by B. J. Scott
Katherine stiffened and clasped Warren’s wrist. “Could you na speak to father? Tell him I don’t wish to marry Lord MacConnery. Ayden is your friend. Could you not tell him that you think Ayden—” Warren placed his finger against her lips and silenced her. “He willna listen to me. You know how he is once his mind is set. Da invited the MacAndrews out of courtesy. They have never been friends and merely tolerate each other on a good day. In truth, he sees no reason for the laird of an impoverished clan and his family to be here. He would never consider a proposal from Ayden,” he said. “MacConnery is a different story. He’s a very wealthy man.”
“But I don’t care about his holdings I don’t wish to marry a man I don’t love. Ayden promised he’d speak to father.”
“I know.” Warren stroked her shoulder. “But best you resolve yourself to the idea that before the evening is through, you will be betrothed, and sadly, I doubt it will be to Ayden.”
Katherine peered up at Warren. “And there is nothing you can do to help me?”
Warren cast her a sympathetic look and shook his head. “Unfortunately, it doesna matter to our father what you wish, and he sets no store in what I have to say when it comes to such things. Da will decide who you are to wed, and naught I say will change his mind. Best you resolve yourself to that and forget any other notions you might have,” he said, then took a step back and studied Katherine from head to toe. “You look ready to me. Come. I’ll escort you to the feast.”
Cora waved Warren out of the room and followed him. “Your sister is almost ready and we’ll come anon. You go on and I’ll bring her.” She closed the door and they continued their discussion in the hall.
Katherine twisted her hands. “This is not real,” she tried to reassure herself. “And it is just the feast, not the actual wedding. There is still time to come up with an alternate plan.” She released a heavy sigh and decided to go to the feast and put on a smile, pretend to be pleased about her upcoming nuptials and pray Ayden could convince Lord Grant to reconsider. And while she was still convinced she was dreaming and who Lord Grant decided his daughter would marry shouldn’t concern her, for some reason it did. Especially if she was expected to play the part of Catriona Grant until she woke up in her own time.
She could still hear the muffled conversation going on between Warren and Cora in the hallway, but she was too deep in thought to care, she didn’t notice when Cora returned.
Cora hooked a finger under Katherine’s chin and raised it until their gazes locked. “What has you so upset, lamb? You must have known you da intended to offer your hand to Lord MacConnery.”
Katherine wrapped her arms around her waist and sucked in a shaky breath. “The idea of a loveless marriage bothers me greatly. I know it is tradition for a father to choose his daughter’s husband, but hoped I might be allowed to marry a man I cared for, certainly na one who is a stranger to me. How do I know if we’ll have anything in common or will even get along?”
Cora looked puzzled. “A stranger? Why, you’ve known Ewan MacConnery since you were a wee lassie. And he and your da were friends for many years afore that.”
Katherine’s stomach churned with dread. While she meant well, Cora’s confirmation that MacConnery was old enough to be her father did nothing to make her feel better. If anything, it made things worse.
“There has been talk bandied around the estate for some time now that a betrothal between you and he was being negotiated. And as for a husband and wife having things in common or a fondness for each other, it is seldom considered.” She placed her open palm on Katherine’s brow. “Are you ill? You’ve been saying some odd things today.”
Katherine gently brushed Cora’s hand away. “I’m not ill. Yet, I don’t understand why Ayden would not be a worthy suitor as well.”
She’d always liked to give people the benefit of a doubt before making up her mind. And regardless of what she’d heard and read, she’d not been in Lord MacConnery’s presence, so couldn’t justify the intense anger she felt whenever his name was spoken. But she couldn’t dismiss the sinking feeling of despair in the pit her stomach when Warren said MacConnery was waiting for her.
“Ah, that explains the long face.” Cora shot her a knowing look, then clucked her tongue. “Ayden MacAndrews has caught your fancy. I have suspected as much for a while and canna say that I blame you. He’s a braw lad and much closer to your own age. However, that doesna make him a suitable choice for a husband.”
The words she’d read in the journal regarding Catriona’s feelings toward MacConnery flooded Katherine’s mind.
