Lachlan gazed languorously into her eyes, and she wet her throbbing lips. A hot ache pulsed in her belly. How was it possible that the mere power of his gaze could fill her with such feverish desire? She wanted overwhelmingly to touch him.
“There is another reason why I am here,” he explained as if he sensed her yearnings and knew he had to interrupt them. “I have information about your twin. Angus told me that Raonaid has been living in Edinburgh.”
Catherine leaned up on her elbow. “He’s certain?”
“Aye. Do you want to meet her?”
“Yes, of course,” she replied.
He reflected upon that for a moment. “As you know, I have my own reasons to see her again,” he said, “so I will be leaving very soon. If you wish to accompany me, I will deliver you to Edinburgh safely, and do whatever it takes to protect you, and help you regain your memories. Perhaps Raonaid can be of some assistance to you. She is a mystic, after all.”
“But if she truly has such powers and sees things in visions, why has she never known that she has a twin? Angus was her lover for a year and she did not reveal it to him. Do you think she knows about me?”
“I wish I could answer that,” he replied; then he laid his head down on the pillow.
Exhaustion soon washed over Catherine, and her eyes began to flutter closed.
“I should go,” he whispered.
“Please don’t,” she blurted out. “It brings me comfort to know you are here. Please stay until I fall asleep.”
She was surprised when he nodded and brushed the hair away from her face.
The sound of his breathing soon lulled her into a deep slumber, filled with colorful dreams of the Highlands. She flew over valleys and mountains, then swooped down into a glen, over the rooftops of a stone cottage with a stable. There was a vegetable garden, and hens clucking nearby. She flew through the stable door, as if riding a fast gust of wind.
Hours later, she woke groggily, and Lachlan was gone. She sat up in a daze as the reality of her life settled into her consciousness.
It was safe to assume now that she was indeed Lady Catherine Montgomery, but she still did not have her memories back, nor did she know where she had been for the past five years, or why she was not a virgin.
Who had she been with, if not Angus?
Part of her did not want to know the answer to that question. She wished it would stay buried in the past.
When it came to her twin sister, however, she felt the opposite.
Of Raonaid, she wished to know everything.
Chapter Sixteen
Blue Waters Manor, south of Edinburgh
Same day
Raonaid was just finishing the afternoon milking when the stable door blew open and a strong wind stirred up the loose hay that was strewn across the floor. The hogs squealed and the chickens outside squawked and flapped their wings.
Heart suddenly racing, she stood up and knocked over the milking stool. “Who’s there?” Her gaze darted all around. “I know you’re in here!”
It was a presence she had felt all her life, even as a child, alone and frightened in bed. The spirit had never caused her harm, however, so Raonaid had learned to push the fear away. Over the past six months, however, the spirit had come more frequently and Raonaid sensed its agitation.
It blew around her in rapid circles, lifting strands of hay off the floor.
“Speak to me, ghost!” Raonaid said. “Why do you haunt me?”
I’m not a ghost.
Raonaid dashed forward with surprise, for it had never spoken to her before. She turned in circles and looked up at the rafters. “What are you, then?”
I’ll come for you.
Another fierce gust blew out the stable door, knocking it back on its hinges; then the air went still. The animals calmed and grew quiet.
A second later, the cow lifted her head and let out a raucous, shrieking, Mooo!
Panic like Raonaid had never known before welled up in her heart. She grabbed the bucket of milk and ran outside, slamming the door shut and lowering the bar. She ran past the vegetable garden to the house and burst through the back door. Setting the bucket down on the worktable, she hurried through the parlor to the stairs.
Murdoch was seated at his desk. He looked up from his papers. He was dressed in his kilt today, which was unusual. His dark hair was tied back in a leather cord.
“Raonaid!” he shouted.
She halted at the bottom of the stairs.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“It wasn’t a ghost,” she replied. “I don’t know what it was.”
His eyes narrowed with curiosity as he rose and stalked toward her. “Was it some kind of vision?”
“I am not certain.”
He grasped her arm and hauled her around to face him. “Well, you best figure it out, lass. Scotland needs a king, and I must know when to act and who to trust. You promised me another vision by now, and if this opportunity passes, there may not be another.”
“Why does it matter so much to you?”
His cheeks flushed with passion and vigor. “We cannot allow the English to continue to subjugate us. If they had their way, they would banish us all to the north, then eventually push us into the sea. You don’t understand anything, do you?”
She wrenched her arm away from him. “Don’t tell me what I do, and do not, understand. I know how it feels to be banished. I’ve been branded a witch all my life, and now I am rejected by you—who will not even be seen in public with me.”
“People fear you, Raonaid. Your gifts make them uneasy.”
She arched a brow and spoke to him with dangerous accusation. “Do my gifts make you uneasy, Murdoch? Does my wickedness make you nervous?”
He took a moment to consider how best to answer the question; then at last, he cleared his throat and stepped back. “You’re my woman. I’ll not cast you out, like others have done.”
She scoffed bitterly. “You only keep me as your woman because you think I can change your future. You want to triumph over the Hanoverians, and you think that if I see it in the stones, it will make it so.”
