Dreamer (Highland Treasure Trilogy)

by McGoldrick, May

  “Aye.” Catherine nodded. “The King’s Quair.”

  “Why are you doing this?” Lady Anne sank back heavily in the chair. “Why must you bother? You could let me be! I do not need all these daily visits, you know! The constant bickering with me at my bedside! Don’t you understand that I just want to be left to die!”

  Although the sharpness of her tongue was clearly intended to rile Catherine, the vulnerability in the older woman’s expression and voice touched Catherine inwardly. They were each tormented in some way. And whether they admitted it or not, they each longed for love.

  Looking up and meeting the piercing gray eyes, Catherine wrapped a hand around the thin fingers, trying to put some warmth into them.

  “Do you remember the first day that we met? The day that you called me a fool for asking the unreasonable...for wishing the impossible...for not recognizing and appreciating my good fortune and all I had to be thankful for?”

  “Do not compare yourself to me! And if you start calling me names in the same fashion I did to you, I’ll have Tosh whip you across the glen and up the side of Ben Aigan!” The dowager paused and when she spoke again, her voice shook a bit. “I am old and spent. I’ve had a full life and am now ready to relieve you and my son of the troubles of caring for an invalid. But you, on the other hand...you are young, strong, full of life. And despite my mocking you on that first day, I believe you are just the perfect wife for John. You do not need an old fool like me...”

  “But I do need you,” Catherine broke in. “Despite any show of strength, I am frightened, Lady Anne. And I need your help desperately.”

  The dowager stared at her in surprise.

  “What have you to be frightened of? Has my son hurt you in some...?”

  “Nay, Countess. ‘Tisn’t that at all.”

  “Then what? You have people around you who will help you with your school. Everything may seem to be taking too long in getting started, but...”

  “That’s not the problem, either.” Catherine shook her head. “Though I didn’t know I already had the bishop’s approval, I know that planning and arranging the rest is something that I can easily handle.”

  “Then what else, child? You and your sisters and your mother are all safely out of England. What could be bothering you?”

  Catherine couldn’t stop the heat from spreading into her cheeks. The feelings that were coursing through her were so new that she didn’t know how to restrain them.

  “‘Tis...’tis a suspicion that I have.” Catherine closed the book and placed it on the blanket. She tried to pull her hand from the dowager’s lap, but the old woman grasped it tight. Her grip was surprisingly strong.

  “What is it, Catherine?”

  “I...do not know for certain. But...I think...I...have these signs...of what I know goes along with...” She took a deep breath. “...In one who is with child.”

  “Bless the Lord! By the Holy Mother, ‘tis a wondrous day!” The dowager’s face brightened immediately and her loud laugh drew the looks of Tosh and the two other women in the garden. “Have you told Athol the news?”

  Catherine shook her head. “I wasn’t certain. I still am not. But I do not have anyone here at Balvenie Castle that I felt confident enough to...well, no one who I could be sure was knowledgeable... of whom I could ask such things.”

  Lady Anne beamed a moment, then squeezed Catherine’s hand before charging on with her questions. Catherine answered her, giving a detailed description of her periodic lightheadedness, of her queasiness at the smell of the cooking wafting up from the kitchens, and of not experiencing her monthly.

  “Aye, it must be,” the dowager whispered, almost to herself. “I knew I could count on Nichola Erskine’s daughter making me a happy woman before I die.”

  “But that is what I mean,” Catherine argued. “I am frightened. I don’t know what to do!”

  “‘Tis easy, child! Many a woman before you has gone through this. With the help of a midwife, some herbal teas Auld Mab there can fix up, and a few prayers...”

  “Not the birthing, dowager. That is not even real to me yet. What has me frightened right now is the thought of how my husband will treat me once he discovers the truth.”

  “He’ll be delighted, lass. He wants a bairn. That was why he chose a wife.”

  Lady Anne’s words confirmed her fears. She couldn’t stop the tears from gathering in her eyes.