I am not sure what I will do, what will become of me. I canna stand being in the same room as the pompous arse, and the thought of warming his bed and calling him husband is a fate worse than death.
I pray that Ayden can convince my father to give him his blessing and we can be joined as husband and wife. He is a wonderful man who not only makes my heart sing with joy, but touches my soul. If the Almighty is a merciful and loving God, he will grant my wish and answer my prayers.
Again, the events in 1304 mirrored exactly what was happening now, and how Catriona felt about the prospect of marrying MacConnery at the time she penned the entry were the same thoughts and feelings Katherine was experiencing.
She’d dreamed about Ayden for as long as she could remember, but after meeting him in the glen, the words had an even bigger impact than they did the first time she read them. Catriona and Ayden belonged together. Tears welled in her eyes and she batted her lashes several times to blink them away. But despite her effort to keep them at bay, one escaped and slid down her cheek.
“Dinna cry, lass.” Cora caught the tear with her fingertip. “Perhaps if you tell your da how you feel, he will change his mind and grant his permission for you to marry Ayden MacAndrews instead.”
Sniffling, Katherine peered up at Cora. “He’d have to grow a heart for that to happen. And I suspect that isn’t going to happen any time soon,”
“You willna know unless you ask. Tell him how you feel, lamb. You may be surprised.” Cora stroked Katherine’s cheek.
Katherine thought about what Cora said and decided to make an attempt to reason with Rowland Grant on Ayden’s behalf. Dealing with difficult clients was her specialty. So it was worth a try. Again, the hard and fast rule that women were expected to be subservient, to only speak when spoken to, came into play. Fortunately, Ayden was nothing like most of the medieval men she’d encountered, he actually appeared to care about her thoughts and what she wanted more than his own needs. He’d even had enough respect for her to ask her to marry him before he even broached the subject with her father. And to her, that spoke volumes about his character and the sort of marriage they might have.
Catriona’s tumultuous relationship with her father put Katherine at a disadvantage from the start. But Katherine hoped if she could draw on savvy business expertise she’d learned in the twenty-first century, it would aid in negotiations with her father. If successful, there would be no reason for the lovesick lass to kill herself. While she wasn’t sure if changing history in a dream did anything to rectify the real events of the past, Cora was right, nothing would be gained if she didn’t try.
Katherine squared her shoulders and feigned a smile. “Let’s get this over with, Cora. We wouldn’t want to keep his lordship waiting any longer.”
Chapter Thirteen
Ayden stared at the door to the Grant home, waiting for Catriona to appear. When she’d been delayed, he feared her father might have found out about their meeting in the glen and had seen her punished. An unsavory blend of anger and concern twisted his gut. Her father had a reputation of being free with the lash. If anything happened to her because of him, he’d never forgive himself for suggesting they meet. If her father had harmed one hair on her head, he’d flay the bugger.
“Relax, son. You are as edgy as a hen surrounded by hungry foxes,” his father whispered in his ear.
“Leave him be, Connor. The lad’s in lo
ve. Do you forget what it was like to count the minutes until we saw each other?” Ayden’s mother, Mairi, slipped her hand beneath her husband’s and smiled.
Laird MacAndrews lifted his wife’s hand to his lips and kissed her palm. “I could no sooner forget about how much I adore you as I could to breathe, ma gaol. You, my dear, are the love of my life and I will hold you in my heart, even after I am gone.”
“Then you of all people, husband, should understand how Ayden feels.”
“Our fathers were in agreement about the union. This is different,” Laird MacAndrews replied.
In Ayden’s opinion, his parents were most fortunate. They’d fallen for each other at a very young age, married with the blessing of their clans, and had lived together in a harmonious relationship of adoration and respect for thirty-four summers. He wanted the same for himself and Catriona. But it could never be without her father’s consent. If love were enough, he could promise she’d be the wealthiest woman in Scotland. But Rowland Grant cared naught for sentiment; fattening his coffers and expanding his holdings were his only concerns.
