by Blair, Willa
He’d ruined Cat and made their joining a matter of urgency. So why was he preparing to ride to Brodie? Because he felt the Rose gave him no choice.
He should have waited. If Sutherland had stayed close, he would have been forced to wait. But none of this was Sutherland’s fault. Kenneth should have respected Cat—and her father—enough to leave her untouched until he returned her home. Then asked, honorably, for her hand. Again. Two years ago, the Rose had thought his daughter too young—both of them, really—and refused. They weren’t too young now. They’d both seen and done too much to claim innocence as a reason to prevent their marriage.
And if she carried his child?
Kenneth hung his head. If she did, she would find a way to let him know. This time, he would stay close. Even if Iain tried to send him away again, he’d refuse. He’d speak to Annie and confess what he’d done. She would help him. Once the Rose sisters worked their magic on their father, he would come back and claim Cat for his own. For his bride. As he should have done more than two years ago, instead of tucking his tail between his legs and running to France.
He’d been a fool. Many times a fool. Leaving Cat. Getting involved with Marilee and the others. Getting involved with Phillippe and the French wars, which had nearly cost both of them their lives…and their eternal souls. He’d known where sleeping with Cat would lead. He’d known.
He was dressed. He couldn’t delay any longer. A glance out his chamber’s window revealed Cat, sitting on a bench in the Rose’s summer garden. He owed it to her not to sneak away.
He’d say goodbye before he left. Then he’d go.
The heady scent of so many blooming roses nearly choked Kenneth when he entered the garden and closed the gate behind him. Cat stood and smoothed her skirts, a sign of nerves he’d come to know well.
“I’m doing as the Rose demanded,” Kenneth told her when he got close enough to speak without being overheard. “But I dinna want to leave ye. I wanted ye to ken at least that, before I go.” He wanted to take her in his arms, but they might be seen. He couldn’t afford to anger her father any more than he already had.
“Is that all ye want to tell me?”
Her voice was so low and subdued, if he hadn’t been looking right at her, he would not have believed his Cat had spoken.
“I dinna ken what to say, Cat. If I’m ever to gain favor with yer da, I must obey him now. Can ye no’ understand?”
“I dinna care if ye gain his favor. Or if I do. I canna bear to see ye leave me behind again. Take me with ye. You said we are married. I am yer wife. A wife belongs with her husband.”
“Ye want me to steal ye? From yer da’s own keep? Are ye daft? He’ll have me killed on sight. The alliance between Brodie and Rose will be over. Annie will never be able to come home. Mary will never see either of her sisters again. Is that what ye want?”
She shook her head, but dropped her gaze to the ground between them. “We’ve spent too long apart already. Why must we give up each other for the sake of an alliance? We’ve already sacrificed to keep my father happy. When do we get to be happy?”
“No’ today, my love. Ye must trust we will be together. Just no’ today.”
* * *
Cat knew Da would be angry if she ran away again, but she did not want to leave a future with Kenneth to chance. She might be the youngest of his daughters, but being last didn’t mean she couldn’t be the strongest. She wanted to prove it to him, to Kenneth—but most of all, to herself.
“I understand ye feel ye need to leave without me. If ye think that is the way to preserve the alliance between our clans, then aye, ye must do as ye think best. But so must I. So, I will leave Rose, too. If no’ with ye, then later today. Or tomorrow. Sometime soon, ye will find me at the Brodie gate. I hope when that happens, ye will be glad to see me.”
“Ye will no’ leave these walls alone, Cat. No’ even to walk to the firth. Promise me.”
His expression was so fierce, she knew what was coming and didn’t flinch when he grasped her shoulders and gave her a little shake.
“Promise me,” he demanded and shook her again, harder this time. “Ye ken what’s going on outside these walls. ’Tis too dangerous for a lass to be about, especially a lass alone! Ye canna imagine what those men could do to ye.”
