“And you believe that? My son is twice her size. Not to mention the fact that she is a woman.”
If the bruises Gregor had seen on Dougal’s face when they arrived were any indication, MacNab believed it as well. But the clan’s pride had been damaged enough by a lass getting the better of Dougal in a fight, and MacNab was obviously trying to put his son in the best light by rearranging the facts.
“The lass is more than capable of defending herself against a lad Dougal’s size,” John said. “I taught her myself.”
MacNab turned on Gregor with fury. “And you permit this aberrant behavior? What kind of unnatural lass practices at warfare?”
Gregor’s eyes narrowed in warning. He understood MacNab’s anger, and the blow to his pride, but he would not hear Cate maligned. “I not only permit it, it was at my suggestion. I find nothing unnatural about a lass learning to defend herself against cowardly men who think it acceptable to hurt women.”
MacNab turned scarlet at the jab, which he knew was aimed at him as well. His wife’s bruises were well known.
If it weren’t for the meeting being held under truce, Gregor suspected MacNab would have drawn his sword—despite Gregor’s superior skill. “So you plan to do nothing?”
Gregor’s jaw hardened. As much as he disliked MacNab and would prefer to tell him to go to the devil, he didn’t want to leave John to have to contend with a renewed feud. Still, diplomacy didn’t come easily to a man who’d done nothing but fight for seven years, and the words tasted sour in his mouth. “I will speak with her.”
“You need to put a harness on her. The lass has been running wild for years. She needs a strong hand—”
“The lass is not your concern,” Gregor snapped.
MacNab made her sound like a horse that needed to be broken. Caitrina wasn’t wild, she was spirited and … unique. She was unrestrained. Self-confident. Honest. She never held back, having that same no-holds-barred approach to life that he and every other great warrior he knew had. She was strong and unpretentious, with an easy grace and natural appeal that was impossible to resist. If she was at times a little too brazen, it was done without artifice. He wouldn’t have her any other way, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to turn her into something else to please the likes of MacNab.
Attempting to smooth the waters, John added, “She is to be married soon anyway.”
“Married?” MacNab scoffed. “I hope you plan to include a scold’s bridle with her tocher. Or perhaps her husband will find something else to put in her mouth to prevent her from opening it.”
Gregor saw red at the crude remark. Diplomacy and the truce forgotten, he would have broken more than just a few of MacNab’s teeth if John hadn’t grabbed his arm to hold him back.
Perhaps realizing that he’d gone too far, MacNab let the matter rest. Still, it was with superhuman effort that Gregor managed to get a rein on his temper and not only refrain from killing MacNab, but also continue negotiations to successfully extend the truce.
By the time they returned to Dunlyon, he was tense, foul-tempered, and looking for a fight. In other words, he was more than eager to hunt down his wee “ward” and have a little chat about her interfering in his private life.
He should have guessed she was the one responsible for Màiri missing their assignation and the two other interruptions. Unfortunately, it seemed that for once the lass was avoiding him. She’d retired early for the evening—the coward—and even in his present mood, he wasn’t fool enough to knock on her bedchamber door.
Nay, he had a better plan. He would wait for her in the stables early the next morning and intercept her before she went on her morning ride.
He was barely through the open door to the stables the next morning, however, before he was the one intercepted.
“There you are!”
Gregor stifled a groan. The last thing he wanted to deal with right now was another young lass who thought she “loved” him. Seonaid MacIan was undoubtedly a beauty, but she was a perfect example of everything he tried to avoid. She’d left him no doubt of what she wanted from him, and what she would be willing to give up to get it—as if her maidenhead were some kind of prize to be bartered. He wasn’t interested. Not on those terms. Hell, not on any terms. But he was never cruel unless he had to be, and she was Cate’s friend.
“I thought I’d missed you,” Seonaid added. “I went to the Hall, but they said you’d just left.”
From her pink cheeks, he guessed she’d come running after him.
