by Blair, Willa
“A Highlander was arrested this morning at the harbor. Someone didna like his speech and claimed he stole from them. I’m told they fought, and the Highlander was badly beaten by his attacker—and friends.” He gestured out the window. “Look again, lass. There are more men on the street than a fortnight ago. They might be built like fishermen used to hauling in nets, but these are nay sailors. I’ve seen them coming green and sweating off of boats from Edinburgh and further south.”
“Where are their arms?”
“They carry dirks and such on their persons. Anything bigger is likely stowed where they sleep while they await the next ship to take them north.”
“A ship such as ye want me to take—alone—back to Rose?”
“Ach, aye, now that ye mention it, not my best idea.” He drummed blunt fingers on the tabletop. “Unless ye have a man…or a husband…with ye.”
“Why, Cameron Sutherland, are ye proposing to me?” After her conversation with Kenneth, she might be inclined to accept.
He leaned back even further, prompting Catherine to soften her question with a grin at his obvious discomfort.
“Nay, though a husband might solve several of yer problems.”
The spoonful of stew she’d taken suddenly tasted bitter. “And there ye have landed squarely on the source of my upset today.”
“Ye have a husband? Lady Catherine, I apologize.” He glanced at her hand.
She dropped it into her lap. He was the second man today to remark on her lack of a ring.
“I didna ken ye were wed. If I’ve said or done anything improper…”
“Dinna fash, Cam.” She held up a hand. “Pax. This is a meal only. And conversation out of the rain. Naught to cause objection.” She carefully neither confirmed nor denied his leap to a conclusion. Letting him think she was wed might be just enough to keep Cam Sutherland at arm’s length, until and unless she decided she needed—or wanted—him closer. Though not today. The pain of her confrontation with Kenneth was too fresh. She needed time. She might be better able to accept Kenneth belonged in her past once she was sure her future was in her own hands to decide.
* * *
Kenneth stormed out to the practice yard and signaled to a guard to join him. The man nodded and came forward. “Care to spar a while?” he asked. He needed to work off the frustration of Cat’s visit and her revelations, or he would go mad and chase after her. He dared not do that—for her sake more than his.
The man grinned. “I’ve seen ye with the lads. I’d be pleased to have a go at ye.” He fetched another sword and handed it to Kenneth.
“I’ll try no’ to damage ye too severely,” Kenneth warned him as he settled into a fighting stance.
The man did the same and nodded. “Same to ye.” Then he swung.
Their blades crashed together. Kenneth felt the force all the way into his chest. Aye, he’d picked the right partner.
The fight went on until both were sweating, and Kenneth’s arms felt weighted with lead. Both had acquired new bruises, but neither had drawn blood. Even when it started to pour, cold rain sluicing down the back of his neck, he kept on. He needed oblivion, and he hadn’t quite reached it yet.
The other man finally cried off. “’Tis coming down so hard, I can hardly see ye. One of us will get hurt in truth.”
Kenneth had to agree. “Ye speak rightly. Thank ye. Ye are a good partner. I’ll spar with ye any time ye wish, as long as I remain here.”
“And I canna guess how long that will be, but I appreciate the offer. Another time, then.” The man dropped his sword onto his shoulder, took Kenneth’s, and walked off. Kenneth saw him last heading inside, out of the rain.
He should go in, too, before he caught his death. But he wasn’t ready. He’d worked out most of the anger and dismay left from his conversation with Cat, but as he climbed the stairs to overlook the angry sea below the castle walls, he realized what was left was his love for her. And he had no idea what to do to root that from his soul.
