Her Highland Destiny

by Leanne Burroughs

  The following day she felt restless. Nagging fears haunted her, so she sought a diversion. She’d already prepared the room for Tamara’s visit, everyone else was busy carding wool. Suddenly, Catherine brightened and rushed downstairs.

  “Cook,” she said, “Marjory just had a babe. I would like to take some bread and cheese to help until she feels stronger. Meggie enjoys playing with Nettie. I shall take her with me. Would you prepare a basket?”

  Cook frowned. “‘Tis a grand idea, m’lady, but you should not go out. My auld hip is aching this day. Means a storm brews.”

  Catherine sniggered. Now they foretell storms with their silly omens. ‘Tis not bad enough men watched a bull race across the sky in a cloud, now hip joints foretell rain as well.

  “I shall not be gone long, only a quick stroll to Marjory and Liam’s croft. After Meggie and Nettie play a spell, we shall come right back.”

  “Be sure you take a guard with you,” the auld woman barked as she packed the basket.

  Catherine laughed. She could just imagine her mother if her cook had dared to presume to give orders. Here everyone was one big family. “Why of course, Cook. How could I go anywhere without an ever present watchdog?”

  ~ * ~

  Catherine lost herself in the wonder of the small babe. Meghan and Nettie played with Nettie’s new puppy, but Catherine couldn’t take her eyes from the little boy. Fascinated, she exclaimed, “He is perfect. Look at his wee fingers and toes. Oh, I wish...” She stopped, not allowing herself to finish. Merciful God in Heaven, she wanted a child so badly—Duncan’s child, but feared it would never happen. The physician back in London had said it wouldn’t. She rose and stared out the door so Marjory couldn’t see her tears. I wonder what my daughter would have looked like now. Would she have Duncan’s beautiful grey eyes or would they be brown like mine? Would she look like Meggie, or be a smaller version of herself?

  A thunder clap snapped her out of her reverie. Clutching the tiny babe to her chest, Catherine glanced up to see clouds darkening. She’d been so busy she’d not noticed storm clouds approaching. She turned to Marjory. “I must leave, have tarried too long.” Reluctant to return the infant, Catherine nuzzled her face in the fine, soft wisps of hair on his head.

  She raised her eyes to the young mother, unable to hide the longing. “Care for him well. He is a blessing from God.” Her heart hurt too much thinking about the babe she’d never have.

  She dashed out the door and collected Meggie, her eyes searching for Tanner. Surely, he was aware of the approaching storm and knew the need to return quickly to Cray Hall. She called to him several times, the rising wind carrying away her voice. She glanced nervously to the sky. It had that strange yellow cast it does when hail comes with the storm. It would be hazardous getting caught out in the open.

  “Well, Meggie, we cannot wait for the lad. We may have to run most of the way home to keep from getting wet. Come, we need to hurry.”

  Catherine glanced about the croft as she moved away, uneasy about where Tanner had gone. Duncan wouldn’t be pleased the lad was lax in his attention to guarding her.

  They got only a short distance before the first light patter of rain fell. Catherine raised her face to the droplets and laughed. “I cannot wait to hear what Cook says about this. Her hip was right after all.”

  Nearly halfway there, the rain fell harder. She glanced back toward the direction of the croft. It was just as far to go back as it was to the Hall, so she decided to press on, the disquiet over Tanner’s absence growing.

  The landscape grew darker, the oddly colored clouds lending an eeriness to the path through the woods. Catherine fervently wished she was home, safe within Cray Hall. She quickened her pace.

  Meggie twirled in circles, her arms spread wide. She moved her arms up and down and yelled, “Look at me, Mam. I fly on the wind.”

  Catherine laughed, but urged, “Meggie, come.” She reached down to grip her small, trusting hand.

  Suddenly Catherine snapped around to look behind her, a shiver of fear snaking down her spine. What would give her this feeling of foreboding? She’d had this same sensation before. When? The realization slammed into her—she’d had it as she approached the maze on her father’s estate.

  In the distance, a rider approached, the horse riding hard. The destrier’s hooves cut deep into the soft sod, sending clumps flying in its wake.

