Yield to the Highlander

by TERRI BRISBIN

  ‘Just the words, Cat. Just the words.’

  ‘I love you.’

  ‘And I love you, Catriona.’

  The world tilted then for her. Words she’d never believed she would say to a man, she’d said to him. After so many years of pain and suffering and loneliness, he’d given her pleasure and passion, a time to heal and a chance at a new life. Now, he returned his love to her.

  ‘Do not think of what we will face, Cat,’ he said, kissing her again. ‘Think only of my love for you and we will find a way through it all.’

  He followed his promise with a string of unending kisses that left her breathless. Then Aidan eased them back onto his bed and he held her close to him. Some time passed and she tried to empty her thoughts of all the worries she had over the end of what they had now.

  ‘Stay with me, Cat. Stay with me this night.’

  His words echoed into the silence of the chamber and into her heart. She wanted to refuse—she should refuse. Her heart decided the matter then. If she would need to give him up and walk away in just a few months, she would enjoy every moment that they did share. She would make enough memories that she could live on them for the rest of her lonely life.

  Cat turned in his arms to face him, decision made.

  ‘Love me, Aidan. Just love me.’

  And he did, drawing out each touch, every movement, until she lost herself to him. Undressing her with his hands and mouth and teeth and tongue, he drove her to the edge of need and madness for him. He moved between her legs and gazed into her eyes as he entered her. Her body accepted the length of him, fitting around him until she could not remember being a separate body from his.

  This time when flesh filled flesh, there was no beginning or ending to either of them. Joined in the most intimate way, she let him in and accepted that love made this time different from all that had come before. Release came slowly, their bodies melded and she felt every contraction and shudder of his through her.

  The tears surprised her. She did not think they were tears of sadness for she did not feel sad then. Catriona felt....

  Complete.

  Healed.

  Fulfilled.

  Strong enough now to leave him when the time came.

  * * *

  It was the darkest, quietest part of the night when he finally slept next to her. Their fingers entwined, his body tucked tightly behind hers, his arm draped over her, keeping her there. Their hearts beat at the same pace; their breaths matched the other’s.

  And in that dark, quiet time and place, she decided to stay with him until his parents returned. Then, things would spiral out of her control or his and she would need to leave. Catriona would claim these next days as hers.

  And she did.

  * * *

  Though she had left the keep to go and collect some clothes from the house, she remained with him. She would not sit with him at the high table, but she ate her meals in the hall from a seat much closer than the first night.

  She discovered that she liked his friends, especially Dougal, Rurik’s son. They mourned the loss of their companion, but seemed to accept her company now.

  During the days, she tried to keep herself busy and useful in the keep. The servants accepted her help, she knew some of the women from the village, and things went smoothly. She was careful not to overstep or make decisions that were not hers. Cat did not want it reported to the laird or the lady that she had assumed a position she did not have.

  And the nights...the nights were filled with love.

  * * *

  On the night before his parents would return home, they retired to his chamber right after supper and talked and loved, knowing it would somehow be different on the morrow.

  Exhausted and ready to sleep, the loud grumblings of her stomach surprised both of them.

  ‘Did I not feed you enough?’ he asked. They had shared food earlier, but little of it was eaten. Most of it had been smeared in places and removed in a delightful way she’d never thought of before.

  ‘We rushed through supper, Aidan. Worry not, for it will pass,’ she said, rubbing her hand over it.

  Her appetite had grown steadily over these last weeks. So had her exertions, especially spending nights in bed with this younger man. He tired her out so much that she found herself creeping into his chambers in the middle of the day to rest. She would never tell him for fear he would not keep her awake all night long.

  When it rumbled again, he got out of bed and searched in one of his trunks. Handing her a robe and pulling a shirt on, he held out his hand.

  ‘Come. I know where the cook leaves some food for those who arrive back later than supper.’

  ‘Aidan,’ she said, holding up the robe. ‘I cannot walk through the hall wearing only this.’

  ‘You need only walk down the steps,’ he said, pulling her hand until she slid off the bed and on to her feet. Holding out the robe for her, he waited as she wrapped it around her and tied the belt. It was too large and too long for it was made to his height and not hers. ‘I will carry you along the back corridor to the kitchens. Fear not, no one will see you.’

  Once he’d made his mind up, there was no refusing him. She’d tried and lost that battle more times than she could count, so she let him take her hand and lead her down the steps of the tower to the main floor of the keep. He did scoop her up into his arms and carry her as he’d promised and they arrived in the kitchens without anyone seeing them.

  He placed her on her feet and began collecting food from different bins in the larder and pantry. It was simple fare—some cheese, bread, dried figs and ale. They used a small table there, one she’d seen the cook use, and he found two stools for their use. Her stomach quieted as she ate. They continued in companionable silence. Aidan would offer her more from the various plates and she ate more than she expected.

  When it was time to return to his chambers, he took her up in his arms again and she wrapped hers around his neck. If anyone who slept in the hall saw them or heard them, no one acknowledged their passage along the corridor back to the stairs. He began to put her on her feet when the doors opened and people poured into the keep.

