The Arrow

by Monica McCarty

  She gave him a long look, considering his words but seeing far beyond them. “How could you? You must be mentally exhausted. You’ve been fighting for my father for …?”

  “Over seven years,” he filled in.

  “So seven years of functioning at the highest levels, under the most extreme of conditions, with constant pressure? That would be difficult for any archer, let alone with the type of precision required for a marksman. I’m not surprised it has begun to wear on you; actually, I’m surprised you lasted this long.” She paused, cocking her head to study him. “Do you still believe in my father?”

  “There is no one I believe in more. He is a great man—and a great king.”

  She looked up at him with far more understanding and compassion than he deserved. But it was what she did next that nearly brought him to his knees. Slowly, she reached up and cupped his jaw in her hand. He regretted the roughness of the stubble scratching her soft skin, but she seemed not to mind as she rubbed his chin against her palm.

  “You won’t let him down, Gregor. Even if you never hit another mark again, you have proved yourself many times over.” She made a face. “You don’t know how many stories of your escapades I’ve been forced to endure the past few weeks.”

  She’d shocked him. “He’s been furious with me.”

  “Aye, so maybe that should tell you something. His faith in you is as unwavering as yours is in him.” She smiled. “Even after shooting his daughter.”

  Was the fear of losing Bruce’s faith in him what was holding him back? He suspected it might be part of it. For so long his focus on being the best—proving himself by his skill—had been all that mattered. But what happened when it was gone? Maybe he was fighting too hard against finding out.

  That was Cate. Cutting through the chaff to get to the wheat. She seemed to take the jumble of confusing emotions inside him and make them clear.

  She wasn’t done. “I suspect this might have as much to do with Father Roland’s offertory basket and the stones on your father’s grave as it does about your skills. Taking a life—any life—is not easy, even when it is deserved. You were right in that.” He wished he could have spared her that knowledge. “Not being eager to take a life is nothing to be ashamed of; it just ensures that when you do, it is necessary. And what you do is necessary—I know you know that. You just need to remind yourself. My father needs you, Gregor.”

  He took her hand and brought her dainty fingers to his mouth. Some of the tightness squeezing in his chest relaxed when she didn’t pull it away, but allowed him to press his lips on her fingers. “But I need you. None of it means anything without you. For so long, I’ve been fighting against someone else’s image of who I am that I lost sight of the man I wanted to be. You reminded me of who that is. I want you to be able to count on me, Cate. I want my clan to count on me. And I want our children to count on me. Give me your trust, Cate, and I swear I will die before I ever break it again.”

  He could see the indecision in her eyes, the vacillating between longing and fear. She wanted to trust him, but she was scared. He couldn’t blame her. His chest tightened—burned—knowing just how much he’d hurt her.

  But it was the longing that snapped the last tethers of his restraint. He couldn’t see that fragile plea of hope and love in her eyes—that tenderness that he’d feared would never reappear—and not respond.

  He kissed her. It was a kiss unlike any he’d ever given a woman before. It was a kiss to destroy all indecision and all fear. It was a kiss to woo, a kiss to persuade, and a kiss to convince.

  It was a kiss that didn’t allow any room for protest or argument. With every gentle caress of his mouth, with every long stroke of his tongue, with every groan and sweep of his thumb on her cheek, he told her how much he loved her and how much she meant to him.

  She had to believe it.

  Cate’s knees went weak when he kissed her. Everything else went weak as well with the tender onslaught of his mouth and tongue. Her resistance melted under the warmth of his love.

  He did love her. It wasn’t just words or a kiss that convinced her. It was in everything he did. It was in the way he looked at her when she first walked into a room; it was in the way he’d forced himself to stand aside for a month while she enjoyed some of the benefits that might have been hers by birth had tragedy not intervened; it was in his haggard appearance and in that ridiculous broken nose.

  Suddenly, recalling what else he’d said, she pulled back. “What do you mean you want your clan to count on you?”

