At least now he had an explanation for her quietness at the midday meal, and perhaps also for her intensity on the practice field.
She bent down to pick up the knife, slipping it in her hand for a moment before handing it to him. “Would you do something for me?”
Anything. But that was not a promise he could make. “If it is in my power.”
“I don’t want to presume …” She caught her lip between her teeth and peered up at him uneasily. “Am I right in thinking that you know the king fairly well?”
He schooled his features to impassivity, the question startling him. She’d never asked him about his role in the king’s army, so he’d never had to lie to her. He didn’t relish the idea of having to do so now. Bruce and his followers were a topic that she normally avoided. He sensed she still had no love of the king and blamed him for what had befallen her village. “Why?”
“Do you think you might ask him to make some enquiries? I know you’ve tried to find out his name, but maybe the king would have better contacts …”
“I’ve done everything that can be done.”
“I don’t understand why the soldier’s name should be so hard to discover. Surely there can’t have been that many captains with the Earl of Hereford in Scotland at the time?”
He didn’t want to talk about this, damn it. “I thought you agreed to let me handle it.”
“I did. It’s just that it’s been so long, and I know you’ve been busy.” She stepped forward, putting the hand that wasn’t holding the knife on his arm. “I don’t want to keep looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life. He has to pay.”
Gregor agreed, but he wouldn’t risk her going after him herself. Just the idea of it made his blood run cold. She was too stubborn for her own good. “So what do you plan to do when you find out, Cate, kill him?”
Her eyes narrowed at the hint of scorn in his tone. “Why shouldn’t I? He deserves it.”
“You think it’s just that easy to take a life? You think you can kill him and escape unscathed? You think it won’t change you?”
He realized he was shouting only when she released his arm and stepped back. She was staring at him with far more understanding than he would have liked.
Feeling as if he’d just revealed more than he intended, he forced his temper to cool. Taking the dagger from her, he slipped it into the belt at his waist. “I don’t want that for you, Cate.”
“But what about you?”
It was too late for him. “It’s what I was trained to do.”
“To kill?”
He didn’t answer. “You have been trained to defend yourself. There is a big difference between the two. You are not trying to win—”
“I am trying to get away, I know.” She finished with a roll of her eyes. “You sound just like John.”
Relieved at the excuse to end the subject, he smiled. “Good. Let’s see what else my brother has taught you. Shall we see how well you do if I am the one wielding the knife?”
She nodded. “But if you are going to go too easy on me, I’m going to go find John.”
The hell she would. The lazy smile that curved his mouth revealed nothing of the vehemence of his thoughts. “Careful what you ask for, Caty—you just might get it.”
Gregor wasn’t his brother. John was good, but Gregor was something else entirely. He seemed to have no weaknesses, his skills as sharp and deadly as the blade he kept getting past her defenses. If this were real, Cate would be dead ten times over by now.
She’d given the outside of his wrist a quick double slap, the way John had taught her, but the dagger didn’t come flying out. She’d attempt to block the arm coming toward her and change the direction of the wrist, by putting pressure on it and twisting to release the knife, but she wasn’t fast enough to get her hands into position before he stopped her.
He left Cate no openings and seemed to anticipate what she was going to do before she did it.
And then there was his strength. She would have had more luck trying to bend steel than break his hold on her. His arms were …
A ripple of awareness shuddered through her. Rock solid, bulging with raw masculine strength, and unbelievably warm. They felt so good wrapped around her, they made her knees weak. Which didn’t exactly help her ability to concentrate any.
After another embarrassing failure, which landed her in the dirt on her back, she had to drag herself back to her feet.
He definitely wasn’t taking it easy on her, but neither did she sense he was trying very hard. It was infuriating to realize that he was probably using only half—maybe three-quarters—of his strength and skill to defeat her soundly. She felt like a pesky midge being slapped away.
Although Robert the Bruce had waged a whole war on being “pesky,” after what happened this morning with the rider, it was humbling. She was supposed to be a warrior, yet all it took was a man who looked like the soldier who’d raped and killed her mother to turn her limbs to ice.
“Again,” he said.
She muttered a furious “why bother” under her breath. He would just put her on her backside again, which was bruised and sore already.
Apparently, he didn’t just have super strength; he had super hearing as well. “Are you giving up, Caty?”
Cate had never glowered before, but there was a first time for everything. Her mouth pursed tightly, and if she could have killed him with a look, she would have.
The slightly smug smile was the worst. He knew how frustrated she was. God, what she wouldn’t do to wipe that smile off his face. “I will never give up.”
He chuckled. “I didn’t think so.” Shaking his head, his gaze suddenly grew more pensive. “You remind me of someone when you do that, but I can’t think who it is.”
She was so shocked, her mouth fell open before she recovered. “A jealous husband, perhaps, who’d like to see you gelded?”
He shuddered dramatically. “God’s bones, Cate. Let’s not use the word ‘gelded’ when there is a dagger within reach.”
“That’s assuming I could ever get it out of your hand.”
“You don’t have to sound so disappointed.”