  Gair came running down the stairs now, dressed and heading for the door. As he passed, he handed a length of plaid to Aidan, who looked down at his shirt and shrugged. Wrapping it around his waist without a belt, he at least was covered. Cat tried to get around him to go up to his chambers for her garments when the laird’s loud voice rang out.

  ‘Aidan, come and meet Lord and Lady Sinclair and their daughter Margaret,’ he said.

  She wanted to sink into the shadows then. Caught unclothed with the earl’s son by noble guests and a potential bride, Catriona thought that this had to be the most humiliating moment of her life. Worse even than when the villagers spit on her after Gowan’s burial. With nowhere to go and no way to avoid being seen when Aidan moved forward at his father’s summons, she closed her eyes and waited to be shamed once more.

  ‘Catriona, love,’ he whispered.

  She opened her eyes and found him in front of her, shielding her from the people streaming into the hall.

  ‘Go upstairs and dress. I will send someone to see you back to the village.’ She nodded and began to turn away, when he touched her cheek. ‘Remember that I love you.’

  His father called him again, but Aidan remained there, like a wall, waiting until she was out of sight up the stairs. She ran the rest of the way, knowing that servants would be roused from their sleep to welcome the laird and lady back and to help in getting the guests settled into their chambers.

  She dressed and straightened the bedcovers and the rest of the chamber while she waited. When the knock on the door came, she was surprised to find Dougal Ruriksson there. He said little, but saw her back to the house.

  The night c
rawled now as the reality of her situation crashed down around her. On the morrow, she would ask Ciara for her advice. Where could a widow seeking a new life settle?

  Chapter Seventeen

  When the lesson was done and Ciara pleased with her progress, Cat cleaned the table and put her slate and parchment in her sack. She’d been distracted all morning by the true task she’d set for herself three days ago and had not yet had the courage to complete. Ciara had excused herself to give instructions to the woman who cooked for her and left the chamber. Ciara’s children were napping, looked after by their nurse, so the house was quiet now.

  The perfect time to discuss her quandary with someone who was so worldly and yet so much like any other woman.

  Cat laughed then, for Ciara Robertson was unlike any other woman she’d ever met or heard of. Brought to Lairig Dubh and raised by Duncan MacLerie when her mother married him, Ciara had an education like no other and could read, write and speak in several languages. Trained by Duncan, she travelled for the laird on his business and, as she’d found, could handle delicate situations easily.

  Her husband, Tavis, was Rurik’s second-in-command and high in the laird’s esteem and trust. Their marriage had happened when Ciara was abandoned at the altar by her betrothed. From what Muireall told her about that, it seemed to end well for everyone involved for Ciara and Tavis had been in love with each other for years.

  So, with her education, experience, travels within and out of Scotland, surely she would have some ideas for Catriona. Where to live, what to do, how to spend her money wisely...

  ‘You look deep in thought,’ Ciara said as she walked back in, carrying two steaming mugs.

  ‘I would speak to you on a personal matter, if you have a few minutes more, Ciara.’ There. She said the words that would now force her to carry through with it.

  Holding up the mugs, Ciara smiled. ‘You had that look about you all morning, and yesterday morning, and the day before, and...’ Laughing, she took a sip of her drink. ‘What do you wish to talk about?’

  Catriona sat at the table once more and pulled the cup nearer. Instead of the usual smell she expected, this was something else. Something pungent. Something...bad. Trying not to offend, she slid the cup away without taking a taste.

  ‘I need to leave Lairig Dubh and I would be grateful for any advice you can give me.’

  ‘Where will you go?’ Ciara asked, drinking more of the now noxious-smelling liquid.

  ‘That is what I wanted to ask you. You have travelled widely on the earl’s business and I thought you might have knowledge of a small village or town where I could live and seek employment.’

  It made her dizzy. She could not identify the ingredient that bothered her, but the smell turned her stomach and she gagged. Pushing up from the chair, she ran out the door and into the fresh air. Her stomach lurched and she wanted to vomit. Standing there, trying to breathe while her stomach rebelled, she was surprised when Ciara stood beside her, holding a cold cloth on her neck.

  ‘Have you been ill?’ Ciara asked.

  ‘Nay, not ill exactly,’ she explained. ‘I just have not been feeling well.’

  ‘All this upset, no doubt,’ Ciara said, though her tone echoed disbelief. ‘Come, sit here and talk.’

  They settled on a bench there by the door and soon the coolness of the cloth made her feel better.

  ‘So when do you plan to leave?’

  ‘As soon as I can make arrangements to go,’ she admitted. ‘Soon, it will be difficult to stay.’

  ‘And the house? Will you sell it?’

  ‘Ciara, I have not signed the papers. It does not belong to me,’ she explained. ‘I told Aidan I would use it while I needed it and not accept it from him.’

  ‘I thought I was clear—that contract was for your peace of mind. The house is yours. The laird, not Aidan, put the deed in your name.’

  She blinked. She owned the house after all. She would have to sell it or rent it if she left.

  ‘Would you consider staying and working for me?’

  ‘For you?’ The offer was quite unexpected.