  “And then what?” she asked miserably. “Now that I am bearing his child, don’t you think that he’ll lose interest in me? He has told me more than once that I should not harbor any dreamy notions about our marriage. He’s told me often enough that there is no love that will ever grow between us!”

  “He’s a fool, Catherine--like all men. And you are foolish to believe him.”

  “Please don’t try to tell me things I know are not true.” Catherine slipped her hand from the old woman’s and sat back on the blanket. A patch of clouds covered the sun for a moment before passing by. “I remember the conditions under which we married.”

  “You remember and yet you allowed yourself to fall in love with him. Knowing the danger, still you could not protect your heart.”

  Catherine’s vision became a blur as she stared at her hands clasped in her lap. She hadn’t been able to voice the truth to her husband. She hadn’t even permitted herself to admit it inwardly. But here it was, plainly and clearly said by the dowager--she had fallen helplessly in love with John Stewart.

  “It warms my heart to know you care about him so much. ‘Tis a blessing to learn that, despite all of his foolish delays, John has ended up marrying someone as worthy as you.”

  These were the kindest words Lady Anne had ever spoken to Catherine, and yet they only served to choke her more with emotion.

  “But I...I don’t know what to do!”

  “Tell him the truth, child. All of it! About your love. About the bairn! Only a dolt of a man wouldn’t be affected by such a revelation.”

  “But ‘tis not so easy.” Catherine looked up and met Lady Anne’s intense eyes. “Do you consider John like yourself or like his father?”

  The older woman cocked an eyebrow at her. “Why, he is very much like his father! In appearance, he is the spitting image. The same height. The same build. The same handsome Stewart face that made me fall in love with his father the first moment I laid eyes on him. Why do you ask that, lass?”

  “Because...well, what of his temperament, Lady Anne?”

  “You know yourself our temperaments are not the same. Nay, in that Athol is very much like his father--easy to rile and passionate. And my husband was a man who was fearless in his determination to win--especially when setting a wrong to right. If there were ever any two people who had so much in common...” Lady Anne’s words came to a abrupt stop.

  Catherine had to bite her lips to stop their trembling. Whatever she did, she couldn’t hold back the ache that was breaking her heart in two.

  “My answer was not what you’d hoped to hear, was it, Catherine?”

  “I asked for the truth. You simply told me what I expected.”

  The dowager’s frail hand reached over and wiped a tear from Catherine’s cheek. “I can see that you know the truth. You know about Adam, don’t you?”

  Catherine gave a small nod, unable to find her voice.

  “I now understand why you are distressed. You believe that now that you are with child, he’ll lose interest in you. That he, like his father, will wander. Is that it?”

  Again, all Catherine could do was to give a simple nod.

  “But such an assumption is erroneous, my dear.” The dowager’s frail fingers rested on Catherine’s shoulders. “Though it has only been a short while that you two have known one another, I assure you that I’ve never seen my son more enchanted with a woman than he is with you. I know you think me indifferent to what goes on in this castle. Well, there is not a bit of news that my serving women do not bring back to me. I know everything.” The dowager g
ave Catherine a knowing smile. “Everything. From what I understand, if you are not waiting for him in his chamber when he returns to Balvenie, then he comes after you. This is a very good start, child.”

  “But isn’t this the same as ‘twas between you and your husband, Lady Anne?” Catherine’s question appeared to catch the dowager off guard, and the older woman looked sharply away. “From what I’ve been able to gather from some of the older servants, the old earl was a devoted husband, a man committed to his wife and to his son.”

  Catherine waited for an answer, hoping against hope that Lady Anne would tell her that their marriage had all been false--a loveless arrangement that had simply connected two great families. That there had never been anything between them. But the dowager chose silence instead.

  A brisk breeze riffled the leaves of the rosebushes, and the late buds bowed their heads before it. Running her hands over her arms to ward off the sudden chill, Catherine looked up at the dowager, suddenly concerned about the woman’s frail condition. She appeared lost in her thoughts.

