The Arrow

by Monica McCarty

  Isobel had stung his pride, but Cate had done much worse. She’d made him feel. She’d made him want. And if that was what “love” was about, he didn’t want anything to do with it. He’d been fine the way he was before, but he’d let himself get caught up in a young girl’s game.

  No longer. His eyes were open—wide open, damn it. And soon enough hers would be as well. She might have forced him into marriage, but she hadn’t “won” anything else. She could take him as he was or not at all—he no longer cared.

  He drained his cup and poured himself another. It was Hogmanay, damn it. He was getting married in a week. What did he care if the bride had made a bloody fool of him? It was time to celebrate. And he, for one, intended to have a good time.

  Cate returned to the Hall and did her best to pretend nothing was wrong. But her smiles were forced, her attention was distracted, and her heart was aching. She felt like someone had just taken a hammer to her happiness and shattered the illusion like glass.

  She hadn’t realized how fragile the bond she’d formed with Gregor was until Seonaid came along and snapped it with a few carelessly spoken words and half-truths.

  Without question, Cate was ashamed of the conversations with Seonaid. She never should have boasted about her relationship with Gregor or spoken about marrying him as if it were a contest and he a prize to be won—especially since she knew how much it bothered him to be thought of in those terms.

  In doing so, she’d made herself no better than the countless other women who’d sought him out because he was “the handsomest man in Scotland” or made a game of trying to bring him to heel. But she wasn’t like those other women. The ones who tried to seduce him, the ones who wanted to marry him not because they loved him but because of how he looked and his reputation. He had to see the difference—didn’t he?

  But talking about him like that was wrong, and she deeply regretted it. It wasn’t how she thought of him at all, and she hated that he’d overheard a conversation that might have given him a reason to question the sincerity and depth of her feelings.

  She wasn’t blind. Of course she loved the way he looked. But she saw far beyond that. She saw the man who could have a kingdom but was determined to prove himself on his own merit. She saw the man who no one—not even his own family—had believed in become someone to rely on. She saw a man who’d taken in a traumatized young girl and given her a home, a family, and a way to keep the nightmares at bay by encouraging her to learn a man’s skill. She saw the skill that made him one of the best warriors in Scotland, and the depth and compassion for those he killed that made him a great man.

  Maybe she deserved his condemnation and anger for her part in the conversation with Seonaid, but a few thoughtlessly spoken words were a long way from the deception and trickery of which he’d accused her. It bothered her how easily he’d been ready to accept her guilt. She would never attempt to trap a man—any man—into marriage. He should know that, no matter how bad her words sounded.

  Admittedly, they had sounded bad, and given what had happened with John and the others walking in on them, the situation had looked bad, too. But it stung that he hadn’t trusted her, and the cold, unfeeling look on his face had given her a moment’s pause. If he could turn on her so easily, maybe she didn’t know him as well as she thought she did?

  Heartbreaker. What they said about him came back to her. That wasn’t him, she told herself. He did have the capacity to feel. He cared about her—maybe even loved her. When he thought about it, he would realize the truth.

  But she was disappointed, hurt, and a little angry—certainly in no mood for merriment. Still, she forced a smile to her face as she danced with his uncle, and then with a steady stream of other guests. It will be all right, she told herself. Gregor would come to his senses. No doubt he would be ashamed for distrusting her and find a creative way of making it up to her later.

  But as the night drew on, her thoughts of sinful kisses and passionate apologies became harder and harder to believe. He didn’t look like a man who was sorry for anything.

  On returning to the Hall, Gregor had gone to the dais, spoken to John for a few moments, called for the uisge beatha, and proceeded to fill his tankard over and over with the strong-tasting brew that she’d seen him drink only rarely—and then in much smaller amounts.

  The heavy drinking wasn’t the worst of it, though. Those flirtatious glances and touches that had been reserved for her were now being distributed freely and indiscriminately.

  Gregor hadn’t looked at her once since returning to the Hall. But his friends had. The worried looks cast in her direction by the other Phantoms and John didn’t make it any easier to bear. When one of the serving maids somehow ended up on Gregor’s lap after bending over to refill his tankard—with her sizable breasts practically right under his nose—Cate had had enough. She wasn’t going to let him treat her as if she meant nothing to him—no matter what he thought she’d done.

  She stormed over to the corner of the Hall before the fire, where he was holding court like some drunken sultan, and glared at the two until the giggling servant saw her and had the good sense to slide off his lap and scamper away.

  The crowd of men who had been standing around him—maybe to protect her from seeing what she had?—slowly dissipated.

  Not wanting to make a scene, she spoke in a low voice through gritted teeth and a tight smile. “What do you think you are doing?”

  “What does it look like?” he replied with a narrowed gaze, and a dangerous glint in his eye that she’d never seen before. “Celebrating the new year.”

  “It looks like you’ve done enough celebrating,” she said with a pointed glance at his tankard.

  His smile was sly and calculating, and it sent a chill racing down her spine. “I haven’t even begun. The night is young.” He stood with more steadiness than she would have thought him capable after all the whisky, and threw back the rest of the contents in his cup for good measure, before slamming it on the table in front of him. “You aren’t my wife yet, Cate. You’d do best to remember that.”