Cat took pity on him and nodded, recalling how Cam had been injured. “I promise. I willna leave these walls today.”
“No’ until I return for ye, Cat. I mean it. There are too many gallowglass headed for Inverness.” He released her shoulders and traced her cheek with his fingertips. “Now I’ve found ye again, now that we’ve…” He stopped and cleared his throat, pressed his lips together until they turned white, then spoke. “I willna lose ye to marauders.”
Though he’d all but promised he’d return for her, he had walked away from her before. And betrayed her trust, though to be fair, he’d thought she was married to another man. Still, she couldn’t resist one last turn of the knife. “Nay, but ye have always been willing to lose me to my father’s dictates.”
Kenneth’s expression went cold and hard.
The gate creaked and Catherine suddenly wished she’d never even thought about her father, much less mentioned him.
He stood glaring at them with the open garden gate in one hand, the other clenched at his side.
“I told ye to stay in yer chamber,” he barked at Catherine. Then he turned his ire on Kenneth and growled. “’Tis past time for you to get on the road, aye? Yet I find ye here with my daughter. Again.”
“He was just saying goodbye,” Catherine told him, keeping her chin up and turning so her shoulder shielded Kenneth’s body from her father’s furious gaze in the small measure her slighter form could provide. Fury and frustration made her reckless. “He is my hus…”
“I’ll leave ye now,” Kenneth interrupted and stepped around her. He turned to her father with a nod. “Laird Rose.”
Her father allowed Kenneth to pass. Catherine nearly swooned in relief. Let Da be angry with her. She didn’t care. He would not harm her, not really.
But he could kill Kenneth, and nothing she could do or say would stop him.
The door to the kitchen swung open with an ear-splitting squeal of rusty hinges behind her. Catherine flinched but welcomed the distraction, hoping it would break the tension as she and her father watched Kenneth walk toward the stable.
“Wait!” Mary called.
Catherine spun to face her sister. “Mary? What’s amiss?”
“Kenneth,” Mary called more loudly as she stepped out into the garden and hurried forward. “Da, Cameron Sutherland has developed a fever. He canna travel until he is well. And given what he and Kenneth have told us about the dangers roaming the Highlands at this time, ye canna send Kenneth on his way alone.”
Catherine wanted to hug her sister, but to do so in front of their father would make it look as though they had conspired to keep Cam—and Kenneth—here. They had not.
Cam was sick? “How bad is he?” She glanced around, trying to see her father and Kenneth at the same time, to judge their reactions to Mary’s news. Was this the reprieve from her father’s demands she and Kenneth needed?
Kenneth had paused and stood in the bailey, his upper body turned back toward them, as though uncertain whether to keep going or obey Mary’s summons.
Da approached his daughters, his expression severe. “This had better no’ be another of yer attempts to…”
“Ye are welcome to visit my patient and see for yerself,” Mary sniffed, planting her hands on her hips. “He’s ill, Da. The wound he suffered from the gallowglass, despite Catherine’s best efforts to care for it while they traveled, has festered. He hid his discomfort last night, but there is no denying the state he is in this morning. Go on.” She waved a hand toward the kitchen door. “See for yerself if ye dinna believe me.” She turned to Kenneth, who had slowly approached the garden gate, now her father had left it. “He’s asking for ye,” Mary told him.
Her father growled and gestured for Kenneth to precede him back into the keep.
Kenneth frowned but came forward, treating Mary to a quizzical frown as he passed.
Catherine exchanged a glance with Mary behind their backs. Mary smiled and nodded. Was Cam really sick or had Mary—nay, she couldn’t. Could she?
Chapter 16
Kenneth couldn’t believe the change in Sutherland since last evening. Mary had spoken the truth. His wound had worsened, and the fever he’d developed left him dry in the mouth but sweating, then chilled. The Rose had taken one look, shook his head and left the room. Kenneth took that to mean Sutherland’s—and his—banishment was officially postponed. He knew better than to think it was cancelled.
