“That was an innocent...well, understandable blunder on your part--and you know it.” Catherine eyed the line of warriors forming down the middle of the Hall.
“But last night was not.”
She turned just in time to catch sight of his wolfish grin.
“Now do not tell me you’ve already forgotten making love in the window seat in the gallery outside your chamber door?”
“Nay! Of course, I have not!” If only she could strike the arrogant boor. It certainly sounded as if he were gloating over what they’d done. “Last night was...well, a private thing. We weren’t performing before a crowd...as you’ve just done!”
“You wouldn’t say that if you knew the rumors floating about this keep. The last one I heard had to do with you...”
“Nay. Stop your wagging tongue!”
“With you, stripped down to bare skin, demanding that I make love to you atop the southwest tower.”
She could feel the heat ready to set her cheeks aflame. Determined to give him no satisfaction, she stared out beyond the line of warriors at the friendly faces of the crofters and serving folk.
“And then there was the other one, about the stable hands hearing your moans of...”
Whirling, Catherine kicked Athol on his booted shin, but gained nothing for her trouble beyond a devilish grin from him...and the loudest hoots of approval yet from those in the Great Hall.
After nodding graciously to her audience, Catherine turned her gaze on her husband and gave him her most innocent smile. “If you have finished this senseless blabbering,” she whispered, “I believe your men are ready to take a turn.”
“A turn?”
“Aye, are they not anxious to kiss the bride?” She loved the way his handsome face darkened immediately into a frown. “I see all of them have politely formed a line. I’m delighted to know that such a dear, English custom is also--”
“You are now in the Highlands.” She tried to hide her pleased smile as Athol pulled her tightly to his side.
“Aye, as lovely and wild a place as ever God created. But still, John, considering all the raillery you are sure to take--”
“No man kisses you but me.” She felt his fingers take hold of her chin. “No one but your husband. Understand?”
“Then you agree to stop your chattering when I tell you so?”
“Nay, I was only teasing you.”
“Well, husband, so was I!”
For a moment his gray eyes locked on her own before she saw a smile break across his lips. He shook his head, and the firelight danced in his long, red hair.
“You turn into a fairy creature before a crowd, I see. Sharp tongued and quick-witted as a pixie. I shall have to remember to keep you locked up inside my chamber, lass. At least there, left alone with me, you forget your words.”
Left alone with him! She repeated the words in her head. Watching his eyes drop languidly to her lips and then even lower, Catherine felt the heat again rush into her face. The thought of being totally alone with him was absolutely enticing. Her eyes fixed involuntarily on his mouth.
She thought she heard a sound come from deep in his throat, but he quickly turned away from her and faced his people. At the nod of Athol’s head, the music stopped and Catherine watched the first man--the warrior called Tosh--approach and drop to one knee. Once again faced with such an open display of acceptance and loyalty, she felt the tears starting to well up in her eyes.
As if this were their wedding day--as if they were all standing on the church steps--one by one, the Stewarts of Athol and those who lived under the earl’s protection approached their laird and his lady. One by one, the Stewart knights and fighters knelt before Catherine and pledged their lives and their service to her.
The solemnity of their vows, added to the emotionally charged silence of the Hall, wrought unexpected feelings in Catherine. To think that for days, in the absence caused by her stubborn indifference to her husband’s invitations, she had snubbed these good people! And yet here they were, welcoming her as their countess of their own free will, with no encouragement!
Running a quick hand across her damp cheeks, Catherine nodded to the last warrior delivering his oath and allowed her husband to lead her around the dais to her seat beside him.
“They approve of my choice.”
Catherine glanced up hesitantly and, to her relief, found the assembly returning to their tables. Once again strains of music filled the air.
“And would they have behaved any differently, if they had not?”
“Nay! I’d have drawn and quartered them where they stood.”
She vainly waited for him to say more, but he turned and gestured to the gloomy faced steward standing at the end of the dais. Something stung in Catherine’s breast.
He could at least, she thought, make some sort of comment on the way she’d been received as opposed to the reception Ellen Crawford might have faced. But Athol appeared to have put the thought behind him, busying himself with the steward.
Silently chiding herself for being so fragile in her response to him, Catherine turned away from her husband, her eyes scanning the Hall for Susan. The young woman was nowhere to be found. Catherine turned her attention to the platter of food that was placed before her. She’d hoped she might find a friend in Susan. She realized now that she even hoped that the younger woman would help soothe some of the ache of being separated from her sisters.
But the way things were going, Catherine thought, they would be lucky if they didn’t end up as enemies. After all, as surprising as the whole situation was, John Stewart was now formally her husband, and he belonged to her.
Taking a small bite of her food, she glanced up and found Athol’s gray eyes focused on her. Seeing the small furrow darkening his brow, she wondered if he had any idea that she was foolishly entertaining the notion of going to battle to preserve their farce of the marriage.
“I never had imagined it would be this way.” His face was serious, but she could see the smile in the corners of his eyes. “You’re changing, Cat, and much faster than I would ever have hoped.”
She almost choked on her food. Taking the cup, she sipped the wine and then looked into his face, which now clearly showed his amusement.
