The last person in the door was Rosalyn, her arms filled with cloth. She quickly herded all the servants out and closed the door behind them.
“Here are yer drying sheets, lass, and a nightgown you can use. I’ll find some things for you to wear by the time yer up on the morrow. They’ve put you next to my room, so if there’s anything you need, you only hae to call out at my door.”
Cate looked down at her hands, feeling unaccountably weepy and working hard to blink back the tears. “I’m sorry if I was rude to everyone, Rosalyn. I just couldn’t stand it anymore. They were staring at me and talking about me like I wasn’t even there, and that woman was just awful.”
“Aye, she’s a poor excuse for a laird’s wife, that Anabella. Dinna fash yerself over her. You dinna say anything they dinna deserve. It’s best you remember to deal with that one in a firm manner. You did just fine. Now slip into yer tub while it’s warm and then off to bed. Connor’s with his uncle as we speak and will hae it all straightened out by the morn. You just rest.”
Rosalyn embraced her at the door and left.
Cate undressed and sank into the tub, allowing her body to relax. How uncomfortable this small bath must be for all the tall people she’d seen in this family, but it worked well for her. The water was warm and the soap smelled of crisp, clean lavender. Her biggest challenge for the next few minutes would be to stay awake until she finished.
The encounter downstairs played through her mind and she flushed with embarrassment at the audacity of her actions. Nobody she knew would believe it of her.
Then she thought of Connor. He’d looked like an ancient warrior standing there, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. Well, of course that’s what he was, after all, so he should look the part.
She smiled, still thinking about him as she dunked her hair and scrubbed, feeling much better when she’d finished.
After climbing out of the water and wrapping herself in the drying sheet, she rinsed out her clothing and hung it on chairs in front of the cheerful little fire. The nightgown was much too long, but after standing on the cold stone floor, she felt good tucking her feet into the length of it when she slipped into bed.
Just before fading into an exhausted sleep, her thoughts were filled with images of Connor, fierce and strong, standing in the hall, mingling with her feelings of safety and comfort as he’d held her in his arms. The same feeling she’d had last night as he held her in the forest. Threading through it all was the memory of his kiss, the feel of him lightly touching her lips with his own. It was a heady mixture.
CHAPTER 6
Visions of extraordinary blue eyes once again filled her dreams, but on this particular night she also enjoyed visions of equally extraordinary strong arms.
Upon waking, Cate stretched, only to find her feet blocked by a heavy, solid object.
“Beast, how did you get in here?” she asked the huge dog, sitting up to fondly scratch his head.
“I let him in. Dinna you hear him whimpering through the night outside yer door? It’s fair odd, though. He’s never come in the castle when Connor stayed here before.”
Cate jumped, swiveling her head around to discover a young woman sitting in one of the chairs by the fire. She looked like a younger version of Rosalyn, her pale blonde hair hanging in a long, thick braid pulled over her shoulder.
The young woman rose and moved to the bed, shoving Beast aside so she could perch herself in his place, all the while eyeing Cate speculatively.
“I’m Mairi.” She lifted her feet, which were bare, to tuck them under her where she sat. “And yer the one to be my new sister?”
So this was Connor’s sister. Yes, she had his blue eyes.
“Hello, Mairi. I’m Cate.” Unsure about proper medieval protocol for meeting future in-laws while you were still in bed, Cate leaned forward and extended her hand.
“I’m no going to kiss yer hand,” Mairi said derisively. “They warned me you act like royalty.”
Cate’s hand dropped to her lap. Apparently teenagers were pretty much the same in every century.
“I didn’t plan on your kissing it.” At Mairi’s look of doubt, she continued. “Where I come from, we shake hands with one another as a civilized form of pleasant greeting. I’m sorry, but I don’t know what you do here.”
Mairi’s eyes lit up. “So it’s true. You do come from the Outremer. What else do you do there? What’s it like to live in the Holy Land? Oh, I’d so love to see anywhere so verra different, to travel and hae some adventures as you must hae had. You must tell me all about yerself.” She drew up her knees, her arms hugging tightly around them, eagerly poised for Cate’s answer.
