And her true self was a marvel to behold. He had been so proud of her when Isobel had declared her friend, when Cat had fought through the night and the storm to bring him safely to their traveler’s hut. He had been humbled by her passion at Gair and Lina’s cottage and intrigued by the flashes of quick humor and intelligence she revealed over and over again.
And yet the very path that had led him to know her so well and so very intimately now led her away from him, back into the dangerous realm of Dogface and her brothers.
He checked the cinch on the horse. Ailig thought they could get to his brothers and Duff in time, yet Tayg could not be sure if the man was to be trusted. He seemed truly surprised and appalled by the plot Duff and Broc had devised, and yet, if he had known of it would he have acted so very differently?
If he did lie, Cat would be devastated. Ailig was the last man she trusted. If he lied to her, she would feel she had no one. If she felt the last person had betrayed her, she would never again trust any man, and nothing Tayg could say would change that. He sent a fervent prayer up that Ailig was exactly what he seemed, for Cat’s sake, and for the sake of any future Tayg could hope to have with her.
But just in case he wasn’t to be trusted, Tayg wanted Cat on his own horse, whether she liked it or not. At least that way he could ensure her safety if trouble found them.
He sighed, made sure his horse was ready, checked to see that Gair, John, and the lads were almost prepared to depart, then went in search of Ailig and Cat. They must leave immediately. The sooner they finished this task, the sooner Tayg could turn his attention to convincing Cat to give him another chance.
A very short time later they were all mounted and set out upon the road to Linsmore. They traveled single file with Tayg and Cat, who sat in front of him, in the lead, followed by Ailig, Gair, and the others. He did not like having Ailig behind him where he could not keep a keen eye on him and his actions, but Gair would see the man behaved.
When they arrived in Linsmore they stopped briefly at a tavern to inquire if the king was present, but rumor had him arriving in Culrain that day. As they passed out of the village of Linsmore the midday sky was bright, the sun blinding off the snow. Tayg could hear the sound of the river where it rushed under the Linsmore bridge not far ahead in the glare.
Tayg slowed his horse, scanning about him for any signs of danger. The brothers were to meet farther down the trail and several hours hence, just outside of Culrain, but he was feeling wary. Catriona too seemed restless, as if his own unease carried over to her.
“’Tis sorry I am, lass,” he said quietly, his mouth near her ear. “I would not have withheld my true identity from you had it not been important.”
She took a deep breath but said nothing, neither to him nor to Ailig, not a word since she had left Gair’s cottage. Nothing.
They rode in silence a few more minutes. The road rose over a small hill and the river came into view, the bridge a pale swath across the rapid rush of water. Tayg stopped and surveyed the area. The shadows were heavy where the brilliant light could not penetrate the thick trees. Anything could hide along the road, and ’twould take someone with far keener sight than he held to see into the depths of the shadows.
“I will lead,” he said as they approached the bridge. “Gair, you will bring up the rear.”
Gair fell back behind his sons and the friar. Cat’s brother just nodded and fell into place behind Tayg. He seemed as alert as Tayg, whose every sense was on edge as they neared the river’s bank.
Tayg’s horse made hollow clopping sounds as it moved onto the bridge. Ailig’s was next, and before Tayg had reached the far side Gair, too, had ridden onto the wooden structure. He started to think about relaxing just as a shout came out of the deep wooded shadows ahead of them. An answering shout rang out from behind him.
“You son-of-a—” Tayg bit out as he glanced back. “Gair! Behind you!” He cursed as he could not draw his sword with Cat sitting before him.
“Ailig?” Cat’s voice was uncertain.
“I swear I did not know,” Ailig said. “I swear it.”
“Ho, there, brother.” Broc MacLeod stepped onto the far end of the bridge, blocking their retreat. The other three brothers, Callum, Gowan, and Jamie, stood in front of Tayg, grinning up at him. “I see you found Triona and the bastard who took her. I knew you could woo their trust where I could not. Well done, Ailig. You are good for some things after all, ’twould seem.”