  She sucked in her breath. Her heart seemed to have stopped beating. Was he saying he no longer wanted to marry her? “What is that supposed to mean?”

  He gave her a long look filled with a dark emotion she didn’t understand. “It means I know the truth. It means you may have ‘won’ your little game with your friend, but don’t try to get in my way.”

  There was no mistaking the warning. Clearly, he still didn’t believe her. “Gregor, don’t be like this. We need to talk.”

  His gaze hardened to black, unforgiving ice. “Aye, we do, and I shall have plenty to say. But right now is not the time. Do not push me, Cate.”

  She let him go, watching him walk away with a sense of helplessness. What did he mean, “I know the truth”? If he knew the truth, he wouldn’t be acting this way. But it was clear he was in no condition to think rationally. He’d said they would talk. Tomorrow … tomorrow things would be much more clear.

  Twenty

  Tomorrow came and went without anything being resolved. The cool light of day, and a whisky-cleared head, had not imparted to Gregor any sudden epiphanies or rationality about Cate’s motives for—or means of—securing a proposal from him.

  Nor did he give her the chance to explain. He skipped the morning meal and was locked away in his solar with Aonghus, Bryan, and Cormac—three of his household men—for most of the morning.

  As most of the guests were staying through to the wedding, he could not avoid the midday meal, although she suspected he would have if he could have found an excuse. He sat beside her at the high table on the dais, but there was so much distance between them, he might as well have been in England. He spoke to her only when necessary, and then with such blank politeness it cut her to the quick. The easy rapport and intimacy of the day before had vanished as if it had never existed.

  Anger Cate would have known how to fight. But this seeming acceptance of her guilt and
sentencing to a purgatory of the unknown—where she couldn’t appeal her conviction or know her punishment—was far harder to combat. If she’d thought him untouchable before, it was nothing to the air of remoteness and indifference that had gone up like an icy shield around him now.

  Still, she tried. She tried throughout the meal to talk to him, but he either brushed her off or included the people around them in the conversation to forestall the discussion of anything personal. As soon as the meal was concluded, he excused himself and joined the other Phantoms at their table. A few minutes later, they departed. To hunt, she would learn from John later.

  She was left to entertain their guests and pretend nothing was wrong. Pretend that she wasn’t deeply hurt by his behavior. Pretend that she didn’t see the pitying glances sent in her direction.

  Pretend that she wasn’t worried.

  What if he refused to believe her?

  By the end of the day, Cate had had enough. She’d hoped that she wouldn’t need to defend herself, but she couldn’t let it go on like this any longer. If Gregor wouldn’t talk to her, then he could very well listen.

  After saying good night to the children, she went back down to the second level, but not to her room. Instead, she took up a post at the window in the room where Gregor had slept before he’d removed himself to the barracks. Unlike her room, his overlooked the bailey and gate.

  As the chamber was temporarily empty, no one had lit the brazier, and the drafty room was about as cold and desolate as she was feeling. Though far from spacious and modern, the old tower house was a palace compared to the small cottage she’d grown up in, and she loved it. It was comfortable. It was home. Removing the fur-lined coverlet from the bed, she wrapped it around her shoulders, sat on the wooden bench, and waited, watching the gate for any sign of riders.

  Surely he would return soon? Though it was only seven or eight o’clock, it had been dark for some time.

  But an hour passed, and then another. The number of people moving about the bailey dwindled until only the warriors on the night watch remained.

  The castle grew silent. The candle she’d brought with her burned low. Her lids grew heavy.

  Reality set in. Gregor wasn’t coming back. At least not tonight. Maybe not …

  She wouldn’t let herself finish the thought. With a feeling akin to despair, she curled up on the same bed where they’d made love and tried not to let her mind wander in terrifying directions.

  He would come back, and she would talk to him when he did. It had only been a day. Nothing horrible could happen in a day. It would be all right.

  But it was a long time before she slept.

  Cate startled awake from what felt like a posset-induced slumber. Jangle. Clop. Clop. The sounds penetrated her hazy consciousness. She sat up. They were the sounds she’d waited hours to hear the night before … horses!

  A barrage of yapping followed as she hopped out of bed and raced to the window.

  Grasping the wooden frame with white-knuckled fingers, she peered out. Her heart fell with disappointment. It wasn’t riders coming in; it was men leaving. She recognized Bryan as he rode through the gate.

  Good gracious, what was the matter with Pip’s pup? It was tearing back and forth in front of the gate, barking frantically. Finally, one of the men picked him up and started to carry him back toward the stables.

  Pip had better keep watch over the poor little mite if he didn’t want it to get hurt. The lad was going to have to find a name for it, too. The pup was thriving and well past any danger—assuming it didn’t get trampled by horses, that is.

  A glance at the sun already high on the horizon told her she had slept late and had better hurry if she didn’t want to miss the morning meal.

  Maybe Gregor had returned sometime during the night? If not, she would find John and see if he could tell her anything.

  Gregor couldn’t just leave. Not with all these guests. Not with their wedding only days away. At least that was what she kept telling herself.

