Charming the Shrew

by Laurin Wittig

  He was worried, but not scared. He should be scared. He had not fared well with her brothers the last time they met. Her mind raced away from the memory. She did not want the concern that threatened to cast a light into the misery. She listened hard, swimming up from the black pit, determined to understand, to avoid the memories.

  “I wish to speak to my sister, bard,” Ailig said. “The others are not with me. Triona, do you now let others speak for you?”

  He spoke to her. She must reply, but words were difficult when she could feel nothing.

  “Triona? Are you well?”

  “Her name is Cat,” Tayg said, his voice possessive.

  She stepped around Tayg’s bulk to stand beside him. She made herself look Ailig in the eyes and was surprised by the concern she saw there.

  “I do speak for myself,” she said, her voice more quiet than usual, “but only when I have something to say.” She swallowed, struggling against the black pit that beckoned to her. “Go home, Ailig. Leave me be. I am weary of so many men manipulating my life.” She roused herself enough to glare at both men for a moment before the numbness stole over her again.

  “I have things to say to you, sister. I would know what has happened to you and why you travel with such as this bard.”

  She sighed and rubbed a spot over her left eye that had begun to throb. “You know very well why, and the rest is not your concern. ’Tis between myself and Tayg.”

  She glanced at Tayg and saw a glimmer of hope blossom in his face, shining from his warm brown eyes. For a moment he held her gaze and her heart. For a moment she would have given up everything to be with him, to fall into bed with him again and have the world disappear, leaving only the two of them to revel in each other. But she would not love again—not him, not anyone—for love led to weakness and betrayal and pain, and she would rather live the rest of her life numb than to have her heart ripped out ever again.

  How quickly joy had changed to pain, love to…She sniffed. She wanted to hate him, needed to hate him, for that was her armor against the pain, but she could not find the hate. Hurt, disappointment, betrayal, all of those rose from the dark pit and wound round her heart, but she could not lock them into place with hatred as she had done with Broc and Dogface all these years. She broke the gaze and purposefully looked Ailig in his icy gray eyes.

  “At least my b…he…helped me. No one else would.” She moved to a stool and sat. “Go home, Ailig, and prepare the clan for the wrath of King Robert, for ’tis surely deserved and ’twill be swift, no doubt, once we inform him of the plotting against him.”

  “Wheesht, Cat,” Tayg said, but he did not take his eyes from Ailig, who had gone very still at her words.

  “Explain,” Ailig said.

  Cat looked first at her brother and then at Tayg. She had tried to lean on both, trusted both, yet both had failed her. She felt something shift, a strange sensation as if the world slipped out from beneath her feet, and she feared the new strength she had found in these last few days with Tayg might disappear. Her armor was brittle with betrayal and in danger of shattering altogether.

  But she would not let that happen.

  No matter what happened with Tayg, she’d not let her brother see the ravages her heart had wrought upon her. She tried to remember how she had been before she met Tayg: tough, self-sufficient, lonely. ’Twas difficult, though, when all she wanted to do was curl up and have the world leave her to her misery.

  “Triona, I would have an explanation. Why will the king’s wrath be ours?”

  A sad smile drifted over her lips, and she shook her head. “Do not you play me for an idiot, too. I have had enough of that for a lifetime.” She glanced at Tayg but found no comfort in the wound her words caused. She turned back to her brother. “The truth, Ailig, you owe me at least that.” She spoke the words but could not muster any force behind them. “What part do you play in Duff’s plan?”

  Ailig’s eyebrows drew down and confusion filled his eyes. “His plan to get the king’s blessing for the marriage between you and him?”

  “But—” Pol began.

  “Let us sit and share a drink,” Gair said, interrupting his son. “Tayg, this one cannot harm you with all of us around,” he said. Catriona realized suddenly that all of Gair’s family surrounded them, forming a circle around Ailig, protecting Tayg and Catriona from him. “It sounds as if there is a story to be shared,” Gair continued. “I’m thinking perhaps the storyteller should spin this tale. Perhaps many things can be explained at once?” Gair looked from Tayg to Catriona, but she could not answer the question in his eyes.

