She hesitated a moment before heading toward the table nearest the lad. “Hello, Fergus,” she said, then proceeded to ignore him. She opened her arisaid and laid the four kittens on the table so he could see them. They mewed for milk as they tumbled over one another and tried to climb up her dress. She laughed as she pulled sharp claws from the material.
“They’re hungry. We must feed them before they tear up my arisaid. ’Tis the only one I have.”
Edina lifted a wooden pail that sat in a hole in the ground near the wall and poured cold milk from it into two saucers. “Our laird will find you some more. His mother died ten years ago, and he still has her clothes. I’ll help you alter them, if you like.”
“Thanks, Edina, but I doona wish to be a problem.”
“Och, ’tis no problem. It would be a joy to see our lady’s arisaids put to good use.”
She smiled as the housekeeper brought the milk over and laid down the saucers for the kittens. Their incessant mewing stopped as they gathered around and lapped up their meal.
Caitlin pet their silky heads. Their coats were brown, black, and gray, with dark, distinct stripes on their faces and bodies, and rings around their thick, blunt-ended tails. Fergus stood up and craned his neck to see them. She knew he wanted to come over and thought on how to involve him.
“Maybe they would like a place to sleep when their bellies are full. Would you mind sharing one of your blankets with them, Fergus? Their mother has died and canna share her warmth. When they’re old enough, they can find a warm place to curl up in the castle.”
She turned back to the kittens and continued stroking them. From the corner of her eye, she saw Fergus pick up a blanket. He came over slowly, eyes darting back and forth between the women and the kittens. When he was close enough, Caitlin smiled and held out her hand.
He gave her the blanket and stepped back.
After placing it on the table, she moved the kits and milk onto it. “Thank you, Fergus. The kittens appreciate your help. Edina, might I have a pail of hot water and a rag to wash my face and hands? Cats are verra clean creatures and doona like to be touched by dirty fingers.”
“Oh, aye. ’Tis true. One must be clean to play with kittens. I’ll wash my hands as well.” Edina picked up a wooden pail.
“Maybe the larger one.” Caitlin pointed to a pail big enough for the lad to stand in. Edina filled it with temperate water and set it in front of Caitlin with some clean linen rags and a bar of sweet-smelling soap. She almost moaned over the soap pressed with rose petals. She hadn’t seen such items since her mother had died. Cleanliness was not valued by her uncle or his clan.
“Thank you.”
Dipping her hands into the water, she scrubbed off the dirt, then soaked the rag and wiped it over her face, neck, and upper chest. Glorious.
Edina washed as well, then Caitlin cuddled the kittens who had finished their milk and now purred contentedly. Fergus took another step closer and reached for the little female. Voice low and calm, Caitlin said, “You must wash your hands first, Fergus. With soap.” She continued to play with the kits, as did Edina, neither of them paying the lad much attention. Fergus hesitated, then dipped his hands, lathered them with soap, and dipped them again. It was not a very thorough job, but Caitlin didn’t care. She could see by the tears in Edina’s and Aila’s eyes it was a breakthrough for the boy.
Caitlin held out a dry linen. “May I dry them for you, laddie?”
He caught her eye and this time held her gaze.
She smiled at him. “Truly, cats doona like water. They prefer a dry hand.” He nodded slowly and held out his hands. Caitlin dried them, then lifted them to her mouth and kissed each one. She released him and turned to the cats.
“This sweetling is called Temperance. She is so named because she’s the only lassie and needs to be patient with her brothers. This one is named Justice, after your laird, because he’s such a good, just man. This one is named Fortitude because…”
* * *
Darach waded out of the loch naked. He’d stayed in longer than Lachlan, needing time to cleanse Caitlin’s warmth from his skin and her words from his heart and mind.
“I feel strange. Jittery and odd in my belly, and I canna catch my breath.”
To know she was drawn to him, wanted to be touched by him, was almost more than he could bear. How would he keep his distance with her living in his keep? Sleeping so close to him?
