Perhaps, she thought--returning their stares--she had already become prejudiced in her affection toward those farmers of her husband’s that she’d met. But she was certain none of Athol’s people would have treated her so roughly. None, of course, but Roy Sykes, she quickly corrected. Her scowl came to rest once again on the red-headed young man crouched against the decrepit ruin of a stone hut. As he had done before, the stable hand averted his eyes and focused on the stick of knotted wood he was whittling away at with his dirk.
Turning her attention back to Adam of the Glen, Catherine realized that he had finally come to a stop and was again appraising her closely. Looking up into his dark gaze, she was tempted to meet his brooding fierceness with the same method that she had found so successful with her husband...ignoring him. But this was different, she knew, and she did not want to miss anything that she could learn about the man.
“This is fine work for grown men to be doing,” she said brightly, casting a meaningful look at Ren and the other man. Surprisingly, Ren shuffled his weight from one foot to the other and stared at Adam’s back. The other looked down in what might have been judged as embarrassment. Catherine almost laughed at the two of them.
Adam did laugh--a sharp, curt, mirthless bark. “Aye. Fine work,” he snapped. “I finally have him where I want. He’ll be crawling to me in search of the prize.”
Catherine was not happy having him towering over her as they conversed. So, her hands still tied on her back, she struggled a bit to get her balance and then came to her feet.
“I assume you are speaking of my husband, since I have no brothers. And as far as my father goes--though he did indeed consider each of his daughters a prize, unfortunately he was killed in the Tower of London this past summer.”
“What’s all that to us?”
“Well, I just don’t know who exactly you think will come crawling, for unless my father’s spirit is haunting these hills, I can’t imagine who might be rising to your bait.” She took a half step toward Adam, her voice taking on a confidential tone. “I assure you, my husband will not come crawling for anyone.”
“You do not seem to be mindful of your position, mistress.”
Before answering, Catherine cocked a meaningful eyebrow in the direction of his gathered men and then said quietly, “I do not think we should be discussing this in front of your men. I understand your need to retain your position of authority, and since I can speak nothing except the absolute truth, I honestly believe it would be best if you sent them off a distance.”
His jaw dropped open for a moment, but he quickly recovered. His expression, however, remained that of a man looking at a madwoman.
Catherine leaned toward him and lowered her voice even more. “Of course, you shouldn’t do that if you are afraid of me. Though I’m bound up like a sheaf of barley, you can see that I am still armed!” Using her head, she motioned toward the dirk tucked into her belt. The same one that, with her hands tied behind her back, was no good to her now. “I can, of course, understand your concern. I’m a very dangerous opponent. The possibility that I might bring you some harm...”
Adam of the Glen turned abruptly and shouted out an order, and his men immediately moved off to other fires, out of earshot. There was no question who commanded here. Catherine watched in silence as some began to settle in for the night, covering themselves in cloaks or tartans, while others huddled together, talking and laughing. Finally, the outlaw leader turned his attention back to her. Taking her by the arm, he led her around the corner of the ruined cottage. Turning, he faced her directly.
“Countess...”
“Now,” she broke in with a toss of her head, “regarding your words that I am not being mindful of what you consider a vulnerable position...” She paused for effect, raising her voice a bit as she continued. “To tell you the truth, I cannot see any reason why I should be fearful of you. Considering the fact that we are kin, now. We are as good as brother and sister, are we not?”
He took a menacing step toward her. “Don’t mix foolishness with the truth, mistress. I’m not a man to be trifled with.” Reaching out, he snatched the dagger from her belt with one swift motion. Hefting the weapon in his hand, he eyed the keen-edged blade. It flashed in the firelight as he turned it. “The first thing that you have to remember is that I am your enemy. The second thing is that I have sworn to destroy everything that belongs to your husband.”
“I don’t believe...”
“It doesn’t matter what you believe, Countess,” he rumbled on. “For the past few weeks, I have tended my traps, waiting to capture you...as I have. You are nothing more than a pawn, a trifle, in the larger scheme of things. So you might consider shivering and weeping, for that--and begging--might be the only thing that will spare your pretty throat from the edge of this dagger.”
Perhaps she should have been afraid, but a rising anger was the only thing Catherine could feel. This Adam of this Glen was beginning to irritate her. She gave up any attempt to hold her tongue.
“I do have to thank you for such a thoughtful recommendation regarding what I should and shouldn’t do! But considering the source of this great wisdom, I’m afraid I’ll just have to decline your offer. In fact, let me illuminate for you how wrong you are on all accounts.”
“There is nothing...”
“Aye, nothing you can learn, I suppose,” she scoffed. “Well, first of all, I have done you no wrong, brother-in-law. Nothing for you to hate me or wish me harm.”
“I told you, you are just...”
“I know. I know.”
“You are his wife, and...”
“As far as this grand scheme of destroying your own brother, I believe your troubles must come from some twisted understanding, since you’ve given him no chance...”
“You do not know the betrayal...”