  Coming toward them. Closer, closer.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Duncan’s eyes searched the courtyard, seeking Catherine. He was relieved to have reached the safety of Cray Hall just as the storm broke. Why hadn’t she met him at the door? The hairs on the back of his neck rose. Something was wrong. He suddenly had the same feeling he had when he went to fetch her in London. Catherine was in danger.

  He could feel it.

  He rushed into the house, glad to be out of the rain, and couldn’t wait to see Catherine. He missed her, and though it would have slowed his travel time, he wished he’d taken her with him. She would have had a delightful time visiting with Tory.

  Shaking his head, he wondered when his wife had become so important.

  “Where are Catherine and Meggie?” he asked the women setting up tables in the Hall.

  They shrugged. One said, “We were busy carding wool and noticed not our lady left the Hall. Tanner is gone, so she took the lad with her. Dinnae fash, m’lord.”

  Blast it, that answer wasn’t acceptable!

  Something was wrong. He felt it clear to his toes.

  ~ * ~

  The sound of pounding hooves drew closer. The rider looked familiar. Suddenly she remembered. London! The man who’d beaten her in the maze! Why did he wear the MacThomas plaide? What was he doing on Duncan’s land?

  The slashing hooves made Catherine want to run, but she held her ground. Holding Meggie protectively to her side, Catherine faced him. “Are you mad? How dare you come here?”

  Behind her, Meggie tugged on her skirt and whimpered. “I afeard, Mam.”

  In London he’d said he wanted Duncan to pay. For what? A chill rolled through her as she recalled his threat, “I shall be back. Remember that, woman. I will be back. You’ll never know when I shall return.”

  “Run home, Meggie. Fetch your da,” Catherine whispered to the child. If he beat a helpless woman, kicked at her stomach when she begged she was with child, she shuddered to think of this brute getting his ham-fisted hands on the small child. She had to distract him from Meggie, give her time to escape.

  Meghan stood rooted to the ground, frozen in place by fear.

  Catherine watched the child face her fears. She had to get the three-year-old moving. She pushed the child from her and said in desperation, “Please, Meggie, run. Follow the path back to Cray Hall. See if your da is back home yet. Or fetch one of the other men.”

  Meghan’s eyes grew wide.

  “The path we took to Marjory’s home. Remember? The one with the pretty flowers?”

  Biting her lip, Meghan nodded.

  “Go back that same way. Do not stop to gather any flowers. Run straight to your da.”

  Meghan didn’t answer. Kept her eyes on Catherine.

  “Can you do that? You must tell your da—or Angus—about this man as soon as you arrive home. Do not wander about the Hall or go to your room.” She kissed Meghan on the cheek. “I shall lead this man away. Do not be frightened when I leave. I shall see you again as soon as you tell your da and he comes to find me.”

  She rose and pushed Meggie toward the pathway.

  Not hesitating to see if Meggie obeyed, Catherine turned and ran in the opposite direction, determined to draw the madman away from Meggie.

  Erwin spurred his horse after her. Like a game of hound and hare—Catherine as the hare.

  “Leave me alone,” she shouted as she ran from tree to tree.

  The man snorted. “Nay, I waited too long to catch you alone.”

  “Alone? Nay, I have a guard.” Her hair lifting in the wind,
her eyes darted back toward Meghan. Pride and hope swelled in Catherine’s chest seeing her turn toward home, her little legs running. Please God, protect my little one. Do not let anything happen to her on her way home. Thank you, Lord, for your mighty protection.

  She had to keep this ogre distracted. Surely someone would come as soon as Meghan arrived home without her.

  “Mean you that stripling lad with the odd colored eyes? He made nary a sound when I sliced his gullet—from ear to ear. Duncan must not value you much if that is all the protection he gives you.”

  Chest heaving from exertion and fear, Catherine suppressed feelings of rage boiling to the surface. This man caused her to lose her child! She had to keep her wits to save herself until help came.

  He spurred his horse, herding her, ever closing the distance between them, saying nothing.

  Catherine stepped back and tripped on a gnarled tree root. She tumbled backward, her head striking a small stone. Rolling to her side, her heart leapt as she closed her fist on the rock.