Chapter 7
A fortnight later, after the evening meal, Kenneth settled down in his chamber with the same book he’d been reading when Cat appeared in the library. He hadn’t touched it since that day, when he’d carried it to his chamber. Even the sight of it inevitably led to the memory of seeing her standing just inside the library door—and what followed. As he read, he thought about the promises she’d made when they argued, and tried to get his mind off hoping to see her with every visit to town. Today, he’d glimpsed her on the street laughing with another man, ruining what should have been a pleasant afternoon in a pub with Phillippe. The trip hadn’t been wasted, though. He’d met yet another Highlander who lived on a farm outside of town. The man had sold his crop in the morning’s market and was in the pub before returning home. When Phillippe briefly left them alone, the man had admitted to being aligned with the Lord of the Isles and offered his place if Kenneth wanted to get away from town, saying he could use a man of Kenneth’s size to help on the farm. Kenneth had thanked him and Phillippe had returned, ending their discussion. But he would remember what the man told him.
Cat had to be staying away because of the fight they'd had and the lies he’d told. Though at the time he’d wanted to dissuade her from the feelings she seemed to have for him, his words still weighed heavily on his conscience.
Eventually, the words on the page ran together, his worries mixed in until he didn’t know what he was reading, and he dozed. He came awake suddenly, not sure what had pulled him from the first rest he’d gotten in days. Then he heard men shouting just as someone pounded on his door.
“A moment,” he grumbled and stood. He expected no one and wondered if this was trouble coming his way. His conversations with Phillippe had convinced him he’d get no help there unless and until Phillippe saw some advantage for himself. So far, he’d done nothing. But now the news had come that Domnhall had left Dingwall for Inverness with a large army. Given the trouble such a move portended, Kenneth’s wanted to add pressure to his demand for Phillippe’s assistance. But he realized doing so might convince Phillippe he would be better served to relate Kenneth’s intentions to Father Anselmo. If he did, Kenneth would be thrown in the bottle dungeon and never see daylight again. Unless he could fight his way free. Weaponless, against the castle guards, he had little chance of success.
Someone pounded on his door again. He took a breath and opened it.
“Ah, bien, you are here,” Phillippe announced and shoved his way inside.
Before he shut the door, Kenneth got a sense of the direction the shouting came from and smelled smoke.
“Why have ye come?”
Phillippe started tossing his paltry belongings onto the cot. “To fulfill my promise to you, mon ami. Why else would I come to you at this time? The guards have been drawn to the kitchen side of the castle. Smoke billows from every opening. Buckets of water are being passed hand-to-hand and tossed into the cook’s domain.” He paused, hands on hips, looking around. “Something has caught fire. “
“Ye came to my chamber to avoid having to help fight the fire?”
“Gather your things and let us go. I have the key to your freedom.” He pulled a large brass key on a chain from under his robes and waved it in front of Kenneth’s nose. “There is no time to lose. Did you once tell me you wished to take advantage of every moment of darkness? To those guards, staring into the fire, the rest of the castle is as dark as a moonless night. Alors, tout de suite. We must go.”
Kenneth surveyed what Phillippe had tossed on the bed. “Ye didna bring a weapon with ye, by chance?” He added a few more things, and then tied the lot into one bundle.
“Non. Where would I get one of your claymores?”
“A dirk? An eating knife? A rusty blade of any sort?”
“Pardon, it slipped my mind in my haste to get here to help you escape.”
The opportunity was too good to miss. Kenneth nodded and grabbed an extra plaid off the bed, then gestured for Phillippe to
lead the way. The priest opened the door a crack and peered out, then slipped out and down the stairs. On the ground floor, he paused at the door, then stepped out into the courtyard. Kenneth followed and closed the door firmly behind him. Phillippe led him quietly to the nearby postern gate. Kenneth thanked all the saints it lay on the opposite side of the castle from the commotion. Thanks to the fire, it was unguarded.
Phillippe inserted the key into the lock and swore. “It does not turn.”
“Let me try.” Kenneth pushed him aside and twisted the key. It turned easily. He cut a glance at Phillippe, who watched him with a grin. “Trying to scare me to death, are ye?”
“I thought you might need a little jolt since this escape I am doing for you is going so smoothly.”
“Dinna say such a thing!” Kenneth hissed. “’Tis bad fortune. Ye’ll bring the guards down on us, for certain. Come on.” He pulled open the small servants’ doorway and slipped out into the night. Phillippe did not follow.