She dropped her gaze to the area in question. She thought she might have heard him swear. When she glanced back up at him, she was smiling. “Oh, I wouldn’t geld you.”
“Well, that’s a relief.” There might have been a touch of lingering huskiness in his voice.
She dimpled, her smile turning sugary sweet. “Not without cause, at least.”
To her surprise, he laughed, swiping a strand of hair from her lashes. She didn’t think he even realized what he’d done. But she did. The unconscious gesture was both tender and intimate, and worth every minute of being tossed on her backside all afternoon.
“You’re a fierce little thing, aren’t you?”
“Thank you,” she said primly. “I think that is the nicest compliment you’ve ever given me.”
He frowned, as if he couldn’t quite figure out whether she was serious. Deciding she must be, he shook his head. “You are an unusual woman, Caitrina Kirkpatrick.”
Hating the sound of the false name she’d given him, she wanted to correct him. Instead she smiled. “And that was the second nicest. Perhaps we should resume before I’m overcome by too much flattery?”
He gave her bottom a playful slap. “Saucy brat, get over there. This time try not to project your intentions so much. Look at my arms, not at my face.” As if that were easy. But he was right. The moment their eyes met, she lost some of her concentration. “You are quick and agile, but you also have to make every movement count—you aren’t going to get many of them against a skilled opponent. And with a weapon coming at you there isn’t much room for error. You won’t beat me skill to skill or strength to strength—no matter how badly you want to.” She flushed, realizing that was exactly what she’d been trying to do. She’d wanted to impress him by besting him, and in doing so, she’d forgotten what John had taught her. Her goal w
asn’t to win; it was to get away. She’d let her pride interfere. “What else can you do?” he challenged her.
She thought about it as they squared off again. She could trick him or distract him somehow. But how? By preying on his weaknesses. Not that she could think of any. Suddenly, she smiled. She had an idea. Maybe he did have a weakness.
The next time he came at her, she kept her eyes low, avoiding his gaze and concentrating on his shoulders. It was a good thing, too, since he decided to switch hands, the blighter—the knife was in his left, not in his right.
But she was ready. When he stabbed with the knife, instead of trying to block, she jumped back out of the way and cried out as if he’d skimmed her.
“Oh God, Cate!” Instantly, forgetting the battle, he lunged toward her.
She locked her hand on the wrist still holding the knife and immediately controlled his hand with her other, twisting it and locking his wrist. He grunted in pain, having no choice but to move toward the ground with the torquing pressure. The knife clattered to the ground. Knowing she wouldn’t be able to get him fully on the ground like this, she immediately followed up with a solid kick in the place where John had told her a man was especially vulnerable. As soon as he groaned and collapsed forward, she let his arm go, grabbed the knife, and stood over him.
She’d done it!
He was sure making a lot of noise, though, rolling on the ground and moaning. She took a few tentative steps closer. “Gregor, are you all …?”
Right. She didn’t get to finish her question.
As soon as she was in reach, he swung one of his legs around her ankles, taking her legs out from behind. An instant later, she was on the ground with him on top of her, her hands were pinned atop her head, and the knife was lying harmlessly beside them.
“That was a dirty trick, Caty.” He smiled. “I like it. But you forgot one thing. Once I’m down, you are supposed to run away.”
She glared at him. “I was worried. I thought I’d hurt you.”
He lifted a brow. “Is that so? I think I know the feeling.” She bit her lip, realizing he’d used her distraction against her. “And if it’s any consolation, it hurt like hell. That was the most solid shot someone has landed on me in a long time.”
She burst out into a wide smile. “Really?”
“You needn’t look so pleased about it.”
But she was. She wriggled a little to try to free herself, but it felt like she was pinned down by a ton of rocks.
His eyes darkened. “Now what are you going to do? I’ll not be so easily distracted this time.”
She struggled against him, using all the tricks that John had taught her. But she couldn’t knee him, couldn’t use her head to strike his, couldn’t lift her hips—she couldn’t move her limbs or body enough to do anything.
He was solid and heavy on top of her, crushing. At least he should be crushing her, but he wasn’t. Somewhere in the midst of her struggles a different kind of awareness had taken hold.
He must be feeling it, too, because when their eyes met, the heat in his gaze made her feel as though she’d just stepped too close to an inferno.
Her breath caught.
His eyes dropped to her parted lips. She could feel the tension radiating through him. He wanted to kiss her, but something was holding him back.
Twelve
Gregor had been wrong. She could distract him again—easily. All she had to do was gasp and part those soft, red lips of hers, and all he could think about was kissing her. Of course, there was also the fact that she was under him, and it wasn’t very hard to imagine what it would be like to be inside her.
It would be incredible. He didn’t need an imagination to know that—he could feel it. Desire swelled hard and heavy inside him, threatening to drag him under. He wanted to kiss her so intensely, he could practically taste her on his lips.
She wanted it, too. He could see it in her eyes. Eyes that held his with anticipation, arousal, too much damned trust, and an emotion that he was beginning to think might actually be real.
Fuck.
He pulled back and rolled off her, not realizing he’d uttered the curse aloud until her eyes widened.
“I can’t do this,” he said, getting to his feet.
