“I want you to have Cloud,” he said suddenly. It was the least he could do.
Her eyes grew round. “Truly?”
“Aye. But wait to ride him until we return to the keep. I doona want him to spook and throw you out here. Let him get used to you in the stables first, aye?” Where he could have a healer on hand and spread out some hay to soften her fall.
With an excited holler, she threw her arms around his neck and almost knocked him backward. One arm settled around her waist, the other hovered just above her hair. The devil take him, he wanted to touch her, to hold her still for his kiss.
She pulled back, eyes alight, cheeks creased into identical dimples. “Oh, thank you, Darach. I’ll take such good care of him, I promise.”
“I know you will.”
“He isna a mean horse. Just fearful. He had as bad a time of it as I did.”
He reached for her hand. Held it gently. “Lass, we need to talk about that. Who took you from the fire? Was it your uncle?”
“Aye, he was there. He saved me, but he wouldnae let me go back to help my parents. I knew if he would just let me go, I could pull them free. ’Twas not true, of course, but at the time it seemed most cruel.”
“How did you get from there to the keep? Was your uncle the stable master? I’ve met one or two grooms who treated their animals harshly.” Maybe that was when the laird had seen her.
She looked away, intent on the kittens playing in the grass.
“Caitlin?”
With a sigh, she looked up. “I doona want to tell you.”
“Why?”
“Well…what if I cause so much trouble you want to send me back?”
She still didn’t trust him, and it sliced through him like a knife to his gut. Though to be fair, after he’d left her in the glen with the kittens, who could blame her?
“I’ll not send you back, love. I promise. Just tell me who your uncle is.”
“Och, you say that now, but you havnae seen the mischief I cause. I doona mean it, of course, but it happens all the same.” She pulled her hand away, picked up the kitten that slept in her lap, and whispered, “Maybe you can be Prudence and teach me well, for I am sorely lacking in that virtue.”
Darach leaned over and pet the last kitten to be named. “If he’s Prudence, then this final one is Fortitude, and you have more of that than all my warriors combined.” He placed his fingers beneath her chin. Her blue gaze, frightened and worried, locked with his. It hurt his heart to see her so distressed. What was she hiding?
“Please, lass, will you speak on your uncle? Is he the cruel stable master at the castle where you were housed?”
“Nay, Darach, he’s not the stable master. My uncle is the cruel laird.”
Four
Caitlin gawked at Darach’s castle. She’d never seen such a grand structure. Built atop a hill, it overlooked a fair-sized village on the southern tip of Loch Maree. The stone walls around the bailey rose about three stories high—a bastion of strength. A portcullis guarded the entrance, and beyond that, the keep reached toward the sky.
“My father and grandfather built it in the Norman style,” Darach said. “The stones are mortared and the walls ten feet thick. Naught will harm you here, lass.”
Pride tinged his voice, and Caitlin smiled.
“God’s truth, ’tis a magnificent sight. My uncle’s fortress was wood.”
“The keep was still wood when I was a bairn. ’Twas not as safe, but much warmer in the winter.”
“Surely you have a hearth?”
“Aye, in every room, two in the great hall, but the stone holds the damp.”
They made their way through the village as people called out to them in greeting. Caitlin garnered much attention sitting on the laird’s stallion, and she smiled and waved as they rode by.
She noticed that the folk welcomed their laird formally, but none gave him a personal greeting. Even Lachlan shared a special smile with a woman. Darach seemed oblivious to the slight, but Caitlin was perplexed by it. Surely his people were happy to see him?
Deciding she must be mistaken, she let it go and soaked up the cheerful hustle and bustle around her. It reminded her of her parents’ farm.
“That’s Caitlin,” she heard Gare tell a lad about his own age. “We saved her from the Frasers. She’d been knocked out and tied over a horse. Our laird is keeping her at the castle.”
