by Sadie Savage
“I fail to see the humor of the situation,” Catriona muttered. The ropes were finally beginning to fray. A few minutes more and the man would be free.
Conall laughed out loud involuntarily - but quickly caught himself, turning the laugh into an awkward cough before trailing off. The two of them sat frozen for a moment, listening for the sounds of the guard outside - he appeared to be unperturbed by the noise. Catriona cut with more ferocity.
“It’s brilliant though, isn’t it? The man’s own wife freeing a Highland rebel? I only wish I were his wife so I could pull off something so dastardly.”
Catriona choked, only just managing to hide her own laughter. “Excuse me?” She asked through stifled giggles.
“Well, I mean,” Conall shrugged, “not literally of course…”
Finally, the last of the rope gave way and Conall’s wrists were free. He stretched his arms, bringing them around and massaging the life back into his hands. Catriona sat back on her heels, watching him - his hands were rough, broad. And yet she imagined they were much warmer than her husband’s.
“Shall we be off?” Once again, Conall interrupted her thoughts.
Catriona looked up, startled. “We?”
Conall nodded. “I can’t imagine you entered this tent and freed me because you like your husband.”
Catriona didn’t reply right away. Despite the hatred she held for her husband, despite the risk she had decided to take, despite everything, she hadn’t, in fact, imagined herself leaving. In Catriona’s mind, it wasn’t even possible - how could it be? When he had held her with such a deadly grip all these years. But now, on this quiet night, suddenly freedom was before her - staring at her with earnest, amber eyes.
“I’m afraid the longer we delay -.”
“Yes.” Catriona answered abruptly, causing Conall’s face to break into another grin.
He took her hand. “Then off we go, my Lady. And I promise, since you have done me the honor of saving my own life, I will do everything in my power to protect yours.”
Now this was the sort of noble behavior Catriona had hoped for. And she was right, the man’s hands were incredibly warm, and softer than they looked. Another moment and the tent was empty, save for the tattered ropes - and Catriona’s knife. She had not noticed it slip from her hands before they disappeared.
Morning was grasping its way up the horizon as Catriona and Conall rode towards his home. When they had snuck their way out of Hector’s camp, Conall suggested they would have better luck on horseback. In truth, Catriona didn’t believe they would be able to get one away without raising suspicion and alarm - but as she watched from the shadows, Conall treaded the ground so lightly, that she began to wonder if he were more specter than man. As the two of them rode together, however, Catriona felt the weight of Conall’s arms around her, holding the reigns. Perhaps it was the cold wind, or the dawning realization that soon Hector may be nothing more than a bitter memory - but Catriona’s heart hammered in her chest like a war drum, dizzying her senses. In the distance, the mountains loomed and grew taller as they approached.
Conall gestured. “We should be there within another hour or so, my people reside within the mountains - to keep out of sight.”
He added this last comment, as if he already sensed the question on Catriona’s lips. Catriona only nodded. Within the mountains…Conall and his people must have once lived in a village of their own, on land of their own. Her expression hardened - it was men like Hector who were driving these people out, bending them to English rule or otherwise erasing them from the countryside. A sharp ire grew in the back of her throat. She had traded her countrymen for her own safety, sitting idle for years as Hector lead her from encampment to encampment to drive out the Highland rebels. She shook her head - but this was the last of it. The sun was rising on a new day for Catriona and she refused to turn back now.
Conall pulled up on the reigns gently and guided the horse to a slow trot. They had reached the base of the mountains. Here, Conall slid from the saddle.
“I’ll lead us towards the caves - it will be easier to lead the horse on foot.”
“Then I’ll join you, there’s no reason I should ride up here like some sort of noblewoman anymore,” Catriona offered, already moving to jump down.
But Conall stopped her with a quick hand on her calf. The movement startled Catriona, making her flinch - her body was still trained to guard itself against the touch of men. Conall seemed to notice her stiffen and quickly removed his hand apologetically.