He turned to help her, but she had already done the same. She stood there staring at him, confusion and hurt replacing the anticipation and arousal—though unfortunately the trust and that other emotion were still there.
“Why not?”
There was nothing accusatory in her tone, but he felt it all the same. Or maybe it was his guilt at work. His mouth hardened. “It isn’t right.”
“Because you still think of yourself as my guardian? I told you, I’m a twenty-year-old woman; I’m capable of making my own decisions. You aren’t taking advantage of me.”
“That’s not it, damn it,” he snapped. Or not all of it.
“Then what is it?”
He dreaded telling her and wished it hadn’t happened like this, but she needed to know what he planned for her. He couldn’t avoid the discussion any longer. He told himself to stop being such a damned coward. As her guardian, or stand-in father, or whatever the hell he was, it was well within his duty to do what he’d done. “I’ve made arrangements.”
She eyed him hesitantly. “What kind of arrangements?”
“For your future.” She stiffened, but he continued. “I’ve been remiss in my duty. Had I been aware of your true age, I would have begun discussions years ago. But perhaps it is better that I waited, as the perfect suitor has come forward.”
“The perfect what?”
Her shock and outrage were not limited to her tone—nay, they shook from every part of her body, from the combative stance, to the fists tightly balled at her sides, to the dark fury blaring at him from her eyes.
“The reeve’s son, Farquhar, has asked for your hand in marriage; I have given him my permission.”
She took a step back, her face white. The look of stark betrayal made him wish for a return of the shock and outrage.
She continued to stare at him for a long time. It wasn’t easy, but he restrained himself from turning away or shuffling his feet. Why that minor feat felt like a major victory, he didn’t know.
“You have it all arranged, then?”
The dull stoniness of her tone turned that urge to shuffle into an urge to squirm. Damn it, he knew she wasn’t going to like it. But he hadn’t anticipated being made to feel like an ogre—and a traitorous one, to boot.
He raked his hair with his fingers. Christ, this was exactly what he’d hoped to avoid. He was doing this for her own good. She might not see it now, but she would.
“I told Farquhar that if you agreed, he could announce the betrothal after the Hogmanay feast.”
He filled her in on the position awaiting Farquhar at Ballock Castle, and his future prospects as steward. She listened expressionlessly, as his enthusiastic presentation of the lad took on the characteristics of a farmer presenting his prized bull at market.
“If I agree?” she repeated. “Do you mean I am to have some say in the matter? How very considerate of you.”
She didn’t bother to hide her sarcasm; it dripped coldly from her voice like droplets of ice. “Of course, you have a say, damn it. I want you to be happy.”
Those big brown eyes turned on him as if he were crazed—which was exactly what she made him. “Yet you arranged all this without letting me know what you intended. I assume that is what all the messengers have been for?”
He acknowledged it with a nod. “There will be other men at the feast. If there is someone else you would rather wed …?”
“There is no one,” she said flatly. “As I told you, I have no wish to marry anyone else, but apparently my wishes—my feelings—mean nothing to you. Have you been planning this since you returned?” He must have done a piss-poor job of masking his guilt because she said, “Of course you have. How eager you must have been to finally have the chance to
be rid of me.”
He muttered a curse. “Damn it, Cate. It isn’t like that.”
“Isn’t it? You took me in, but you never wanted the responsibility. I knew that, but I thought … I thought …” Her voice caught. “I thought this was my home, but you were just waiting for me to be old enough to marry off.”
The way she was looking at him made his chest burn, but he couldn’t turn away. He almost reached for her. Almost. But he feared what would happen if he touched her again. How easily comfort could lead to something else.
“It is your home,” he said gently. He just couldn’t give her the family she wanted to replace her lost one. “But now that my mother is gone, with you and John alone … it wouldn’t be right for you to stay here.”
For one moment he thought she might slap him. “How dare you insinuate … I told you, John is like a brother to me.”
“But he is not your brother, and others will start to realize that as well.” Especially if John kept looking at her like he might kiss her all the time. “You had to know that you couldn’t stay here forever. Don’t you want to marry and have a family?”
“Don’t you?”
It was his turn to stiffen. “This isn’t about me.”
“Why not? I’ll marry when you do.”
“It doesn’t work like that, Cate, and you know it. I have the luxury of waiting; you do not.”
“Then you will force me?” Her eyes were too bright and shiny. God, please don’t cry. If she cried, he didn’t know what he’d do. “Do you wish to be rid of me so badly? My feelings mean so little to you?”
“Of course not.”
“If you planned to marry me off, why did you kiss me?”
Because he was a damned fool. “You looked so upset.” He shrugged helplessly, unable to explain himself. “I told you, it didn’t mean anything.”
He felt sorry for me. That is why he kissed me.
Cate wanted to collapse in a wounded heap and bawl her eyes out like a baby. But her pride wouldn’t let her.
She didn’t know what was worse: discovering that the man she’d given her heart to had been trying to find a way to be rid of her since he’d arrived, or that he’d kissed her because he felt sorry for her. Both were worse. Both felt like a betrayal.
The Arrow Page 17