He looked at Catriona, who gathered the children close to tell them about her New Year's adventure. They gasped as she told them about her first-foot, and turned to stare at Kenneth.
"But he is a Fraser!" one boy said. "He is not lucky!"
"He has dark hair," Mairead said, in his defense.
"Why would a Fraser come to see you?" Patrick asked.
"I came as Catriona's friend," Kenneth answered.
"He brought gifts," Catriona said. "I will show you."
"He is the one," Mairead said, nodding. "The lucky one."
The smaller boys tugged at Catriona's skirt. She smiled at them and looked at Kenneth. He handed the bundle he still held to an older boy, Angus, who untied it on the floor.
The younger children exclaimed over the packets of food and spices and goods. Mairead sat on the floor to examine the contents eagerly, while Patrick and Angus watched, frowning, as if too old to be excited by simple things.
Mairead, Edan, and Tomas, the blond toddler, dug their fingers into the sugar sack until Catriona whisked it away. Malcolm, David, and Donald began swordplay with the candles, which Patrick grabbed from them with a fatherly growl.
Kenneth watched, thoughtful as he recognized the items as the Frasers' gifts to her. So the children were the reason that Catriona had not used the sugar and spices at home. They were the reason that she used one candle frugally when she had been given several. She gave what she could to them.
"The Fraser brought these things?" Malcolm asked Catriona.
"I did," Kenneth affirmed. "My kin and I are friends to Catriona." The children looked at him in amazement.
"Kenneth and his kin know all about my children," Catriona said. "They wanted to share their wealth and good fortune with you on New Year's Day." She slid a keen glance toward Kenneth.
"That we did." He nodded. "Your good luck is ours."
"This Fraser is a good omen," Mairead said. "He is Triona's New Year's surprise."
"Triona's what?" Kenneth asked her.
Mairead licked sugar from her fingers and nodded. Her left, milk-blue eye appeared totally blind, while her right was vivid blue; she gazed at him in an oddly wise manner. "I told Triona that New Year's Eve would bring her something wonderful. You are her New Year's gift. We can have the other things," she added brightly.
Kenneth raised a brow in astonishment. Catriona blushed and gave him a faltering smile. "Mairead did say that New Year's would bring me a lucky omen. She has the Sight."
"My cousin Elspeth has the Sight," he told Mairead. "She sees visions that come true. You must meet her one day."
"Is she a Fraser too?" Mairead asked.
"She is," Catriona said, "and a very nice woman, too. Come here to the hearth, Mairead, Patrick, Angus—I will show you how to make New Year's bannocks with oats, sugar, and spices. But you must promise not to let Tomas eat sugar from the sack. Store it up high, where he cannot get to it."
They gathered around Catriona as she knelt by the hearth and made several sweet cakes, which she cooked on a flat griddle over the fire. Then she made a thick soup with onions and beef, and prepared a hot, watered, spicy wine. When the meal was ready, the children helped Catriona serve the food in wooden bowls.
Kenneth shared their New Year's meal, eating as lightly as Catriona did. He answered the boys' curious questions about the feud between Frasers and MacDonalds, and about hunting, herding, and winter care of livestock. The older boys soaked in whatever Kenneth told them, nodding and asking more, as if thirsty for the knowledge and guidance he offered.
Later, while they gathered near the peat fire, David, Donald, and Malcolm began to sing Gaelic songs traditional to the New Year. Their voices were high and pure, and filled the room with peace and serenity. Kenneth watched their faces shining in the warm light, and thought of his own childhood.
Lachlann Fraser had fostered fifteen Fraser children after their fathers had died in a battle between Frasers and MacDonalds. Although Kenneth had been an orphan, he had never felt isolated or unwanted under Lachlann's generous care.
He looked at Catriona, who held Mairead and Tomas in her lap. She glanced around the room at each child while the boys sang, her blue eyes full of kindness, pride, love. Kenneth was fascinated by the depth of spirit that he saw in her.
When she dipped her head to kiss Tomas's sleepy head, he felt some lost, forlorn part of his soul stir. In that moment, he felt the strength of her love for these children, and felt as if she included him, too, in the warm circle created by her gaze.