“No,” he said a little awkwardly, then recovered himself. “No, you ought to remain saddled. The path is uneven and unkind to delicate feet.”
His mouth curled into an impish smile. Teasing again. Catriona pursed her lips but didn’t argue. “Very well, then. Lead the way, sir.”
Conall gave a mock bow, then took the reigns in one hand and began the final stretch of their journey. They fell silent as Conall concentrated, and Catriona took the opportunity to absorb her new surroundings. The mist was thicker here, leaving a fine layer of dew on the rocks and the dull grass. Casting a look over her shoulder, it appeared they had already climbed a fair distance. Catriona could see the vast fields behind her - hazy curtains of rain obscuring a portion of them, while other areas remained still untouched. Ahead of them, an invisible path drew them towards a dip between the slopes, disappearing around curves and mossy rocks. Conall stepped with certainty, however, clearly familiar to each step. Catriona shivered, whether due to the cold or the growing sense of anxiety in this strange territory, she wasn’t sure. Gradually, the fields fell away and soon Catriona and Conall were enveloped by the mountains on either side. It became a world in of itself - the many peaks and ledges offering different forms of shelter and pathways. Catriona wondered just how many people could live here without ever being detected, as she quickly realized there were also a series of cave openings along the way. Many were deceptively hidden by rocks or plants, but soon she was able to pick up on a pattern and spot some of the less concealed entrances. A quick flutter of movement disturbed the moss hanging down in front of one of the caves. Catriona strained her eyes to see what sort of animal it might have been, but whatever had been there a moment ago was gone. Conall, meanwhile, paid no mind.
“Are we very close?” Catriona asked uneasily. Her voice felt foreign in the unworldly silence.
“Very nearly, my Lady, have no fear,” Conall replied without turning his head.
Catriona muttered quietly, “I am not afraid.”
Conall halted abruptly, cupping his hands around his mouth. He then let out a ghostly howl that echoed off the rocks. As it faded, he waited, ears pricked. Just a moment later, another howl came in return - somewhat faint, still a distance off. The sound of it cheered Conall immediately - Catriona could see a marked bounce in his step as he continued leading the horse once more. They turned a final corner and came upon a large cave mouth, no longer discreetly hidden. It led into the mountain - how deep, Catriona could only guess. At the entrance stood a few men - guards armed with spears or swords. Their reaction to Catriona and Conall’s appearance was mixed. One young man - thin, wirey, and bright-eyed, left his post immediately and ran to Conall’s side. They embraced happily, the young man exclaiming in excitement - as if he hadn’t even noticed Catriona. The two remaining men did gaze upon her. The older man of the group appeared skeptical. He stood casually, weight balanced on one leg, a hand resting on the hilt of his sword. His face was etched with lines that added authority to his character. The remaining man must have been roughly Conall’s age. His dark brown hair fell close to his shoulders in smooth waves. His expression was one of suspicion that leered at Catriona without any pretense of manners. He stood upright, a spear in his hand - which he methodically turned as he stared at the woman on horseback.
“I can’t believe it!” The young man was still speaking to Conall. “Back in one day, and with a woman as well! You had a better night than we did, didn’t you?”
“Now don’t be rude, Arran. This woman saved my life and freed me, which is plenty more than I can say for you lot, eh?”
Arran squirmed out of Conall’s grip and bounced back a few feet, still grinning. Catriona hardly knew how to read the situation. Thus far, she hadn’t even been acknowledged directly - only about spoken as if she were simply an accessory Conall had brought home. Meanwhile the two men by the entrance clearly held doubts about her presence. She cleared her throat and spoke up.
“My name is Lady Catriona,” - Catriona stopped short. She had let the Lady slip once again. And judging by the sharp looks on all three of the new mens’ faces, she could tell it didn’t sit as well with them as it did Conall. But she soldiered on. “I have come with Conall by invitation, in exchange for freeing him from Lord Hector’s encampment.”
“Aye,” Conall joined in, “I owe her my life.”