Tayg desperately wanted to look at Cat, to see how she was faring, but he dared not take his eyes from the brothers. Her silence was ominous, and he feared this latest betrayal would seal his fate.
“Why are you here, Broc?” Ailig asked. “We were not to meet here.”
“Aye, ’tis indeed what I told you, but you see, I am not as stupid as you would believe. You are not the only master of manipulation in our household.”
Tayg glared at the sheep, then turned his head just enough to let his voice carry without taking his eyes off the bulk of Cat’s brothers. “And where is your master, Broc? Where is Duff MacDonell?”
“I have no master but myself,” Broc growled. No one said anything, and after a moment Broc added, “He is watching the king.”
“Ah, so he sent his minion to deal with the troublemakers…and perhaps to secure him an unwilling bride who will bind your clan to his.” Tayg grinned at the sheep and lowered his voice so only they would hear his next words. “Did you know that Broc intends to give over your clan to the likes of Duff MacDonell?”
“Nay, he does not,” one of them said.
“Do not listen to him, Jamie,” Broc yelled. “Get off your horses.” Tayg could hear him moving up the bridge.
“Take your hand off my horse,” Gair said, his voice low and dangerous.
“You have used me for the last time, Broc,” Ailig said.
“Aye, for any brother who would aid Triona in disgracing her clan is not deserving of the regard of his kinsmen. You are no longer welcome in Assynt, Ailig. Nor you, Triona, unless you agree to wed Duff. Do not dishonor me any further in this business.”
Cat twisted to face Broc. “I would slit your throat before I would wed Duff MacDonell, my brother,” she said. Never before had Tayg heard the words my brother sound so contemptuous, so filled with…not hate…nay, ’twas disdain. ’Twas as if Cat thought Broc the lowliest form of dung. He grinned and took the chance of glancing at her face.
’Twas a mistake, for in that instant one of the sheep leapt forward and grabbed Tayg’s leg, yanking him from his perch behind the saddle and tumbling him hard to the slippery wood decking of the bridge. A similar fate must have overtaken Ailig, for Tayg heard a familiar-sounding thump followed by a lively string of words to rival Cat in one of her more inventive moments. A scuffling told him that Gair and the others were joining the fray. Tayg shook his head and sat up, only to find a dagger aimed at his chest. He leaned back on his elbows.
“Fine, I’ll stay put, but do not hurt the—”
Before he could get the word lass out, a shout went up from Ailig. The brother standing over him glanced up and shouted Cat’s name. Tayg struck the man’s forearm with his own, knocking the dagger from his fingers and launching himself at his attacker. From the corner of his eye he saw Cat’s horse flying off the bridge, heading into the woods, away from Culrain.
Relief surged through him. She was away and traveling in the wrong direction. Duff would not find her, and he would see that Broc and the other brothers did not either. He reveled in the moment by landing several punches into the gut of the brother who had dumped him on his arse. A shout went up from the other end of the bridge, but Tayg was too busy paying back the MacLeod brother for the beating he had taken at Duchally for the words to make sense. Another punch and another, then suddenly someone was pulling him off the other man and shouting his name.
“Tayg, stop! Stop! The twins have him. Cat’s gone and so is Broc. We’ve got to go after them!”
Tayg shook
his head, trying to clear it of the battle lust that had gripped him, fueled him. At last the words began to penetrate.
“She is away, into the forest,” Tayg said, “but not in the direction of Culrain.”
“Aye, but Broc went after her,” Ailig answered.
Fear slithered along Tayg’s spine, and he ruthlessly shoved it aside.
“’Tis no problem, that,” one of the sheep said from beneath the ample weight of Friar John, who sat atop him. “The lass could not find her own way out of a room with but one door.” The friar settled his weight a bit more, and the brother groaned. “Broc will find her quick enough. Get off me, man!” The friar grinned but did not budge.
“Aye,” Tayg said, rising to his feet. “But Broc must not find her.”
“He will not hurt her,” another of the sheep said. This one was held in Gair’s strong grip.