  “Perhaps, Lady Anne, I should call Tosh! I think ‘tis time that we...”

  “We did have a wonderful marriage.” Her voice sounded hoarse. “I thought myself blessed that I had a husband who had eyes for no other woman but me.”

  Seeing the pain reflected so plainly in the older woman’s face made Catherine feel guilty for even asking the question. She wrapped a hand around Lady Anne’s bony fingers. “I should not have brought up such things. I am sorry for being so unfeeling.”

  The dowager shook her head and gave a slight smile. “Don’t be! We had a good life, Athol and I. And though I was hurt because of what he did, I still cannot imagine my life without him.”

  “You forgave him for what he did and stayed beside him. I am not sure I could ever have been silent!”

  “Nay, my dear! I was anything but silent. I made life miserable for the rutting goat until he took away his bastard son where I no longer had to lay eyes on him. I...”

  “He brought Adam to you?” Though Catherine knew she should end this discussion, the old woman’s revelation shocked her.

  “Aye! He brought him to me as an infant. To take care of the little creature. I would have just as soon left him out on the hillside for the fairies to steal, and I told him so.”

  “But how could he expect you to...to...”

  “‘Twas a different time, then.”

  “Lady Anne, did you...were you aware that he had taken a mistress?”

  The dowager closed her eyes, but not before Catherine saw the tears that had gathered in their gray depths.

  “Why didn’t he leave the child with its mother? What purpose there was in bringing him to you?”

  “The mother could not keep the bairn, he told me.” The dowager shook her head and then looked into her daughter-in-law’s eyes. “Catherine, Athol was a man--and men do such things--but I believe he regretted his unfaithfulness. I believe he did not want the bairn to suffer for his own lust.”

  “But when you would not keep the child, the earl took him away.”

  “Aye.”

  “And you believe this is why he has returned? To avenge himself on his father’s family?”

  “‘Tis difficult to say. Very difficult.”

  Catherine watched as the dowager leaned back heavily in the chair. The old woman’s expression grew hard. She asked nothing more about Adam of the Glen. Indeed, she had not set out to learn about her husband’s bastard brother as much as to seek advice about her own fears in dealing with John Stewart. But here she was, no more secure in her own weakness, and yet perplexed about the events that could have shaped another man. Her husband’s enemy. Her husband’s brother.

  Glancing at Lady Anne, Catherine noticed the old woman shiver slightly, and with a wave at Tosh and the two women, she quickly rose to her feet.

  “You must do what you think is right.” The dowager’s quiet voice drew Catherine’s attention back to her. The woman was again looking at her with eyes shining with affection. “Though perhaps ‘tis best to have him wait a bit on the good news. He might be more willing to reveal some of what he carries in his heart if all good things are not so easily bestowed on him.”

  “Then you’ll keep my secret!”

  “Aye. I will, for the time being.” The dowager’s face grew stern. “But only with the condition that you’ll not judge him based on his father’s weakness. ‘Tis bad enough that I carry the regret of not raising Adam as my own. I could not stand to see my son also suffer for his father’s mistakes.”

  Catherine stared for a moment at the aging woman. This was exactly what she had been doing. Expecting, fearing that her husband would behave like his father, like other men.

  A few days ago, when John had mentioned that he’d like to take her to Ironcross Castle to meet his friends, Joanna and Gavin Kerr, Catherine had recalled the talk of Joanna MacInnes. The woman had been John’s intended prior to marrying Gavin Kerr. It had been then that Catherine had started tormenting herself with fears that he was already tired of her and wanted to visit his “true” love. Indeed, she had wondered how he would react if he were to find out that she was already carrying his child. Perhaps then, she thought, there would be no reason at all for taking her along.

  The old woman waved away the approaching warrior and the woman and took hold of Catherine’s hand.