  “I might not have been born to be the laird, but I am, and it’s time I started acting like it. I had John fill in for me in Galloway. There is no reason he cannot do so again.”

  Cate was glad for John, knowing how eager he’d been to return to battle. “But not all of the time, Gregor. They need you.”

  He didn’t say anything.

  “Don’t you want to be a Phantom anymore?” she asked.

  “Of course, but I have a responsibility.”

  She knew that was only part of what was weighing on him. She had not yet fully convinced him that there was nothing wrong with him that rest and the realization that he did not need to be perfect would not cure, but she would. He had plenty of faults, and she’d be happy to remind him of them whenever he needed her to. “Aye, but don’t you think there is a way to do both? Perhaps we might come up with a compromise?”

  His eyes held hers. “ ‘We’?” He stroked her cheek with the back of his finger. “Does that mean you will give me another chance?”

  She lifted a brow. “I believe I still have two more days in my promised month. I’d hate to lose them when Sir Thomas has asked—”

  She didn’t get to finish. He cut her off with a very unflattering curse about her cousin and hauled her up against him. The feel of her body pressed against his was at once familiar and new, and as always, it made her gasp with shock.

  This time when he kissed her, he kissed her hard. Possessively. And very, very thoroughly. He left her no doubt of exactly what he wanted to do to her and all the pleasures that awaited her in their marriage bed.

  When he pulled away a long time later, they both were breathing hard and about one minute away from experiencing those pleasures up against a wall in the armory.

  “Did I say a month?” he said huskily. “I meant twenty-nine days. One more night like last night, and I’ll be calling St. Kilda home.”

  Cate laughed. “Is that what my father threatened you with? I wondered.” Her expression turned serious. “But thank you, Gregor. Twenty-nine days or a month, what you did …” She looked up at him. “You don’t know how much it means to me.”

  He swept a lock of hair that had tangled in her lashes from their kiss behind her ear. “I think I do. You are special Cate, and you deserved far more than a month. I wish I could give you everything you missed.”

  “I think you’ve made a fine start.”

  He grew troubled for a moment. “Are you sure, Cate? God knows it’s selfish of me to ask you to give me another chance after what you’ve been through. I nearly lost my mind when I discovered you’d been taken. They could try it again—using you to get to me and the others. I swear I will do everything I can to protect you, but being with me is not without risk.”

  “I’m Robert the Bruce’s daughter, Gregor. I’m going to be at risk with or without you, and I like my odds better with.” She smiled. “When I cannot defend myself, there is no one I would count on more.”

  She could see that her words meant something to him.

  “You proved that well enough with what you did to save the king. I’m proud of you, Cate.”

  She beamed, smiling broadly. His praise meant more to her than he could know. “I’m proud of myself, too. I guess all that dirt you made me eat that day was worth it.”

  He laughed, and then gave her a cryptic smile. “I told you I wanted our children to count on me. Aren’t you curious to know what I meant?”

  She roll
ed her eyes. “I assumed you were anticipating all those sons again.”

  He grinned back at her. “Not exactly. I’m afraid I was referring to something a little more immediate than that.”

  It took her a moment to realize what he meant. The blood drained from her face. She gazed at him wordlessly, not wanting to say the words that might crush her hope.

  “They are waiting for you—for us—at Roro, my love.”

  He’d brought the children back. “But how? What about their relations?”

  “They will be a part of their lives if they want to be, but I convinced them that they belong with us. You gave them a home, Cate.”

  She couldn’t believe it. Eddie … Maddy … “All of them? Even Pip?”

  He nodded. “I think with my nose we even look like father and son now. What do you think?”

  She gave a half-cry and sob and launched herself into his arms again, just letting him hold her. The feeling of those strong arms around her was like nothing else. She didn’t realize she was crying until she looked up, and he wiped the tears from her eyes.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “Nothing. I’m just so happy, I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say you’ll marry me. Say you’ll be my wife. Say you’ll be the mother of my children—even ones I didn’t know I had right away. Say you’ll stand by my side during the day, and sleep by my side at night. Say you’ll grow old with me. Say you love me as much as I love you.”