His gaze shifted to his host, waves of loathing washing over him. Grant sat at his dais with Lord MacConnery at his left side. The gesture of having Lord MacConnery sit at the head table and his obvious effort to slight his parents by seating them amongst the crofters, spoke volumes. His chances of gaining an audience with the Grant or obtaining his blessing to wed his daughter looked grim. A heavy sigh escaped his lips.
“There is no point longing for that which you canna possess, son,” Laird MacAndrews whispered. “I’ve heard talk she is already betrothed, that her father has promised her to Lord MacConnery. The time has come for you to find another.”
Lady MacAndrews pinned her husband with a glower of disapproval, then smiled sweetly at her son as she caressed his forearm. “Dinna listen to your father, son. Rowland Grant may be a boorish, stubborn man, but I’m sure if he learns how much you love his daughter, he will agree to the union. No father can deny his child her happiness. Perhaps you could speak to him, Connor, on our son’s behalf.”
“You know as well as I do, Mari, that Grant isna going to give his consent for Ayden to wed his daughter. He and I have never seen eye-to-eye over most things. We tolerate each other at best. Love means naught to a tyrant like him. Coin and land are all he cares about and we have neither to offer.” Laird MacAndrews cupped Ayden’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, son. But if the rumors I heard upon our arrival are true, I’m afraid there isna anything you can do.”
Ayden clenched his hands into tight fists at his side and gritted his teeth, ire rising up from the pit of his stomach. The thought of Catriona in MacConnery’s arms infuriating him to a point beyond reason, beyond control.
“Nonsense. Dinna listen to you da. Love will triumph and you and Catriona will be together. I can feel it here.” His mother pressed her hand to her heart. “The two of you will wed. And na long after, I’ll look forward to wee ones running about the castle.”
Too infuriated to respond to his mother’s attempt at uplifting his spirits, Ayden stared straight ahead, waiting, watching for Catriona to appear. And while it seemed like an eternity, it was only a few more minutes that passed before the door of the croft opened and there she stood.
He gasped, as did the entire crowd of people gathered in the garden of Lord Grant’s estate. Clutching at his chest, in an attempt to draw a breath, he watched her step into the moonlight. A vision in her emerald-colored gown and with her dark locks piled atop her head, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. She looks like a princess, he thought as she stepped away from the door.
With her chin held high and Cora at her side to guide her, Catriona took a few steps, then planted her feet. Her eyes darted around the crowd as if she were searching for something.
It was then their gazes locked and a broad smile graced her face. His heart leapt. He wanted to go to her, to sweep her off her feet and carry her away. But not only was the notion foolish, he’d not get a few feet before her father’s men would stop him.
But he had to find a way to talk to her again and to her father as soon as possible. But how? She was so near, but the distance might as well have been miles for all the good it would do him. Her father was so engrossed in his conversation with MacConnery, there was no way he’d get an audience before the meal.
But when she didn’t head toward the dais, then turned to Cora and whispered something into her ear, he felt a glimmer of hope.
~ * ~
“Ayden,” she whispered the moment she saw him. Katherine wanted to shout his name aloud and run to his arms, but knew better than to bring that sort of attention to herself. If she was to speak to him, she’d have to do so in as inconspicuous a manner as possible.
She leaned in so only Cora could hear what she had to say. “I must speak with Ayden before the feast. I—”
Cora cut her off before she could finish and gave her head a rough shake. “Och, nay, lass, you mustna do such a thing. Your da will be furious if you dinna go directly to the dais.”
Katherine glanced at her father, who appeared to be deep in conversation with one of his guests — a tall, well-dressed, middle-aged man, with a square jaw, sharp angular features, and a muscular frame. Lord MacConnery, she assumed. “I’m sure he’ll not notice if I am there or not. I’ll be but a minute.” She stepped away from Cora before she could protest further and slowly moved in Ayden’s direction. She smiled sweetly and nodded as she passed people she didn’t even know and thanked them for coming. She figured if she looked like she was merely mingling with the guests with no ulterior motive, she could eventually make her way to Ayden without her father becoming suspicious of her intent.