  “Do I have your word, Ailig, that the others are not following you?” Tayg asked.

  “You do. I did not wish to have you beaten to death before I could determine Triona’s wishes.” He watched her for a moment. “Though by the way she looks at you I would say she cares not what happens when Broc and the others find you.”

  Alarm sliced through her. She surged to her feet. “You will not harm him, Ailig! Nor will you allow the others to.”

  “Hm, that answers one of my questions, but opens the door on so many more.” He loosened his cloak, and one of the twins took it. “Let us enjoy these good people’s hospitality while we discover a few truths.”

  Lina bustled around the fire, building it up while Gair got down the friar’s whiskey once more.

  “I always say a story goes down easier with a little whiskey to help it along,” Gair said.

  Ailig sat next to Catriona, and Tayg sat across the table from her, leaning forward on his elbows. She tried to ignore the determination radiating from him. She would not be swayed by his tale. She could not allow herself the weakness that opening her heart to him had been. She must be strong, as she always had been, only it had been so much easier to be strong when she had someone to be strong with her.

  “Gair, this tale is not for weans.” Tayg glanced at the rapt faces of the children.

  “Aye. Lads, go, take your sister. There is firewood to be hauled and chopped. Niall, you stay.” They waited as the children left the room, grumbling about being left out of the excitement.

  When the door closed behind them, Tayg began. “Do you know who I am?” he asked Ailig. “What my errand was? What business of the king’s I travel on?”

  “You are Tayg the Bard and you have a missive you were to have delivered to Broc from Duff. I know nothing of the king’s business.”

  Tayg took a deep breath. “I am Tayg of Clan Munro of Culrain, warrior of King Robert, son of Angus Dubh and next chief of my clan, though God willing not for some time to come.”

  Catriona felt a stirring in her gut, a tiny flicker of pride, at the way Tayg explained himself, but Ailig’s face was impassive, unimpressed.

  “And what is this business of the king’s?” he asked.

  “Where do you stand—you, Ailig, not your clan, nor your chief, nor your brothers—where do you stand where King Robert is concerned?”

  All eyes were raptly focused on Ailig.

  “Has Triona told you that I spent time in Edinburgh?” he asked.

  Tayg nodded. “Cat has.”

  “While I was there studying I found myself frequently in the company of lads who had witnessed the Bruce in battle or had met him in gentler company and knew him to be well-spoken, intelligent, and despite his father’s interference, a supporter of Sir William and the fight against the English. I came to understand that he fought for all of us in Scotland, not just the nobility, but even the Highlanders whose allegiance he could not guarantee.

  “I have great respect for this man and for all that he strives to accomplish for Scotland. I am bound by my clan’s chief in my public actions, but I am the keeper of my own conscience, and in that I firmly believe the future of Scotland lies not with the power that gathers with the MacLeods of Lewes in the isles, nor with Edward of England, but in the hands of our own king. Were I chief of Clan Leod, King Robert would have my allegiance.”

  “Cat was co
rrect when she said you were the intelligent brother,” Tayg said. He fished in the leather sack at his waist for the documents that would accompany the tale he was about to tell.

  A short time later, after a fortifying round of whiskey, Tayg refolded the documents and returned them to the safety of his sack. He tried to ignore the shocked faces around the table and concentrate on Ailig, who appeared to be rather pale, his gray eyes fevered. He stared at the place on the table where Tayg had carefully shown him the documents as if they were still there.

  “I am a horse’s arse,” Ailig finally said, his voice tight.

  Catriona rather agreed, but said nothing. She was appalled all the more with this second telling of her clan’s culpability in the plot against the king. How could she have been so selfish as to ignore the wider implications of an alliance between the two clans?

  “I should have seen this betrothal for what it really was,” Ailig said. “I knew the alliance was Duff’s motivation, but I had no idea how far his delusions ran, nor how deeply Broc was involved in them.”