He must find her a husband. One who’d treat her well…or answer to him.
“I doona want to be free of you.”
He shook his head. There was no room for a woman in his life. Certainly not one like Caitlin.
He’d desired a family once. Duty to his clan was his only priority now. Women made a man soft.
Pulling on his plaid, he secured it with his belt, then fastened his shoes and pushed back his wet hair. Lachlan had already dressed, and Darach saw Oslow, still looking travel-worn and waiting for them by the horses—impatient to give his final report, no doubt.
Upon reaching him, Darach took the reins in his hand and continued on foot toward the castle. The two men fell into step beside him.
“How much longer can you stay with us, Lachlan?” he asked.
“I would see this through. I’ll not have you or the lass harmed because I left too early. You’ll want all of us by your side when Fraser attacks. ’Twould be a waste of time to return home only to come right back again.”
By “all of us,” Darach knew Lachlan spoke of their foster brothers, Callum, Gavin, and Kerr, and their foster father, Gregor. They’d made a blood oath years ago to protect one another, and his brothers and Gregor would be much aggrieved if Darach did not call upon them in his hour of need.
He clasped Lachlan’s shoulder. “It heartens me to have you by my side.”
Lachlan returned the gesture. “Aye, Darach, as it does me, knowing you will stand by mine.”
Lachlan was not meant to be laird of Clan MacKay, but when his older brother was murdered five years ago, he’d taken the helm, swearing to find his brother’s killer—whom he was closer than ever to identifying. Darach looked forward to the day he could help Lachlan achieve justice for his clan.
They walked in silence, each lost in his own thoughts. Finally, Darach turned to Oslow. “Have our spies discover what they can about Caitlin from the Frasers. We must know what she’s hiding—God willing, it’s not as bad as she thinks—and the name of her clan. If they align with Fraser, I need to know their strength and their allies. Ask our people first. Her father, Wallace, was the brother of a laird, and he married a Frenchwoman named Claire. A love match, I suspect, that may have caused a breach between the brothers. Surely that is fodder for the gossip mill, and someone will remember.”
“Willna she tell you herself?” Oslow asked.
“Nay, she’s frightened and doesn’t trust me. I erred when I pretended to leave her at the glen with those blasted cats.”
Oslow harrumphed. “If you were to marry the lass—”
“Nay,” Darach cut him off.
It did not help that everyone wanted him to marry Caitlin. God forbid she got the same idea. He’d seen how stubborn she was. It would make life most difficult, and right now, he needed a clear head more than ever.
“Have you increased the guard?” he asked.
“Aye, ’tis doubled within the castle, and the border patrol is tripled. Everyone is on alert, including the villagers. They know what was done to Caitlin and by whom. Gare and Brodie have told the story many times o’er.”
Darach sighed. “Do you think the clan will leave it at that? Or will my keep be overrun by visitors tomorrow?”
Oslow smiled. “You’ll be overrun. Everyone will want to meet her for themselves, express their outrage at her mistreatment. Maybe you should take her to the village in the morning and save them the trouble.”
“I am laird, not a social convener. I have my people and my land to protect. I doona have time to squire her around.”
“Doona worry,” Lachlan said. “I’ll take her, introduce her to all the brawny warriors and eligible young bachelors. You shouldnae be bothered with such trivial things as matchmaking.”
Heat crawled up Darach’s neck. One fist clenched around the reins, the other by his side. Damnation. There was naught he could say now. He’d look a fool.
“You’ll do no such thing.”
Lachlan burst into laughter as Oslow coughed into his hand.
Darach marched toward the keep, refusing to look at them. After a moment, he stopped and sighed. “The Frasers will come. We must protect her.”
Then he mounted Loki and raced toward the castle.
To Caitlin.
Five
Darach handed Loki to a lad in the stable and hurried up the hill toward the keep. He found himself breaking into a run and slowed down. Everything was in order.