She wove through the throng of guests, momentarily stopping to offer a greeting or to admire a new babe. So far, so good, she thought as she got closer to where Ayden stood.
“Catriona!” A shout rang out from the dais.
Katherine stopped in her tracks and swallowed a gulp of air. Obviously, her harebrained attempt to reach Ayden without drawing attention to herself failed. She should never have attempted such a foolish stunt, but saw it as the only way to speak to him. “Breathe and stay calm,” she muttered, and sucked in another sharp breath. But she refrained from looking at Lord Grant.
“Bring her here at once.” All eyes shifted from Katherine to Lord Grant, including Ayden’s. But their gazes promptly returned to her when one of her father’s men stepped out from the shadows and grabbed her around the waist.
“Let me go.” Katherine demanded as she thumped her fists on the thickly corded muscles of his arms — her response being purely out of reflex upon being manhandled. Her feet were dangling in the air, her back flat against his broad chest, and he held her so tightly it forced the air from her lungs.
“Stop your wriggling about, Lady Catriona, I dinna wish to hurt you,” the man said.
No match for his strength, she stilled, and decided to try a gentler approach. “Then, please put me down.” She sweetened her tone of voice, hoping he’d relinquish his hold. When he tightened his grip, her gaze shot to Ayden.
As if privy to her inner thoughts, Ayden narrowed his eyes, grasped the hilt of his sword, and took a step forward. But much to her dismay he stopped when the older man standing beside him planted both hands on his shoulders and mumbled something in his ear.
Her heart lurched when she took a quick glance around the perimeter of the festival area and counted fifteen heavily armed men surrounding her. As brave and skilled as Ayden was, she prayed he’d stand down. To take on such odds could only end in his death.
“You best have a good explanation, daughter,” Lord Grant growled through clenched teeth. “Lord MacConnery has patiently been waiting for you to join him.”
She swallowed hard and raised her chin in defiance when she noticed Lord Grant standing only a few feet away. He broadened his stance, and with his arms crossed over his chest, he stood beside the man she assumed was Lord MacConnery
. Katherine cringed. Neither of them looked pleased by her behavior.
The warrior holding her immediately set her on her feet and stepped back as Lord Grant countered with a menacing step forward. As his face reddened in anger, he curled his hands into tight fists, the veins at his temples and those along the sides of his neck bulging as he shot a glower of contempt at Ayden.
“I should have known better than to invite the MacAndrews Clan to my feast. It could only mean trouble.” He then shifted his scowl to the older man standing to Ayden’s right. “Can you na control your son, Connor? He needs to be taught some manners.”
“They had nothing to do with my wandering about and greeting our guest,” she said, her words gaining her another glower of contempt from Lord Grant.
MacAndrews tucked the woman who accompanied him behind his back, shielding her with his body before responding. “It is na my son who needs controlling or a lesson in manners.”
Ayden didn’t move or respond, his eyes fixed on Katherine, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. She was relieved he’d refrained from reacting to Rowland’s rude comments, glad he had the God-given sense not to put himself or his parents at risk when he was clearly outnumbered. But despite his outward composure, she could almost feel the heat from the tempest of ire burning inside him, and saw the lethal glare in his eyes.
Grant backed down and returned his attention to Katherine. He seized her by the upper arm and using brute force, squeezed as he spoke “What have you to say about your deplorable actions? Were you na told Lord MacConnery was awaiting your company?”
Katherine winced when his nails dug into her flesh, then took a quick gasp of air. “I was only trying to be polite and welcome our guests. Is that na right, Laird Arnold?
“Aye, she did stop by our table,” Laird Arnold replied.
Katherine had no idea how she came up with the right name, but was glad she had. She’d never met Laird Arnold before tonight, and there had been no formal introductions. Yet his name rolled from her tongue as if they’d been old friends. She scratched her head. Was it possible she’d channeled one of Catriona’s memories? She had to admit the longer she played the role, the more comfortable she had become. If she wasn’t careful, if she stayed her too long, she’d lose Katherine MacDonald altogether.