Samantha Holt (Highland Fae Chronicles)

by To Dream of a Highlander

  “Well, sister, have ye no embrace for me?”

  She laughed, her frown quickly gone and snatched her skirts to scurry over. Wrapping her arms about him, she squeezed his waist before pulling away. “I am pleased to see ye safe.” She took Katelyn’s hands and smiled warmly. “And ye, Katelyn. I feared greatly for ye. It seems my brother didnae take as good a care of ye as I’d hoped.” A teasing glint lit Lorna’s eyes but she had to know how much it galled him that Katelyn had been harmed.

  Katelyn withdrew her hands and touched her bruised cheek. “Oh, nay, yer brother did all he could. He risked a great deal to come to my aid.”

  “Well, I am only sorry we didnae come sooner. None expected the Norsemen to cross so soon.”

  “It took us by surprise too.”

  A heartbeat passed and Finn tapped his foot.

  Katelyn, ye must be weary,” Lorna finally said as she signalled to a serving maid who came scurrying over. “Mae, have Lady Katelyn seen to her chambers and fill a bath.”

  This brought out a relieved smile from Katelyn. “I thank ye, my lady.”

  “Pray call me Lorna. We shall speak more on these sorry events later. First ye must bathe and rest.”

  Something akin to apprehension flickered across Katelyn’s face but it faded quickly and she dipped her head briefly. “Thank ye, Lorna,” she said softly.

  They watched her follow the maidservant up the wooden stairs to the balcony. Finn forced his gaze away from the gently swaying curves under her gown. Ach, even in filthy torn garments she tempted him. Dragging his head around, he focused on his sister. “All is well then?”

  “Aye, as ye can see, Finn.” Lorna motioned around.

  He scanned the Great Hall, noting she was right. He’d only briefly stopped by on the way to Bute but on his previous visits, the red tapestry—a depiction of a great battle—had been threadbare and dusty, the chandeliers looked in need of a clean and the rushes on the floor had likely not been replaced for many summers. Now it looked as though his sister had commissioned a new trestle table for the rear of the hall and the wooden railing surrounding the gallery that spanned the entire length of the hall looked to be new too.

  “All looks well indeed. Though Logan didnae look so happy.”

  “Ach, the man simply cannae handle a lass telling him what to do.”

  He fixed Lorna with a stare and she shifted. She kept something from him. “That doesnae sound like Logan. He normally bows to yer every will,” he observed.

  “Well not this day, he does not.” Tugging her skirt, she glanced down before meeting his gaze once more. “What are yer plans then, Finn? Shall ye return to Glencolum?”

  “Ye have tired of me already, sister?”

  She shook her head and grinned. “Tell me, did all go well?”

  Finn sighed, retreated to the table at the rear of the hall and poured himself an ale. Draining it in one long drink, he placed the goblet down and swiped the back of a hand across his mouth. He fixed Lorna with a stare. “We arrived as the Norse were breaking through the walls.”

  A hand went to Lorna’s mouth. “Sweet Lord, I didnae expect ye to have to go in amidst the battle.”

  “Aye, ‘twas fierce at that. But,” he grinned at the memory, “yer brother wouldnae fail ye so I killed the nearest Viking and disguised myself. Aside from a small scuffle, it worked.”

  Lorna let slip a smile. “A fine idea, brother. Ye’d make a good Norseman by my reckoning.”

  “Well ye didnae get all the wit in the family, Lorna.”

  “So ye rescued Katelyn without incident?”

  Terrified green eyes and a trembling body played in his mind. “Almost. Lady Katelyn was set upon before I could get to her.”

  “Poor lass…” she breathed.

  Finn strolled around the trestle table and drew out one of the large chairs behind it, the one that used to seat Lorna’s husband. He trailed his fingers across the wood carvings before sitting. Weariness suddenly ate into his limbs. “But still, she has ye now.”

  “For now. Laird Gillean will be here soon and will wed her here so that she may travel to his home as his wife and without a chaperone.”

  “Aye,” he replied quietly.

