Catherine turned finally to the man sitting behind the desk. He was sitting back, his arms resting on the sides of his chair, his leather booted legs stretched out before him. And he was eyeing her with an expression she could not quite identify.
Perhaps, she thought, they could look past what had occurred. Quite possibly, now that the deed was done and they’d consummated their marriage, Athol would leave her to open the school and pursue her original plans. As for her own behavior, now that she’d, well, tasted the forbidden fruits of passion, she’d be able to put behind her the fanciful thoughts she’d entertained for so long. In fact, now that she was thinking of it, perhaps John Stewart was not as incredibly handsome as she remembered him to be. After all, the wine last night had certainly been the true cause of her weakness.
Catherine gazed at her husband and knew that her last thought was, of course, total nonsense. Dressed in a brilliant white shirt beneath his tartan, Athol still was the handsomest man she’d ever encountered in her life. But so be it, she thought. She was down here to discuss the school. Nothing would distract her.
“Shall I have some food brought up for you?”
She watched him push back his chair. “Nay, m’lord. I had enough last night to keep me for quite a while.”
“It pains me to hear that.”
“Nonetheless, m’lord, I’d just assume we begin talking about the school. Now that my old tutors have arrived, it might be an excellent time for me to continue on to Elgin Cathedral. Jean tells me ‘tis only a day’s ride, and--”
“Did I hurt you last night?”
“Nay.” Her answer was quick, escaping her lips almost as a surprised whisper. But she couldn’t stop the heat from spreading into her face. “M’lord, about the school--it will also be helpful if you would advise us on what building we could utilize for...”
“Why have you been crying?”
“I...I haven’t been!” Nervously wrapping her arms around her waist, Catherine watched him slowly come to his feet. “Do you think it would be best if we were to find a place by the cathedral in Elgin, or do you think...”
“You do not lie well, Cat!”
Unconsciously, she backed up a step as he came around his desk. Her heart was now drumming loudly in her chest. “Perhaps, going back and forth to Elgin would make things too difficult. But still, if there is an abbey, perhaps, nearby, I...” Her words trailed off as he closed the distance between them.
“Why did you leave me so abruptly, last night?”
“I...” He stopped a half step away, and drew one of her hands from her waist. Her eyes darted in every direction, avoiding his face. “Perhaps...the neighboring lairds...”
“I was concerned about you, Cat.”
“Were you?” she whispered, immediately angry with herself for even responding.
“Aye. I was.”
Her breath caught in her chest as his hand lifted her chin and he looked into her eyes. Catherine found herself struggling weakly against what she knew would come next. His head bent slowly, and he sipped her lips.
She would die, Catherine thought, if she couldn’t wrap her arms around his broad back and draw him closer. Clenching her hands into tight fists, though, she held back. He had too much control over her. Too much of John Stewart and, Catherine knew, she would be forfeiting all her dreams.
He pulled back slightly and looked into her face. “Where is my passionate Cat? What have you done with my fiery wife?”
She burned with heat as he traced her cheek softly with his thumb. “I...I thought that since we’ve already done what...”
“You thought, since we’ve made love once in a corridor...” He paused, waiting.
She nodded. “I thought your interest...in this...in me...I...”
“You thought wrong, Cat.”
As his arms began to slide around her, panic quickly exploded in Catherine’s brain. She pressed her hands against his chest, and separated herself from him. “I...I’m down here...to talk of the school.”
“Fine! We’ll talk of the school,” he answered calmly. “But only after you kiss your husband.” He reached for her again.
She pulled back and looked incredulously into his face. “A kiss? You’ll let me present my case about the school after a kiss?”
He nodded innocently. She knew she would be a complete fool to believe him, so she didn’t. Still, seeing no harm in the act, she quickly raised herself to her toes and placed a quick peck on his lips.
“Now about the school...”
“That was no kiss, lass,” he growled.
“Now, why am I not surprised that you said that?”
“Just stating a fact. That was no kiss!”
He was making fun of her; she could see the amusement lurking in his eyes. “This has to be the oldest and most childish method anyone could use to lure a woman into his arms.”
He placed his hands on her shoulders, bent his head, and looked directly into her eyes. “Aye! But do you have a better suggestion? Perhaps you’ll be teaching improved methods in that school of yours. But before we can get to that, I still want you to kiss me.”
Again, having him so close, Catherine felt herself melting inside. “But...why...why would you want a...a kiss?”
He smiled into her face, and she felt her heart beating louder than the thunder of any summer storm.
“Do you realize, you forget your words whenever I am near?”
“‘Tis...not true.” Liar, she thought, taking a step back and coming to a halt against the door.
“Liar!” he whispered, closing the distance between them.
By the Virgin, what was she to do? Placing his palms against the door on either side of her head, he trapped her. Turning her eyes upward, she met his smoldering gaze.
“One kiss?”
He nodded. “One kiss to set the skies on fire...and then we talk about the school.”
Suddenly, the humor of the situation struck her, lightening her mood. In all of her life, she had only twice kissed a man, and on both occasions, John Stewart had been the recipient. The thought that he was talking to her now as if she were some type of expert was truly amusing.