The lazy smile slipped onto his face without thought. “I thought I’d go for a ride.”
She peered out at him from under her lashes, a coy smile curving her pretty mouth. “I imagine you are a very good rider.” The way she emphasized “rider” left no doubt about the kind of riding to which she was referring. “I’m afraid I do not have much experience. But I’d be willing if you’d like to teach me—most willing.”
Good God, this had to be one of the most ridiculous conversations he’d ever had. Still, he returned her naughty smile. “I shall remember that. But I’m afraid I shall be riding alone today.”
She pouted prettily and moved close enough to him for the tips of her breasts to brush against the leather of his cotun. They were very ample breasts and the cut of her gown gave him a nice view of the deep crevice between them, but the display (surprisingly, given his deprived state) failed to stir him.
“Did you need something?” he asked, cognizant of the time and wanting to rid himself of his unexpected “company.”
“I brought you some sugared buns. You mentioned you liked them yesterday. I left them with your maidservant.”
“Thank you,” he said. “That is very thoughtful of you. I’ll have one when I return.”
He started into the barn, hoping she would take the hint. She didn’t. Instead, he felt her hand on his arm.
Her coy, innocent expression had turned hard and impatient. “I thought you might perhaps thank me another way.”
He pretended not to understand, quirking a brow. “What did you have in mind?”
“This.” She tilted her face to look up at him, offering him her perfectly parted lips.
The lass was unflatteringly brazen, but her not-so-subtle invitation gave him an idea. Cate would be here any minute. Kissing Seonaid would be as good a way as any to put a decisive end to Cate’s infatuation with him.
He told himself it had to be done. Cate was like every other young girl who’d taken one look at him and fancied herself in love. She thought she knew him. But she didn’t know him at all. He wasn’t the man for her—hell, he wasn’t the man for anyone. The sooner she realized that, the better. It would save her more heartbreak later.
With something burning in his chest that felt surprisingly like regret, he lowered his mouth.
Half-expecting Gregor to be lying in wait, ready to pounce on her the moment she left the safety of her chamber, Cate didn’t leave her room until she heard the door open and close across the corridor, and the familiar heavy fall of footsteps down the stairs.
Of course, she’d known there would be hell to pay for her interference; she’d just hoped to have more time before paying it. But her plans to have him realize how perfect they were together hadn’t progressed as quickly as she’d hoped, and she could not stand by and do nothing while he took more women to his bed.
God knew, there had been enough of them. Cate could not change the past, but she was no longer willing to make excuses for him: you aren’t old enough, she would tell herself, he doesn’t see you yet; just be a little more patient, and it will be you.
She was tired of being patient, and she wouldn’t let him do anything to break her heart before she’d had a chance to give it to him.
He would thank her for it.
Eventually.
She hoped.
But his expression yesterday at the kirk definitely hadn’t been thankful. It had been more an “I’m going to give you an ear-blistering lecture” kind of
look. Until he had a chance to calm down a bit, she thought a little evasion was prudent. There was a difference between cowardly and not stupid.
Perhaps she’d go on an extra-long ride this morning? After checking with Ete that Eddie and Maddy were taken care of, and swiping an apple and a piece of cheese from the kitchens since she’d missed the morning meal, Cate clambered down the wooden stairs of the tower house into the bailey below in search of Pip. Though he’d never sat on a horse before arriving at Dunlyon, the lad had taken to riding like a fish to swimming. As she thought she might ride out to Loch Tay to visit her friend Anna, Willy’s older sister, she wanted Pip to accompany her. It would give him a chance to build on their conversation of yesterday.
Assuming she would find him in the barn with the pup, she ducked inside and was about to call out when she came to a hard stop, feeling as if she’d just slammed into a stone wall.
Her breath caught, her heart lurched and hung weightlessly in the air, and the blood racing through her veins drained to the floor. The shock was so profound, it took a few blinks to process what she was seeing. And then she wanted to close her eyes and block out the image forever.