  “What do you want?” Her buttock hurt and her head pounded. She was dizzy, but she couldn’t give in to it or she’d be at the mercy of a man who had none. Her breathing labored, she glared at the horseman. With all the strength her rage afforded, she flung the rock at her tormentor’s head.

  He taunted, “Silly wench. Do not have verra good aim, do you? Want I should hold the horse still whilst you try again?”

  Catherine seethed. He mocked her ability to defend herself. Well, she’d show him! She grabbed for the nearest thing, a long stick, determined to let him see he’d derided the wrong woman. It wasn’t long enough to reach him, so she jabbed it into his leg, stunning him a moment. Pressing her advantage, she swung again, but he caught the stick and jerked it from her hand. Breaking it in two, he tossed the halves away.

  “Now you have done it, lass. You will pay with that pretty flesh on your back,” he promised.

  Swinging the horse around, he leaned from the saddle and grabbed her hair. Yanking hard, he nearly jerked her off her feet, bringing her dangerously close to the horse’s prancing hooves. Catherine screamed and kicked. This man would not hurt her again—ever. Planting her feet and pulling hard and quick, she freed her hand, then swung her fist forward into his shin—hard. She wasn’t sure what she hurt the most—her fist or his leg—but his grunt of pain was music to her ears. Before he had time to react, she sunk her fingernails into his shin and raked a trail in his flesh.

  With barely suppressed rage, the man shot his foot out of the stirrup and kicked her in the ribs, sending her to the ground. She saw the horse advancing on her, not giving her a chance to rise. She frantically crawled backward, but kept slipping in the mud. Not being able to see where she was going—just the monstrous hooves coming nearer, nearer—her shoulder slammed into a small tree. Pain flashed brilliant in her mind, pushing her once more toward blacking out.

  He jumped from the saddle. Grabbing her arm he jerked her to her feet. But not before she grabbed another rock. Catherine gripped the rock and rounded her swing, striking him in the head, connecting with a satisfying thud. He cursed and held his head, his hand falling away from her.

  In that instant of freedom, Catherine lifted her kirtle and ran—and ran. Too late she realized the gentle roll of ground led to a sharp descent. She tried to pull up, right her balance, precariously teetering at the edge. She flapped her arms frantically, searching for something, anything, to grab. He was upon her. In a last ditch effort to keep from going over the edge, even her terror didn’t prevent her from latching onto her tormentor. The fabric of his plaide slipped through her fingers as she felt nothing beneath her.

  “Ahhhhhhh!” she screamed, careening over the side. She plummeted down the incline, the fall finally broken by several scrub pines, snapping them in two. She landed in a heap against a boulder at the base of the ravine.

  Bruised, battered and unable to move, she looked up to see the evil man carefully picking his way down the hillside. Merciful God, nay! I cannot escape him now. Please watch over Meggie and Duncan for me. Wrap them both in Your love. He closed the distance between them before a distant noise stilled his steps. “Again someone rescues you?” His jaw flexed with rage as he flailed his fists at her. “Beware woman. When you least expect it, I will be there. Your luck cannot hold every time.” She heard his curses all the way up the hill, then the sound of him galloping away, his horse’s hoofbeats fading to distant thunder.

  Catherine lifted her head, trying to see where she’d landed. But the pain proved unbearable, a groan escaping her lips. She spit damp leaves from her mouth, her arms too painful to reach up and remove them.

  Fearing she’d pass out and not be found, despair overwhelmed her.

  Catherine worried. Had Meggie arrived home safely yet? Duncan would be angry. A tear fell as she thought of him having to tell Tanner’s mother of his death. Forever her fault. She’d lost her babe because she’d been too stubborn to return with Duncan. And this day she just had to get away from the Hall, merely to relieve her restless feelings. Now a young man lay dead, and Meggie...

  She noticed blood on the rocks—her blood—but it only distantly mattered.

  “Duncan, hurry. I wish to see your face…to tell you...I love you.” Her whispered words were drowned by the falling rain. Pain sliced through her body with every breath, her vision swam. She fought the welcoming darkness. “Please, let me see him…one last time.”

