Adam stopped mid-sentence at the sound of a soft whistle from the darkness beyond the light of the fire.
With a parting glare at Roy Sykes and Ren, the leader strode past the ruined stone hut at the edge of the clearing and toward the spot where he knew his visitor waited.
******
The only light seeping into the stable came from the torch out by the pen, but Catherine Percy was beautiful in any light.
Reluctantly rolling away from her, Athol slid to the edge of the loft and dropped to the dirt floor. With a sigh, Catherine followed him, and John Stewart gently lowered her to the ground, placing a soft kiss on her still parted lips. Gathering her tightly to him, he warmed at the feel of her body against his, the pressure of her hands on his back. He tucked a loose tendril of black hair behind her ear.
“I have become a wanton and wicked woman.”
John gazed soberly at her. “Aye, no doubt about it. In fact, I’m certain the bishop would have grave things to say about a woman who is so corrupt that she wants her husband to make love to her. But now that I think of it, I do not care what the bishop’s views might be on the subject.”
Her quiet laugh brought a smile to his face, and he kissed her hair.
“So you are telling me you think there is nothing odd about a husband making love to his wife in the very shadow of the cathedral?”
“Nothing odd, at all!” He grinned at her. “Certainly not odd when one remembers that this is the same husband who took her wife’s virginity in the window of a darkened corridor, cheerfully forsaking the blissful comforts of a wedding bed.”
She nestled closer against his chest and sighed contentedly. “I very much like the way this husband views some things.”
John Stewart chuckled to himself. He’d married an enchantress. There was a power she wielded over him. It flared up and blazed--controlling his body, his sense of discipline, even his heart, it seemed. She had the power to transform him from an angry man to a panting school lad in the space of a moment. And now, here she stood, satisfied and seemingly unconcerned about the potent force that dwelt within her...or about the reprimand he had planned to lay about her pretty ears.
“You are no longer angry with me!”
But not completely oblivious, he thought.
“Catherine...” he started, pulling back slightly and framing her pretty face in his large hands. “I suppose I cannot blame you completely for what happened today. You cannot be even half aware of the danger dogging your steps here in the Highlands, or you wouldn’t be traipsing so recklessly through these hills.”
“I am much hardier than you think, John.”
“By St. Andrew, I know you are hardy enough! But our enemies here are much more cunning than the ones you’ve escaped from in England.”
“I have done no wrong for any of these people to hate me!” Her midnight blue eyes widened. “Or is it because I am half English that you think me in danger among your people?”
“‘Tis neither of those things,” he whispered quietly. “Just by marrying me, Catherine, you’ve become a target for those who wish to destroy me.”
“And why would one want to destroy you?” Her voice gentled, and he felt her words caress his spirit. “You are a good leader to your people. From everything I can see, they honor and respect you as their earl and laird.”
Her confidence in him was precious. Looking into her face, he traced her lower lip with his thumb. With a sudden rush of anger, he drew her fiercely to his chest. The helplessness he’d felt after learning she’d gone had been maddening. “Never do that to me again, Cat! Never put yourself in danger as you did today.”
She pushed herself away from his chest and met his gaze. “For me to recognize friend from foe, John, I need to learn the truth about you. I need to know who is your enemy and why he is so determined to do us harm, though I think there is danger inside the heavy curtain walls of Balvenie Castle as well as outside.”
“You mean the stable hand, Roy Sykes.”
She nodded. “‘Twas not until we were away into the hills, and I caught a glimpse of an ambush ahead of us, that I realized there was a reason for him being so easy to persuade.”
“When we return, I want you to point out the spot where they were waiting for you.” Athol clenched his jaw. Thus far, they’d successfully eluded him every time he’d chased them, but he’d run the rascals right into the ground this time, if it took him a year. He glanced up, realizing she was looking intently at him. “But how was it that you didn’t think I was the one waiting for you to pass by?”
“You? Waiting?” She shook her head. “Nay, you’re not one to wait and ambush! In fact, to be truthful I expected to see you and your men racing through the glen. That’s why we took to the hills.”
“I see,” he muttered. She knew him better than he’d have imagined. “And how were you able to find your way to Elgin without a guide?”
“‘Twas not difficult.” She shrugged. “I have a fairly good sense of direction. But more importantly, how did you learn of Roy Sykes’s betrayal? When I put the pieces together, I wondered if that was the reason why it took you so long to come after us. To tell the truth, it wasn’t so much the fear of any brigands ahead as ‘twas the thought of my husband’s fury behind that had me scurrying.”
“Wait a moment,” he growled. Realizing that they had left her cloak in the loft, Athol turned and moved back through the darkness of the stable. A fine hunter tossed his head as the earl passed. The bishop’s, no doubt, he thought. When he reached Catherine, she was standing by the open door, gazing out past the flickering torch toward the cathedral. A number of canons and cowled clerics were moving across the courtyard from the chapter house. He shook out the cloak before wrapping it around her shoulders.
“‘Twas past midday when I learned that you were missing. And from what I could gather, immediately after you and the monk left, Roy Sykes disappeared, as well. Hearing that the stable hand had gone rather than coming after me, I had a fairly clear indication that the lad was up to no good.”