A thrill shot through her. ’Twas wonderful to think she would be staying at Darach’s keep—at least until she could figure out how to get to Inverness and then across the sea to France. She did not know how long she’d have till Fraser or her uncle found her. And they would—Fraser’s eyes had gleamed madly every time he’d visited her uncle’s castle to bargain for her. She knew how relentlessly obsessed he was. He’d bring that madness here, hurt all these good people if she didn’t leave soon.
But until then, she would have a room of her own and could go to the stables to feed Cloud whenever she wanted, nurse her kittens in the kitchen, even visit people in the village and make new friends—all without fear of repercussions.
Her throat tightened, and she swallowed to loosen it. She hadn’t had a friend in three years. People in her uncle’s keep were afraid of him and had kept their distance. She’d understood and never blamed them, but it had been a lonely, difficult time.
One best forgotten, for she was not going back.
She was going forward—with the MacKenzies for now, later to her mother’s family, God willing.
At the moment, however, she needed to find the kitchen and tend to the kittens, then for a bath. A real one. In a tub filled with hot, soapy water. She’d done what she could to wash when they’d stopped to camp, but verily, her hair was knotted like mice had burrowed in it. None of the men had thought to bring a hairbrush. ’Twas not the Highland way, Oslow had said.
Leaning back against Darach, a longing rose to throw her arms around him and kiss the fierce scar that slashed through his eyebrow, to bite his strong, stubble-covered chin and lick his soft lips. Aye, she wanted to kiss those lips, have them pressed to her own. She wanted his hands to tunnel into her hair and hold her fast as he kissed her back.
An urge to move her hips overcame her, and she thrust her bottom against the hard mass behind her.
His arms wrapped around her body, holding her still. “By the love of God, lass, doona move. We’re almost there.”
His hoarse voice made her want to move some more, but he held her so tight she couldn’t shift even one inch. Instead, she pressed her cheek to his chest and inhaled his scent—leather, fresh air, horses, and that uniquely musky scent of man.
Of Darach.
He shuddered against her, and an answering shudder racked her body. He stilled. His breath came heavily against her ear, tickling her neck.
“Caitlin, are you all right?”
“Nay, I feel strange. Jittery and odd in my belly, and I canna catch my breath.” She wrapped her arms around his and held tight. “Do you feel sick too?”
His legs pressed against her thighs and heat rushed through her, flooding her groin. Caitlin almost moaned, but she didn’t want to worry him.
“Aye, I’ve felt sick e’er since I sat you on my horse, but you canna give in to it now, sweetling. We’re almost there and you’ll be free of me.”
“I doona want to be free of you.”
“Aye, you do,” he said firmly. “Or you willna be a maid much longer.”
She gasped. Surely he couldn’t… He wouldn’t… “What do you—”
“You know exactly what I mean, so quit squirming and not another word. You’ve almost done me in with your last ones.”
He urged Loki into a trot and they passed under the portcullis. She pushed aside her disturbing thoughts and concentrated on her surroundings. The horses’ hooves echoed loudly as they proceed
ed through a stone tunnel and into a large bailey. The keep, which she now counted at five stories high, stood at the far end. She could see other buildings as well—the stables, the barracks for his warriors, the kitchens, with a nearby well. Looking around for a chapel, she was surprised by its absence. The bailey was large enough for several of them.
In front of the barracks stood three poles. One had what looked like a leather bag hanging from it. When he noticed her looking at them, he said, “’Tis for training my men. It’s safer than sparring with each other if they’re learning something new.”
“Where’s the chapel?” she asked. “God’s truth, you have room enough for three.”
“There isna one.”
“Why e’er not?”
He shrugged. “A priest wanders in from time to time and gives mass in the hall at the village.”
“But—”
“It works the way it is. A chapel will be built. Eventually.”
She tried to hold her tongue and failed. “The state of your soul and the souls of your people should be your first priority.”
“Nay, their continual safety is my priority. The state of their souls means little when a sword is driven through their bellies. And I know what you will say to that, but ’tis too late. We have arrived.”