The brown haired man snorted derisively. Conall was about to call him out, when Catriona cut in instead.
“Excuse me,” she said firmly, locking eyes with the surly man. “It is no simple task sneaking through an entire camp, into a prisoner’s tent, and then out again without raising a single alarm - and I won’t have it snorted it at.”
The older man cracked a smile. “Well said, my Lady.”
He stepped down from his post and approached Catriona at last. Holding out his hand, Catriona allowed him to take hers, and he touched his lips to it briefly.
“My name is Eamon, and this unpleasant gentleman is Lenox.”
Lenox diverted his gaze self-consciously, but also lowered his guarded stance. After that moment, it seemed the tension had been broken and Catriona was welcomed into their dwelling. Arran took the horse and let it away while Conall and Eamon showed her inside. The following days were certainly an adjustment - from Lord’s wife, to hide-away rebel. While Catriona was glad to be free of the grip of her husband, she was still unaccustomed to sleeping on the ground, without luxuries or niceties. But there were other aspects of her new life that outweighed some of the less appealing changes. For the first time in many years, Catriona was in the company of women again, friendly and warm, without the mask of court hiding their true natures or intentions. To pay her keep, Catriona had volunteered to help the other women in Conall’s clan. Without hesitation, they had welcomed her into their fold - cheeks bright, smiles broad. They treated her like a new sister-in-law.
Despite this warmth, however, there was still a sort of apprehension that seemed to follow Catriona about the caves. While the women were kind, there were many moments when a conversation would be suddenly cut short and nervous glances would be cast about the room - as if they had just narrowly avoided letting something slip. The men were just as secretive, if not more so. Their reception was often mixed - while some treated her kindly, like Eamon and Arran, there were many others like Lenox who would look at her askance with suspicious eyes. There finally came a night when Catriona could no longer put up with it and she went to confront Conall is his chambers.
While she had not visited them before, Catriona knew that Conall resided alone in his own den in a particular part of the caves. She wound her way through the tunnels - they lead even further into the mountains than she could have imagined - and marched into Conall’s rooms. Her timing, unfortunately, was misjudged as she walked in to discover Conall undressing. The two of them stopped short, Catriona in the doorway and Conall standing frozen in the middle of his chambers, hands just about to remove the kilt tied around his waist. Unable to stop herself, Catriona stared openly at his body - it was marked with many scars, faded white lines that etched themselves across his chest and arms. But his figure seemed unmarred by them, blood still beating hot beneath the surface.
Conall cleared his throat. “Is there something I can do for you, my Lady?”
Catriona flushed deeply and shook her head. “Forgive me, I didn’t realize - I wanted to talk to you about something.”
Conall secured his kilt, and hastily grabbed a shirt to pull over his head. Catriona looked with regret as his muscles were quickly obscured by the fabric. “Yes?” He asked.
She did her best to put such thoughts out of her mind and focus on the point at hand. “There’s something you haven’t been telling me. Something everyone seems afraid to speak of in my presence.”
Conall smiled, but something about it seemed forced. “They’re just nervous having a noblewoman among us - it’s not something everyone here can easily accept.”
“That’s not it, I can tell you’re keeping something from me.” And it was strange, because Catriona knew for certain that was true. Conall was holding something back. She could tell this not because of everyone else’s behavior, but because of his. From the moment they had met, she knew his body language, was able to read him like an old friend. And right now, as he tried to smile, Catriona saw the shoulders slightly raised, the tension in his legs as he seemed to be holding ground - and knew exactly what that meant.
Conall caved at last, and exhaled a guilty laugh. “I suppose we can’t hide it forever, eh? Not with you living under our own roof.”
Catriona’s breath quickened. “What do you mean?”
Conall hesitated, he seemed to be searching for the right words. “Here,” he gestured, “why don’t we sit down.”
