“Duncan, I fear your death. Dreams haunt me nightly. I see you and this man, swords drawn, there is blood…” She glanced down to her hands as if see them stained with it. “Mayhap if I go away I can stop this.”
“Cat, no, 'tis only a dream, not augury,” he argued.
“I saw Stirling. I was there. Do not naysay me now. This, too, shall come to pass.”
“You said the man wanted to kill me, you were just the instrument to lure me into his trap. Well, I know naught about him. He could be stranger or friend. He could come up to me and stick a sgian dubh in my heart and I would not suspect him until too late. You leave me to that? Would you not protect me more by keeping watch over me, saving me from the hand of an assassin who I might think is kin?”
“But I...”
“How are you protecting me by leaving if ‘tis me he wants to kill in the first place? If you leave, you abandon me to this madman. Only you know what he looks like. Is that how little you care about me?” He met and held her eyes.
“Do you?” He ran his fingers lightly up her arm.
“Do I what?” she sniffled.
“Do you want to stay? To hold on to what we have? Or do you want to throw it all away?”
She gazed into his eyes a long time before heaving a loud sigh. “I would much rather be miserable with you than without you.”
Duncan shook his head “’Twas that a compliment? If so, we both should work on what we say!”
Chapter Twenty-six
A fortnight later, Duncan grudgingly headed to his childhood home.
Meghan rushed to her grandfather and wrapped her arms around his knees as soon as she saw him. “Grandda,” she exclaimed in unabashed delight.
Laughing, he lifted her and swung her around, then crushed her to his massive chest. “Och, lassie, ‘tis good to see ye. I miss yer bonnie wee smile.”
“I miss you, too, Grandda.”
Catherine and Duncan’s eyes locked, surprised at the tender interplay between the two.
Tamara, also summoned to assist with the supper, just smiled knowingly and winked at Cat.
~ * ~
Sitting at the raised table in the Great Hall, they soon heard screams from the courtyard.
Catherine was the first to head outside to see Meghan lying on the ground, blood covering her small hands and knees. The child shakily rose. Her hand on her thigh, Catherine rushed to her, biting back the pain in her leg.
“Mam, Mam,” Meghan cried in anguish, “I hurt myself.”
Her heart pumping wildly with fear, Catherine lowered herself to the ground and cradled the small girl in her lap. She paid no attention to blood smearing her clothes.
Duncan started toward his daughter, but Tamara stayed him with her hand. “Leave be, Duncan.”
Under the scrutiny of his probing blue eyes, she sought to allay his fears. “Give them a moment alone.” She wisely said, “Many had hurt feelings when your wife voiced her desire to leave. You included.”
She smiled when he gave her a look indicating he cared not one way or the other. Instead of teasing, she offered sage advice. “Give her time to mend those broken fences.”
His eyes returning to his wife and daughter, Duncan murmured dryly, “I felt naught when she wished to leave. I...”
“Och, Duncan…” She sighed and wrapped her arms around him as she stared into his piercing blue eyes. “You may fool your friends, but you cannot fool me. I know you well. You love that bonnie lass. Just remember, she is not Helen. The only reason Cat may ever think to leave is because she still thinks deep down you do not want her. Although misguided, there is a difference.”
He grumbled, “She had other daft reasons. Thought I could not protect her. Nay, in truth, the fool woman thought to protect me.” He turned away, saying no more.
When Catherine took Meghan into the Great Hall to tend her wounds, The MacThomaidh held the child. He rubbed his calloused hands lightly up and down her back and crooned to her to keep her from crying.
“‘Tis all right, lassie,” he soothed. “Ye shall be just fine once yer mam fixes yer wounds. She will make ye good as new. Be strong now. Be brave fer Grandda.”
Catherine returned with necessary herbs to treat Meghan’s injuries. The old man’s words seemed out of character, but she paid little attention. MacThomaidh set the child down so Catherine could tend her. She dipped a soft cloth in water and cleansed Meghan’s palms and knee. Applying a bread poultice, she sprinkled it with a small amount of grated Solomon’s Seal root, wrapped strips of torn cloth around the tiny knee to keep the poultice in place.