No. He can’t be kissing her. Please let it not be Seonaid. Anyone but Seonaid.
But there was no mistaking the perfectly coiled plaits of long blond hair beneath the veil, the fine dark blue velvet gown, and the generously curved backside. Seonaid was standing on her tiptoes, her arms twined around his neck, her body stretched out against his. His head was bent, silky golden-brown hair slumped to the side, as he deftly tipped Seonaid’s chin with his fingers to tilt her mouth to his.
The wide, sensuous mouth that Cate had imagined so many times pressed against hers was kissing another’s. No, not just another’s, Seonaid’s.
She’d seem him kiss other women before, but this time it was different. This time the hurt was bigger and more powerful. The white-hot knife of pain stabbed through her heart and stayed there burning, twisting, digging deeper as the kiss went on.
Stop. Please, stop.
She swayed, her legs suddenly weak. They want to crumple to the floor like she did.
God, it hurt. How could he do this? This wasn’t supposed to happen. This wasn’t what she’d planned.
It’s supposed to be me.
Seonaid’s taunts came back to her. Was this what he wanted, then? Someone like Seonaid?
This is the kind of man he is.
No. It couldn’t be. But then why was he doing this?
Cate felt the tears threatening to storm, hot and tight in her throat. She wanted to turn and run before he saw her, but her feet had turned to lead.
Then it was too late. A fierce barrage of yapping rang out as the pup came tearing across the barn toward the embracing couple. The tiny terrier obviously didn’t like what he saw either, because he started to growl ferociously (as ferociously as a five-pound pup could) and nip at Gregor’s heels.
Gregor had to push Seonaid back to break the kiss. That he seemed to do so with obvious relief didn’t make Cate feel any better.
“What the hell?” He tried to move his feet around to untangle the pup, but the pup had no intention of letting go.
Seonaid, who at first seemed furious to have been disturbed, started to wail as if terrified by the tiny ball of fur who was barely big enough to fill two hands. “What is it?” she cried. “Oh God, kill it!”
Pip appeared out of nowhere to pluck the dog from Gregor’s heels to the safety of his arms. “It’s only a dog,” he said scornfully to the whimpering woman.
Finally, Gregor turned in her direction. Their eyes locked, and the blow landed anew, reverberating through her chest in a heavy drum of hurt, pain, and disappointment.
But now there was also anger. She’d believed in him, defended him to this very woman, and he’d made her look like a naive fool. She’d thought there was more to him than the handsome heartbreaker. More to him than the untouchable rogue. She’d thought she understood him. That they had a special connection, and that one day he would see it.
But maybe one day would be too late. Maybe she didn’t understand him at all. Maybe the only connection they had was in her mind. Maybe he was just as untouchable as he seemed. And maybe, just maybe, all he would do if she let him was break her heart.
But she wasn’t going to let him. If Seonaid and her big breasts and beautiful face were what he wanted, he could have them.
“Aye,” she said, looking straight at him. “It’s just a dog.”
Gregor knew she meant him, and not the demonic scrap of fur that had done its best to sink its tiny teeth into his boots.
The barb was well aimed. He felt no better than a dog when he saw her face. She’d looked shattered, and he felt like a man who’d just taken a hammer to her fragile dreams.
Christ, this was what he’d been trying to prevent. He’d never wanted to hurt her. But one look at her face, and he knew just how badly he’d done that.
It was the disappointment, however, that cut him to the quick. He hadn’t realized how much her belief in him mattered until it was gone. From the first, Cate had looked at him like some kind of hero. God knows, he’d never wanted it, and had always known he would somehow tarnish that shining-armor image she had in her mind, but he hadn’t realized how much he’d come to depend on it, how much it would bother him when it was gone, and how much it would remind him of the other person he’d disappointed.