“Very well. If you are not willing to do what I ask--” his hands dropped onto her shoulders, “then I can find other uses of my time--”
She held her breath as his fingers slid over the soft wool of her dress and brushed lightly over her breasts. Without another thought, Catherine stood on tiptoes and closed her mouth tightly over his. As his tongue rubbed against hers, she knew that a simple kiss would never satiate their unquenchable desires.
His hands, moving as if drawn to each sensitive part of her, roamed her body--touching her, feeling her, caressing her through the dress that felt now like the finest gossamer. She moaned softly, running her fingers through his hair, drawing him closer.
“This time, Cat, I take you to my bed.” He lowered his lips to her throat.
“Nay!” She shook her head, but she didn’t fight him as he raised her hands above her head, holding her wrists with one hand and mouthing her breasts through the dress. “We...we can’t. Not until you honor your word and first hear...about the school.”
With his other hand, he brought her body hard against his hips. “If not the bed, then my desk...or the chair...will have to do. Some things cannot be put off, Cat.”
Indeed, they can’t, she thought, feeling the pulsing heat course through her. Catherine already felt herself shivering with the thought of having him inside her again.
“Aye,” she whispered. “But...”
The sharp knocking on the door left her scurrying out of his arms. Slipping around him, she tried to pull out of his grasp, but Athol held her wrist firmly, keeping her within arm’s reach.
“M’lord!”
The knocks became pounding of a fist on oak, and Catherine used her free hand to tuck the loose tendrils of her hair behind an ear. Athol’s eyes, still riveted on her, scorched her with his desire.
“M
’lord!” Catherine recognized the voice. It was the scar-faced warrior Jean called Tosh.
“What is it?” Athol released her and angrily yanked open the door.
“That wolf, Adam o’ the Glen, is a-hunting again, m’lord. Some of the farmers have spotted some of his pack to the south, where the trail leads up out of Glen Rinnes o’er Corryhabbie Hill.”
Without so much as a glance backward, John Stewart strode from the chamber. Catherine listened with great concern and confusion as her husband’s shouts rang out to the men who had gathered in the Great Hall. Running to the window overlooking the bustling courtyard, she peered out as Athol and his men stormed out of the keep and onto the waiting horses.
Even from this distance, Catherine had a clear gauge of his anger. And it was frightening to know that what she saw was a perfect match of the earl’s temperament that first night--when he’d discovered his future wife in the arms of another.
This Adam of the Glen must offer a real danger to her husband’s people. Well, whoever this Adam was, Catherine thought, she wouldn’t want to be the man when Athol got a hold of him.
Starting for the door, Catherine decided that there were too many unanswered questions about the affairs of her husband. Nay, the idea of reentering the seclusion of her small chamber was quickly losing its appeal.
Hurriedly climbing up the circular stairs, Catherine knew exactly what she wanted.
The truth about John Stewart. A glimpse of the man’s soul. Some explanation why--for the life of her--she could not resist him. That was what she needed.
And what better source for all of this than the dowager herself.
CHAPTER 9
The open fire cast its glow against the line of rocks, stretching Adam of the Glen’s shadow to monstrous proportions. Scowling into the darkness, the brigand chief was beginning to wear a path before the men cowering on the far side of the fire.
“And you tell me, two mounts this fine were simply turned loose and left to wander down the path into Glen Rinnes--with no one watching?” Adam’s cold gray eyes focused on Robyn. “You do not suppose the beasts were carrying an invitation to a hanging at Balvenie Castle.”
The burly outlaw shrugged. “It all fell out just as we told ye, master. The animals were just trotting about, as free as can be. Granted, the two were very thirsty and ye can see, they’re both worn out with wherever they’ve come from. But there was no one tending them.” The man turned to the rest of the group, and they all nodded in agreement. “We searched high and low, master, thinking there must be a good pocketful of coins to go with the animals, but there wasn’t a soul that we could see.”
Adam restlessly kicked a branch into the fire. “Is that when you were chased by Athol’s men?”
A man, slouched against a boulder on the outskirts of the group, now spoke up. His pockmarked cheek carried the brand of a thief, and his eyes never looked straight at Adam.
“Nay, master. ‘Twas Ren and me that drew ‘em off. Some of the farmers were a wee bit shy about letting us take the sheep. But we had ‘em off and away up into the hills before the laird’s men appeared. They were mightily loath to leave their horses behind.”
“Good thing for them, too, master,” Robyn growled with a deep, mirthless chuckle. “For we’d have ta’en the whole lot of ‘em if they’d followed Jock and Ren up into the hills.”
Adam came to a stop before the fire. “Did he come after you himself--or is the vile creature still too smitten with the new bride to leave her side?”
“Nay, master. He was there quick enough. But we hid in our usual place and watched him and his men rush by, ne’er the wiser. No woman was holding him back, though, so far as we could see!”
Adam turned abruptly to Sykes, a red-haired, freckled lad crouching before the fire. “And about this new bride, lad! I want you to trick her out of that keep, d’ye understand? Whatever it takes to pull it off, Roy, bring her to us.”