He called the northerner’s name softly as he approached the bed. Sutherland opened reddened eyes and frowned from beneath heavy eyelids.
“Brodie.”
“Mary said ye asked for me.”
“I did?”
“Do ye no’ recall it?” Or did Mary say something in front of her father to get Kenneth back within the keep instead of headed for the stable?
“I dinna ken…” He dragged a hand from beneath the covers and wiped his face. “Is it hot in here?”
“Ye’re feverish, man. Yer wound is worse. Mary has gone for a healer, I think.”
“Nay, she cleaned the wound and put some foul-smelling poultice on it before binding it up again.” He grimaced. “Hurt like the fires of hell. I recall that much.” Then his eyes closed. “She does have nice hands. Better than auld Agatha at home.”
“Auld Agatha?” Kenneth prompted, though he should leave and let Sutherland rest. But Mary had sent him in here for a reason, so he’d stay and talk as long as Sutherland wanted to.
Sutherland’s eyes opened and tracked to Kenneth’s face. “Our healer. My father’s. Hell, my grandfather’s, too, no doubt. Hands of cold chapped leather.” He turned his head and lay silent for a moment, staring at the ceiling. “No’ warm and soft like Mary’s. Lovely Mary. Kind…”
Sutherland’s eyes drifted closed, and Kenneth supposed his last comment had been made by a man half asleep, or half out of his head. Aye, Cat’s eldest sister was kind enough, but she could never be as beautiful or kind or smart as her youngest sister. Then again, Cat had told him she thought Sutherland more Mary’s age or a year or two older, rather than close to theirs. Perhaps that gave Sutherland a different perspective on the sisters.
“How is he?”
Cat’s soft voice startled him into turning, then he relaxed and shrugged. “Complaining of the fever and the Sutherland healer. Apparently, he prefers Mary’s care.”
Cat’s eyebrows arced as she joined him at Sutherland’s bedside, then she smiled. “Really?” She looked back at Sutherland, planted her hands on her hips and cocked her head. “That could be very good news.”
“What do ye mean?”
“Never mind. I want to think on it.”
Kenneth shook his head and crossed his arms. “I ken what ye have in mind. But if Sutherland is interested in Mary, I wish him luck. Yer da will never marry her away. I’ve heard Annie complain to Iain often enough that she wishes he knew some likely suitors yer da would accept so she could do something for Mary.”
“Perhaps Annie willna need to.” Cat smiled and leaned forward to pluck a rag from a bowl of water. She wrung it out and placed the cloth on Sutherland’s forehead, then stroked his cheek.
At the intimate gesture, jealousy burned from Kenneth’s belly up to his throat, but he swallowed it down when Cat stepped back and took his hand. “Let’s go. He’s still too hot. He needs to rest.”
Kenneth pointed with his free hand. “What about that cloth?”
“It will help keep him a little cooler. I’ll tell Mary we’ve been here, and she’ll come sit with him.”
“He’ll feel better soon, then.”
“Not too soon, I hope,” Cat replied and pulled him from the room.
* * *
Catherine intended to keep Kenneth out of her father’s sight for the rest of the day. He agreed to go as far as the beach below the Rose keep, but only if several men went with them.
“We dinna need an escort in sight of the Rose keep,” she argued as they walked toward the stables. She wanted to get him alone and knew if she tried to take him to her chamber, someone would tell her father and Kenneth would find himself confined to a dank dungeon cell, Catherine in the cell next to him. Nay, somewhere away from the keep, out in the open, was a much better idea. But not with a dozen Rose warriors following everywhere they went.
“Then we shallna go anywhere,” Kenneth informed her and turned back toward the keep.
“Allo!” A man’s voice called from outside the Rose walls. Catherine spun to ensure the gates were closed. They were. Kenneth had fixed his gaze on them as well, which pleased her. Her family’s safety was important to her. She was glad Kenneth cared, as well.
