The night crawled 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. L
ord 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.
‘Have a care before speaking on matters not of your concern, Lady Margaret,’ he warned.
His horse reacted to the tension in his body, moving skittishly beneath him. Deciding it was safer to speak to her from the ground, he jumped off and pulled the reins down, trying to calm the horse. She sat silently on hers, watching him. He glanced around to make certain no one could hear their words before speaking.
‘Do not call her whore, for she is not one,’ he warned. ‘Now, what is it you truly wish to know?’
For he sensed she had something to say on the matter and now was the perfect time to determine if she would abide by his intentions to keep Catriona. He knew he could convince her to stay, he just needed time.
‘You misunderstand me, Lord Aidan,’ she said, dismounting easily with no help. Her skills were admirable. Walking to his side, she placed her hand on his arm. His skin crawled beneath it.
‘I do not mind at all if you keep your wh— Woman after we marry.’
‘If we marry,’ he corrected.
‘I am not inclined to share in the...pleasures...of the marriage bed, so I would prefer you slake your lust for such things on her,’ she said directly. ‘I prefer a quiet life of contemplation and prayer.’
‘What of an heir?’ he asked.
‘I will do my duty as is expected of me, my lord,’ she ground out in the only fit of temper he’d seen her display, ‘but I will not like it. So, you can do what you must until I conceive,’ she said, shuddering in distaste or disgust, ‘then I pray you will find your way to her bed and stay out of mine.’
He almost laughed. Aloud. He had hoped to find a bride who would understand, but this was even better. A woman who did not want to explore the joys of the marriage bed. But, why not?
‘Do you come to this untouched, lady?’ he asked.
Her eyes narrowed and she threw her frozen gaze at him. The fury there at his question nearly singed his skin. ‘I would never dishonour myself and do otherwise.’
‘Then how do you know that you will be content in an empty marriage bed?’
‘My priest has counselled me that it is the way God would like marriages to be, filled with prayer and not lust. I would seek that in my marriage.’
Aidan kept his tongue behind his teeth now and kept all the comments he wanted to make silent. He nodded at her and offered her his foot to regain her seat.
‘I appreciate your candour, Lady Margaret,’ he said.
‘As I would appreciate your accommodation if our families agree to this marriage,’ she replied.
They rode back to the keep in silence and Aidan could not believe his luck in this matter of marriage. Should he tell his parents that he and Lady Margaret would suit and end the speculation over the other two women?
Could he marry such a woman as this? Cold-hearted, cold-natured, a woman who would place her devotion to the Almighty between them? What kind of sons would she bear him? His stomach soured at the thought of taking her to his bed. Considering his history of bedding any woman willing, it made him cringe at the irony of it.
After meeting the first woman, he was more certain that taking another woman as wife would just not be possible for him. He understood his duty, especially as first-born son of the chieftain and the earl, but he was growing to dislike it.
As he guided the lady to the keep, he realised that the one thing Cat feared the most—being thought of as a whore—would then be true, for she would be sharing the bed of a married man.
Fear struck him then, for he was being the veriest of fools. He loved Catriona and did not want to soil that love by sharing a bed with another, even if the other was his wedded wife. No matter if the other woman gave her permission or not. He wanted only Catriona and must find a way out of this madness before he lost her completely. But then, this was for naught if he could not convince Catriona to stay.
* * *
As the visit continued for several more days, Aidan only knew he needed to see Catriona. His father had forbidden him to do so while the Sinclairs were staying with them. So, he bided his time, strained his control and good nature to be a good and polite host and prayed they would tire of Lairig Dubh and leave.
After a fortnight, Lord Sinclair announced they would be leaving in another day to travel to visit other kin before returning home. Aidan could feel the end of this torture approaching.
Now the truly challenging work would begin—to find a way to keep Catriona at his side. He could not figure out whether the more difficult person to convince would be her or the Beast of the Highlands. For very few crossed his father and lived to tell of it.
Chapter Eighteen
Munro watched as Lord and Lady Sinclair and their daughter rode through the gates. Their visit had extended for just over a fortnight and he’d observed as Aidan did what he did best—charmed and cajoled and convinced. To anyone watching the scene that had played out over the last weeks, they would think Aidan infatuated with the woman who was but one possible bride for him.
But he could see through the falseness of the mask his former friend wore to the cold-hearted, conniving bastard beneath. No matter his protestations that he had not dishonoured his father’s wife, the way he took her to bed as soon as he could get her proved Munro’s suspicions.
He slammed his fist into the stone wall at his back.
He’d always known she would be trouble.
When his father returned with her, he’d been ten-and-four years and he yet mourned his mother’s death a six-month before. How his father could bring another woman into their house befuddled him...until his own growing body and young man’s urges made it all clear to him.
Catriona MacKenzie had the body of the Greek goddess he’d seen when Aidan showed him a book from the laird’s collection. When he spied Catriona wet from the water splashing while she washed clothes, with the fabric of her gown plastered over
her curves, his body reacted for the first time as a man’s would and he understood why his father brought her home.
Over that first year, she had gained some weight and her figure filled out, creating soft, lush breasts, hips and legs that would welcome a man between them. And, to his disgrace, he had wanted to be that man.
And so, with every timid smile or soft word to him, he hardened in lust for his father’s wife. As the years passed, his desire for her grew until he could barely be in her presence without reacting. Whether his father recognised it or not, Munro knew not, but he found himself assigned away more and more. When he fell in with the laird’s son and his small group of friends, Munro travelled more and more.
But even the women drawn to Aidan MacLerie and those he took did not lessen the desire he had for Catriona.
Then Aidan began sniffing around her as he did so many others. Munro knew she would be weak and end up in his bed, just like the rest had. When the son of the powerful, wealthy, titled Earl of Douran wanted you in his bed, there was no way to refuse.
And worse, it would be his father who would wear the horns of a cuckold this time.
When his father had gone off on an assignment that would keep him away for some time, Munro kept a close watch on them both and his suspicions were confirmed by the rumours—Aidan had succeeded in his quest and taken Catriona.
Even now, his anger seared his blood and he wanted revenge on the man he once called friend.
For it was that friend who had caused Gowan’s death.
If Aidan had acted with honour, if he’d been a true friend, he would have walked away from her. But when he chased and then caught Catriona, Aidan had forced his hand and Munro had to summon his father home to deal with it. And that resulted in Gowan’s death.
He could forgive his former friend many things, but not that.
He moved along the battlement, watching below, and took a new position near the corner of the wall. Standing there, letting his anger brew, Munro could hear a couple of the other guards talking about Aidan.
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