  “Ye know Gillean has threatened war upon Katelyn’s clan. This marriage was to be a peace treaty.”

  “In truth?” He snorted. “He is too late though. War is upon Bute already.”

  “It matters little to Gillean. The isle will be back in Katelyn’s father’s hands before long and Gillean is land hungry. He knows Bute is weak and ‘twill be even more so once the Norse are driven from it.” She swiped a hand across the table. “And then no doubt, he will turn his attention to my lack of a husband.” She laughed but Finn did not miss the tension in it.

  “He shall find ye a good man, surely? He would not want his castle in the hands of a fool.”

  “Gillean’s notion of a good man and my own differ greatly I fear, but alas, if I want to keep my home, I shall have to bow to the will of my overlord.” Lorna sighed. “Such is the lot of a woman,” she added drolly.

  “Ye know ye always have a place at Glencolum should ye need it. Morgann and I will protect ye from aught should ye need us.”

  A soft smile slipped across her face and she patted his hand. “I thank ye, Finn. Ye are a noble man. But I have survived worse and I shall survive again.”

  Finn forced down the knot in his throat. He knew little of Lorna’s marriage. She had been sold into it at six and ten before their father died. Her husband was an old man but a good warrior. Likely there was no love between them, but how many marriages were made of love in times of war and politics? Still the churning of his stomach told him there was more to Lorna’s marriage than she let slip. And that gnawing sensation also said he’d failed her by not being a better brother to her during it. If only the cursed fighting at Glencolum had not taken such a toll.

  He coughed. “Forgive me, sister, I—”

  She waved her hand. “All is well now. I shall not worry until Gillean arrives and in the meantime I shall occupy myself with caring for our new guest. No doubt she has endured much.”

  “Lorna, ye are so very fond of taking in strays.”

  “Ach, ye are soft-hearted too, Finn. Ye just keep it hidden beneath yer quick grin and rakish ways.”

  “First, Logan, now Katelyn.”

  “Logan was no stray.” Her brows dipped and she drew her chin up.

  He fought the urge to chuckle. Something about Logan riled Lorna. “Nay, he was but a peasant boy, was he not?”

  “Finn, dinnae talk of him that way. Ye fight beside him and know well enough he is more than that. Ach, ye could learn some lessons from him. At least he knows how to behave as a gentleman.”

  He snatched the goblet and poured himself more ale, using the earthenware to disguise his grin. So righteous. Lorna loved to jump to the defence of anyone whom she felt needed her. Logan had been nothing but a poor man when he’d come to Kilcree looking for work. And while there might be no noble blood in him, Finn had to admit, he knew few men who fought as well as Logan.

  “So,” he traced the wood grain of the table with his free hand, “when are we expecting Katelyn’s marriage to take place?”

  “Gillean travels from the south on business. I think it likely we shall not see him for at least two sennights.”

  “Would ye object to yer brother staying for a while?”

  “Ye know I wouldnae, but does Morgann not need ye?”

  “Ach, Alana has him in hand. My duties have lessened vastly of late.” Indeed, his responsibilities at Glencolum had decreased since the fighting with Alana’s clan had ended and the lass took to running the castle with ease. It left him with too much time. Time to think on the past, on his future….

  Lorna smiled and leaned over, pressing a hand to his forearm. “Finn, ye are the best kind of a brother.”

  He shifted. “If I were the best kind of brother, I would have been here more often.”

/>   “Ye had much to deal with at Glencolum. The fighting took up much of yer time. I am only grateful ye were never harmed. Of course, losing Ali....”

  He stood abruptly, his heart wringing at the mention of his wife. “’Tis settled then. I shall extend my stay.”

  She blinked at the sudden interruption but gathered herself, squeezing her hands together. “I am sure I can tolerate ye just a wee bit longer, but I fear ye shall find yerself tired of the slow pace of life here. There are no battles for ye to fight.”

  “Nay, and for that ye should be grateful.”

  Aye, the more he thought on it, the more convinced he became he should stay a while longer. He’d already spent too much time away from his sister and he perceived trouble in her eyes—something to do with Logan mayhap. An undercurrent of something fizzled through the air. He contemplated the jug of ale in front of him. Of course, his decision to stay had little to do with Katelyn. Her fate was of no consequence to him.