His father had been ashamed of Gregor’s “pretty face” from practically the day he’d been born, yet ironically it was all the man ever saw. “Christ, just look at him!” his father would say to Gregor’s mother. “The lad will never have to work hard for anything. See how people bend over to make him happy. He’ll be a wastrel and a popinjay for the rest of his life.”
His father’s portent had proved true. In Gregor’s youth, it seemed that whatever he tried to do, it always went wrong. By the time he’d turned fourteen or fifteen he’d given up trying and entered a period of full-fledged rebellion, where he took great pains to throw his irresponsibility in his father’s face. That had changed when he’d gone off to join the fighting at eighteen, but by then it was too late. No matter how hard Gregor worked to prove himself, his father had never seen him as anything other than weak and unreliable. And now Cate was looking at him the same way, and he hated it.
But it was her own fault, damn it! He’d never asked for her faith. Hell, he’d never wanted it. Why was she so surprised? So what if he kissed another lass? He could kiss whoever the hell he wanted!
Although next time it wouldn’t be this lass clutching his chest as if a swarm of rats were circling around her feet.
Nay, not rats, rat.
His gaze fell on the scraggly-looking pup tucked protectively against the chest of another scraggly-looking creature. Both were black-haired and scrawny, and both were looking at him as if he were filth under their feet. The lad was silent; the pup, however, was not, and its frantic, high-pitched yapping was too reminiscent of another terrier he’d rather not remember.
“Shut that thing up,” he snapped.
“Which one?” Pip replied, with an eye to Seonaid.
Gregor might have cracked a smile—Seonaid’s high-pitched wail was just as annoying as the pup’s—if he hadn’t heard Cate muffle a sharp laugh.
Shooting them both a quelling stare, while silently agreeing, he attempted to calm the lass whose arms had taken on the distinct feel of tentacles.
He never should have kissed her in the first place. It had felt wrong from the very beginning. If it wouldn’t reinforce everything Cate thought about him, he might admit that he didn’t even like Seonaid. In fact, he would have pulled back the moment their lips touched if he hadn’t heard the footsteps and sharp intake of breath that had identified Cate.
No matter how unpleasant, however, the kiss had served its purpose. Cate had been disenchanted. She was no longer looking at him with the heart-in-the-clouds adoration of a young girl. No, the way she wa
s looking at him was far too clear-eyed.
It was what he wanted, wasn’t it?
“Here,” Cate said, reaching for the tiny beast. “Let me take him. He’s probably just scared by all that caterwauling.”
Seonaid had calmed enough to narrow her eyes on Cate. “That thing, scared? It was the one who attacked us.”
The pup had quieted, and was nuzzling its small head into Cate’s hand like it couldn’t get enough of her touch as she petted it.
What would it feel like to have those hands on him? Gregor’s blood surged. Incredible. God, he knew without a doubt that it would feel bloody incredible.
Oblivious to Gregor’s unwanted and illicit thoughts about where he would like to have those nimble fingers stroking him, Cate looked back and forth between Seonaid and the pup. “You must have been terrified,” she dead-panned. “He is quite vicious.”
Seonaid’s gaze hardened, and there was something cruel in her eyes that made Gregor uneasy. Had he unwittingly struck deeper than he intended?
“Fortunately, I didn’t need to act like a man to protect myself.” Seonaid latched onto his arm again. “I had a real one by my side to do so.” She blushed, casting him a coy glance from under her lashes. “Well, not exactly at my side.” She laughed and turned to Cate. “As I’m sure you saw.”
The gloating in her voice left Gregor no doubt of just what a big mistake he’d made. If they’d been friends once, they weren’t any longer.
“I hope you are not too disappointed, Caitrina,” Seonaid added. Cate’s face went white. She seemed frozen in place, her fingers stiff in the dog’s fur. Seonaid batted her lashes at him, and he wondered how he’d ever thought her pretty. “You know she has a little tendre for you. But I told her a man like you would be more … discerning.” She laughed as if him desiring Cate were the most ludicrous thing in the world.
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