“Has he been at Balvenie for all of his life?”
“Nay.” He shook his head. “And I suppose I should have been more suspicious of him from the beginning. He came begging for a meal and some work just about the same time as Adam of the Glen began raiding the outlying farms. We’d just lost a stable hand to a fever, and the lad knew horses. But I should have suspected a connection.”
“Who is this Adam of the Glen, John?”
He tried to step back into darkness of the stable, but her gentle touch on his arm held him.
“Please tell me about him. How am I supposed to protect myself when I know nothing about this shadowy phantom who is lurking and lying in wait for me?”
“Well, I know only a wee bit more about him, myself.”
“You’re not being honest with me, husband! You must know more, and your mother...well, the dowager certainly didn’t react to the mention of his name as if ‘twere nothing. She...”
“What did she tell you about him?” His words came out harsher than he’d intended.
“Very little! But her withdrawal was sharp and swift, and said much more than any words might have. She was deeply affected by the mention of Adam of the Glen. He’s more than just some local thief, isn’t he?”
Athol turned and walked back to the hunter’s stall. If he himself could only get his own mother to say more, he thought, stroking the horse’s fetlock. His search for the old earl’s likely mistresses had all come to naught. No one had been able to point him in the direction of Adam’s mother. And then, to learn that the cagey devil himself was conducting the same search made no sense to Athol.
“John! Tell me what you know!”
She had moved right behind him. He felt the soft touch of her hands on his back--trying to ease the tension that had crept into his body. He turned around and faced her.
“He is my half-brother. The bastard son of my father. Until a few weeks ago, I had no knowledge th
at such a person even existed. I certainly had no idea that the rogue raiding my lands was my own blood kin.”
Even in the darkness, Athol couldn’t miss the shadow of sorrow that momentarily enveloped her. “And you assume that he knows this, as well?”
A sudden anger swept through him. Turning on her, he started pacing between the stall. “Aye, I believe he does, or he wouldn’t be so damned intent on ruining my holdings. But other than that, I do not know a thing about him. I sure as hell do not know why he waited so many years before wreaking havoc on my people’s lives.”
“How long has it been? Since he started, I mean.”
“Six months...more or less.” He turned his angry glare on her. “But where was he before that? From the descriptions of my own folk, he’s no lad...and a giant, at that. Why, all of the sudden, has he come?” Frustrated, he smashed the palm of his hand against a post. The entire stable shuddered, sending a couple of birds that had been roosting in the eaves fluttering off and causing the horses in the stalls to neigh and stamp their feet nervously.
“Perhaps he, too, found out the truth just recently.” Her troubled eyes met his. “Who revealed the truth about him to you?”
“My mother...and do not bother asking her, for she appears to have taken an oath of silence on the subject. No matter how I’ve approached her, she remains steadfast in her refusal to speak. And her fading health serves as an excuse to end any discussion she finds unpleasant.”
She took a hesitant step toward him. “And I am certain you have been a most understanding son. It cannot be too pleasant knowing her husband fathered a bastard son.”
“Nay, that isn’t it,” he retorted gruffly. “I do not know where you’ve been kept, but a man taking a maid is no more uncommon in the Highlands than ‘tis anywhere else--England included. The strange part of it all is that Adam’s existence should have been kept a secret from me!”
Noticing her dash a tear from her cheek brought him up short. Extending a hand, he lifted her chin when she tried to turn her face away. “What is wrong now, lass? What is all this?”
She pushed his hand away. “And you think that is acceptable behavior, too? Are you planning to populate your land with bastard sons and daughters, as well?”
Her concern--her obvious struggle to stop the quivering in her lower lip--touched something within him. Athol knew that Catherine had fallen in love with him, and her behavior now only reinforced that knowledge. But clearly no romantic notions on her part were capable of deterring her from disobeying his wishes and leaving the safety of Balvenie Castle. Neither would he allow any romantic inclinations to cloud his thinking. His face tightened.
“You are asking more of me than I ever promised you that first night.”
Her voice was quiet but clear. “I’ve already given you more of myself than I ever thought imaginable that first night.”
“I warned you, did I not?”
“Aye, you did.”
“And you regret it already?”
She shook her head. “Nay, I do not as yet! And I will not so long as you continue to prove yourself a worthy husband!”
Her attempt at arrogance brought a smile to his lips. “Then to answer your question. I will not attempt to populate Balvenie Castle with bastards so long as you continue to prove yourself a worthy wife.”
“I have been the perfect wife, and I certainly plan to remain so!”
He took a step forward and, after checking her appearance, pulled the hood of her cloak over her head and started her toward the door.
“We clearly have to make some changes in your perception of what makes a perfect wife.”
“I do not know what you mean!”
“The perfect wife does not leave her husband’s bed and ride out into the dangers of an unknown countryside.” As they stepped out into the light of the torch, he paused and looked at Catherine’s face. Already, she was paying no attention to him whatsoever.
So be it, he decided. Hell. What good would it be to scold her, anyway? And he was actually beginning to enjoy her daydreaming, especially when he was at the center of it. After the lovemaking they’d just enjoyed, how could he be disappointed with this trait in his wife?