“Who goes there?” The guard on the battlements nearest the gate peered down.
“We’ve two wounded and we’re hoping you’ll be of a mind to help,” the man outside answered with an Irish lilt to his voice.
Kenneth shifted beside her, then ran for the ladder propped against the wall. “Wait!” he shouted and clambered up quickly.
Catherine clenched her hands over her waist. More gallowglass men? This could not be good.
Kenneth peered over the wall, then went to the guard and conferred in low voices.
Catherine couldn’t hear what they said, but neither looked pleased.
Both wore frowns and fingered the dirks thrust through their belts while they talked. In moments, the guard turned away from Kenneth and spotted her in the bailey. “Get yer da, aye?”
Catherine nodded and ran for her father. Something was wrong. She found him in his solar and filled him in as they hurried back outside.
“Wait inside,” he told her and headed for the ladder.
She watched him climb and confer with Kenneth and the guard. They moved away from the gate, and while they kept their voices down, Catherine could still hear them.
“Dinna trust them,” Kenneth warned her father. “We had trouble with three gallowglass men on the way here.”
“Ye told me. I havena forgotten. Are ye certain ye left none of those men alive?”
“Nay, I’m no certain.” Then Kenneth shook his head. “The one I wounded may have been found soon enough to have survived. Cam said there were more gallowglass in the area—more of their group may have found them and will seek to avenge them. It was very early—still mostly dark.”
“I canna refuse Highland hospitality. They claim to have wounded with them.”
Kenneth turned to the guard. “How many are there?”
“At least six.”
“So, more than the band we encountered. But if they are at all like the ones we encountered, and if the man I wounded is with them, there will be trouble.”
“Then we’ll have to keep them under close watch, aye? Ye’ll stay away from the wounded, in case the one ye left alive had the sense to mark yer faces and can recognize ye.” Her father crossed his arms and nodded to the guard.
As the gates swung open, Kenneth frowned. “I’ll stay to help protect Rose.”
Her father shrugged. “Ye are needed more at Brodie.”
Catherine’s heart stuttered. Would Kenneth let her father talk him into leaving? He met her gaze and pursed his lips just as the strangers came through the gate into the bailey. She ran for the door to the keep and slipped inside.
* * *
Supper was a tense affair. Even Kenneth could feel it. The Rose serving lasses moved quickly around the Irishmen, dodging grasping hands and sloppy kisses. Rose kept Cat at the high table with him. Mary was tending Sutherla
nd. The visitors had not seen her and did not know she was in the keep. Kenneth hoped she stayed out of sight. Kenneth had the honor of Cat's other side. The gallowglass leader sat on her father’s opposite side.
Every time one of his men would grab or pinch a serving lass, Cat would stiffen as if the man’s hands were on her. “Da, do something,” she whispered to her father, but he just shrugged.
Kenneth understood not wanting to rile the visitors. The Rose had been free with his ale and whisky. If he expected them to pass out from all they’d eaten and drunk before they got entirely out of hand, Kenneth knew he’d be disappointed. The gallowglass men he’d fought with in France had a prodigious tolerance for spirits. And an equal capacity to cause trouble. He stayed alert. The sooner he got Cat out of the great hall and behind her chamber’s heavy oaken—barred—door, the happier he’d be. Even if he was not in there with her.
Finally, the meal ended and the Rose nodded, signaling to all they were free to leave the hall. Some did, but some stayed, keeping an eye on the visitors as the lasses cleared the tables.
A gallowglass man pulled one of the lasses onto his lap and clasped his hands on her breasts with a roar of satisfaction. “I’ve got ya, ya darlin’ lovely!”
The lass shrieked and shrugged to get free, but the man kept pawing at her.
Two nearby Rose men came to her aid and pulled her out of the Irishman’s grip.
The Rose stood. “That will be enough!”
“What’s the harm?” The Irish lilt came from the gallowglass leader sitting next to him. “The lads are only doin’ what lads will do.”