After giving Meg a kiss on the cheek, Catherine rose and headed to the other side of the room. The MacThomaidh reached out and drew Meghan near. “Come here, lassie.” He picked her up and placed her on his bony lap, crooning, “I am proud o’ ye. Ye were a brave girl fer Grandda.”
The words had scarcely left his mouth when Catherine remembered what he’d said when she entered the room with her herbs. Her hand flew to her mouth. “‘Twas you,” she said in disbelief. “You held me the day I fell down the hill.”
“Nonsense, woman,” he bristled. “Ye know not what ye speak. I was on my own lands, nowhere near—”
“You were,” she insisted, interrupting him. “I know not how or why, but you comforted me, kept me awake until help came.” Her eyes searched his in non-understanding.
Suddenly memories came flooding back, her heart flying into her throat. Her hand on her chest, she turned to Duncan. Worry lines etched his brow. “I remember,” she told him.
Duncan walked toward her. “You remember what?”
As Catherine tried to remember, the tragic events unfolded. “Everything. The man that charged me and Meggie wore the MacThomas plaid.” She rushed on excitedly. “The same man dragged me into the maze on Father’s property.” Breathing deeply, she sank into the closest chair and rubbed her hands over her forehead. “How could I have forgotten? Hitting my head must have done more damage than I thought,” she murmured, excitement filling her eyes. She squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to recall that horrible day.
“I remember one thing.” She smiled weakly. “The angrier he got, his speech changed. Like yours does when you are angry with me. He had a Scottish burr.”
Duncan glowered. “I do not have a burr and I do not—”
Catherine continued as if his expression hadn’t changed or he hadn’t interrupted. “He jeered it was good to hurt someone you cared about, said ‘twas time he paid you back. You, Duncan. ‘Tis not just some stranger with some unknown blood oath. This man actually knows you.” Her voice reached a fervent pitch.
“Did he lay hands on you?” Duncan stormed.
Catherine’s gaze moved to his, her brows dipped to a frown. “Duncan, he beat me.”
“I did not mean that. I mean did he...”
When he couldn’t finish, Catherine realized his intent. “Nay, husband, he did not touch me that way.”
Seemingly mollified, Duncan grumbled and turned to face the hearth, then faced his father. “Is it true?”
MacThomaidh stared at Duncan in confusion. “Is what true?”
“You comforted my wife?”
MacThomaidh didn’t answer for a long time, finally nodded. “I received a missive about unrest nearabouts. I thought to bring word myself. When I heard the lass’ screams, I but did what anyone would do. I comforted her until ye got there.”
Duncan studied his sire, a questioning look on his face.
~ * ~
A mere fortnight after Trevor was notified Catherine remembered everything, he arrived at Cray Hall. He motioned his hand toward the heavy oak door. “I brought Catherine a small gift. Mayhap you could help me bring it inside?”
Duncan eyed Trevor warily. “And what small gift might you bring my wife that takes two grown men to haul inside?”
“A settle I had made in London,” Trevor answered jovially. “I thought you could place it before the hearth in your chamber or main Hall
. She probably should still rest quite a bit.”
Carrying the heavy furniture inside, Duncan and Trevor discussed Longshank’s latest moves.
“Och,” Duncan swore, “will the hateful man never leave us alone?”
After arranging the settle in the main Hall, Duncan called into the kitchen for his wife. Seeing her brother, she rushed toward his waiting arms. Her leg tired just before she reached him and she fell, but his strong arms safely caught her. He crushed her to his chest in a bone-crunching embrace.
Trevor looked at Duncan over her head, concern shown in his eyes. His brother-in-law smiled and mouthed the words, “She is fine.”
When Trevor finally released her, Catherine saw the settle. Her eyes flew between Duncan and her brother.
“‘Tis but a small gift.” He smiled at his sister lovingly. “Made especial for you. You left so quickly, you did not get a wedding gift from me. I brought several trunks with me as well. They are in a cart that has not yet arrived.” He turned to Duncan. “Once I reached your property, I fear I left them behind. I was too anxious to see Cat.”