  “’Twould seem that Broc knows well which siblings will trouble his conscience the most, aye?” Tayg glanced at Catriona then back to Ailig.

  “Broc has no conscience, nor a lick of sense,” Ailig said. “This is clearly a trap he and Duff have set for you and Triona. And I have played right into their hands, finding you for them. Surely Broc was counting on that.”

  “No doubt. And I would think also a trap for the king, as he is known to be traveling these parts before his sister’s wedding. So what shall we do about it? Do we warn the king or stop the conspirators?”

  Catriona noted the color rushing back to Ailig’s face.

  “I would stop the conspirators,” he said, “and then turn them over to the king to do with as he may, but I fear we are outnumbered.”

  Surprise rushed through Catriona, and suspicion. Only moments before these two had been prepared to battle each other and now, after Tayg’s wee tale, they were allies?

  “I must agree,” Tayg said. “We must learn the king’s location and ride hard to his side.”

  Gair cleared his throat and Catriona jumped. She had forgotten that the others listened to her clan’s shame.

  “You will not be outnumbered, lads,” Gair said. “We will be seven—the two of you, John, myself, and my three oldest—to their five, and we can use surprise to our advantage.”

  “And me,” Catriona said. “I’ll not be left behind.”

  “And Cat,” Tayg agreed.

  Gair nodded. “’Twill be short work with so many. I have no fear that Cat can stand against her brothers and this Duff—”

  “Dogface,” Catriona said, her blood starting to run again at the thought of facing the man instead of running from him.

  “Dogface, then,” Gair continued, “but can you, Ailig? Can you stand against your brothers?”

  “Aye. I have stood against them one way or another my entire life. ’Tis only to do so more openly now. We must protect the king, and in doing so ’twill protect my clan and Triona from the ill that Broc would serve to us. But we cannot drag you and yours into this, nor my sister,” he added.

  “Do you really think she will stay here meekly and let us slay her dragons for her?” Tayg asked. “Do you think we can keep her from her part in protecting the king?” He held her gaze for a moment and she was surprised to see hurt there. “She wishes the king to find her a husband, after all.”

  “But she is already married to you!” Pol’s voice piped up, and all eyes turned to where his head hung down from the loft. “You did all that kissy stuff last night at dinner. I saw it!”

  Ailig surged across the table at Tayg, pure fury on his face. Tayg jumped back just in time to dodge Ailig’s blow, toppling the bench.

  “Stop!” Catriona grabbed Ailig’s tunic and hauled back hard on it. He staggered and turned his glare on her.

  “You are married?”

  “I would speak to you in private, brother.” She glanced at Tayg, who was standing, grim faced, watching them.

  “What have you done, Triona? What were you thinking?”

  Catriona felt anger spark to life within her and she hugged its heat to her. “Do not take that tone with me, Ailig. If you will come outside with me I will explain to you.”

  “I’m coming with you,” Tayg said.

  “Nay,” Catriona and Ailig said together.

  “Aye. You cannot stop me. I am a part of this whether either of you like it or not.”

  Lina clucked her tongue and smiled at the glowering men. “Come, mine, let us be about our tasks and let these three sort through the rest of the tale without our ears privy to their secrets. Pol, come down from there, you imp, and take yourself out to the byre. There is mucking needed there to be sure, and you have earned that task this day with your eavesdropping.”

  “Ma!”

  “Do not Ma! me or I shall haul you out of here by the back of your shirt as Cat has so aptly demonstrated.”

  The woman quickly shooed even Gair and the friar out of the cottage, leaving Tayg and Ailig to glare at each other and Cat to ponder what to say next. When the door closed behind the last of Lina’s brood, Catriona crossed her arms and glared the two men back into their seats.

  “We are not married. Nothing has happened between us except a bit of mummery to keep our identities secret while we traveled,” she said, daring Tayg to contradict her. When they both started to speak, she held up her hand and shook her head. “I’ll not listen to either of you about any of this for neither of you can be trusted.”