They came to a halt outside the keep. A gray-haired woman appeared at the top of the stairs that led down to the courtyard. Not one hair was out of place and every pleat in her arisaid was folded perfectly. She looked dour, and Caitlin bit her lip. Then the woman smiled, and her face creased into laugh lines.
“Greetings, Laird MacKenzie,” she said with a formal curtsy. She eyed Caitlin, then turned to Oslow. “Husband, you look as if a mangy fox sits atop your head. Did you not use the hairbrush I packed in your bag?”
Caitlin gasped. “Nay. And when I asked for one, he said ’twas not the Highland way. These men think ’tis a badge of honor to carry the forest home with them. Verily, I have a clan of mice living in my hair.”
Darach snorted. “To keep as pets, I wonder? Or to feed the kits you carry home from the forest?”
“Och, no. The kittens are too young for mice. I will feed them milk.”
“Then you should go do so.”
He grasped her waist, lifting her from the saddle, and leaned over to gently set her down. When her feet touched the ground, she leaned into the stallion’s side and looked up at him. Without Darach’s strong arms around she felt…bereft. “And you?” she asked.
“To the loch, to wash off the forest I carry with me.”
“’Tis Darach’s ritual,” Lachlan said. “The water cools him down from hot thoughts.”
“Hot thoughts?”
Darach gave Lachlan a dark look, then ignored her question and motioned to the gray-haired woman who’d descended the stairs. “Edina, this is Caitlin. She will be living with us. Put her in Lachlan’s room and shift Lachlan to the top floor. ’Tis colder up there, but the extra steps will warm him, give him time to think before he speaks.”
Lachlan grinned. “If it’s colder, perhaps you should sleep up there, Brother. Less trips to the loch.”
“Are you feverish, Darach?” Caitlin asked. “Maybe you should go straight to bed. I’ll see to your needs.”
Darach closed his eyes as if he were praying, which pleased her. Surely God wouldn’t strike down a pious man.
Lachlan laughed and leaned over to kiss the top of her head. “By God, I am glad we found you. ’Tis a fortunate Scot who’ll snare you as wife. Doona you agree, Darach?”
Darach gazed at her a moment, then nodded his head. “Go feed your kits, lass.” As he wheeled Loki around, he said to Edina, “Take care of her.”
Caitlin watched the men go, her heart pounding. “Darach!”
He turned to her. She was at a loss for what to say as she stared at him. Foolish tears would surely fall if she didn’t speak, so she said the first thing that entered her mind. “You need a chapel. There is no more important time to be concerned about your soul than when the sword is in your belly.”
* * *
Edina led Caitlin across the bailey, toward the kitchen. The housekeeper had suggested she might want a bath before she did anything else, but Caitlin was adamant about feeding the kittens first.
“I’m surprised the laird let you keep them,” Edina said. “He doesn’t like cats.”
“Aye, he pretended to leave me when I refused to abandon them, but deep down I knew he’d come back. He’s such a softhearted man. Darach wouldnae leave me in danger after saving me from the Frasers, now would he? Especially o’er helping these wee ones.”
She burrowed her face in the folds of her arsaid and kissed the kittens’ heads.
When she looked up again, Edina’s brow had furrowed. “You speak of Laird MacKenzie?”
“Aye, how many Darachs have you here? Is it a common name?”
“Nay, there’s just the one. But softhearted?”
“Like your Oslow. A dear, sweet man.”
Edina smiled. “That he is, but my Oslow wouldnae want anyone to know it. Nor would your Darach.”
Her Darach. Caitlin liked how that sounded even though it could never be. It warmed her inside, which made her think of his fever. “I hope he’ll be all right.” When Edina looked at her quizzically, she continued. “The fever. Maybe he shouldnae be swimming if he’s coming down sick.”
“Ahh, well now…I doona think you need worry. Surely, Laird MacKay was teasing him.”
“Teasing him?”
“Aye.”
“So he’s not sick?”