  “I do love you. And yes, yes, I will marry you.” She paused, tugging her bottom lip between her teeth. “Although I was looking forward to a month or two of courting.”

  When he smiled that long, slow smile that curved his sensual mouth and set every drop of green in his eyes sparkling, the most handsome man in Scotland had never looked so dazzling. But it was that other glint in his eye—the one that promised another kind of dazzling—that made her shiver with anticipation. “That depends on the kind of courting you have in mind.”

  She pulled back. “A very proper one, of course, under my father’s watchful gaze.”

  He groaned. “Christ, that’s what I was afraid of.”

  She quirked a brow. “Do I take it you are not enjoying celibacy?”

  “Not when I am near you. Right now, I’m not enjoying it at all. After a month—or two—of this, it’s not going to be pretty.”

  She patted him on the cheek. “Poor, Gregor. I think you’ll live.”

  He captured her hand in his much bigger one and brought it to his mouth, pressing a warm kiss upon her fingers. “I will, but it won’t be easy.”

  He looked as bent out of shape as his nose. She slid her arms around his neck and lifted on her toes to press a kiss on his disgruntled mouth. “Don’t worry; I think we might find a few storerooms in Dunstaffnage.”

  A shadow crossed his face. “I haven’t apologized for what I said, Cate. I never should have said that about taking you against a wall. I didn’t mean it—”

  She stopped him with a press of her fingers to his mouth. “I know. And I will let you apologize to your heart’s content later, but right now you’d better hurry if you don’t want someone to come in here and discover us.”

  His eyes lit up like green flames as soon as he took in her meaning. It was clear from how quickly he started removing her clothing that he wasn’t going to wait for her to change her mind.

  When they were both undressed, he slide his gaze down her appreciatively and let out a low whistle. “Hell, sweetheart, if it means I could trap you into marrying me faster, I don’t care who walks in. Maybe you should call John?”

  For that, she slipped her ankle behind his and pushed him to the ground. But when she fell down on top of him, he didn’t seem to mind so much.

  He was a rogue. But he was her rogue. And when he made love to her that day and for every day afterward, he never let her forget it.

  Epilogue

  Dunlyon, Roro, Perthshire, Scottish Highlands, Late Summer 1324

  “Yap, yap, yap, yap … yap!”

  The frantic barking at her heels made Cate start to giggle—in spite of her current position with her back up against the door and her legs wrapped around her husband’s waist.

  Gregor put his forehead to hers exhaustedly and swore. “Damned dog. Add better latches to the list of things to do in the new tower.”

  They’d started the stone castle a few years after Gregor had returned to Roro permanently at the end of the war—or mostly permanently, as her father still used his “Phantoms” for “delicate” situations—and it would be completed soon. Cate had convinced Gregor to pick up his bow again and continue the fight for her father’s crown, albeit for fewer missions. He spent much of his time at Roro with her, but whenever the king needed him, he was ready.

  Hands still cupping her bottom, he gradually eased her down. Cate needed a moment to find her feet, her limbs weak from the force of her release. Even after nearly twelve years of marriage and the birth of five sons—blast him!—to add to the five “foundlings” they’d added to their large brood, Gregor never seemed to tire of surprising her in storerooms.

  Not that she was complaining. At three and forty, he took her breath away even more than he had at one and thirty. She’d been right. The crook in his nose only added to his appeal—as did the craggy lines of time and battlefields. There might be other claimants to the title, including some close to home, but to her he would always be the most handsome man in Scotland.

  She shook her head, readjusting her gown and hair, which had barely been disturbed. Twelve years of practice—not to mention a few innocent questions by children about why mummy’s cheeks were flushed and hair mussed every time she went to the storerooms—had taught them something.