  “Listen to an old woman, child. Don’t allow these things to distress you so. I can see the misery etched in your face.” The dowager’s voice was strong and yet gentle. “You’ve already allowed yourself to love him. Dwell on the good, and push aside the rest. I told you before, and I tell you again--never has he been so enchanted by a woman. Go ahead and work your wiles, lass...and have some faith in him, too.”

  Catherine tried to smile.

  “Do what your heart tells you to do about the bairn. But trust me, Catherine, ‘twill not be long before you know for certain that he has already entrusted his heart to you.”

  Placing her other hand over the dowager’s affectionately, Catherine smiled. Perhaps her path was not as fraught with trouble as she had been imagining. Perhaps there was hope after all that her marriage might be as she’d dreamed it could be.

  CHAPTER 16

  The glow of fading embers in the hearth was the only source of light in the large bedchamber. Catherine, quietly sliding out of the bed, gazed wistfully at the handsome curve of her husband’s muscular torso stretched so comfortably across the bed. The features of his chiseled face were relaxed in sleep, and she had to fight the urge to crawl back into the bed and forget about what she had planned to do with the rest of this night.

  Determined to go through with it, though, she padded softly across the floor and hastily dressed herself. It had been a magical night, making love in the golden glow of the fire, thrilling at the sensations he wrought in her, losing herself as his tender touch and powerful body brought her time and time again to a point of ecstasy--to a wild and pulsing place surely not far from heaven itself. And unlike the other nights when they would playfully argue, barter, and bargain over everything and anything--before losing themselves in their frenzied passion--this night had been the most peaceful they’d ever shared.

  She’d needed assurance; he’d given her tenderness.

  She’d wanted commitment; he’d given her passion.

  She’d sighed out his name; he had made her tremble.

  Catherine was happy that this night had been so different. The pure, simple joy of drowning in the moment, in the night, in each other, had been a blessing.

  Finished dressing, Catherine gave him a final look and smiled. Perhaps she didn’t have to challenge him, rile him, and please him at every turn. Perhaps he had already accepted her and her many moods. Perhaps, it was time for her to trust her heart--and for that matter, her husband--and reveal to him that bit of news that was certain to make him a happy man.

  She sent a kiss across the chamber and promised herself that she’d do j
ust that. As soon as she was done solving the riddle that she was determined to unravel before this night was over.

  *****

  Blowing out the taper at the sound of approaching steps, the monk hurriedly closed the top of the chest and pushed the open travel bag beneath the bed. Moving quickly toward the doorway, he silently peeked through the slightly open door.

  The hurrying figure of the passing woman was a familiar sight to the cleric, but he held his breath a moment later at the sight of Catherine Percy’s shadow following close after the first one. She did not turn into her chamber, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

  Letting a moment pass after the two had disappeared down the corridor, the monk cast a thoughtful glance back at the bedchamber before making up his mind and taking off after the two. Whatever the younger woman, Mistress Susan, was up to, he cared very little about, but having Catherine Percy’s life possibly in jeopardy was something that he could not allow.

  Slipping out of the bedchamber, the monk followed quietly in the wake of the two women. Regardless of his orders, regardless of the greater interest which lay behind his mission, the monk knew that he could not let Catherine come to harm. How could he just shrug off feelings of loyalty for a woman he had known for so many years? Nay, he could not.

  There was a great deal of mystery surrounding this Susan MacIntyre. But it was up to him to make certain Catherine Percy would not fall a victim to her own obstinacy. Catherine was fearless when it came to pursuing her dreams. And she was far, far too trusting in her own abilities.

  And all of this made her a prime target for foul play.

  *****

  After spending many nights hiding in the dark alcoves of this passageway, Catherine was now well-accustomed to Susan’s ritual. In fact, searching the bottom of the stairwell in the light of the day, she had also discovered the trap door where Susan made her periodic escapes. It was very curious that she only seemed to steal away on nights when Athol and his men were in the castle.