“Are ye coming?”
Phillippe shook his head. “This is your peril to escape. This time, I am content to remain.”
“Do ye think that wise? If someone finds out…”
“They will not. Dark as a moonless night, eh? Go now. Find a place to hide until the Angelus bell. The town gates will open then. Do not come back. We are even. My debt is paid.”
Kenneth took a deep breath of the chill night air, redolent with the scent of sea and smoke, then nodded. “Be well, my friend. God be with ye.”
Phillippe made the sign of the cross. “And with ye.”
Kenneth nodded and turned away, not waiting for Phillippe to lock the gate. He had to find somewhere safe to bide until he could decide where to go and make a plan to get there. Not back to Brodie. Kenneth figured he had an hour, perhaps two, before anyone thought to check on the Highlander hostage. He didn’t have long before his absence would be discovered.
* * *
At the edge of town, Kenneth paused, listening, but heard nothing except the commotion in the castle and the surf rolling below the cliff where the bishop’s castle perched, masking any sounds following footsteps might add and making his neck itch. He hated going anywhere in this town in the dark. Not that St. Andrews was truly dark this night. Between the shop fronts and homes in the town, the cathedral, and now the castle, candles glowed in many windows, probably thanks to the fire at the castle. Normally, most of the town’s inhabitants would be asleep soon after the sun set. But even after a year in France, being in a town made him uncomfortable. It wasn’t just the close quarters and numbers of people. Cutpurses and drunk sailors made walking the street after dark an exercise in caution and alertness.
He’d been on his own before, and Iain had done a thorough job of making sure he could take care of himself since one day when they were wee lads in training. A bigger lad had been intent on bashing in his skull. Iain pulled off the bully, and then made sure Kenneth learned to protect himself. They’d been fast friends until recently. But Kenneth told himself he no longer missed Brodie or the Highlands. Or Cat. He would make a future for himself somewhere else.
He hadn’t gone far toward the cathedral and the port beyond it, though, before more guards approached on the run for the castle gate. Someone had sent for help.
If the ship Cat had seen was still in port, and if the crew would keep him out of sight on board until it sailed, he would make it. He could blend in with townsfolk and, at first light, get through the fisher gate to the harbor. But if the Highlanders had already left, he’d be stuck roaming the harbor for another ship or a place to hide in the first place any guard would search for him.
Should he strike out across country? With no money, no weapon, and little more than the clothes on his back, it would be a long and dangerous trip. He cursed himself. He’d thought about this eventuality often enough. He should have been better prepared. But seeing Cat Rose had stolen his reason until all he could think about was their last argument, seeing her again, being with her, despite seeing her in the company of another man.
She was still in danger—and he’d added to it by giving her a note for Iain, making her an accessory to an escaped prisoner if they caught her with it.
Instead of continuing toward the harbor, he turned around and went back through town. He ducked into the only place he might find her this time of night and get help—the tailor’s shop. Surely among all those bolts of fabric, or behind the curtain where he’d heard a woman’s footsteps—Cat’s or her cousin’s—there would be a place he could go to avoid searchers through the rest of the night.
He’d barely gotten in the door and paused to let his eyes adjust to the deeper darkness when the curtain parted and Cat stepped through, a small lantern in hand.
She stopped short and gasped, then hissed, “What are ye doing here?” She winced as an oath echoed down the stairs behind her. “Abi and her stepfather dinna get along…”
A lass shouted and was answered by man’s deep roar in an accent that sounded more Flemish than French.
“Indeed.” Kenneth managed to force out one word while he drank in the sight of Cat in her night-rail and robe. Her hair hung loose around her shoulders and down her back. Her feet were bare. He fought back the urge to gather her into his arms and strip the nightclothes from her body. This was not the time to think about all the things he wanted to do to her—and with her.
Cat set the lantern on a table and wrapped her arms around her middle. “What are ye doing here this time of night? And I thought ye had to have an escort when ye left the castle.”