In his perfect wife, he corrected himself silently.
CHAPTER 14
The raids continued.
Outside of Balvenie Castle, Adam of the Glen continued with his destruction of Athol’s lands with a frustrated John Stewart dogging his heels. Meanwhile, any time he reappeared inside the walls, an increasingly frustrated Catherine relentlessly--and unsuccessfully--pursued her husband to secure an escort back to Elgin Cathedral.
More than a fortnight had passed since John Stewart had dragged her back to Balvenie Castle. As a "punishment' he had not allowed her to speak to the bishop before their departure, and though Brother Bartholomew had been left behind, Catherine still had no clue as to her requests regarding the school. Understanding the power of the church hierarchy, Catherine knew that having permission of the earl, her husband, was only half the battle for her project. Little would be done without the support of the bishop. And to think, she had been within a few steps of the bishop’s palace!
As the days passed, Catherine was becoming more and more anxious to go back to Elgin. During one stretch of good weather, she had found herself sorely tempted to take one of the other monks and make the journey once again. But Athol’s men had received clear instructions on that score. They were very, very sorry, but the countess was not allowed outside the gates with a horse, mule, or nanny goat. And if she wanted to walk into the village in the glen below the castle walls, then they would be more than happy to escort her. Had she thought of taking a turn about the gardens for air?
One night, as she paced her chamber restlessly, the sound of horses and the shouts of men could be heard from the courtyard. Jean’s knock sounded at the door before Catherine could even reach it. Together, they crossed the chilly corridor to the long, thin windows overlooking the courtyard. Athol had been gone for several days--a lifetime, it seemed--but there he was, dismounting in front of the Great Hall. Catherine’s spirits lifted immediately. Finally, he had returned.
Within moments, there were calls for hot water and food to be sent to the earl’s chamber, and Jean went scurrying with the rest of the serving folk.
Well, no matter how tired the man must be, she decided, she would go to him and make him help her as he’d promised. But there was no telling who might be with him, so Catherine quickly dressed, practicing her argument a number of times as she did.
Opening the door, Catherine shivered as a brisk cross breeze whistled in from the corridor, blowing out the taper in her hand. Turning back into the room, she crossed to her bed and picked up the Stewart tartan, wrapping it around her shoulders for warmth.
Deciding that a lit taper was unnecessary, she closed her door behind her and started down the corridor. Before she had gone two steps, though, the scuff of a shoe on the floor in front of her froze her in her tracks. Someone was coming, and she knew it couldn’t be Jean. Without a second thought, she stepped silently into an alcove by a window, and an instant later a shadow sailed past her. During the daylight, she would have assumed it was one of the servants, but now...
Her curiosity piqued, Catherine moved out from her hiding place and peered into the darkness where the shadow had disappeared. Silently, she followed.
It was a woman--she was certain of it. Even in the dim light of the moon filtering in through the narrow windows of the passage, Catherine could tell that it was a woman.
When the shadowy figure disappeared into the pitch blackness of the circular stairwell, Catherine paused. If it were Susan, why was she again haunting this part of the keep? If it were someone else, did she dare follow her into the darkness?
Taking a deep breath, she edged into the stairwell. The sound of a light step drifted up from below. Catherine followed, hugging the wall as she descended. Step by step she followed, listening for any sign ahead.
/>
Suddenly she stopped. The low, heavy scrape of wood sounded and then the breath of a woman, released as if struggling with a great weight. It was Susan--Catherine no longer had any doubt.
She waited, suddenly panicking at the thought that the young woman might return the way she’d come. Beneath this corner of the keep were storage rooms and guard’s quarters, but so far as she knew, no one ever used this stairwell to reach the upper floors. There was no sound at all from below now, and finally Catherine mustered her courage and continued down. At the bottom landing, her fingers found a great wooden door, banded and studded with iron. Cobwebs around the door clung to her fingers and hair. Susan had not gone out through there. Another door, equally filthy with disuse, met her a few steps farther.
Continuing around, her head suddenly brushed the lowering stairwell. Feeling with her hand in the darkness, she realized she had reached a dead end. The walls were stone, and she frowned, puzzled by Susan’s disappearance.
If she had only a lit taper, she swore. Staying a moment longer and trying to listen for any sounds, Catherine finally gave up on the chase and started back up the stairs the same way she’d descended.
Approaching her own doorway along the same corridor, Catherine paused, remembering Susan standing in the same spot the night when John had made love to her for the first time. Too embarrassed at having been caught, and also concerned about the state of the other woman’s feelings, Catherine had not given much thought to why, at that late hour of the night, Susan had been roaming through this older section of the keep. But now, as she turned around and glanced again at the entrance to the stairwell, Catherine began to understand things a bit better.
But wherever it was that Susan was going, and whatever it was that she was doing, remained a mystery to Catherine. And this was a side to Susan that was completely unexpected.
Passing by her door, though, and heading toward the newer section of the keep, Catherine knew that she had more pressing matters to consider. Matters like settling once and for all her request to return to Elgin to speak to the bishop.
Dreamer (Highland Treasure Trilogy) Page 15