All was quiet in the household by the time Catherine reached her husband’s chamber door. Thinking for a moment of how exhausted he must be after nearly a week chasing the raiders through the hills, she suddenly had second thoughts. She paused, her hand lifted to knock.
But then she thought, what other choice did she have but to awaken him? Athol could as well be gone tomorrow for another endless hunt, and she would never even get an opportunity to speak with him. An unexpected pang of sadness cut into her chest at the thought that he could go off again without even taking time to send for her.
Well, she decided, she would not wait to be sent for.
Her knuckles only met with thin air as the door opened abruptly. Startled, she looked up and found her husband’s dark and weary face gazing down at her. The trace of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
He stood in the doorway, as silent as a statue, and his eyes raked over her body. Her face flushed hot in an instant, and she was suddenly conscious of the pulse pounding in her temple. Athol cocked his head slightly to the side, his gaze pausing at the Stewart tartan she wore around her shoulders. Then, without a word of greeting, he leaned down and placed a firm kiss on her lips.
“I’m glad you’re here, lass,” he growled finally. “I was coming after you.”
“After me?” she croaked. His one large hand wrapped around her wrist and dragged her into his outer chamber, closing the door behind them.
“You can keep that hole in the wall you call a bedchamber, if you like, but when I am here at Balvenie Castle, I expect you to share my bed with me.”
Vaguely, it occurred to Catherine that she should object to such a command, but instead, the words spread a warmth through her. Wordlessly, and with somewhat unsteady legs, she followed her husband as he guided her through the doorway leading into his bedchamber.
Stepping into the room, she immediately spotted the huge half-barrel that sat by the fire. Feeling the release of his hold on her wrist, Catherine turned and watched him as he latched his door. The intimacy of his action shot a bolt of fire through her, and her head suddenly whirled with dizziness. Crossing to the hearth, Athol lifted a huge kettle of water from the hook over the fire and added the steaming liquid to the water already in the tub.
“I...heard...I’ve heard that...”
“I can see I’ve stayed away too long.” He turned toward her and yanked his shirt over his head. “You are again forgetting your words when we are alone.”
She took a step back and tried to gather her wits. She had to voice her request before he came close enough to touch her. “I want to return to Elgin.”
He unfastened his kilt and the dark wool pooled at his feet. She couldn’t stop her eyes from scanning the long, sinewy muscles of his chest, the taut skin of his stomach, the wispy trail of reddish hair leading to his...
Catherine jerked her eyes away. “I need to see the bishop!” she exclaimed.
“A strong reaction to your husband’s body, Cat. But I need to take a bath!”
He wasn’t taking her seriously. “Well! You can’t take a bath until you at least agree to stop your people from harassing me when I tell them I wish to go to Elgin.”
He moved toward the tub and stepped into the water. “You are in no position to bargain.”
She saw him sit back into the tub and give her a devilish smile. But at the same time she didn’t miss the softening of his gaze as she unwrapped the tartan from her shoulders and placed it on the bed.
Dressed in a simple linen dress that Jean had sewn for her this past week, Catherine felt like anything but a seductress. But still, knowing that her husband was the most agreeable whenever they were involved in a passionate encounter, she prepared herself to put all her power to good use. After all, it was for a good cause, and certainly worth a try.
“As I mentioned before,” she said, “I need to get back to Elgin.”
“I heard you, Cat, and you won’t be going. So put it out of your mind.”
“I won’t put it out of my mind!” She reached up, slowly pulling at the laces that tied the front of her dress. She could not help but shiver with excitement at the way he froze in the tub, his eyes following the movement of her hands. “I have already traveled that route. I can take the other two monks as companions, if it makes you feel...”
“You are not going,” he said vaguely.
She pulled at the neckline of the dress and started pushing the garment over one shoulder. She could see that he’d ceased breathing. “Getting your approval for the school was only half the battle, I need to see the bishop to secure tutors and...”
“Tutors?” His gaze flickered for a moment to her face. “My answer has not changed.”
Catherine pushed the dress over her other shoulder. In an instant, it had slipped over her hips and fallen to the floor. His scorching gaze told her that although he had a thorough knowledge of what lay beneath her thin chemise, that knowledge did nothing to diminish the desire he was feeling now.
“Suddenly, I am wondering if you would be interested in a bargain.”
“You are a wanton thing, Cat.” He smiled faintly and nodded. “Perhaps I would, at that.”
Gathering her courage, Catherine took a small step toward the tub. “If you were to stop imprisoning me here and allow me to gather what I need for the school, I in return will...”
“Aye?”
“Wash your back for you?”
His laugh was hearty and brought a smile to her lips.
“Why is it that I have an idea you’d be willing to do a great deal more than that...for this school of yours?”
“Very well! I’ll wash your back and arms and...and dry you, as well. But, in return you must hold to your promise.”
“Come here.”
His command was lazy, its seductive note clear above the crackle of the fire. She shook her head. “Nay, not until...”
“You’ll come here...or I’ll come out after you.”
She again shook her head, taking a step back and putting a chair in between them. “Not until I have your word on...”
“You already have my approval for the school.”