  Chapter Four

  Catriona blew the soapy bubbles from her hands and leaned back in the wooden tub with a sigh. Warm water caressed her skin and removed much of the fatigue and aches from her body. But while her muscles eased, her stomach churned with worry. What had she done? Lorna appeared as kindly as Finn had suggested.

  She released a breath. Deceiving either of them rankled. Finn had been so kind and courageous. She shut her eyes. Fair hair and deep blue eyes lingered in her vision behind her closed lids. Catriona clenched her hands together until nails dug into her palms. Why did Finn make her tense again? Being attracted to him only further complicated things. And besides, he would be gone soon.

  At least that put one problem behind her. Even if it made her heart ache a wee bit. She had to remember why she was continuing this deception. It was not for her father, nay, but for the people of Bute. The Norsemen would be expelled from the isle and it would be vulnerable to Laird Gillean’s advances. It had to appear that her father at least wanted to continue with the contract. Both she and her sister had large dowries but even to offer herself as a replacement would be seen as breaking the contract and might tear apart their tentative peace. Not that she wished to be sold to the laird. Likely her father never intended to go through with the agreement anyway. He had much higher ambitions for his daughters.

  Alas, his perfect daughter was dead and now he was left with her. Still she might not want power and money as Katelyn had but she would prove her worth in this matter at least. She would prevent war and save her people from further distress. That, at least, she could do right.

  She scrubbed her arms, plucked the soap from where it had sunk, lathered up some more bubbles and set to work on her legs. She froze as she spied the bruises on her inner thighs. Her mouth grew dry and the rose scent lingering in the air seemed to become tinged with sweat and blood. The soap slid from her trembling hands and she splashed water over her face as if it would remove the memory of the Viking’s hands on her. When it still refused to leave, she submerged herself under the water and held herself there for a few moments.

  When she broke through the surface, Catriona drew in great breaths and concentrated on calming her racing heart. Gaze fixed on the daylight seeping through the partially closed shutters, she clamped her hands by her side. Even being in a place of safety failed to remove her fears. How was it she felt more safe and secure in Finn’s embrace than in a heavily guarded castle?

  The thud in her chest slowed and she continued to suck in steady breaths. How she would overcome this, she knew not, but she had to keep hold of her senses. In such a precarious position, one slip and all could come crumbling down. She shook her head and dragged her hands through her hair. So many uncertainties. So much at stake.

  ***

  Having consumed enough ale to warm his aching limbs, Finn stood beneath the large tapestry on one wall and admired it. “Ye have done a fine job,” he said to Lorna. “But do ye nae think ye should turn yer attentions to—” Finn trailed off as a woman descended the stairs from the upper gallery, footsteps so soft he barely heard them.

  He let his gaze linger slowly on her and watched the slight sway of her hips beneath her purple gown. The thud of his heart was almost sickening in its rhythm and his temples throbbed as blood surged through his body.

  “By God…” he caught himself whispering when she reached the bottom step and lifted her gaze to his.

  Her beauty stole his breath. It was a cool beauty but one of utter perfection. Long, black hair draped over her shoulders in waves that begged to be touched. With the front strands tied back, he had a perfect view of her faultlessly oval shaped face and succulent lips. She hung back, hands clasped tightly in front as if waiting permission to approach but he still noted the divine shape of her lips, the little dip at the top of them. The sort of lips capable of bringing a man to his knees.

  The woman from his dreams.

  Katelyn was the woman from his dreams. How was it possible and how had he not realised?

  Lorna coughed and he jolted, reluctantly dragging his gaze from Katelyn.

  The woman in question cautiously approached and Finn dipped his head briefly, spreading a warm grin across his face. Mayhap he disconcerted her as her eyes widened. He almost laughed. He was used to women instantly simpering under such a look but she seemed to view him as if he were a wolf on the prowl.