Ailig looked from Tayg to his brothers. “I do not think that is what Tayg is concerned about.”
“The lass has had about all she will take from men,” Tayg said. “I would not wish to be Broc should he catch up with her.”
“Go after her, Tayg,” Ailig said.
“He will not,” the three sheep said together, each struggling against his captor.
Ailig stepped closer to his brothers. “This man has kept our sister safe. He has helped her where none of us ever has. Go, Tayg,” he said over his shoulder. “Keep Broc from finding her before you do.”
“Nay, Ailig. She does not wish to see me. You go after her. She is your sister. I must ride for the king before Duff finds him and brings harm to all of us.”
“How may he bring harm to us?” one of the sheep asked. “He but seeks the king’s blessing on his marriage to Triona.”
“Cat will never marry the bastard,” Tayg said. “She would kill him first—if I did not beat her to it.”
The sheep surged but did not break free. Ailig drew his sword and aimed it at the belly of the largest brother.
“You would side with that bard over your own brothers, Ailig?” the man asked.
“Aye, Callum, I would, even were he but a simple bard.” He glanced at Tayg and Tayg nodded. “He is Tayg, the heir of Munro, late of His Majesty King Robert’s army and traveling on the king’s business. Duff does not seek the king’s blessing. He and Broc seek to harm the Bruce and bring ruin upon us all.”
There was an uproar among the brothers, but Ailig just waited. Tayg waited too, but less calmly. Duff only awaited the arrival of the MacLeod brothers to spring Broc’s ambush upon the king, and Cat was somewhere in the woods feeling betrayed by every man she had ever known, with Broc on her heels determined to bring her to Duff. By the time Tayg could find and warn the king, Broc would have found Cat, who would—who already had, as her brother so eloquently pointed out—get lost and require finding. He had no doubt she could hold her own with Broc, but he had doubts about her if they should join up with Duff.
“We have no time for this!” he yelled at the brothers, effectively silencing them all. “Ailig, you must go after Cat. I must ride for the king, and these… Gair, will you ride with me to see them safely to the king’s keeping in Culrain?”
“Aye, Tayg. ’Twill be a pleasure,” Gair said, scowling at the brother he still held captive.
“Gair and his sons can see to my brothers, but let me ride for the king, Tayg. If I take the truth to him, he is more likely to feel lenient toward my clan, if not my brothers.” He glared at them. “You must go for Cat.”
“You cannot let him go, Ailig,” the smallest of the three said.
“I can, Jamie, and indeed I must or our sister will be destined to a fate she does not want and will not accept. She loves this man and he loves her. He is the only one she will listen to at this point.”
“I do not know about that,” Tayg muttered just loud enough for Ailig to hear.
Ailig glanced over his shoulder at Tayg. “She will not trust me after this. She certainly will not trust that lot.” He stabbed a thumb in the direction of the muttering sheep. “She may be disappointed with you, lad, but you can change that with time.”
Tayg nodded. “Aye, but the king—”
“The king will hear the full tale from my lips. You heard Broc. I did not lead you into an ambush on purpose, though Broc will never get away with such a ruse again, you may be certain. I am loyal to the king, and Gair will be there to ensure I tell your tale well. Go now, quickly. Cat needs you.”
Tayg was torn between his duty to the king and his need to see Cat safe.
“When were you to join Duff?” he asked the sheep.
“At midday today,” the shortest one said.
Alarm raced through Tayg. He glanced at Ailig, then made a swift decision. He reached into his pouch, pulled out the two missives, and handed them to Ailig. “If you cross me in this I will see that you and every one of your brothers dies a painful death. Gair, keep those wee idiots with you, but do not look to their comfort. Ride fast to the king. Find out from them—” he stabbed a finger toward the sheep “—where Duff is and avoid him. The king’s guard can find him once the king is warned. I must find Cat.”
“Go!” Ailig said. “I will not fail you.”
Tayg raced off the bridge following the trail Cat had taken. Ailig was yelling something to the brothers, and Tayg found himself praying that his trust in Ailig was justified. His king’s life hung in the balance, as did his love’s. He only hoped Broc had not had a horse on this side of the bridge.