“You saw a great triumph for Angus the Lion,” he argued. “You predicted his invasion at Kinloch Castle.” When she gave no reply, Murdoch’s voice softened and he laid a hand on her shoulder. “But that’s not the only reason I want you, Raonaid. You know that. You’re a beautiful woman.”
She glanced down at his hand, thought of the mysterious spirit that haunted her, then gave him a spiteful glare. “I don’t know why you think so. I am spiteful and malicious.”
It’s why she had been alone all her life. Everyone feared her. Some believed she was the devil.
Murdoch carefully removed his hand from her shoulder and let it fall to his side.
“There, now,” she said mockingly. “That’s more like it, for I cannot abide lies.” She turned away from him and climbed the stairs to her chamber.
Chapter Seventeen
Kinloch Castle
With her young maid as an escort, Catherine entered the twisting tower staircase. They climbed up one level, then made their way down another long, torchlit passageway.
“Is this the right direction?” Catherine asked, uncomfortably aware of the distance they had traveled through the castle. “I thought we were to dine in the East Tower?”
“Aye, milady, but I was given instructions to bring you here first.”
They reached another staircase and climbed all the way to the top. The maid gestured with a hand. “He’s waiting for you here, milady. He’ll take you to supper himself.”
Hoping her maid was referring to Lachlan, Catherine stepped onto the stone rooftop and looked up at the night sky. The stars were twinkling. The air was still. Wispy clouds floated in front of the moon. She glanced from east to west, wondering how long she would have to wait here alone.
“Lady Catherine.” That familiar husky voice reached her from the other side of the tower stairs.
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At last, Lachlan stepped into view, darkly handsome in the moonlight. Her knees nearly buckled beneath her, and she felt giddy with excitement.
“Why did you summon me here?” she asked, determined to reveal none of that.
He dug into his sporran. “I wanted to give you these, and I didn’t dare come to your bed again.”
He withdrew her heavy pearl and emerald necklace and held it up. The stones gleamed brilliantly in the moonlight.
“I believe there are some dangly earbobs in here as well,” he added, patting his sporran.
Catherine reached for the necklace, but he quickly drew it back. “What will you give me for it?”
There was a charming playfulness in his eyes, which again surprised her. He had not shown this side of himself before.
“You are a terrible tease.” She attempted to swipe the jewels from his grasp, but he hid them behind his back. “I should kiss you like I did at Drumloch,” she said, “just to punish you.”
The playfulness in his eyes vanished instantly, and his tone grew serious.
“Those are dangerous words. Please, allow me.” He moved behind her to drape the pearls around her neck and fasten the clasp. “I’ve never been called a tease before,” he said while she tingled at the sensation of his warm hands gracing her nape. “It was always the other way around, where women were concerned.”
“But our situation is not like anyone else’s, and I am not like most other women.” She was referring to her memory loss, of course.
He moved to face her again. “No, you are not. You are more beautiful, and a thousand times more intriguing.”
Lord help her, she felt as if she were floating in a sea of heavenly bliss.
“May I have my earbobs now?” she asked, holding out her hand.
He kept his eyes on hers while he dug into his sporran again, pulling out one earring at a time. He handed them over and watched her fasten them to her lobes.
“Now you look like a proper heiress,” he said.
She lifted an eyebrow. “I am hardly proper. You should know that better than anyone, for you have slept with me under the stars for five days straight, with no chaperone in sight.”
“Now who’s being a tease, reminding me of such a thing?” His eyes smiled in a way that made her pulse thrum.
“It takes one to know one, sir.”
He grinned. “Aye, and if I were not half-dead from lack of excitement over the past three years, I would show you how dangerous it is to tease a man like me. I am attracted to shiny things, you see, and you, my lady, are quite dazzling.”
Catherine inclined her head at him. “I appreciate the compliment.”
But it was so much more than that. She loved the fact that he was flirting with her and allowing her to see his famous charm, which he had kept hidden from her until now.
He held out a hand. “May I escort you to supper?”
“That would be delightful,” she replied. “I am absolutely ravenous.”
* * *
For more than ten years Lachlan had managed to avoid permanent relationships with women. He could spot a frisky lassie at twenty paces, and such women, in turn, seemed able to recognize in him a mutual inclination for involvement without commitment. They recognized that he did not seek or want love. He’d had it once, with Glenna, and when she died he decided there would never be another to replace her.
Over the years, no woman had come close to making him feel the things he had felt with his first real love—the tragic adolescent longing, the willingness to sacrifice everything for that one person, who seemed destined to be one’s only mate forever. The power and poignancy of his brief love affair and marriage had never touched him again after Glenna.
He had, in subsequent years, been faithful to her—not in body, but in heart. He had sought intimacy through sexual dalliances with women who did not require more from him than mere physical pleasure.
Until the curse, of course, which had exiled him to a life of celibacy and a complete absence of intimacy of any kind.
Tonight, however, as he escorted Catherine into his chief’s private dining chamber, he felt all sorts of unbidden emotions stirring within. Emotions he found both disturbing and enticing, for he wanted her with something more than just physical desire.