“No’ this time.” He shook his head and let his gaze roam around the shop he’d only seen in daylight. The weak lamplight did little to improve it, not that he cared. He simply meant to keep from devouring Cat with his gaze. “They dinna ken I’m gone. There’s a fire in the castle kitchens…I need a place to hide for a few hours until the gates open and I can get out of town unseen.” He cut his gaze back to her with a frown. “Ye need to burn that letter I wrote to Iain.”
Cat nodded. “Did ye set the fire?”
He wished he’d thought of doing it weeks ago, but such destruction for no reason was not in his nature. “Nay, of course no’.”
“Won’t ye get Iain in trouble by leaving?”
“Ye havena heard then?”
“Heard what?”
He filled her in on Domnhall of the Isles’s latest movements while the argument raged upstairs. “It makes holding me…unnecessary. But that letter links ye to Iain and to me and adds to the danger ye are in here. So ye must destroy it.”
Finally silence descended and Cat cocked her head. “I think they’re finally worn down.”
“Do they argue like that often?” Kenneth moved around the room, seeking someplace he could remain unseen should searchers start to comb the town. He knew Cat watched him when she hesitated before answering his question.
“Every day. Abi wants to marry a lad named Colin. Her stepfather is against it. I dinna ken why Abi is arguing with him. She keeps talking about eloping. First it’s tomorrow, then next week. It never happens, though she and Colin might eventually do it, if her da doesna lock her away before then.”
He must be making her nervous. Abi rarely spoke so quickly or for so long, He turned back to her and shrugged, dismissing any thought of her cousin’s problems. He had plenty of his own. “Is there a place I can stay out of sight for a few hours?” He had to trust her. He knew no one else.
Cat nodded and gestured for him to follow. “The back room. Only Abi’s father, the tailor, goes there, and he won’t come down here at night. When ye are ready to leave, there’s a doorway from there into the alley.”
“Convenient.”
She paused at the threshold and looked over her shoulder at him, her expression unreadable. “Take me with ye.”
Kenneth shook his head, surprised. “I’ve seen ye with another man. Won’t he worry if ye are suddenly gone?”
She frowned. “He’s an acquaintance,
only.” She frowned. “How were ye in town? I didna see ye.”
“I earned some favors—never mind. Take the boat ye told me about.”
“By myself? Ye keep saying I’m in danger here. I would be safer traveling with ye than on my own.”
Her comment made too much sense. But did it because it was true, or because it gave him a chance to spend time alone with Cat? If he couldn’t be sure of his own motives, Cat would not be safe with him. He tried an argument he knew she would believe. “If I return to the Highlands, it’s because I’m goin’ to fight, lass. ’Twill be no place for such as ye.”
“There will be no women to help the army? To tend the wounded? Or cook the food?”
He should have known she’d have an answer for that. “Few of the sort ye should ever be associated with. ’Twill be too dangerous.”
“I see. Ye dinna want me.”
“Catherine…” A lass’s voice rang down the stair. “Where are you?”
Cat glanced up. “I must go,” she whispered, then opened the lantern and lit a candle on the tailor’s workbench from its candle. “I’ll come back if I can.”
“Dinna do that. I’ll be gone in a few hours.”
Suddenly stiff, she reached for him. “I still dinna ken why ye abandoned me. Why ye gave up on us…”
Her fingertips warmed more than his arm. He fought down the need for her surging through him. “And I still dinna ken how ye came to be here, instead of at home. Both tales are too long for this night. Go, or she’ll come down here looking for ye.” He forced himself not to reach for her in return, though he was dying to pull her into his arms. But that kiss in the library was too fresh in his mind. If he kissed her now, he wouldn’t let her go, and they’d be caught. “Go, lass. If I’m found with ye, ’twill no’ go well for ye either. I willna have ye harmed on my account.”
Cat opened her mouth to speak, then closed it without uttering a sound, turned and moved toward the stairs, picking up a spindle of thread and a needle as she went. “I’m coming, Abi.”