But he knew that wine and firelight and good cheer created that sense. In truth, she regarded him as a Fraser who did not keep promises. The rare privilege of Catriona MacDonald's love was not meant for him. The thought made him infinitely sad.
He shook his head to clear it, and listened to the song.
Later, he watched as Catriona said farewell to each child with a soft word and an embrace. Kenneth bid them good fortune and peace in the new year, and he and Catriona led their rested garrons outside to ride back to her shieling hut.
"How long have the MacGhille children been alone?" he asked, as they waded through snowdrifts.
"Their mother died when Tomas was born three years ago," Catriona said. "She was my second cousin. Their father was a farmer. He died a few months past, when he went out on a cattle raid with my uncle Hugh."
"And you alone are helping them?"
"I am their only kin here, except for Uncle Hugh. But when I asked him to see to their welfare, he refused—he said that they would be far too much trouble, and someone else should do it." She sighed, shook her head. "Patrick is fifteen, and he and Angus think themselves old enough to watch over the younger ones. They have hunted and fished and protected them, and they have done well so far, but—" she shrugged.
"But the winter will be hard for them," Kenneth said.
She nodded. "Patrick and Angus are quite proud. I have offered to take the youngest ones to live with me, but none of them want to be separated."
"Your little house is not much bigger than theirs."
"Nor do I have the means to care for eight children." She looked directly at him, her eyes snapping blue. "I want to bring them to Kilernan to live. Hugh will not allow it."
"Ah. So that is why you want Kilernan so desperately." He gazed at her thoughtfully; she considered the children's welfare more important than her own.
"It is my rightful home, after all." They rode in silence until the shieling hut appeared on the next hill.
In the yard, they dismounted, and Catriona looked up at him. "Thank you for coming with me," she said. "Perhaps your first-foot into the children's house will bring them good luck."
He moved closer to her, his breath misting the air between them. "And will it bring luck for you?" he asked. "You said Mairead predicted a good omen for you this New Year's Eve."
She looked up at him, holding her horse's bridle. "That I do not know," she said. "Tell me, Fraser, was it good fortune that you set first-foot in my house, hurt and bleeding and in need of shelter? Or will the whole year be shadowed by that moment?" She turned away.
Kenneth stepped after her, ready to reply. But Catriona stopped so quickly that he nearly knocked into her, laying a hand on her shoulder.
"The poor luck may have already begun for the year," she said grimly. "Look." She pointed toward the front door.
Kenneth saw the flattened, trampled snow near the doorway, saw the troughs made by large feet and deep hoofprints. "We did not make those marks," he said slowly.
"Parlan MacDonald has been here, I think." She sent him a worried glance. "He may come back."
Kenneth shrugged. "If he does, I am here with you."
"If he finds a Fraser here, there will be trouble. You are forbidden to fight with MacDonalds."
"We are forbidden to begin a fight with MacDonalds," he explained. "But if they start a dispute, we certainly can defend ourselves."
She reached up, her fingers muffled in a thic
k stocking, and brushed his tender lower lip. "Who took you down on the ice?"
He could not hold back the truth when he looked into her deep blue eyes; her gaze was too serious, too perceptive. "Three men," he said. "MacDonalds. One of them was a huge blond man."
"That," she said, pulling on her horse's bridle, "was Parlan. Your fight with MacDonalds has already begun, Fraser."
Chapter Four
Catriona peered out the window often, and listened for the thud of hoofbeats, but heard only the whip of the rising wind. She tried to ignore her apprehension by attending to simple tasks: sweeping the floor, repairing frayed woolen stockings, and stirring a thick soup in a kettle suspended over the hearthfire.
She spoke with Kenneth, softly and leisurely, of snow and the Highland hills, discovering that like her he loved them in any season or weather; they spoke of food, and hunting, and the best weave for a good plaid; they went on to share events from their childhoods. Neither mentioned feuding clans, or the disputes and pledges that lay unresolved between them.