Other than the clothing, this suddenly had the feel of a slumber party. All that was missing was an adult to quiet them down.
As if on cue, a quick knock sounded and the door opened, revealing Rosalyn, once again carrying an armful of cloth.
“Mairi. What are you doing in here, lass?” She scolded, but with a smile in her eyes.
Mairi sat up straight. “I wanted to see her for myself. I never thought to have a sister. Connor said he’d no marry, ever.” She paused, casting a sly glance at her aunt. “I wanted to see for myself what the ‘foreign hussy princess’ was like.” Her eyes twinkled.
“Och, Mairi. I dinna think Anabella would hae spoken to you already about this.” Rosalyn shook her head in disgust.
“No, Auntie, it was Florie who told me.” She turned to Cate. “Florie’s a maidservant, but she tells me everything. I like her verra much.” Then turning back to her aunt, “She says Anabella was in a fair fit last eve’n.” A broad smile covered her face. “That alone is enough to hae many here look kindly upon you, Cate. Dinna let that hateful woman get the better of you.” She turned back to her aunt. “Florie says Artair was even worse, screaming that he’d no hae his plans set aside for the foreign hussy.”
Rosalyn shook her head. “No, I dinna suppose he’ll give up easily.”
Mairi snorted and leaned back on her elbows. “It isna like it matters, Aunt. He’s no match for the power of the Fae, now is he? And he, of all people, should ken that well. He is, after all, yer own brother.”
“He seemed awfully angry last night,” Cate ventured.
“Aye,” Rosalyn acknowledged. “But he’ll come round to his senses. In the meantime, we’ll just make the best of it, but keep our eyes and ears open.”
“That’s exactly why I’m here. To tell you all I’ve heard.” Mairi smiled sheepishly. “Well, that and to see my new sister for myself.”
“It’s just as weel yer here, child. We’ve much to do today. We’ll have Cate try on the shifts and then you can take them down to Beitris for the girls to alter.” Rosalyn turned to stare critically at Cate, who had climbed out of bed. “I’m sure they’ll all be much too long.”
“Aye.” Mairi nodded in agreement. “She’s a wee thing, no mistake.”
Cate sighed. Just her luck; of all the places to be whisked off to, she had ended up in the land of fearless Amazon women. These ladies were almost as tall as Connor. A mental picture of him standing in the hall, looking dangerous, defying his uncle last night crept into her thoughts unbidden. First her dreams, now this. Everything seemed to make her think of him. The familiar warmth spread up her face.
“Oh no, Cate, dinna feel badly. It’s no trouble to alter these things.”
She was grateful that Mairi had misunderstood the source of the blush.
The three of them began to sort through the garments, creating a pile to be altered. They finally found one dress and shift that, with a belt and some fancy tucking, Cate could wear today. She insisted on wearing her own underwear since they didn’t seem to have anything comparable to it in this time.
Mairi left with an armful of things for the seamstress while Rosalyn began to braid Cate’s hair.
“You know, I enjoy playing dress-up as much as the next woman, but isn’t it a waste of time to have all that clothing altered? I mean, I’m
really only here for a day or two.”
Rosalyn’s hands stilled, and suspicion began to form in the pit of Cate’s stomach when there was no reply.
“Isn’t that right? Rosalyn?” She turned, but the older woman nervously avoided meeting her eyes. “Oh Lord. Now what?”
“Weel, lass, just a small thing we’d no counted on. The banns must be read. And the surrounding crofters invited.”
When Cate started to speak, Rosalyn stopped her by grasping her head and turning it back around to finish her hair. “We’ll go down and meet with Connor in a bit. He can explain it all to you then. He’s worked out all the details and already set things in motion.”
“How long?” No sense in dragging this out. She wanted to know.