The boy’s hands started to rub nervously across his knees. “‘Twill nae be a simple task, master. She doesn’t even leave her own room long enough for a body to cast an eye on her. ‘Twill take a bit of magic, I’m thinking, to trick her into the open.”
Adam’s movement was quick. The sound of the sword ripped from the sheath had not even penetrated the men’s brains before the sight of the blade arcing through the night air flashed before them. Dropping to one knee as he turned, the brigand chief cleaved the fire in two, the explosion of sparks showering even the men sitting farthest from the center. Leaving his blade in the very center of the embers for a moment, Adam did not move until the outlaws quieted.
Then, raising the smoking steel high in the air, he turned and faced them.
“On this blade I swear to you all that I will deal with the devil if need be. My sole purpose in this miserable life is to make life hell for the villain who is laird of these lands.” His fiery eyes swept over the faces of his men. “We’ve been attacking his farms--burning his barns--scaring his people half to death. But none of this will hurt him as much as the day we take his new wife.”
Moving around the fire, Adam held his sword out over the heads of his followers. He stopped before the red-haired boy.
“Whatever ruse is needed, Roy Sykes, you use it. But bring the woman into the open. We’ll be waiting, and then I’ll truly teach John Stewart the meaning of vengeance.”
****
Catherine accepted the blanket from Jean as she stepped out of the small wooden tub. Sitting on the small stool by the fire, she wrapped her shivering body inside the cocoonlike warmth and let Jean fuss over her dripping black ringlets.
“You have the most beautiful hair, mistress. If you’d allow me...”
Catherine just nodded vaguely, her mind intent on the activities of the afternoon and the time she’d spent in Lady Anne’s sick chamber. The older woman had been nothing if not direct in her greeting.
When she’d entered the airless bedchamber, Catherine had exchanged a quick glance with Susan, who averted her eyes immediately, giving Catherine no hint of what the poor woman was going through. Since it was clear that Susan and the two waiting women were not going to leave the chamber until the dowager dismissed them, Catherine had approached the heavily curtained bed. Auld Mab was standing over the dowager and watching Catherine intently.
Without even a moment’s pause, Lady Anne had simply opened her gray eyes and asked if Catherine and the earl had consummated their vows yet.
Mortified, Catherine had stared for a moment. Though Susan and the two waiting women were absolutely silent, she could feel their eyes riveted to her back. Auld Mab’s wrinkled face had threatened to crease into a smile, but the old woman fought it back.
What answer could she give? Catherine wondered. That the earl of Athol had indeed charmed her out of her virginity? That she’d been so eager for him that they’d never even made it to a marriage bed? That they’d made love in a corridor with Susan looking on?
Instead, Catherine had bowed her head in embarrassment, and the dowager had immediately sent Auld Mab, Susan, and the others out of the room.
Apparently, her open discomfort before had been answer enough for the older woman, though it occurred to Catherine that perhaps Susan had already told her, and Lady Anne was just seeking confirmation. Whatever the reason, the dowager had not repeated her question once they’d been left to themselves.
“I’ll be back in a wink, mistress,” Jean said, and Catherine absentmindedly watched the serving woman go out the door, only to return a moment later with something draped over her arm.
Drifting back to her thoughts of the afternoon’s encounter, Catherine considered again what she’d learned about her husband from his mother.
First of all, she’d been surprised to learn that John Stewart was a university educated man. His accomplishments were many, and his mother had been more than happy to share what she knew of his exploits serving the Scottish kings at Flodden Field and later quelling unrest here in the Highlands. But f
or the most part, Lady Anne had dwelt on Athol’s interest in his own people, and on his interest in education. He’d spent a number of years in his youth studying the classical writers in France.
The devil take the man, Catherine thought for the hundredth time, for giving her such a difficult time of it before the three monks, when he himself was apparently an advocate of the same things that they all believed in. Why, according to his mother, the man even read Greek! But then, Catherine decided as she thought of it, there had to be a reason for her own mother to pick Balvenie Castle as the destination for her travels.
Still lost in thought, Catherine was only vaguely aware of Jean unwrapping the blanket from around her and pulling the chemise over her head.
The information and the stories of John’s childhood had been quite entertaining, and Catherine had been delighted to see the dowager become quite animated, brightening visibly as she spoke. Even now, though, as she recalled the talk, Catherine could feel the odd tug of jealousy in her breast at Lady Anne’s references to a Joanna MacInnes of Ironcross Castle. The dowager had hinted that there had been some trouble regarding the two, but the older woman had been quick to add that the young woman was now Joanna Kerr, so all of that was now just ‘water down the brae.’
Back in her own chamber, Jean had informed her that the reason why John Stewart had not wed years earlier was because of presumed arrangements which he’d had for the hand of Joanna MacInnes. Hard as it was for her to understand, Jean told her, Joanna had picked a Lowlander for a husband, and the earl had been left with no wife or bairns at all. Until now, of course!
She rose to her feet as Jean pushed a dress over her head.
Catherine could only guess at her husband’s pain. For a man with his looks and position in life to wait this long to choose a wife, he must have clung for years to his love of this Joanna MacInnes.
Dreamer (Highland Treasure Trilogy) Page 9