Kenneth told her some amusing adventures he had experienced with his cousins, while she shared comments about her childhood, spent with her mother as her closest friend, isolated in Kilernan Castle from Hugh MacDonald's world of raids, drink and hunting.
Finally, seeing Kenneth yawn, his beard-shadowed cheeks pale, she told him to rest for a while. When the last of the daylight faded to blue dusk, she lit the beeswax candle.
"New Year's Day is not yet over," she said, when he sat up from his rest and looked at her. "Candlelight attracts good spirits to a house."
"Ah," he said. "That must be why I came here last night."
She turned to scowl at him, but he grinned at her, boyish and charming, and she laughed. Setting the candle on the windowsill, she turned back and caught his somber gaze.
His brown eyes gleamed deep, dark and rich. She remembered the warmth and comfort of his arms last night when they had shared the narrow bed. Blushing at the thought, she reminded herself sharply that he was a Fraser. He and his kin had denied her what she most needed. Any comfort she sensed in him was surely false.
A week ago, even a day ago, she would have believed that easily. Now, she found it harder to hold on to the hurt and anger that the Frasers' refusal had roused in her. He was more than a Fraser to her; she considered him a friend.
After supper, Kenneth sat on the floor with Cù, dangling a woolen stocking for the cat to snatch, and rubbing the cat's head and stomach. Catriona laughed when Kenneth dropped to his hands and knees and faced the cat, making growling sounds.
Kenneth glanced at her. "If he is determined to carry a proud name like `Dog'," he drawled, "he should learn to behave like one." The cat batted at him gently, and tangled his claws in Kenneth's long hair. When Kenneth's playful growl turned to a howl of genuine pain, Catriona sank to her knees to rescue him, chuckling softly as she freed the glossy strands.
"Ah, but some dogs have claws, I think," she said.
Kenneth slid her a look of chagrin. The cat leaped away as Catriona sat close to Kenneth, her fingers wound in his warm, soft hair. She sensed the heat of his body, and could smell an intriguing blend of smoke and leather and maleness about him. Looking up, she met his brown eyes directly.
"Triona—" he murmured. Her gaze dropped to the dusky curve of his mouth, to his chin, sanded with black whiskers. She was keenly aware of small, fascinating details—the sooty thickness of his lashes, the spicy scent of wine on his breath, his strong, warm fingers resting beside hers on the floor.
"What?" she asked him. Inside, her heart pounded like a drum. She lowered her fingers from his hair.
"Triona." He sat up and leaned close. "Come to Glenran." She shook her head. "I cannot do that."
"You can hardly stay here for the winter."
"It is comfortable enough here," she said defensively.
"You need food, fuel—"
"I will manage. Patrick and Angus will help me to hunt and fish and find fuel."
"We can support you at Glenran," he said. She shook her head again and looked away. "It is dangerous for you to stay here. Even if you had enough supplies, you are alone."
Alone. But she was discovering how much she wanted his solace, his companionship—and more. She rose briskly to her feet and turned toward the window. "I will be fine here."
"Catriona." He stood and touched her shoulder. His soft voice and the heat of his hand made her want to turn toward him. She stayed still. "Come with me," he said.
"I need to be here," she said. "The children need me."
Behind her, he heaved an exasperated breath. "I am sure your cousins can come as well. Callum will not turn them away. His father took in many orphans for fostering, all cousins, by the way. I was one of them," he added.
She tilted her head. "You were orphaned?"
He nodded. "By MacDonalds."
She turned then. His somber gaze and the muscle that thumped in his cheek told her that he knew the pain of growing up without a natural father, as she had done, as the MacGhille children would have to do.
She sighed. "I had heard that Lachlann fostered several fatherless babes. You were one of those, then."
"Fortunately, I was. He was a good man."
"He was generous to me, too, when I was born." She paused. "A Fraser killed my father, a MacDonald killed yours. And Lachlann of Glenran helped us both."
"Then let his kindness be our bond," he murmured. "Lachlann would not want us to continue the bitter feud between our kin. Come to Glenran with me."
She shook her head. "That will not gain back Kilernan."
"It will not," he agreed. "But you will be protected."