“I am not done,” she said sharply, silencing him as his eyebrows shot up in surprise. “John Stewart is the one betrayed here, from what I can see. But moving on to the rest of your errors, I do not belong to my husband like the rest of his possessions of lands and wealth. I am his wife. A thinking human being! Aye, a rational creature. And he is a man far superior to you, in my thinking, because he recognizes me as such.”
“If you think...”
“I am still speaking.” She spoke her words through clenched teeth. “And as far as your...trap! You must be an absolute simpleton with hired fools to run your errands if you think my presence here is the result of some wondrous plan invented by you and carried out by those baboons who brought me here.”
Adam looked at her suspiciously. “What’s that?”
“I came out of Balvenie Castle of my own free will. Like the last time, when I eluded your men in the hills, if I’d had any desire not to be caught, you would not have touched me, no matter how clever you think you are.”
Catherine let out a breath and stared unblinkingly into his murderous glare. Her only chance of success here lay in the hope that he did not have the ability to read her mind--as his brother did. Her stretching of the truth about coming here on her own free will sounded quite convincing, though, she thought, even to her own ears.
“If you are finished...”
“I am not!” she added sharply. “Now as far as your recommendation of shivering and weeping and begging, I will gladly choose to have that blade cut my throat rather than grovel before such arrogant disregard for what is right. ‘Tis the way my father went before me, Adam, and I’ll take death over the life of a coward anytime.”
He stared at her for a long moment, and then a glint of amusement appeared in the corners of his eyes.
“Well, now at least I know why my blackguard of a brother chose a wife like you! You have the courage that Athol himself lacks.”
“I will disregard that comment, since it was spoken out of ignorance by someone who does not know John Stewart.”
A bitter laugh erupted from the giant Highlander. “Now ‘tis you who is in error, mistress! I know hi
m much better than you think.”
“The same way that he knows you, I suppose? Tell me how well two grown men can know one another when, in their entire lives, they have never met? When one of them didn’t even know the other existed until half a year ago? When any blood connection between them was a well-hidden secret until just a few weeks ago!”
Adam’s face expressed very clearly his confusion at her words, but it quickly darkened with mistrust. “‘Tis easy to lie about such matters! If he told you this, then I know him now to be a liar as well as a coward. I believe he has always known about me. And nothing you can do or say will change my opinion on that little fact.”
Catherine opened her mouth to speak and then closed it again. It was true that she and Athol had been married only a short time, but when it came to trusting him--though she would not openly admit it--she had absolute faith in him. If John Stewart said that he had only just learned that he had a half-brother, then she believed him. But what was more important, Adam believed that Athol had been aware all along of their kinship. No wonder Adam’s hatred of his brother ran so deep.
“Now, as to your show of courage,” he started again. “Do not be so witless as to think I can be swayed. No matter what you say to defend him, my fight remains with your husband.” He lifted her chin with the blade of the dirk. “And I’ll do anything...I’ll use every means at my disposal to bring him down!”
The blade was cold on her skin, but her eyes never wavered for an instant. “And I’ll do whatever I must to stop you from doing just that.”
He laughed and lowered the blade. “I’m certain you will, lass. But that’s a weak threat, considering you are my hostage now and helpless, at best.”
“But once again, you are wrong there, as well!” She didn’t know how it came to her, but suddenly she knew the answer. Susan! It was more than possible.
She looked up and appraised Adam of the Glen with renewed interest. He was indeed a handsome man. And a well spoken one. And in his dealings with her, he had not once acted in an overly rough or abusive way as she would have expected a villain to behave. Catherine’s gaze drifted away from Adam and scanned the darkness around the clearing. She tried to imagine how the two could have met!
“I respect you for wanting to do the heroic thing, but you’ve been married to a blackguard, and I...”
“He’s no more a blackguard than you.” She lifted her chin and stared straight into his face. “The earl of Athol has always worked hard to do what is best for his people. No less. Why, as I understand it, you’ve been living off the fruits of his labor for this past half-year. What have you seen? People starving, abused, or overworked? Nay, I think not. And I imagine, deep inside, you know that what I say is true.”
He turned away, but she stepped around him until she could look into his face.
“‘Tis not he, Adam, who is stealing and burning and terrifying the innocent folk who simply want to live out their lives in peace.”
He gave a low, dangerous laugh. “Nay? Not stealing? What has he stolen from me? You are not only a doting fool, but even for a woman you are very naive about men. Innocence? Peace? What do you know about it? Or about me? You barely know me, and yet you think you can pass judgment...”
“I know you enough to trust you, Adam of the Glen.”
“Then you are truly a fool.”
“Am I? Why do you think I’ve had no fear for my life since we met?” She turned and glanced at the small window in the wall of the stone cottage. She hoped that she was right. “But my confidence was not generated by first-hand experience, rather by having faith in the worthiness that another woman has obviously seen in you.”
It was slight, but her probing eyes didn’t miss his reaction to her words.
“I believe in you,” she continued, not wanting to give him time to recover. “Since I know that Susan has found you worthy enough to bestow her trust in you...worthy enough to give you her heart.”
“Susan? Who the devil is this woman you speak of?” His voice was harsh, but his expression too guarded to be effective.