As they walked side by side through the corridors of the castle, he breathed in the intoxicating scent of her flowery perfume. Everything about her challenged his capacity for restraint—her gleaming red hair and soft cherry lips; her ample breasts, spilling out of her tight bodice in a luscious burst of temptation. It all made him feel reckless, and that worried him, for she was not a frolicsome tavern wench with loose morals. She was something else entirely.
At last, they entered Angus’s private dining chamber, where a hot fire was blazing in the massive stone hearth. The mahogany table was polished to a fine sheen and adorned with silver candelabras and colorful bowls of fruit. The walls were paneled in dark cherry oak, the windows covered in heavy velvet drapes.
Angus and Gwendolen turned to greet them in the glow of candlelight. A servant brought a silver tray and offered them wine in gold-plated, jewel-encrusted goblets.
“Lady Catherine, the gown is stunning on you,” Gwendolen said. “I hope your chamber is sufficient to meet your needs.”
The conversation continued in a light vein, for it was not every day that a famous Scottish noblewoman from the Lowlands came to dine at Kinloch, and certainly not under such bizarre circumstances of mistaken identity and possible kidnapping, depending on who was describing the events.
They dined on bowls of spiced beef broth, followed by fresh roast goose bathed in a thick cream sauce, and boiled greens.
When the servants came to take away their plates, Angus lounged back in his heavy chair and signaled for more wine.
“Have you decided,” he asked Catherine in his deep Scottish brogue, “how you wish me to proceed in regards to your current predicament, my lady? We can have you escorted back to Drumloch at first light, if that is your wish.”
“I am grateful to you, sir,” she replied, “for your kindness and hospitality. I will wish, of course, to be reunited with my family, but what I desire most of all—aside from meeting my twin—is to recover my memories and learn where I have been for the past five years. You have helped immensely by confirming my identity and the existence of my twin. I had not known of it, and I long to know the truth. If I were in possession of magical powers, I would summon my grandmother to this table tonight, so that I could ask her directly about the circumstances of my birth, but alas, I am without such magic, so I will have to be patient, until I am reunited with her.”
Angus leaned forward. “What do you require, Lady Catherine? I can send a man tonight with a written letter if you wish. Or as I said, I can make the necessary arrangements to deliver you back to your family.”
Catherine sat back in her chair and considered the options presented to her, then turned her eyes to Lachlan.
He nodded once at her, to indicate that he, too, was at her service. Whatever she needed, he would provide it.
“Perhaps a letter would be the best thing,” she decided. “I want my grandmother to know that I am safe and in the care of good people. Also that I chose freely to leave Drumloch and travel here in order to learn about my past.” She regarded Angus again. “Then—if you could arrange it, sir—I wish to travel to Edinburgh to meet my sister.”
He took a deep breath. “I will see to all of it. Every detail.”
“Thank you. But I have one final request, and that is for Lachlan to be my escort. He has brought me this far, and I trust him to see me safely to my destination.”
Angus turned to his wife, who picked up her goblet of wine and took a slow sip, regarding her husband warily over the rim of the cup.
Gwendolen turned and addressed Catherine. “I understand your desire to meet your twin,” she said, “but I must warn you that you may be disappointed. She is not like you, Lady Cathe
rine. She has lived a life apart from the world, and she has lashed out at me and my husband, and Lachlan as well. We will not stop you from traveling to Edinburgh, of course, but please keep your wits about you. Do not become too hopeful. She is not to be trusted.”
Catherine gave her a melancholy smile. “I thank you for your honesty. I will certainly heed your advice, and I hope that one day I will be in a position to repay you both for your generosity. You have been very kind.”
Dessert plates with sugar cakes and buttered cream were placed before them, and the conversation turned to other, lighter topics.
Afterward, they all went together to the Great Hall, where musical festivities had begun. Gwendolen took Catherine across the Hall to meet a group of prominent clanswomen while Lachlan remained with Angus.
Lachlan picked up a tankard of ale from a passing servant. “Does everyone know that she is not Raonaid?” he asked. “Because if someone makes that mistake, they will need to be corrected.”
“Everyone has been informed,” Angus replied. “I suspect she will become an object of fascination,” he added, “especially among those who have met Raonaid in person.”
Lachlan took a deep swig of the ale. “Identical twins, yet opposite in every way. Gwendolen was right to warn her against becoming too hopeful, and believing she will discover a true loving sister in Raonaid. I’ll not leave Catherine alone with her, that is certain.”
Angus glanced at him sharply. “It is true,” Angus said, “that Raonaid is volatile, but do not forget that she was my lover once, for a full year. I would not say this to my wife, Lachlan, and if you repeat a word of it to her, I will knock your head off your shoulders. But I am not sure what would have become of me if Raonaid had not taken me to her bed that first night when I arrived in the Western Isles, after being forsaken by my father. I might have kept riding straight into the North Atlantic.”
Lachlan regarded his cousin with disbelief. “But she betrayed you. She provided your enemies with information that resulted in an attempt on your life. You were poisoned and hung from the battlements, and she tried to frame Gwendolen for it.”
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