"I do not need protection. I need my home. The children are the only kin I have, other than my uncle. Help me gain a home for them." She looked up at him, and felt the rising sting of tears. She blinked them back.
He tilted her chin with his fingers. "I wish I could tell you what you want to hear. I cannot."
"There must be a way," she said. His hand on her chin, his warm, steady gaze, held her pinioned as she stared up at him. When his thumb brushed over her lower lip, she felt a flood of need rush through her. He lowered his head.
"Stubborn girl," he whispered. His gaze moved down to her mouth, traced up again. His fingers were warm and firm as they slid to cup her cheek, and his breath was soft on her skin. "Let me help you. Let me protect you."
Her heart quickened. Frasers and MacDonalds, Kilernan and promises, seemed far distant suddenly. She watched his lips, his eyes, and moved closer to him by a breath, tilting her head in silent answer. Her body, her heart, surged toward him, seeking.
His mouth covered hers then, gently, poignantly. Joy curled sudden and deep within her, and rose like a wave of the sea. She let out a little moan as he pulled her into the circle of his arms and slanted his lips over hers, drinking there, his hands warm and strong on her back.
Beside her, Cù leaped to the windowsill, nearly upsetting the candle. Startled, Catriona broke away from Kenneth, her cheeks hot, heart slamming. The cat mewled and jumped down, striding to the front door and meowing there.
"Cù wants to go out, I think," she breathed.
Kenneth leaned past her, his hand at her waist, and peered through the crack in the shutter. "That cat is more of a watch dog than I thought," he said grimly. "Look."
Catriona did, and saw three horsemen riding into the yard. "Parlan, and his kin!" she gasped, and pushed at Kenneth's chest. "Hide, quickly—get into the box-bed!"
"Hide? I owe them a beating, and I have the right to deliver it."
"I will not have bloodshed and fighting in my home on New Year's Day! You might be hurt! And it is hardly a good omen!"
He sighed. "Talk to Parlan through the door, then, and do not let him in. That should keep your house free of poor omens." She slid him a sharp look, bit back a remark about wounded first-footers, and went to the door.
Kenneth folded his arms over his chest and waited,
watching Catriona. She pressed her hands against the door and sent him a nervous glance. When the first knock sounded, she jumped.
"Who's there?" she called quickly.
"Parlan MacDonald." His voice, through the door, was thick and deep. Kenneth peered stealthily through the shutter crack; he saw a blond, huge young man, wrapped in a red plaid that added more bulk to his heavy build. Surely Parlan was the same man who had attacked him on New Year's Eve; the other MacDonalds looked familiar too. Kenneth scowled, feeling a gut-centered urge to go outside and settle a debt. But he had promised Catriona that no violence would mar her New Year's Day.
"What do you want, Parlan?" Catriona asked. "It is after dark. You should be at home on such a cold night."
"I came to wish you well for the New Year," Parlan answered. "I came earlier with my cousins, but you were not here, and your horse was gone. So we came back."
"I went to see the MacGhille children," she said. "Thank you for thinking of me. Good night."
"Catriona," Parlan said, knocking again. "Let me come in."
"I will not," she said. "It is late."
"Hugh told me to come here and see that you were well. Let me in, Catriona. Let me in, girl." His voice sounded slurred.
Kenneth moved toward Catriona and leaned a shoulder firmly against the door. He glanced down at her pale face.
"He's drunk," she whispered. "He is usually so."
Parlan knocked again. "The wind is strong, and the air is cold. Will you not offer me a dram?"
"You have had your share of drams tonight," she said primly. "And you must not be my first foot of the New Year. You are blond-headed."
"Then let my cousin Niall in first. He is dark-haired."
"He is a gloomy man, and is surely unlucky too," she said.
"No one lets me inside first on New Year's," Parlan grumbled. "Hugh would not let me in the hall this morning until someone else set foot in there before me."
"Go back to Kilernan," she said firmly. "I am tired, and I want no visitors just now. Good night."
"Catriona, your uncle sends a message," Parlan said. "He wants you to stop this nonsense and come home."
Christmas Roses: Love Blooms in Winter Page 4