Meghan rushed into the Hall. “Mam, Mam, a cart comes. We have comp’ny.” She started to pull Catherine toward the door when she saw Trevor standing beside her father. “Oh,” she began and drew her tiny brows together. “Our comp’ny is here.”
Turning her face up to Trevor’s, she asked, “How did you get here?”
“On my horse, little lady,” Trevor teased. He knelt before her. “I do hope you do not mind me visiting your mother. I brought her some lovely presents.” He smiled at her and teased. “I believe I may have a gift or two for you as well.”
“Truly?” Delighted at the prospect, a smile flashed across her face. She raced outside to meet the approaching cart and crashed into her aunt, who’d just crossed the threshold.
“Meghan, dear, do slow down,” warned Tamara. She rose from straightening her côtehardie when she looked up to see her brother already had a guest.
“Oh, do excuse me,” she murmured in embarrassment. “I should not have arrived unannounced, but I had to see you.” She flushed when she realized all eyes were upon her.
Duncan noted—especially the eyes of the tall man beside him. Cat’s brother flashed a perfect set of white teeth. Duncan felt like putting his fist through them. To his amazement, he saw his sister was flustered by the attention. He frowned, not sure how he felt about this.
“You know you are wel-come. You just surprised us since Cat’s brother arrived moments before. I am surprised you did not cross paths.” Duncan’s brows dipped in suspicion. “They did not cross, did they?”
Duncan’s eyes swerved to Trevor. He’d seen the look of embarrassment passing between his visitors. Suspicions deepened. “Trevor Gillingham, I believe you remember my sister, Lady Tamara Gray.”
Trevor approached, bent over, and pressed his lips to Tamara’s outstretched hand. “Charmed, Lady Gray.” The corner of his mouth twitched with a suppressed smile as he told Duncan, “It appears I arrived at an opportune time.”
Catherine broke the tension. “I am sure you are both thirsty. Could I have Cook fix you a repast?”
Trevor turned to Duncan, his eyes alight with pleasure. “I would like some of your whisky. I have acquired a taste for it since my sister wed you.”
“I do not think that is the only thing in Scotland you like.” A silent understanding passed between them. “Take care. One of them is very precious to me.”
While the men proceeded to the trestle table, Catherine escorted Tamara upstairs to an empty room. As Tamara glanced back to the two men tipping goblets to their lips, Catherine noted the blush tinge Duncan’s sister’s cheeks when Trevor raised the cup to her.
While the women hung Tamara’s garments in the oaken wardrobe, Meghan entertained herself by having her kitten chase a string.
When finished, Tamara lingered. Drawing chairs before the hearth, she queried, “What is wrong, Tamara? Has something happened?”
Meghan climbed into Catherine’s lap.
“I have not been in Melrose these past sennights,” Tamara exclaimed, her hand flying to her chest. “I remained at Castle Glenshee with Father.”
Catherine stared at Tamara expectantly. No one had told Duncan this.
“He is dying.”
Catherine gasped. She’d known the man hadn’t been well, but hadn’t imagined how ill.
“The only thing keeping him alive is feeling he cannot leave this earth while Duncan still hates him.”
Catherine’s eyes widened.
“He acknowledges the error he made and regrets the time he lost with Duncan. He has admitted that to everyone except the one person who matters most.”
Her eyes beseeched Catherine. “I need your help, Cat. Duncan has to return to Castle Glenshee. He and Father must talk.” She sighed heavily. “I realize you are not fond of Da and Duncan certainly holds no love for him, but…” She stopped, uncertain how to continue. Her hand covered her mouth, her eyes closed in anguish. She looked to Catherine again. “But, he is my father as well—and I love him. What Da did to Duncan was wrong, but he was a loving father to me—in his own way. He just has difficulty showing it sometimes.”
Her face paled and she took deep breaths in effort to calm herself. Catherine set Meghan aside and rushed to the small table. Lifting the porcelain pitcher, she poured water into the basin. Wringing out the excess from a soft cloth, she brought it to Tamara to hold on her face.