CATRIONA LEANED LOW over her horse’s neck but held the horse back, riding fast, but not so fast her brothers could not catch up with her. She purposely made as much noise as possible, praying that at least some of her brothers followed her. She had made the decision when Jamie pulled Ailig from his horse and Callum pulled Tayg from his to draw as many of the brothers away as possible. Gair’s lads were strong, but only half the girth of any of the MacLeods. Gair and Friar John were not young, and Tayg would never survive another confrontation with Broc and the sheep, and no matter how much her heart ached, she’d not let them kill Tayg. If she was to ensure his survival, she must push aside the hurt, the betrayal, at least for now, and focus on the trail ahead. She had turned upstream, knowing ’twas in the opposite direction from Culrain, in the hope that she would draw the brothers away from the road so Tayg and Ailig could race to the king.
In Linsmore ’twas said the king was in Culrain. Tayg had said this road led to his home…his home, not the clan he entertained, his clan, his family. His home. Nay, she could not think on that. She must draw the sheep away, let Tayg and Ailig warn the king, save her clan from Dogface’s treachery, and then she would contemplate her future—a future that was all the bleaker for her clan’s disgrace.
Perhaps she would return to Lina and Gair’s. She sat up and the horse slowed. Nay, she would never return to their pretty cottage. She had given her heart and her body to Tayg the Bard in that place, only the bard didn’t exist. She had been Tayg of Culrain’s hostage…a willing hostage, it would seem. Embarrassment flooded through her. He must think her the most silly of wenches, giving herself to a man she never knew. He must think her little more than a whore, though the only coin he had need of was pretty words and a twinkle in his eyes.
If only the bard had been real. That man she could gladly spend the rest of her life with, laughing and arguing, loving…and making bairns. Oh dear God, what if she was with child? She could not be. ’Twould be too harsh a judgment for her folly.
Tears blinded her for she found more than anything she wanted her bard’s bairn. The man may not have been real, but her feelings for him had been. A bairn at least would prove that her feelings had existed, even if they had not been truly returned. The man had even asked her to marry him. Hah. What would he have done if she had?
He would have mocked her, left her behind somewhere to fend for herself…but no. He would not. The honest answer pushed through from her bruised heart. He would not abandon her, would not mock her, would ne
ver leave her like that.
Her horse shied, nearly toppling her off his back had she not had her fingers firmly twined in his mane.
“I see ’tis the shrew at last,” a deep voice rumbled.
She settled her horse and hastily swiped the tears from her eyes. “Damn.”
Dogface MacDonell sat on his horse, blocking the forest trail, close enough to her horse that he reached out and grabbed one of the reins, yanking it free from her.
“You do have a way with words, wife.” He smirked at her.
“I am not your—”
“Where are your brothers? Your…escort?”
Her breath hitched as she realized the full breadth of her danger.
“You have left them behind? Even your erstwhile lover?” He urged his horse closer to her, grabbing her arm in his steely grip when she made to dismount. He pulled her so close she could feel his sour breath upon her face. “You will never see him again, do you understand? If ever I lay eyes upon him he will die. You will be my wife.”
Anger coursed through her, sharp and welcome, pushing aside her morose thoughts. “Nay,” she said, yanking her arm from his grasp. “I will be no man’s wife. If you think to force me you will find a knife in your heart, and I do not speak figuratively.”
“The lass speaks the truth, I fear.” Dogface and Catriona jerked their glances behind her. Broc sat his horse, a smirk on his face. “She is the devil’s own spawn, Duff. ’Tis doubtful she keeps her virtue, even. Are you sure you want her?”
Dogface looked her over carefully, his expression grim. “I have no choice, as well you know.”
Broc’s horse brought him to the other side of Catriona, and she did not know which man to keep her eyes on. Each was dangerous, but she suddenly felt the power in the situation shift subtly from Duff to Broc. Surprised, she found herself studying Broc.
Charming the Shrew Page 26