“No so long. Just enough time for the banns to be read, you see. Artair is insisting on following the old tradition, and like it or no, he is the laird. Following that, there’s the invite to the villagers and crofters, and then you have the wedding.” She was making it sound deceptively easy and pleasant.
“So what are we talking here? Three, four days?”
That might not be so bad. Considering what passed for meals here, what she could really use was a quick trip to Taco Bell, but a couple of extra days would be bearable. It just might help with that little ten-pound problem she’d been fighting.
Still, Mairi must have carried away eight or nine garments and as many sets of sleeve covers to be altered. Suspicion surged back again when Rosalyn didn’t answer.
“Rosalyn?”
“Oh, verra weel.” She sounded annoyed as she tied off the end of Cate’s braid with the same little strip of cloth Cate had used earlier. “The banns must be posted at the church door every Sunday for three weeks.”
“Three weeks,” Cate yelped as she turned. “I can’t stay here for three weeks.”
“Weel, you canna go back until you’ve married. You put the condition on it yerself at the Clootie Well, when you spoke to the Fae, dinna you remember? You asked to be sent back safely after you’d finished yer task. The magic will no work until that time.”
“Oh, no.” Not three weeks in this place. “No, no, no.” She stood and paced. There had to be some way out of this. This wasn’t at all what she’d agreed to.
“Where’s Connor?”
* * *
Connor was unprepared for the small bundle of fury that burst through the door into the solar, where he waited. She might look the part of a proper lady, dressed as she was in a blue gown, with bits of a white shift peeking out at arm and neck. But the resemblance stopped the instant she opened her mouth.
“Three weeks?” Cate hissed at him as she entered the room. “What happened to ‘Come home with me and I’ll bring you right back,’ ” Cate fumed, pacing back and forth, coming to stand in front of him, one hand on her hip, the pointer finger of her other hand poking his chest. “You lied to me,” she accused, eyes blazing.
“Leave us. And shut the door.” The command was low and menacing. No one spoke to him in that manner.
Duncan edged from the room immediately, but Rosalyn remained in the doorway.
“It’s no proper for the two of you to be alone in here,” she began reasonably, but she didn’t get to finish.
“Out,” Connor bellowed, and Rosalyn slammed the door behind her.
He looked down at Cate. She glared up at him.
“I dinna lie. Ever.”
“Right. All men are so honest.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm. “Then what was all that ‘I’ll bring you right back, no one will even know you’re gone’ crap? I’m not staying here for three weeks, Connor, I won’t do it.” She’d poked his chest again to emphasize her last words.
He captured her hand, flattening it against his chest. It trembled there next to his pounding heart. For some reason, it was vastly important to him that she should believe what he told her.
“I’m no all men. I’m just me, and I dinna lie. I told you when it was done, I’d see you returned home, and so I shall. It’s no done until we marry. We canna marry until the banns are posted on the church door three Sundays in a row.” He shrugged. “Artair insists on following the old custom.”
“Old custom? Okay, well then, what about handfasting? I read that you guys always did that. That’s an old custom here. Couldn’t we just handfast, tell them it’s done and you get your sister? Why can’t we just do that now and be finished with it?”
Well read or not, the woman had a good deal to learn about the old customs. He’d start her education now.
“Och, aye, handfasting is an old custom, lass. But after a year, we’re either of us free of it if we choose. The king isna going to release me for such as that.” He shook his head. “Unless you want to stay with me for the year? If we renew for the second year, he mayhaps consider then.”
Her look of panic didn’t appear feigned.
“I dinna think you would like that so much.” He used his free hand to lift her chin, allowing him to look her squarely in the eyes. “Four weeks. Three Sundays for the banns, and then the wedding. I must insist on this from you, but I’ll ask no more. It will be done by then and I’ll see you home. It’s only four weeks, Cate, and it means the safety of my family and Mairi’s future. I canna see her given to a man she disna love.” That alone would mean the end of his family.