“I’m...?” Catherine set down her cup. “What do you...? Are you saying...?”
“We’re still very much in company, eldritch thing. There is no cause for you to forget your words.”
“I was...not.” She waved a hand at him. It was just too easy for him to fluster her. “I was just asking you to explain what you said, and then...”
“Catherine, I can read your mind.”
She laughed at such absurdity. “Would you care to explain that, m’lord?”
“Laugh if you like. It matters naught if you believe me or not. But since I believe in fair play in single-handed combat, I thought you should be warned that I am armed with that formidable weapon.”
The man spoke foolishness.
“To laugh off my words would be folly when you had not yet tested them!”
Catherine wrapped a hand around her goblet to gather her nerves. Had she spoken aloud her feelings?
“Nay, lass. You have not!” Athol sat back as she glanced sharply at him and smiled back at her. “There. I’ve warned you of the dangers you face. Now ‘tis up to you to do whatever you think appropriate to arm yourself against me.”
On impulse, she decided to humor him. “If what you say is the truth--if indeed you can read the jumbled skimble-skamble that runs through my mind--then when was it first that you first noticed this...this gift? Or is it that you can read the minds of all around you? And is it just humans, or can you read the thoughts of animals, as well?”
The devil take the man. And that heart melting smile, too, she thought, angry at the heat she felt racing into her face. And those eyes!
“Ah, lass, not a charitable thought, that! But to answer your questions...nay, I’ve never had a gift of reading other people’s mi
nds. Once or twice, though, I’ve been fairly certain what one of my dogs was thinking. And horses? Why, one time I recall a hunter letting me know he was feeling a wee bit fagged...just before he threw me, jumping over a bog. But you’re the first of your kind that has opened up to me in such a manner.”
She stared into his eyes with as much doubt as she could muster. “And what do you think all of this might mean? Am I still no more than that stray mare that has wandered onto Stewart lands? Am I just another of your possessions? Perhaps, m’lord, if you really put your mind to it, you might even receive messages from a bedpost...or a chamber pot!”
“Aye, true enough, Cat! But none of those would provide half the fun of being able to rile you.”
She leaned toward him, lowering her voice so that her words would only be heard by him. “Then I guess ‘tis time that I warned you, m’lord. Rile me too many times at this fashion and you’ll feel the lash of my tongue and the battering of my wit. And do not be fooled by any frailty you see in this woman’s body, for I’ve conquered men tougher than you.”
“I’m certain you have, sweetness.” The earl’s booming laugh drew every eye to the dais. “By the devil, we’ll have a fine time of it, Catherine. This is sure to be far better than anything I could have hoped for.”
“I do not think...”
“Have you finished eating, lass?”
“Nay, but...” Before she could finish her thought, his mouth descended and Athol kissed her again, fully and thoroughly.
She pushed him away and, after glancing out at the throng, stared at the table before her. “All eyes are upon us.”
“Aye, as you say, m’lady. Then I believe ‘tis time we left these discourteous villains to find their amusements where they will.” She felt his strong hand wrap around hers beneath the dais. She followed the path of his scorching gaze as it dropped suggestively to her breasts. “And we can find our own elsewhere, as well!”
Catherine tried to ignore the warmth spreading through her middle. “Before coming down here, I promised myself not to allow you to seduce me again until we had a chance to speak of the school.”
“Is that so?”
The heat of his hand on her thigh began to scatter her thoughts, and Catherine forced herself to concentrate.
“Name your conditions, Cat.”
“An elementary and a grammar school--both at Elgin.”
“They have a fine grammar school there already,” he replied, shaking his head. “You can have the elementary school right here at Balvenie.”
“But it would be so much easier to start both schools at the same time.”
His growl, followed by the tug of his hand as he shoved his chair back and came to his feet, told her she was running out of time.
“I’ll concede to having them both here as long as you agree to provide for maintenance of the tutors we bring back from Elgin!”
“You’ll start with one school.”
Catherine quickly considered her options. She already had more than she’d dared hoped to get from the man. Still, though, she sensed that she could get more.
“Two schools. And I’ll teach...”
“Nay. One school for now!”
“Perhaps if I could show you the benefits of having the two...”
Catherine had no choice but to let herself be led across the Great Hall, returning the smiles and nods, the bows and curtsies as he propelled her toward the great arched doorway. She didn’t have to glance around to know that every eye was upon them, that every tongue would be clucking about her husband’s intent as soon as the two of them had pushed their way out of the chamber.
In the dim light of the corridor outside the Hall, she planted her feet, preparing to berate him for his behavior. And she would have, but before she could speak, the master of Balvenie Castle lifted her into his arms with a devilish grin, and sped down the dark corridor.
“Ah, lass, I’ll have to feed you more. You weigh no more than a sparrow!”
Dizzy at the sensation of being carried like this, she couldn’t find her voice or summon any kind of protest. Instead, she found herself wrapping her arms around his neck for support. To save herself from falling, she told herself. But what a lie! The giddiness she felt, the excitement of what was surely to follow, left her shivering with anticipation.
He tightened his hold on her, and she found her face pressed to the skin of his throat.