“But perhaps I was too hasty in thinking you worthy,” Catherine scolded. “When one thinks of all the danger she puts herself in, coming here to you in the middle of the night, and you speak of her as if she were some...some...”
“By the devil!” He turned abruptly from her and flung the dagger violently onto the ground by the cottage. “I knew she’d be found out, and I’ve told her not to do it! She’s been as stubborn as a...”
“Adam,” Catherine said softly. “Don’t you see that, as women, we do what we must? That we’ll walk across fire, defy demons, risk the very wrath of God for what...and for whom...we love?”
The outlaw leader said nothing. His eyes fixed on something behind Catherine, and she turned to see Susan standing by the corner of the ruined cottage.
“I told you to stay put!” he growled.
Susan’s dark eyes remained locked on Adam before her gaze flickered and came to rest on the captive. Catherine felt the gentle understanding pass between them. The sense of kinship that only women can know.
“How could I?” Susan shook her head, walking to him. “She is right, you know. She knows about women and love.”
Catherine silently watched as gazes locked. There was so much that hung in the air. And though she was only an observer, she could almost hear their unspoken words.
I love you!
I, too, love you. But I am an outlaw! A criminal!
I love you, all the same!
But there is nothing that I can give you. Nothing!
Catherine watched as Susan silently drew her hand out of the cloak and laid it gently against his cheek. Cursing under his breath, he drew her fiercely to him, and Catherine looked away. She turned her back on them and crossed the clearing to the fire. She crouched and looked into the flames. They paid the price every day for these few moments; she would not deprive them of a single one.
In the light of how much these two must suffer for this illicit love, Catherine’s own problems seemed so trivial. She was in love. She was carrying her husband’s heir. She had the power to make him happy. And yet, she thought with a tinge of bitterness, she selfishly continued to withhold this knowledge of the bairn from him.
Feeling wretched, she tried to push aside her own weakness in wanting him to love her back, tried to push aside the ridiculous desire of somehow extracting from him a promise of fidelity in their marriage, tried instead to focus on what she could do for him if she were ever to escape from this encampment.
John Stewart had enough problems already. He certainly didn’t need the added worry of an stubborn spouse.
Some time passed; Catherine had no idea how much. The night grew colder, but she paid no heed to it. The fire was warm, and before long she’d lost herself in her dreams.
She was back in a land she knew so well. The mists hung on the craggy hills and the sky was a rainbow of crystalline colors. It was the calm after the storm. In her arms she held a child at the threshold of a garden. A cooing, gray-eyed son. The son of her knight. Placing a soft kiss on the infant’s brow, she stepped out into the meadow at the sound of her knight’s approach.
Looking up into his misty eyes, she felt her body sing when he gathered both her and their son in his embrace.
And then she knew it was time. At last, the time had come to take her vow. Looking up again into his handsome face, she whispered the words that she had so long been keeping locked within her heart.
The knight drew her lips to his. His kiss was tender. Then John Stewart simply held her...
“‘Tis time we returned to Balvenie Castle.”
Catherine turned and looked up confusedly at Susan.
“Here, let me cut your bonds!”
While Susan reached behind her and sliced through the thongs tying her wrists, Catherine twisted around and looked in the direction where Adam of Glen had last been. He was gone, and so were the others.
Like a band of g
hosts, they had all vanished. Visible signs of their encampment were still in evidence, but there wasn’t an outlaw to be seen. A cough came from behind her. Turning, she saw the two men who had captured her standing by the edge of the clearing.
“Where did he go?”
“Where he can think, he said.”
Her hands finally free, Catherine slowly came to her feet and started rubbing the soreness out of her wrists.
“Here is your dirk!”
Catherine, still confused, looked at the proffered dagger in Susan’s hand. “He is letting me go?”
Susan nodded. “But we’d better hurry back to Balvenie. ‘Tis only an hour or so before dawn, and we have a long way to go.”
“Wait.” Catherine tried to sort out what was happening. For Susan--and Adam--just to set her free with no promise of silence was beyond her understanding. They’d not even asked her to remain silent. Extracted no oath to keep their secret. Surely, the younger woman would be in terrible trouble if Athol ever discovered any of this. And yet, Susan was willing to trust her, to allow her to return with her to the castle. “I don’t...”
“Your face is a mess!” Susan whispered, frowning at the sight of Catherine’s face. “The scratches from the briars at the cave entrance...”
“I’ll tell them that I fell onto the rose bushes in the garden,” Catherine said breezily. “And my cloak and my clothes are ragged from...falling in the dirt...while chasing Jean’s nieces in the stable yard. And the marks on my wrists...Well, no one has to see or know anything about my wrists. Your secret is safe with me, Susan. But...”
The younger woman placed an affectionate hand on her arm. “Adam is angry with me...and with himself. He is moving his camp farther from the castle, where I cannot come to him at night. But thank you, Catherine.”
Catherine placed her hand on top of Susan’s and smiled into her face. “I am doing this as much for myself as for you. As much for my husband as for Adam of the Glen. We have to try to help them overcome their differences.”
Dreamer (Highland Treasure Trilogy) Page 19