  ‘Aye, for me. Not that you will have to, but I need someone to oversee my household. The children adore you, you know both the cook and the nurse and we work well together.’ Ciara shrugged. ‘I am guessing that you want to leave because Aidan will marry?’

  ‘I...I cannot stay. I cannot be his leman once he marries, Ciara. I have seen it and I cannot.’

  ‘Can you stay and make your own life here? You do not have to see him. He will be moving to Ord Dubh as soon as he marries.’

  Cat knew that much, but there were so many memories here that would always remind her of him, of them. And then one day, he would return as laird and earl in his own right.

  ‘I am guessing not. Well, at least now you have the means to go or come as it pleases you.’

  ‘Thanks to him, I do.’ Catriona felt the sadness descending on her. ‘So, have you any ideas? Muireall’s husband has friends in one of the northern villages and I thought that might be a good place.’

  ‘Will you tell him of the bairn before you leave?’

  She frowned at the younger woman. Was Ciara carrying again?

  ‘What bairn? What do you mean?’ she asked.

  Her stomach began churning again and this time she could not dispel it. She fell to her knees and vomited right there in the grass. It went on and on, until her belly emptied itself completely. Sitting back on her heels, she tried to take a breath in. Ciara was back with a cold cloth and a cup of water for her to rinse her mouth.

  ‘That bairn,’ she said with too much joviality for the situation. ‘The one you are carrying. The one, if my counting is correct, will be born in about a seven month.’

  ‘I am barren,’ she said aloud, needing to remind herself. Catriona’s hand drifted to her belly. ‘The healer said when I lost the babe that I would never conceive or carry again.’

  ‘Ah, so you did lose a bairn, then? I wondered.’

  ‘So you are mistaken, Ciara.’ Ciara stood and tugged Cat to her feet and away from the distressing sign of her illness.

  ‘That is what my cousin Lilidh said when I recognised her symptoms as well,’ Ciara said, a wise smile perched on her mouth. ‘Their son Tavish is nigh to two years now.’

  Whether Ciara had guessed Lilidh’s condition correctly or not, it was not possible that she was pregnant.

  ‘No matter,’ Ciara said. ‘Time will show if I am correct or not.’

  She sat down hard on the bench, unable to think it a thing that could happen. If she was, it changed everything. Aidan deserved to at least know that she was carrying a child of his. Born out of wedlock or not, if the child was a boy, he was his father’s responsibility. Bastards were accepted more easily into their families here than in the Lowlands or, God forbid, England.

  Catriona glanced at Ciara then. If this was true, she did not want Aidan to hear about it before she told him.

  ‘I beg you to keep your suspicions quiet for now, Ciara. I pray you not to share them with anyone until I know for certain.’ She searched the woman’s face for some sign of acknowledgement but it was blank. ‘I may just be ill.’

  Standing, she left, not realising she’d not spoken a farewell to Ciara. She must think her a madwoman, wandering off in the middle of a conversation, but Cat needed to be alone then. She did not go back to the house, to her house. Instead she spent hours simply walking along the paths of the village, thinking about this new impossible possibility that would change everything.

  Her easy way out of this situation—leaving Lairig Dubh and him behind—had just turned incredibly difficult.

  * * *

  Four long, frustrating, infuriating, boring days.

  He’d had no sight nor word of Catriona since that night
when his parents arrived unannounced and early with the Sinclairs. It had taken hours to get them, their retainers and guards settled in for what looked to be an extended visit. Lord Sinclair explained that they had been travelling and the roads had been better than expected. So they passed through MacCallum lands a day or two earlier than planned and travelled the rest of the way back with his parents.

  Margaret Sinclair appeared just as thrilled as he was at the prospect of marriage, at least when she was not under her parents’ glaring sight. In view of her parents and his, she was beautiful, polite, knowledgeable and well educated. His father pointed out privately to him that she was also wealthy, endowed with much lands and those lands had access to the North Sea. Her family was in line to inherit control of the earldom of Orkney and had direct ties to the king of the Norse.

  In other words, a woman worthy of the heir of the MacLerie clan and all that he would bring to the marriage.

  She left him as cold as a frigid night’s air.

  So, he found himself escorting her and her mother and her maid across their lands, spending a few days at their southern holding, the one that he would control shortly. She rode well and nodded and smiled and laughed at just the right times in conversation. But he recognised the same uninterest in her gaze that he was trying to hide in his.

  As they entered the village, he could not help but to look for Catriona. Glancing down the road that led to the edge of the village where she lived, he saw no one.

  ‘My lord,’ Margaret said, riding up next to him. Following his gaze down the path, she asked, ‘Is this where you keep your whore? Or do you have her with you in the keep?’

  He pulled on the reins so heavy and hard that his horse danced up on his hind legs. Aidan brought him down and under control, but he could not say the same for his temper.

  ‘You dare much, lady,’ he warned in a low voice so only she would hear. No matter his attempt at discretion, everyone in their travelling group halted as they had.

  ‘Mother, go on ahead. Lord Aidan will see me safely to the keep,’ she called out.

  Her mother glanced from her to him and back again before agreeing. His father would be insulted by any suggestion that his guests were not safe on his lands. He waited until they were alone before speaking.