About to mount the steps that led to the keep’s heavy wooden door, he paused and wondered if Caitlin was still in the kitchen or in her room bathing. A vision of her naked in a tub of steamy water heated his chilled flesh. He sighed as the familiar ache filled his groin, all the time he’d spent in the icy water suddenly for naught.
Shaking his head, he glanced toward the kitchen and noticed a group of people milling around the building that stood separate from the keep.
The heat of desire turned to anger as he realized what they were doing.
His steward, Henson, a tall, thin, bald man, peeped through a closed shutter, while the stable master, Ronald, short and sturdy, stood behind on his tiptoes, trying to see past him. Others crowded around as well—some of the young women who helped in the keep and a few grooms. Darach’s cook, Ness—a middling woman who had been lovely in her day and now was as round through the hips and breasts as one of the standing kettles in which she cooked her stews, peered through a crack in the door—perhaps as Caitlin soaked in the wooden tub in the kitchen.
He marched toward them, intent on bashing the heads of the men together. One of the lasses saw him coming and squeaked. After bobbing a quick curtsy, she hastened away. Others beat their own retreat, but Henson, Ronald, and Ness were too entranced to notice his arrival. Darach grabbed the men by the scruff of their necks and hauled them away from the window. They howled in surprise.
Ness rushed over. “Laird, ’tis not what you think!”
Darach stopped just short of braining them. Ronald and Henson cowered in his grip, petrified, but also guilt ridden. It was exactly as he’d thought.
“I believed they were spying on the lass as well and did give them a tongue lashing for it, but ’tis not true. She bathes the lad, and he stands there willingly. ’Tis a miracle.”
When he looked over, tears trailed down her cheeks. Ness had five grown children of her own and had spent much time with Fergus in the kitchen, trying to mother him, to no avail.
He grunted and released the men, balling his hands into fists. “I willna abide any man spying on the lass. To do so is an insult to me, and I will act accordingly. She has the protection of the MacKenzies, and you will treat her with honor. Do I make myself clear?”
The men nodded. “Aye, Laird.”
The message would spread like wildfire through the clan. Anyone who dared treat Caitlin with disrespect would be well warned. He walked to the kitchen door and pushed into the darkened room. His gaze found them immediately. Fergus stood naked in a pail of water, eyes wide. He held a squirming kitten in his hands as far away from his body as possible. Darach watched as Aila gave the lad a new kitten to hold and placed the other one on the table with its littermates. Caitlin washed the boy’s body with a rag and soap, while Edina poured a pail of water over his hair, rinsing away the suds.
Darach wouldn’t have said Fergus was willing, but as willing as any lad his age when put in a tub. It was a far cry from the last time Darach had come upon a similar scene—the lad struggling and screaming in fear as the women tried to wash him. Now, Fergus looked anxious and uncomfortable, but not deathly so. Till he saw his laird standing by the door.
At that moment, his face paled and he whimpered pitifully. Darach cursed his own stupidity. The poor lad had been in just such a position when his father had entered their cottage and attacked his mother. Darach had brought the boy’s memories back unwittingly.
Caitlin looked up and met Darach’s gaze. He turned to leave, but she stopped him.
“Nay, Darach, stay, but come forward slowly, so we can see more than just your shadow. Maybe sit on that stool.” She pointed to a stool by the hearth. Darach hesitated, then moved toward it. The lad still whimpered. The sound crushed Darach’s heart. He’d been unable to save the mother, but God willing, Caitlin could save the son.
“Look, Fergus,” she said, “’tis your laird come to visit. You must show him your kitten, for Darach loves cats. He told me so himself when I found them in the forest.”
Cheeky lass.
Darach sat and smiled at the lad. The squirming kitten distracted Fergus. He lost his pallor and turned to Aila, who handed him a third kitten, placing the second one on the table. Darach hid a grin. The poor kits, being used in such a fashion. He knew it was Caitlin’s doing, none other would have had such imagination. She would win a place in the heart of every MacKenzie for this.