He led Catriona to his bed, a blanket of furs atop rocks, wood - Catriona wasn’t sure. They sat and Catriona couldn’t help but feel her heart beat faster as Conall took her hand in his. She hadn’t been alone with a man apart from Hector in so long…and then she began to grow anxious. Unsure of what signs to look for, the cues she would need to protect herself. But as she looked up at Conall, Catriona realized - she wouldn’t have to, of course she wouldn’t. Conall had sworn to protect her, and aside from that, she could see in every inch of his body that he meant her no harm. Conall seemed to notice her falter, and squeezed her hand in concern.
“Are you all right?” He asked, his eyebrows creasing ever so slightly. Catriona smiled at the endearing expression.
“I’m fine, I…I’ve spent so long with Hector, I didn’t think I would be safe with a man again.” She tried to brush it off, but the relief was thick in Catriona’s voice.
Conall moved closer - which might have frightened Catriona were she with anyone else, but with Conall it only felt reassuring.
“My Lady, you’re always safe with me.”
Catriona looked Conall in the eyes. They shone like gold in the low torch light. “Please,” she said, “call me Catriona.”
Conall’s expression of concern softened into one of his own relief. “Catriona,” he said softly. He lifted a hand, absently, to brush a few strands of hair from Catriona’s face; before he could draw it away again, Catriona took his hand and placed it on her cheek. Closing her eyes, she pressed her skin into the warm palm, feeling the creases of his fingers and his lifelines. Conall did not retreat, allowing Catriona to hold him there. She opened her eyes again, to see Conall’s golden eyes gazing back at her. The room was comforting and safe, and for the first time in many years, Catriona pulled someone towards her for a kiss.
Her purpose in Conall’s chambers was entirely forgotten, his imminent confession fluttered from her mind without a second thought. All she could think about was his lips on hers, his hot breath as they moved closer to one another. Too long had she gone without love, without someone who would enter her bed for her alone, for her pleasure. Conall carefully leaned Catriona back and they laid upon the furs. For just a moment, Conall pulled back.
“Are you sure?” He asked.
“Yes,” Catriona replied fervently and pulled him back towards her, “yes, please.”
Conall laughed, grinning as he left a trail of kisses down Catriona’s neck and shoulders. She gripped his hair, feeling the weight of him on top of her; she longed for th
is, her body growing hot as Conall continued to her collar bones and the small dip between them. Catriona could feel his body reacting in kind, and quickly they began to remove the layers that stood in their way, Conall barely letting his mouth leave her skin in the process. Catriona giggled, enjoying herself for the first time in too long. As the two of them embraced, Catriona ran her hands down Conall’s back, his sides, taking in his touch, breathing in his scent. She was about to reach between his legs, to help him along - but Conall gently stopped her hand.
“Wait,” he breathed into her ear.
He then began to travel down her body, his mouth brushing her breasts, her stomach, the sensitive skin of her thighs. Catriona’s breath caught in her throat as Conall at last placed his mouth between her legs, caressing her with his tongue, warming her with his breath. Catriona closed her eyes and let herself be washed away by the experience, almost melting into the furs as Conall slowly brought her to climax. Catriona gasped, she moaned, without realizing it - gripping the bed. She had forgotten it could be like this; she had forgotten that sweet feeling that grew within her, gradually peaking with each motion. She felt Conall run a hand up her torso, resting it on one of her breasts. She placed her hand on his, following the movement of his fingers, tracing her shape, teasing her nipple. Catriona’s back arched, her lips parted, she greedily leaned into Conall as he stroked her. Her spirit could leave her body at this point and Catriona wouldn’t have noticed or cared - finally, she was having a moment of pleasure for herself, not a distant, cold attempt to achieve a child, but simply a night to be with another person as greatly as they wished to be with her. Her mind went blank as she climaxed, her body flooded with the sensation - it had been too long. She could feel Conall’s grip tighten as she gave into it, and he worked more eagerly to keep it going. At long last she fell limp against the bed, breathing heavily, dizzy from the experience. Conall allowed her a moment’s rest, not saying anything - perhaps catching his own breath as they paused.