  “Cat, I did not mean to hurt to you.”

  “Aye, but how could you not? You are just like all the others after all. My mistake was in believing you were different—that I was different with you. ’Twould seem that I am just as stupid now as I was at twelve, trusting you, believing you were so much more than my brothers, than Dogface.”

  “Cat—”

  “Nay, there is nothing more to say. I am going outside. If you still wish to kill each other, please do. I’ll not stop you again, but know this: I shall go for the king with you or without you. ’Tis the only way to prove to him that not all our clan are against him.” She pinned Ailig with a harsh look. “Not all of us are daft.”

  She forced herself to walk to the door without looking back. She slipped out of the cottage and fled for the woods before anyone could see the tears coursing down her face.

  “WHAT DID YOU do to my sister?” Ailig asked. His eyes were hard, but they were nothing compared to the confusion in Cat’s eyes as she left the cottage.

  “I lied to her about who I was and why I traveled. I did not lie to her about aught else but, with good cause, she does not believe me.”

  “Triona does not trust easily. She sees only your betrayal, not the reasons for it.” Ailig watched him for a moment, and Tayg tried not to squirm under the harsh consideration. “Do you care for her?”

  “I love her.”

  “I thought as much. You are very protective of her.”

  “I have asked her to wed with me.”

  “And her answer?”

  “’Twas aye, though I doubt not that she will change her mind in light of today’s revelations.”

  “Today’s? Surely she did not just learn the truth as you told it to me.”

  “Nay, but not long before, and not the way I would have had her find out. I have made a mess of it, and I fear she will not give her trust to me again. ’Twas hard enough won the first time.”

  “She has not had an easy time, but then she does not make it easy for the rest of us either.”

  “Are you saying ’tis her fault she is treated so poorly by her own family?”

  “Peace, man. I know only too well that her sharp words and quick temper are her armor against careless treatment at our brothers’ hands. And yet she is strangely quiet, subdued even. She loves you, does she not?”

  It was more statement than question, but Tayg nodded anyway. “At least sh
e did.”

  “Will you fight to win back her regard?”

  “Aye. Do not think to stand between us, for I’ll not let you.”

  “I will not. I do not know all that has passed between you, but if she let down her defenses long enough to fall in love with you, then you are surely her best hope for happiness in the future. You will not let the king choose another for her, will you?”

  “I will not.”

  “And you will humble yourself in whatever way she requires to regain her trust and win her acceptance of your marriage proposal?”

  “I will. Whatever I must.”

  “Then I am convinced that she will be happy with you. And an alliance with you and your clan will only serve to strengthen our position against the MacDonells.”

  “What of the MacLeods of Lewes? They are against the king. Are you not bound to them?”

  “Aye, but we will approach that difficulty when we must. For now they seem content to tend to their own affairs and leave us to muddle through without their help or direction, which is all very well as far as I’m concerned. I must act to do what is best for my clan and my sister. She has had a difficult time, and I would see her happy.”

  “As would I. I will do everything that I may to keep her happy, Ailig. This I swear.”

  “Good, then let us turn our attention to the more immediate problem of keeping the king safe from my brothers.”

  Tayg glanced at the door where Cat had disappeared. He knew Ailig was right. Protecting the king was the pressing need, but his heart pulled at him to follow Cat and settle this between them.

  With reluctance he shoved his heart’s urgings away and concentrated on what Ailig was telling him of Broc’s plan.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  BEFORE LONG TAYG had gathered up their belongings and was settling them on his horse. He had not seen Cat since he and Ailig completed their plan, yet every moment was filled with thoughts of her, thoughts of things he should have done, should have said, days ago if not when first they met. He played every scenario over and over in his head, yet all save the one he had taken seemed destined to keep him apart from Cat. Every other path he could have taken—physically or verbally—would have resulted in the shrew keeping him from Cat. Only by disguising himself as someone who did not threaten her was he able to coax her into shedding her bristly armor, into showing her true self.