“Aye, but without the assistance of the bishop--assistance I wanted to get from him at Elgin last time--I don’t know how...” Catherine’s words caught in her throat as Athol rose suddenly from the tub. Her eyes widened at the sight of his wet and fully aroused manhood before lifting her eyes to meet his meaningful gaze. She forced out her words. “You...you never even gave me the chance to see Patrick Hepburn!”
“Are you going to come over here of your own accord or would you like me to come after you?”
“You...Stop, John. You still haven’t given me an answer that suits me.”
“You come and wash my back, Cat, and I promise I’ll give you an answer that suits you.”
She still looked at him doubtfully. “And I have your word of honor?”
“You have,” he nodded with a sly smile, slowly lowering himself again into the water. “You come here, and I’ll give you what you are after.”
There was no denying him. And there was no denying her own desires. Walking slowly toward him, she watched his eyes as they roamed her body. When she reached his side, he held up a wet cloth.
“There you are, lass,” he said. But as she reached for it, his hand darted out, taking hold of her wrist and looping his other arm around her waist. She was on his lap in the water before she could even cry out.
“Ah! Now this is much better,” he whispered devilishly, nestling her comfortably until she was half immersed into the water. Catherine could feel his arousal pressing intimately against her. “Perhaps, first I’ll wash you, my sweet.”
With her feet still dangling on the outside of the tub and her arm around his shoulder, she looked up and met his intent gaze. “Before we get any further into this...this...”
“Bathing? Lovemaking?”
“Whatever!” She tried to not be too aware of the warm water he was po
uring with his huge hand over her breasts, soaking the thin chemise until it was transparent. “Your...your promise. I can leave for Elgin tomorrow.”
“Nay, you won’t!”
She stiffened in his arms and started fighting his hold. “You blackguard! I should have known that I could never...”
“Sit still. You are splashing half the water out of the tub.”
She turned into a hellcat. “When I am done with you, you will be mourning a lot more than just some water!”
“You cannot go to Elgin.”
She tried to pull herself from his lap, but his steely grip on her waist held her in place.
“You promised me, and now you are reneging...”
“Nay, I’m not,” he growled, pressing his lips to the bare skin of her neck. She couldn’t stop her excitement at the feel of his lips, but still she wouldn’t give up her struggle. “You wanted the bishop’s blessing and assistance in opening your school...”
She slapped him soundly on the chest and tried to pull away.
“The bishop has given all of that, my wild thing. I’m sure there is no reason for waging war in a warm bath over such things.”
Catherine went limp for a moment in his arms. Then, turning and placing both hands on his shoulders, she looked into his face. “What did you say?”
“I said you do not have to go to Elgin. The bishop has already promised you all the support that you’ll be needing.”
This time she willingly allowed him to pull her tightly against him. Her breasts pressed hard against his chest. “And how long have you known this? Was it Brother Bartholomew who talked him over to our side?”
He already appeared to have lost all interest in the discussion. She shivered when his hand caressed the side of her breast--his mouth descending and placing lazy kisses on her face. She lay her head over on his muscular arm. She too suddenly found it hard concentrating. “Is...is he back already, and no one told me?”
“I’ve met my end of the bargain,” he said hoarsely, his hand dropping into the water. She could feel his fingers move up under the hem of her wet chemise and slide along the skin of her thigh. All Catherine could do was to hold her breath and sink against him in anticipation of what was to come. “Now ‘tis your turn, I believe.”
CHAPTER 15
Arthur Courtenay quaffed the last of the wine in his cup and wiped his velvet sleeve across his mouth. Staring into the fire, he sat back in the only chair in the small chamber and sent the cup clanging into a darkened corner.
“Sluts, bitches, and buggering priests,” he muttered, his words slurring together. “Well, you’ll not make a fool of me. I’ll have that treasure.”
The muffled sounds of men’s voices in the Great Hall beyond the thick oaken door could be heard. The king’s Deputy Lieutenant stood up, steadied himself, and moved toward the door. As he pulled it open, the faces of his soldiers and a fierce-looking stranger turned to him.
“M’lord!” The newcomer approached and bowed. “I come from the Lord Chancellor.”
“Aye, sir knight, enter,” Courtenay growled, turning his back and moving across to chamber to the fire. “And be quick.”
With his face in shadow, the Deputy Lieutenant stood with his back to the fire as the hard-faced courtier entered. Courtenay made no effort to make the man comfortable. Leather and mail gleamed beneath the man’s cloak, and wild shadows and light licked the walls around him.
“What is it, then?”
“The Lord Chancellor sends his...”
“Get on with it, man,” Courtenay spat out. “What have you to say? I haven’t all night.”
The knight stared at him for a moment. “Aye, m’lord. ‘Tis this. The king wants to know what progress has been made to capture the traitor Percy’s wife and daughters.”
Sir Arthur stood silently for a long moment, considering his answer carefully.
“Tell the Lord Chancellor that we know the whereabouts of the eldest sister. She has fled to the north. She has taken refuge near Elgin, but we know where she is. She will not escape us. The other two sisters and the mother are also in Scotland, but we will find them as well, as soon as the eldest is caught. Tell your master that, sir knight.”