“Nay.” Edina raised a brow. “How old are you, lass? You look long past the age of marriage, yet you seem younger. I was seventeen when I married Oslow. Eighteen when I had Angus.”
“I’ll be twenty next month. Not so old.”
“Not so young, either. You should be married and having bairns. Where’s your mother? Your father?”
“They died three years past. I’ve been alone e’er since, but I plan on finding my mother’s family in France. Surely they will take me in.”
“And how will you get there?” Edina asked, brows raised. “’Tis not a journey to make lightly. You doona want to be stuck in the Highlands without shelter o’er the winter.”
“I have Cloud.” At the housekeeper’s confused look, she said, “My horse. And surely if I leave in a few weeks I can make it to the mainland before snowfall. ’Tis not quite summer. Maybe I can ride with a merchant heading east?”
“Ah, lass, I fear you’ve not thought this through. ’Tis a dangerous journey, especially for a woman. Have you e’er met your mother’s kin? Do you know if they’re good people?”
“Well…nay, but my mother was a fine, hardworking woman, and she loved me well. Surely her family would do the same.”
They reached the kitchen door, and Edina waylaid her with a hand on her arm. “You know naught of her circumstances before she met your da. Stay with us a wee while. See if you like it. The MacKenzies will take care of you. You willna be alone any longer.”
Caitlin’s chin wobbled with a sudden onslaught of emotions. “Thank you, Edina. It means much to hear you say so. But…”
“But what, lass?”
“My uncle and Laird Fraser, they’ll find me.” A tremor racked her body and she breathed deeply to quell her panic. “They willna stop. I’ve seen the madness in Fraser’s eyes, the greed in my uncle’s. I willna have that foulness unleashed on clan MacKenzie. Nor will I be taken back by the devils, locked up, and worse. Those men are not men at all. They’re monsters.”
“And the MacKenzies will strike them down. ’Tis what good people do.”
Caitlin’s heart squeezed. She held the kittens with one arm, then wrapped the other arm around Edina’s slim shoulders. “Darach leads an honorable clan.”
The oth
er woman sighed and patted Caitlin’s back. “’Tis not true of everyone. I must tell you there’s a lad inside named Fergus, just seven years old. His father, a MacKenzie, beat his mother to death in front of him.” Caitlin pulled back, horrified, as Edina continued. “It’s been three months, and the boy’s not said a word. He’ll sleep only in the kitchen and refuses to take a bath, for his mother was bathing him when her husband struck her. We take turns at night watching him.”
“Oh no. Poor laddie.”
“You may not want to get too close, for he smells poorly,” Edina continued. “We tried to force him to bathe, but Laird MacKenzie forbade it. He said the lad needed time to heal, and scrubbing him with soap and water was not the way to do it.”
“Aye, he’s right. Fergus must want to change for himself or it willna work, like a dog that’s been abused. My mother taught me how to soothe such animals. Too much attention makes them nervous. They must be enticed into the world again.”
They entered the kitchen and Caitlin’s eyes adjusted to the darkened room. Along one wall hung several pots over a large hearth. The other wall housed two ovens. Wooden shutters opened to the afternoon light, keeping the room cool, and two large tables filled the center.
On a bench near the fire, an old woman was cleaning and scaling a basket full of fish. Caitlin smiled in greeting. The woman smiled back toothlessly.
“Caitlin, this is Aila,” Edina said. “Aila helps our cook, Ness, who’s at the village right now. I’m sure she’ll be back soon. Word of your arrival will have reached her ears.”
Caitlin was about to go over and make the old woman’s acquaintance when she saw a bedraggled lad crouched on a pallet in the corner. She gasped softly. “God have mercy. The poor dear.”
“Aye,” Edina said, nodding.
His plaid and lèine were torn and soiled, his hair matted, his face, hands, and bare legs dirty. Maybe not so different from other lads his age, but this boy was filthy from lack of bathing, not from chasing pigs through sties or catching frogs in swampy waters—childhood pastimes Caitlin remembered fondly.
Highland Promise Page 5