“Fergus, may Darach come closer to see the kitten?” she asked. “’Tis Justice you now hold, and he loves to crawl up your laird’s chest to play with his hair. The kit may even suckle on his chin. ’Tis verra sweet.”
She continued to wash the lad with soothing strokes, but she avoided staring at him, as if he were a dog she didn’t want to aggravate. She’d mentioned her mother had been good with animals and had taught Caitlin how to tend them. Whatever she’d done had worked with Fergus too.
When the lad nodded, Darach moved the stool closer and sat on it. His knees were a hand’s width away from Fergus, who eyed Darach for a moment, then sat Justice on his lap. Sure enough, the kitten ran straight up Darach’s chest, making him wince as tiny claws found purchase in his clothes and skin. Justice batted the wet strands of hair hanging past Darach’s ears.
The women laughed, and Fergus did something Darach hadn’t seen him do in a long time. He smiled.
Thank you, Caitlin.
Ness had followed Darach into the kitchen and now held out a large linen to dry the boy. “Och, would you look at that? There’s a wee lad behind all that dirt. Come and dry off, Fergus.”
Fergus looked at Caitlin, and she nodded. “Once you’re dry, you can have all four kittens at once.”
Eyes round, the boy stepped gingerly from the pail and let himself be wrapped up by Ness. “I canna thank you enough, lass,” she said, tears running down her face even though she smiled.
Caitlin smiled back, also teary. Lovely, too, with her flushed cheeks, damp hair, and wet clothes clinging to her curves. No wonder the men had been spying.
But underneath, Darach saw the exhaustion, her skin pale beneath red cheeks, eyes too bright. She needed a bath of her own, some food, and a bed.
He handed Justice to Aila, then stepped around the pail and took Caitlin’s hand. “You look ready to drop. ’Tis time someone took care of you. Say good night to the lad.”
“But I must tend the kittens, and Fergus needs my help.”
“Nay, you’ve done enough. Fergus can tend the kittens now. Edina, Ness, and Aila will show him what needs to be done.” He eyed the boy. “Isna that right, lad?”
Fergus nodded, looking lost in the folds of cloth.
“Are you sure, Fergus?” Caitlin asked. “The kits will need more milk and a pan of sand to use as a privy.”
“Doona worry. I’ll see to it,” Edina said.
“But what about the dogs? I have
yet to train them.”
“They’re out hunting with my men.” Darach tugged her toward the door. “Say good night, Caitlin.”
“But—”
“Say good night, Caitlin.”
She huffed, then looked back at Fergus and stuck out her tongue. “Good night, Caitlin.”
Fergus smiled again.
* * *
The sun was setting as Darach led her through the bailey. It was later than she’d thought, and other than a few men down by the stables, the big yard was empty. Maybe everyone had gone inside for the evening meal. When he reached the keep and mounted the steps to the second floor, she was suddenly self-conscious. What would his clan think of her? Especially knowing she’d been drugged and handed over to Laird Fraser like cattle.
They would speculate about her situation, of course—’twas only natural—but would they guess the truth? And if they did, would they consider her their enemy?
The hall was dark compared to outside, but her eyes soon adjusted, and she looked around the large, empty room. A grand hearth with a roaring fire took up the wall to her left. A smaller fire burned in a hearth in the opposite wall. Sweet-smelling rushes covered the floor.
She sighed in relief. Her uncle’s keep had been dirty and the stink had made her gag.
Opposite them, stairs led to a balcony on the third floor that overlooked the room.
“Please stop. I want to see your home.”
He changed direction and walked with her to the smaller hearth, which was flanked by several chairs with embroidered cushions and footstools. Heat from the flames poured over her.
A colorful tapestry depicting a hunt hung on the wall above the hearth. Darach followed her gaze. “My mother made it. And the one above the other hearth as well.”
The detail in the design amazed Caitlin. She couldn’t imagine the time and patience it must have taken to complete. “She was fair talented with a needle. ’Tis a skill I lack.”
Highland Promise Page 6