“Is there anything else, m’lord?”
Courtenay stared steadily into the steely eyes of the knight. “That is all, knight. Now, get out.”
As the door closed behind the courtier, Sir Arthur turned and stared into the flames. He would burn in hell before he would tell them anything more. He would find those damned Percys, and the treasure would be his. Only his.
****
Catherine breathed deeply the soft tang of the autumn air and tried to clear her mind of the thoughts that had been tormenting her these past few days.
Although she’d heard tales of the terrible damp and cold that can afflict the Highlands, the autumn still felt much like late summer, and the days continued to be mostly sunny and pleasant. Moving ahead of her large group of accomplices into the protected alcove of the garden, she nodded to the women, who hurriedly spread the blanket and placed the cushioned chair beside the low wall. The smell of roses still blooming in the trim hedge along the grassy path hung in the air.
Looking back, Catherine motioned toward Tosh, who had carried the frail, but loudly complaining woman down from the castle to the gardens. Carefully, with more gentleness than one might have thought possible for the scarred and rugged warrior, he placed her in the chair. The accompanying servants were quick to tuck a blanket and offer a cup of medicinal tea to the ailing woman.
The dowager pushed the cup away disdainfully. She glared fiercely at her daughter-in-law. “Catherine Percy, the time has finally arrived when I can truly say I regret the day I first laid eyes on your homely face.”
Ignoring the insult, Catherine smiled pleasantly at the group and dismissed all of them for the time being. With a wry smile, Tosh took up a position beneath a gnarled pear tree at the far end of the garden. Catherine could see that from there he could keep an eye out for any potential danger.
As for the rest, the parting looks were mixed. Some were obviously amazed, though pleased, to have someone in the castle brave enough to induce the dowager to leave her chamber. Others were obviously worried for Catherine and the possible outcome of leaving her alone with the demanding invalid. Nonetheless, the women turned back up the hill toward the castle gates, leaving only Auld Mab--the dowager’s oldest companion--and Jean, who together wandered off to talk of the herbs and autumn flowers that remained in the garden beds.
Catherine smiled at her husband’s mother. Her little plan was working out nicely. The color in the old woman’s cheek was already better than Catherine had seen it in weeks. But the ease of bringing the dowager out for some air lay simply in the fact that Susan had not been at Lady’s Anne’s bedside when Catherine had announced the little outing. The younger woman seemed perfectly content to take care of her aunt in the confines of the airless chamber, and Catherine had a good idea that she would be certain to object to such a rash change of pace. It didn’t hurt, though, that Auld Mab had quickly sided with Catherine.
And by the time they returned to the keep, the dowager’s chamber would be cleaned and well-aired.
“You’ll be the death of me,” the dowager started again before the last serving woman had hastily fled the garden. “I am certain to get a chill. Mark me, I’ll be dead by nightfall.”
Again ignoring the old woman’s comments, Catherine removed her cloak and, spreading it on the blanket, took the volume of poetry she’d chosen from her husband’s library out of the great inside pocket of the cloak.
“I never expected you to be so villainous, young woman. You want my position, my chambers, no doubt. Why, I...”
Catherine sat on the ground next to the dowager’s feet, receiving a mild nudge from the older woman’s foot for her efforts. She smiled, opened the book to a marked passage, and began to read aloud.
“Where, in a lusty plain, I made my way,
I found a river, pleasant to behold,
Embroidered all with flowers gay.
There, through glittering stones of gold,
The crystal water ran clear and cold,
And in my ear, a melody.
The sounds of joy and harmony...”
Lady Anne Stewart continued with her complaints. “Do not think this is any way to treat me, young woman.”
Catherine continued to read.
“...At the last, beholding all these things,
I saw a garden, with walls around.
Amid the flowers I suddenly spied
Fortune, the goddess, and on the ground
Before her feet, a wheel...”
Catherine paused for a moment, and then read on.
Accepting her fate of remaining John Stewart’s wife and staying at Balvenie Castle, she was now determined to find peace with the others who lived there. Resolved on her mission, Catherine knew her most important challenge lay in the earl’s mother. Though the dowager acted infirm, the young woman was convinced Lady Anne Stewart had plenty of life left in her. She just needed some provocation and a purpose to live. If all worked out as Catherine planned, the aging woman would have plenty of both today.
But that was not all. Catherine herself desperately needed knowledge and support that she knew the dowager could provide. Selfish as it was, she had to admit inwardly that this outing was as much for herself as for the ailing mother of her husband.
Finishing the page, Catherine looked up and found Lady Anne leaning forward in the chair. The older woman’s eyes were fixed longingly on the book in Catherine’s lap. She waited until the older woman’s gaze lifted and met hers.
“You’ve been prying into my past.”
“I’ve been seeking out your interests,” Catherine corrected. “Your love for verse, both in reading and composing, is well known among the folk of Balvenie Castle.”
The dowager glanced back down at the page. “‘Tis the work of the first James Stewart to reign as king of Scotland.”
Dreamer (Highland Treasure Trilogy) Page 16