  He had to admit he felt like one. Never before had he seen a woman so spectacular. Even his dreams did her no justice. And to think he had laid next to her with nothing more than a fur between them. How had he not recognised it was she?

  “Ye look very well, Katelyn.” He murmured her name and savoured how it rolled on his tongue.

  A blush of colour blossomed across her pale cheeks as she inclined her head toward him slowly. “Thank ye, sir. The yarrow root Lorna gave me has done much for my injuries.” A hint of a smile teased her lips. “And a bath does much for a woman’s health.”

  “Finn,” he corrected, longing to hear her husky tones utter his name and disappointed by her sudden formality.

  “Finn.”

  It was as if she had to force the word from her mouth but he almost closed his eyes and groaned as she spoke. Finn took the chance to admire her up close. In a gown of purple silk, she looked resplendent… and far too tempting. Rounded breasts shaped her gown and his palms tingled while he imagined how perfectly they would fill his hands. The swelling on her cheek had all but gone and even the faint bruising could not detract from her beauty.

  Katelyn rung her hands and darted her gaze between him and his sister. Dare he hope she was thinking the same? The ache in his body grew and Katelyn was most certainly the source. Finn longed to put a permanent smile on her face. He couldn’t help wonder if a dose of unrestrained loving may well prove to be the best way of doing it. Which was pure folly. She would be in the bed of another man before long.

  Her betrothed. Why did he find it so hard to remember that?

  Lorna jabbed an elbow lightly in his side and he realised he must have been staring.

  “Are ye feeling revived?” Lorna asked.

  “Aye, much better, thank ye.”

  “Should ye like a tour around? Laird Gillean shall not be with us for several sennights by my reckoning, so this shall be yer home for a while yet.”

  “I see.” Katelyn’s voice came out barely more than a whisper, making Finn scowl. She showed little excitement at the idea of meeting her betrothed.

  “Ah, Logan.” Lorna motioned to the brooding man as he entered the hall, a glower on his face. Finn resisted the urge to chuckle. The man had been out of sorts ever since their return. His sister had something to do with his dour mood, he suspected. “Will ye show Lady Katelyn around the keep and lands? I have a need to speak with Finn.”

  Finn fought the desire to mimic Logan’s scowl as a dart of disappointment jabbed him. He wanted to show Katelyn around. In spite of himself, just being without Katelyn caused a strange ache in his chest. He’d already experienced it when s
he went to her chambers to wash and rest. Those few days traveling together—those few short days—reminded him of what it was like to have a woman for company. He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and glanced at his sister’s all too serious expression. It was a reminder he did not need or want.

  “If ye’ll come with me, my lady,” Logan dipped his head to Lorna before turning away.

  “I thank ye. Good day to ye.” Katelyn curtseyed and turned to depart, but not before throwing a lingering glance at Finn. Wariness and uncertainty haunted those stunning eyes. Did the previous days’ events cause such a look or was it something more? He couldn’t help but wonder and wish he knew more.

  “Will ye tell me more of what happened on Bute?”

  Finn snapped his attention to Lorna. “I cannae tell ye much, save that the Norsemen succeeded in capturing the castle.”

  “What of Katelyn’s father?”

  “I wasnae there long enough to meet with the laird. My priority was Katelyn, as dictated by yer husband’s brother,” he responded stiffly. He would not have a lass tell him he hadn’t done his duty, sister or not.

  “’Twill be a while until we hear word from Bute and of the outcome of the siege,” she mused.

  “The king will send men over to take it back, will he not?”

  “I know not. If the laird lives, he may be expected to fight the Norse himself.”

  “If he lives.”

  “Which is my concern. Katelyn has not only lost her home but may have lost her father too.”

  “Ye show a great deal of interest in that woman, Lorna.”

  “As do ye, brother.” She grinned slyly.

  He ignored her remark and tried not to think on how right his sister was. “It will no’ be yer concern soon enough. Not when Gillean arrives.”

  “Aye, that bothers me too.”

  “Surely ‘tis no bad thing she has the security of such a marriage? If her father is dead, she has little now.”

  “Do ye no’ see the hurt in her eyes?”