  ~ * ~

  Rain grew heavy as Duncan raced to his horse. Cook informed him Catherine fetched a basket to the family with the newborn. Saddling his mount, he rode through the gate at breakneck speed. Reining up, his blood chilled the moment he heard Meggie’s piercing, “Da!”

  She ran toward him—alone!

  He was a man used to riding into battle, used to fighting with his men beside him, facing life and death situations. Yet never had he been as frightened as when he’d heard Meggie’s shout and saw Catherine nowhere with her.

  He couldn’t face losing Catherine. God spared his life at Stirling to return him to her. He refused to lose her now.

  ~ * ~

  Strong arms gently encircled Catherine. Pain wracked her body with each movement. She opened her eyes, unable to see anything but shadows.

  Through a blur of senses, she heard, “Hang on, lassie. Ye shall be fine. Do not give up now. Hang on until the lad comes.” The man’s arms were strong, yet he held her gently. The voice sounded familiar.

  “Can ye talk?”

  Catherine moved her lips, but only a moan emerged.

  “‘Tis all right, lassie. Dinnae fash. I have ye.” A roughened hand gently pushed tangled hair off her face. “Can ye hear me? Ye shall be fine. Hang on now. The lad needs ye. Ye needs must be strong fer Duncan. He cannae live without ye.” The man continued to smooth hair from her face while talking in a low, calm voice.

  Catherine blinked uncomprehendingly. Duncan? Not live without her? Nonsense. Mayhap she hallucinated. If only Duncan did love her.

  The pain in her heart combined with the pain in her body, threatened to drag her under, but the persistent man kept her awake by nudging her and repeating his gentle assurances.

  Shouts and the sound of approaching horses rent the stillness of the area. She tensed and pain lanced through her. Does the rider return? She shook in terror. Though she couldn’t see the face above her, the gentle voice soothed, “‘Tis all right, lassie. The lad comes. He shall care fer ye, so ye no longer need me.” He lowered her to the ground.

  She tried to tell him not to leave, but slipped into the eddying blackness.

  When she awoke, firm arms encircled her and Duncan’s voice penetrated the haze of her mind.

  He knelt beside her, cradled her—sounded frantic. “Cat? Cat, wake up. Please my heart, wake up.”

  Duncan, I’m awake. Why do you keep repeating yourself?

  Drops of rain fell on her face. Nay, that wasn’t right. These droplets were warm.

  She fluttere
d her eyelids, trying to awaken, hearing Duncan’s heaved sigh. “Och, thank the blessed Lord.”

  Catherine found it difficult to focus. Duncan. Handsome Duncan. More beautiful than all the men in the realm. His face held such strength. She needed that now—all the strength he could give her.

  “Mo Chridhe, what happened?” he prodded.

  Pains shot down her leg and up her back, making movement impossible. A scream trapped in her throat, her answer fading to an anguished sob.

  The horse! The rider headed for Meggie. Had the child gotten away?

  “Meg...gie.”

  “She is fine. Do not fash.” His voice cracked.

  Duncan lifted her into his strong arms. She felt so safe with this man, yet screamed from the pain of being moved. When she looked up, his eyes looked full of tenderness.

  He placed a kiss atop her head. “I am sorry, Sweetling, but I cannot fetch you home without hurting you.”

  Catherine bit her lip, trying to stifle cries of pain. This man was her haven of safety. If only she could stay in his arms forever. Duncan would never let that horrible man get to her again.

  “Yell if you must,” he said with gruff reassurance. “I know it hurts.”

  Catherine felt like someone stabbed a burning poker into her back and legs. She passed out.

  To awake in her own bed.

  Duncan sat, a worried expression on his face. “I sent for a healer. You have been unconscious for hours.” His voice was hoarse, ragged.

  Maddie the healer. Through the haze of blackness, Catherine remembered the words. “I give her herbals to ease the pain, but there is naught I can do. I fear your lady will not walk for a long time...mayhap never. Only time will tell.”

  After Maddie left and Duncan saw Catherine was awake, he questioned her about what happened. Her speech slurred and her eyes appearing wild, she told him. “I do not ‘member his face...blue and g-geen MacThomas plaid. I...seen him before. I r-ran.” She raised her hand to massage her sore head.