“What do you wish me to do?” queried Catherine. “You know how stubborn Duncan is. I misdoubt we shall get them to talk then.”
~ * ~
After what seemed like most of the day without seeing her, the object of Duncan’s turbulent thoughts walked through the door. He’d spent too much time waiting for Catherine to return home from Castle Glenshee. Why had he agreed to let her help Tamara decorate? His sister had come up with some silly idea of decorating some of the cold, gloomy rooms and couldn’t be talked out of it.
He didn’t understand why this woman—his wife—meant so much to him. He only knew he wanted to be with her, wanted her as close as two bodies could be.
He approached Catherine, a smile on his face.
Knowing his father, the man probably worked her endlessly. Yet he knew enough about his stubborn wife to know she’d not leave until she’d completed the task at hand. Usually tireless, her shoulders drooped. His eyes moved to her face, an answering smile curving her lips.
He drew her into his arms and kissed her tenderly. Cupped his hand against her cheek.
She leaned her head against his hand and peered into his face, her eyes holding a multitude of questions.
“I missed you.”
“I was but at your father’s house.”
“Exactly.” His smile faded. “You spend too much time there, should be home. I shall be glad when this project is finished.” He reached for her hand and pulled her toward the staircase. “Come.”
She had dirt on her nose and cheek and looked like she’d been cleaning all day. She’d never looked more beautiful.
Laughing, Catherine tried to protest. “But...” She stopped the instant he pushed open the door. A steamy tub sat in the middle of the room, candles set all around. He’d kept it refreshed with warm water, had put a lot of thought and effort into this.
“How wonderful!” She leaned to press a kiss to his forehead.
Duncan delighted in her response. When he set her on the floor, she stood on her toes and kissed him. She untied the laces on one shoulder, letting the material slip. She cupped his cheek with her hand as he’d just done to her, then untied the other laces. Her shift fell to the floor.
Duncan extended his hands to lift her into the tub. She moved into his arms, wrapped her arms around his neck.
Duncan lowered her into the tub immediately.
Stretching her arms above her head, she relaxed in the tub while he washed every bit of her. She leaned her head against his chest as his lips tra
iled in a gentle caress against her shoulder.
Duncan leaned across the tub and claimed her mouth.
Catherine sighed with pleasure. Placing her hand against his chest, she pushed him away, rose, and stepped from the tub.
Chapter Twenty-seven
1306
Surprised to have Grant call him aside immediately after arriving with Tory, Duncan glared. “What news?”
“Tis not good, Duncan. I wish our visit could be on better terms. I fear Robert is ready to make his bid as king.”
Robert the Bruce possibly Scotland’s king. Was the country ready for the upheaval that might cause?
When the evening’s entertainment began, tables were dismantled or moved aside so everyone could join in the festivities. Some couples began an eightsome reel, and soon everyone joined them. Looking around the Hall as he twirled Catherine around the floor, Duncan saw Trevor dancing with Tamara.
They looked far too comfortable with each other.
Contrary to Duncan’s earlier fears, they had a lovely evening. Occasionally he could tell Cat’s leg bothered her, but she refused to discuss it except to say, “There are not many occasions when I get to dance with you, my lord husband, and I shall let nothing cut short this evening.”
With the ground soaked from sudden torrential rains, guests spent the night encamped in every available chamber. Catherine and Duncan retired to their appointed room. He turned and watched her as she removed pearls from her hair. Duncan having already helped her out of her côtehardie, she sat clad only in her chemise.
When she raised her hand to brush the curls from her hair, he strode to her side and took the brush from her hand. He started to brush it and she smiled up at him.
“You are mine, Cat,” Duncan said with a feral growl. “Never forget that.”
Catherine turned on the small seat to look up at him. Her eyes still sparkled with happiness, but she stayed his hand with hers. “Duncan, what bothers you? You have been upset ever since Lord Dinraven asked me to dance earlier this eve. Did he say ought to upset you?”
Her Highland Destiny Page 21