The fight drained out of her; she bowed her head. She didn’t try to pull her hand free, and he didn’t release it. When she raised her head to meet his gaze, he saw the unshed tears pooled in her eyes.
“Yer no going to bubble on me, are you, lass?” Tears were foreign to him, one of the female tricks he would not bow to. He took her chin in his free hand again and stared at her intently. She must understand what was at stake here.
She took a deep breath, and the Cate he was coming to know returned.
“Okay. Four weeks. I can do this for four weeks. But that’s it. Absolutely, positively no more than four weeks.”
“It’s a bargain then. Four weeks. The first of the banns will be posted on the morrow. We’ll attend the service together to make sure.”
Suddenly aware that he still held her trembling hand, he released her, walking to the other side of the room that seemed even smaller now, putting distance between them.
Cate cupped the hand he had released, rubbing it with her thumb.
“Did I hurt you, lass?” He thought he’d held her gently.
“What?” She seemed distracted. “No, I’m fine. I just . . . I’m fine.” She seemed to notice then what she was doing with her hands and quickly put them behind her.
Ah, there was that lovely pink color spreading up her neck and across her cheeks again. He had to admit, he rather enjoyed seeing her do that.
He cleared his throat, waiting for her to look up again. “There will be a gathering tonight, in celebration of our betrothal.”
“Celebration? I certainly wouldn’t expect any of your family to be celebrating your betrothal to a filthy little heathen like me.”
“They were no too welcoming last night, were they?” Connor shook his head. “But once the women left, we arrived at a compromise, though my uncle is none too pleased with the idea of my wedding.” It was why the man insisted on following the old customs, to buy time. Of course, it would do him no good. The wedding would take place and Connor would be released from the king’s service, freeing him to watch over Mairi.
“The celebration is part of that compromise.” As Artair insisted on following the old customs, Connor insisted they all be followed. The man wanted to buy time? He could pay for it with the goods from his larder, feeding the people who came.
“Well, in any event, I’m sorry for being rude to them. I was tired, and they were . . . not what I expected.”
“It’s a small matter. You hae no call to apologize. Yer words made all of us stop and think.” He walked back over to where she stood and extended his elbow. “For now, may I escort you around the holdings, so you can see where everything is? It’s wh
at I’d planned before our wee discussion.”
“I’d like that.” She took the arm he presented and in return offered a shy smile.
His lower stomach clenched at that look. There was something so innocent about this woman that it completely disarmed him. It was only with effort he reminded himself that all women used their wiles to force men to their will.
And that Connor MacKiernan would never be tricked by a woman’s wiles again.
CHAPTER 7
You must calm yerself, Father.” Blane reached out toward the older man, letting his hand drop under his father’s glare.
Artair stared at his older son. Could he not understand the fine line they walked? “Calm myself?” he hissed. “I canna afford to be calm. I must find a way to stop him from wedding that foreign harlot.” Have to think. Have to think. His brain raced, the pain building once again in the center of his forehead. Not now. Not now.
“It willna matter. We’ll come up with another way, Father. I’ve never been fond of the idea of giving Mairi to the MacPherson.”
“No,” Artair yelled. “The deal has been struck. I canna change that now.” Blane, the son who would one day be laird in his footsteps, should be held responsible for this, too. Why must he always be the one to handle all this pressure? “You, yer the one who stands to lose everything when Connor challenges me for the lairdship.”
Blane glared at him with accusing eyes—always with the accusing eyes.
“Connor has told you many a time he’s no interested in taking the clan from you, Father.”
“Ha! So he says. You canna believe yer enemy, son. Never believe yer enemy.” And Connor was the enemy, he didn’t doubt that for a moment. “First he plans to ruin me with the MacPherson by keeping Mairi from him, then, when I have no allies, he’ll mount a war to take everything.” Everything. I’ll lose everything. After all he’d done for his ungrateful nephew. Now his son. Blane should help him, should deal with his cousin. “You, you should do something.”
Thirty Nights With a Highland Husband Page 6