  She shook her head. “I think you are going to have a hard enough time explaining all those extra storerooms as it is.” She laughed. “Besides, at least Berry waited for you to finish this time. The poor thing is just jealous. He doesn’t like it when you don’t pay attention to him.”

  Gregor shot the dog a glare. “He’s a nuisance, that’s what he is.”

  Cate bent down and scratched the little terrier’s head. “Don’t listen to him, Berry—he loves you.”

  Berry was the name Pip had given the tiny pup all those years ago, when he heard about the botched attack at Berwick Castle from Hawk. Not surprisingly, as they shared the same sense of humor, Pip and the seafarer had become fast friends. Much to Gregor’s annoyance over the years. Indeed it was Pip who’d come up with her name—Crush—for what she’d done to women’s hearts and men’s pride (namely Hawk’s, after he landed on his backside again on their rematch).

  Gregor grinned wickedly. “It’s a good thing the blasted beast did wait. I need another son.”

  Cate wasn’t so out of practice that she couldn’t flip him on his backside when she needed to, so he wisely moved out of her reach. She didn’t spend as much time on the practice field these days, but when the girls needed her she would be there. Even at four and ten, Maddy could defend herself if necessary. The pretty young girl might look like a porcelain poppet on the outside, but she was tough. She had to be with all these men about.

  “Don’t you even jest about it—I just finished weaning your last son. I swear, Gregor, if you don’t give me a daughter, I’m going to put a lock on our door! Maddy and I would have had to move out long ago without Beth and Jeannie.” The two little girls—sisters—had come to live with them two years ago after the death of both their parents from a fever. “Living with all these lads is like living with a bunch of noisy pigs. How is it that every one of them has been born with the inability to pick up clothes off the floor?”

  He shrugged, not bothering to hide his amusement. “Life is a never-ending mystery.”

  “Never-ending mystery my—” She stopped before the word fell from her lips. “If I’m sick the entire way to Scone it will be your fault!”

  He sobered. “Ah hell, Cate. I didn’t thi
nk about that. I wish you didn’t suffer so every time.”

  She hadn’t meant to upset him. “I was jesting. It’s not so bad. It only lasts a few months. Besides, in the end it is worth it.” Her eyes filled with tears as the memory of her mother swept over her. It didn’t seem fair that her mother had struggled for so long to have another child, yet all Gregor had to do was look at her and Cate found herself with her head in a basin. But she knew how happy her mother would have been for her to be surrounded by so much love.

  She had more family than she’d ever dreamed of, including a new, much anticipated half-brother who was the reason for their journey. After ten years as the undisputed King of Scotland and the release of his queen from captivity, Robert Bruce finally had his legitimate son. David had arrived in March, and the king and queen were planning a celebration unlike any that had taken place in Scotland for years. The country—and the throne, with the birth of David—was stronger than it had been since the death of King Alexander III.

  They were taking the entire family, even baby John. For the first time in years, they would all be together. As had Pip before him, Ruadh (she’d given up that Eddie battle years ago) was being fostered with Arthur Campbell, and Pip had been a knight in her father’s army for almost five years now. Who would have believed that the skinny, funny-looking urchin could have grown up to rival his father in good looks? A foot of height, a few stone of muscle, and a face that grew into the nose had made Pip a heartbreaker. It didn’t hurt that he was one of the best horsemen in Scotland and highly skilled with a throwing spear, thanks to his foster father.

  He also had a wicked sense of humor—for which Gregor blamed Hawk. One of his favorite things was to introduce his mother to the young women who couldn’t seem to leave him alone. Cate had to admit it was fun to watch their faces as they looked back and forth between them, trying not to show their shock. As Pip grew older, they looked even less than their six years apart.

  Gregor must have known what she was thinking. He gazed at her tenderly, brushing a lock of hair from her forehead. “I’m sure they are as anxious to see you as you are to see them.”