at her bare shoulder as he moved his hand to her hip and pulled her closer so that the head of his cock nudged against her wet entrance.
She moaned as he thrust up into her. He cradled her gently in his arms as his hands roamed over her body and Cat moved with him, arching back to meet
his strokes with a slow passion that matched his own.
“I have somethin’ tae tell ye,” she sighed.
“Can it wait?”
Cat gasped as he thrust harder and deeper. He held her hip tightly and she reached back to grip his wrist and urge him harder Lachlann groaned against her shoulder and Cat could feel the slow, easy pleasure that had been building inside her threatened to overtake her completely.
“Cat—” Lachlann’s voice was ragged with lust and the sound of her name on his lips and the feel of his cock inside her was enough to trigger the great wave that had built inside her. But instead of a crashing release, the pleasure of his touch flowed through her gently. It lapped at every inch of her body and tugged the breath from her lungs, leaving her shuddering and helpless in her husband’s embrace even as his own climax came over him. His hand tightened on her hip and he groaned against her heated skin as his cock twitched inside her.
He held her close long after their lovemaking was spent, and Cat had no desire to move any farther than was completely necessary. Her sister would be made a wife that day, but until the monks came to fetch them, she was content to stay in her own husband’s arms.
“What did ye have tae tell me?” Lachlann asked.
His fingers brushed over her body lightly and she shivered slightly before turning to face him.
“I know ye’ve only been laird for a few weeks,” she began, “but have ye given any thought tae yer legacy?”
Lachlann snorted rose up on one elbow so that he could stare down at her incredulously. “My legacy?”
“Aye. Who among yer men will sit as Argyll when ye’re gone?”
Lachlann let out a breath and seemed to consider her question carefully. “I suppose it would be Donnal—with Morag’s child he’ll be settled and ready for leadership. He has a good clan, and good support behind him. The men wouldnae argue with the decision… D’ye think I should name him as my successor?”
Cat pressed the back of her hand against her lips and tried not to laugh. “You are so serious, my love,” she said. “I did not mean for ye tae take my question tae heart.”
Lachlann sighed. “With all that has happened, ye cannae blame me for such considerations…”
“I suppose not.” Cat reached down, grabbed her husband’s hand, and pulled it against her stomach. “I may have another suggestion for ye,” she said softly.
Lachlann’s eyes widened and Cat could keep her smile contained no longer.
“D’ye mean...”
“Ye’re tae be a father, Lachlann Mackay,” she said. Her body had only just begun to change, but it would not be long before there would be no question as to her condition.
A smile broke upon Lachlann’s face and he kissed her, gentle and sweet, until she reached up to tangle her fingers in his hair and opened her mouth under his.
The loud crash of a fist slamming against the bedchamber door broke through their kiss, and Lachlann groaned as he turned toward the door.
“What?”
His voice was sharper than Cat had expected and she pressed her face against his chest to keep her laughter from being heard.
“You have been summoned by Father Leonas,” the voice outside the door said.
“He sounds nervous,” Cat said.
“He should be,” Lachlann growled.
“Come now, we have a marriage tae witness, a feast tae bless, and ale tae drink.”
Lachlann leaned down and kissed her again, leaving her breathless as his hands trailed over her body. “Wouldye be rid of me so soon?” he murmured.
“Never,” she replied with some regret. “But we have duties tae attend.”
Lachlann groaned and rolled away and Cat sighed heavily. It would be a long day, but it would be one that she would remember for the rest of her life—and one she would treasure.
She had found happiness and love in the most unlikely of places—and with a rogue of a man who she had never thought she would be able to care for, let alone love as fully as she now did.
He had fought for her. He had killed for her.
He had turned her from an unwilling bride into the Lady of Argyll… and soon she would be mother to his child.
* * *
As the sun rose, Cat stood with her husband as Morag and Donnal said their vows before Inveraray’s priest. On her own wedding day, Cat had been angry and bitter, and she wished she had known then what she knew now.
Morag, however, was different entirely. Her face glowed with health and happiness, and her advancing pregnancy had only made her more beautiful. Donnal looked nervous, but Cat was not entirely certain that men looked any differently on their wedding day—especially when they were in love.
Cat’s fingers tightened around Lachlann’s as the priest said the final words of the ceremony and the ribbons were tied around the happy couple’s wrists, binding them together.
“D’ye remember our weddin’ day?” Lachlann whispered.
“Aye,” Cat replied. “I was thinkin’ of how I was goin’ tae kill ye before I’d let ye touch me.”
Lachlann chuckled and pressed a swift kiss against her temple. “My wild wife. I didnae expect tae love ye this much.”
“Nor I you,” she replied softly.
Graham Eliott cleared his throat loudly and Cat felt her cheeks warming briefly as the priest proclaimed Morag and Donnal married.
The guests roared their approval and Cat leaned against her husband’s shoulder. She could never have planned for this day, or this love, but she was grateful for all of it. Every day and every moment that had brought her to it. And every day yet to come.
* * *
The End
More from Avery Maitland
Highlander’s Honor ~ Medieval Highland Romance
Book 1 ~ An Unwilling Bride
Book 2 ~ A Stolen Bride
Book 3 ~ Warlord’s Prize
* * *
A Daring Heart - A Victorian Highland Romance
Bastards of Cawdor ~ Medieval Highland Romance
Book 1 ~ A Highland Escort (October 2020)
A Warlord's Prize: A Medieval Highland Romance (Highlander's Honor Book 3) Page 12