  Returning to her own chamber, she quickly washed, tugged a comb through her tangled hair, and changed her gown before racing down the stairs. When she entered the hall, she realized it must be later than she’d thought. The servants were already clearing the trays, and most of the guests and clansmen were gone.

  She caught sight of Ete with her head down and darting out the back entrance—probably chasing after Maddy—and would have gone after her if she hadn’t seen John talking with Aonghus near the fireplace. Snatching a crust of bread and piece of cheese from one of the trays, Cate managed a few bites while she waited for the men to finish their conversation.

  Every now and then she glanced out the window, but the man she was looking for didn’t appear. Her gaze kept being drawn back to the two men on the other side of the room. It was clear something was wrong. John looked upset and Aonghus appeared very uncomfortable, as he responded to what appeared to be a barrage of questions from John.

  Questions that stopped dramatically the moment John looked up and caught her eye. Something in his expression set the hair at the back of her neck on edge. It was half apologetic and half pitying. He looked like he felt sorry for her, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to know why.

  God, had he left her?

  Her heart thumped in her chest. He said a few more curt words to Aonghus and sent him away.

  Cate approached cautiously, having the distinct impression that the conversation had been about her.

  John’s mouth was tight and his expression strained as she drew nearer. Finally, she stood before him. Holding her breath, bracing for the worst, she looked up at him. “Is something wrong?”

  His mouth drew even harder, whitening his lips and making the muscle in his jaw jump. “My blasted brother will explain. I’ll have nothing to do with this.”

  John was furious. Whatever Gregor had done, clearly John didn’t agree with it.

  “Gregor has returned?” She hoped she didn’t sound as relieved as she sounded.

  “Aye. He’s a bastard but not a coward,” he said grudgingly—very grudgingly.

  Cate had no idea what he was talking about, but something was obviously very wrong. Taking a deep breath for strength, she asked the question, “What has he done?”

  John swore, dragging his fingers back through his hair the same way Gregor did when he didn’t know what to say. “It’s my fault. I didn’t realize what he was asking. I never would have told him before talking to you, if I’d known.”

  “Whatever are you talking about, John? Told him what?”

  “That you sent for me that morning. I didn’t think anything of it until he started acting like an arse that night, and I realized what he thought.”

  Cate stared at him in confusion. “I sent for you?”

  “Aye, that morning we walked in on you and Gregor … uh, in bed.”

  Cate was aghast. She stood back, looking at him as if he were deranged. “I did no such thing!”

  He frowned. “Pip said you had to tell me something important.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “I didn’t send for you. There must be some mistake.” Suddenly her eyes widened in horror. She covered her gasp with her hand, realizing what it meant. “And you told Gregor this?”

  Dear God, what he must think? What John told him must have seemed a confirmation of Seonaid’s claim that Cate had trapped him into marriage. No wonder he’d been acting so cold.

  John nodded. “Aye, he asked me how it was that I came to your room that morning, and I didn’t think anything of it. At least not until he started drinking, and …”

  He left off, clearly not wanting to say what else Gregor had been doing. Flirting—please let it only be flirting—with those other women.

  “Acting like an arse?” she finished for him.

  He nodded. “I’m sorry, Cate.”

  The way he was looking at her …

  Her pulse spiked with trepidation. “I didn’t send for you, John. I would never try to force
him into marrying me. You know that, don’t you?”

  He hesitated. It was clear that like Gregor, John had thought the worst. But unlike his brother, he had some doubts. “I didn’t want to think so. I hoped there was an explanation. I told him so, but he was too angry with me—I told him I wanted to fight with Bruce, not stay here and run his clan for him.”

  Cate was glad that John had found the courage to tell Gregor how he felt. But how ironic that John gave her the benefit of the doubt her betrothed would not. Yet John had never been manipulated and betrayed by a woman he cared about. John hadn’t learned to be guarded and cautious. John didn’t fear ulterior motives from every woman he met. And John hadn’t heard her in the corridor with Seonaid.

  She cringed again. Oh God, how Gregor must hate her! It was a betrayal of the worst kind to him. For all that he pretended that women who set their sights on him instantly upon meeting him or turned him into a notch on the bedpost didn’t matter to him, she knew it did.

  “There is an explanation,” Cate said firmly. “I’ll find Pip, and we can clear this all up.”

  The hard, tight look returned to his face. “I’m afraid it’s too late for that.”

  “What do you mean it’s too late—”

  She stopped, the reason for John’s anger and odd behavior suddenly hitting her full force. She felt like she’d just been crushed under a wall of rocks.

  No … No! Gregor wouldn’t …

  But he would. The pain cut like a jagged knife, eviscerating her heart from her chest in one cruel slice. He’d warned her they couldn’t stay, and she hadn’t wanted to believe he could actually send them away. But his anger with her had given him all the excuse he needed. He was making it clear that they wouldn’t be a family.

  The pup’s barking made horrible sense. Pip, Eddie, and baby Maddy … they were gone.

  Concentrate, damn it. There is nothing wrong with you. Gregor grabbed an arrow from where it was stuck in the ground at his feet, nocked it, drew it back, and let it loose in one smooth motion before picking up the next and the next in rapid succession.