He lengthened his strides. “You keep that up, Cat, and we won’t make it to my bedchamber.”
She liked the huskiness that she could hear in his voice. There was something thrilling in the tightness of his iron-hard arms holding her. She puzzled at the thought that she actually affected him like this.
She considered his threat. “Ah! But I thought...I thought you so much stronger... than...”
“Strength has nothing to do with it, lass.”
He quirked a half-smile at her and then kicked open a door before passing through it. Catherine’s eyes hardly had a chance to focus as they swept through Athol’s outer chamber. The door to his bedchamber lay directly ahead. She held her breath.
With a suddenness that shocked her, he halted at the door, staring at it as if it were some insurmountable obstacle. Glancing at the door and then into his handsome face, Catherine found herself burning with expectation.
His voice was no more than a growl, and he did not look at her. “Once I’ve taken you inside this chamber, you’re mine, Catherine Percy!”
Slowly, his gaze dropped to her, and she met his gray, piercing eyes in the dim light of the room. “But I have been yours, John Stewart...from the moment you wed me.”
“Aye, in body you’ve been mine! But in spirit...” He shook his head slowly. “I want your trust. I want you to accept me as your husband. I want all of you, Cat.”
She never took her eyes from his face. Even in this light, she could see the muscles in his cheek flickering beneath the skin.
“I gave you my body. I’ll give you all the passion within me. But as to the rest--” Catherine tightened her hold on his powerful neck and raised her face closer to his, “you’ll have to earn my trust.”
She never gave him a chance to voice his response, instead threading her fingers into his hair, she kissed his mouth the way he himself had taught her to kiss. When she broke off the kiss and drew back, she could not be certain which one of them was more affected.
“Catherine, I...”
“Nay, John. I need you! But do you plan to stand here all night and waste this...”
Athol pushed his way through the door into the bedchamber, and Catherine found herself being gently placed on her feet. Still holding her close to his chest, he dropped the door latch in place.
Catherine placed a kiss in the hollow of his throat, resisting the thought of letting go of her grip on his neck. Having his strength surround her like this was an enjoyment totally unexpected.
“Does this mean you intend to allow me to walk the rest of the way of my free will?”
“It would be quite easy to toss you onto my bed and have my way with you. You are far too tempting, lass, even for the celibate saint I know you aspire to be.”
“Well, m’lord, saintliness is--we both know very well--not an end you have any possibility of achieving.”
“Aye, and ‘tis a blessing for both of us.”
She arched her back as he lowered his mouth to her neck. His lips brushed over the skin beneath her ear, stirring the banked fires of desire deep within her. She felt the roaming of his hands as they slid from her back downward over to her buttocks. She thrilled at the pressure of his strong fingers, drawing her hips against his hardening manhood.
Catherine opened her lips, forcing air into her lungs. More than anything right now, she wanted her husband to take her. She needed him. Deep in her belly, she ached to have him, to feel him inside of her, to know again the sensation of having her body wrapped around his, drawing his essence in. The very thought of him driving into her...
> “Not so fast,” he murmured in her ear, his breath hot as he ran his tongue over the sensitive ridges of her ear. “Having such thoughts will only be my undoing...and put an untimely end to such pleasures.”
Her mind whirling with the myriad of sensations that were colliding within her, Catherine leaned back in his arms and looked confusedly into his face. “What did you say?”
His fingers worked themselves beneath her tartan and cupped her breasts. Lights were pulsing through vaporous mists in her brain, and she leaned against the door to support her own weight.
“I simply said, not so fast. We’ll get there soon. But not yet, my sweet!”
She mentally pushed away at the bright mists. This couldn’t be. He couldn’t be reading her mind. It was just that she was too inexperienced and eager in this game of passion. He was guessing at her thoughts.
“Think what you will.” He leaned down and kissed her again so deeply that, when he pulled back, she remained where she was for a long moment, dazed by the power of his passion. “But be prepared, lass. This night will be filled with all the pleasures our passionate natures can devise.”
“Tell me what to do, John. Teach me.” Her own voice sounded like that of a stranger. Her needs, it occurred to her, seemed to belong to someone else. To someone outside of her, and yet living at the very center of her womanhood.
“Undress for me.”
She looked up and met his burning eyes.
“Take off the tartan, Cat.”
Holding his gaze, her hand moved up to the brooch at her shoulder. As the plaid fell from her shoulders, she watched his eyes follow, pausing to gaze appreciatively on the exposed tops of her breasts before sweeping downward.
Meeting her gaze, Athol reached out and took hold of her hand, drawing her to the center of the bedchamber. There he left her and crossed to the fire.
This was the first time since leaving the Great Hall that Catherine had been even a step away from her husband, and she let her eyes survey the chamber. A crackling fire in the hearth spread a comfortable warmth through the chamber as well as bathing it in a golden glow. Before the hearth, a table and chairs stood beside a huge settle, and across from the fire, a giant canopied bed stood against a paneled wall. Her eyes lingered on the bed with its damask curtains and intricately carved wood.
Dreamer (Highland Treasure Trilogy) Page 11