Forgiving Hearts: Duncurra 1-3

by Ceci Giltenan

  How would she be able to bear giving her away tomorrow? Her throat felt tight while unwanted tears welled in her eyes. Forcing the tears back, she whispered, “It’s for the best, my pretty girl,” as if the horse had been the one about to cry. In an effort to regain control, Katherine walked a short distance into the clearing, pulled up a large handful of grass with which to rub Stormy down, and returned to the mare. She enjoyed grooming the animal and found the simple, mindless action calming. She had barely started when she heard Niall bellow, “Katherine, I said rest! Tomas, see to your lady’s horse.”

  The abrupt order startled Katherine and she lost the last little bit of her remaining control. Tomas rushed to her and took over the task. She walked to the edge of the clearing, determined not to let anyone see her cry. She had learned years ago that tears not only gave her uncle power over her, but also delighted him. In an effort to deny him this pleasure, she had learned how to control her emotions. Sometimes she couldn’t hold the tears back altogether, but she could usually master them until she found a place to be alone. Keeping her back to the Highlanders, she took a few steps into the trees and sat down on the roots of a great oak, pulling her knees to her chest. In pain, exhausted, and with an aching heart, she buried her face on her knees and wept.

  She cried out her pain and the fear until her tears were spent. Then, once again in control, she sat there in the deepening gloom with her head resting on her knees, allowing the evening breeze to cool her cheeks and dry her tears. She took stock of the day. Aye, her king had all but forced her to marry a stranger. In fact, the rather large man she had married frightened her a bit, but, as she had boldly admitted to him earlier, she believed him to be a vast improvement over her uncle. Tomorrow she would lose her beloved Stormy, but Niall had assured her the gentle grey would be well cared for. She worried about those of her father’s people left under her uncle’s tyrannical rule, but she had managed to keep Tomas safe, and he the most vulnerable of them all. All things considered, she told herself she had every reason to feel hopeful.

  She knew she needed to rejoin the rest, but hadn’t quite found the courage yet when Tomas slipped up beside her. “Are ye done crying?” he asked.

  Horrorstruck, she said, “Do they all know I was crying?”

  “Nay, just me, cuz I know ye.”

  Relieved, she nodded. “Aye. I’m done crying. You won’t tell them?” she asked, smiling at him conspiratorially.

  “Nay, I won’t. I know ye don’t like people to see when ye cry. Since ye aren’t crying now though, why don’t ye come back? Moyna packed supper and she put in the nut bread ye love.”

  Katherine laughed, “You can’t fool me, Tomas. You love that nut bread almost more than I do.”

  Tomas grinned and took her hand as they walked back to the campsite. When Katherine noticed Niall watching her, she blushed, wondering if, in the twilight, he could see her red, swollen eyes.

  ~ * ~

  Niall had been watching Katherine discreetly from the time they dismounted. Her pallid appearance when they stopped had him convinced she bordered on collapse, but she had defied his order to rest. He watched her walk into the edge of the forest. He could just see her sitting on the other side of a large oak, finally resting as he had ordered. He hoped her earlier obstinacy did not indicate things to come. He would not tolerate defiance.

  When the men had settled their horses, they opened the package of food sent with them from Cotharach, while Niall continued to watch her. Although she sat upright, she didn’t move. Her stillness made him wonder if she had fallen asleep. He started to cross the clearing to get her when Tomas hopped up in front of him. “I’ll get Lady Katherine, she loves nut bread.”

  Niall nodded slightly, letting the lad go. When Tomas returned with her, Niall was struck again by her beauty. The priest had called her radiant when she appeared in the great hall just before their wedding, and he had silently agreed. He found her stunning. Seeing her now, holding the lad’s hand and laughing with him, took his breath away once more. He had overheard the priest’s words to her earlier, and now they echoed in his mind: My dear, I am certain you will be a wonderful wife and mother. He frowned, chiding himself silently for being a fool. He knew very well what master manipulators women could be. Would he never learn? He only wanted this illusion to be true, so the sooner he drove out these romantic notions, the better.

  His men spread the food Moyna had sent on a low, flat rock, appearing to fully enjoy the change from the oatcakes and dried meat they usually ate while traveling. After selecting some food for herself and Tomas, Katherine moved to sit where Niall indicated, on a plaid spread on the ground. Tomas plopped down beside her, chattering about all the exciting things he had learned from Fingal. “Fingal says he and the other men are not just ordinary soldiers.”

  “Nay?” she responded.

  “Nay,” he said firmly. “They are the laird’s eeleet guard. Do ye know what eeleet means?” Without waiting for an answer, he went on, “I asked Fingal and he told me it means they are special. They are the best warriors in the clan. Ye know what else Fingal told me? The laird’s castle is called Duncurra and Fingal said it is in the middle of a loch. Cotharach is by a loch, but I wonder how ye build a castle in a loch?”

  Although everything in his head screamed at Niall to keep his distance from the enticing woman, he brought his food and sat on the plaid with Katherine and Tomas.

  “Laird MacIan, how can a castle be built in water?” asked Tomas boldly.

  “It isn’t built in the water, Tomas. Duncurra is built on a crag that juts into the loch, so it has water on three sides,” Niall explained. Tomas continued to chatter and ask questions until they had finished eating. It seemed for every answer the boy received, he had at least two more questions, but like Fingal had all afternoon, Niall patiently answered them all.

  The lad amused Niall, and Tomas’ excitement about his new home pleased him. After they had finished eating, Fingal approached. “Excuse me, Laird. It has not escaped my notice that there might be a lad hiding under the wee mound of dirt there beside ye. I thought perhaps it would be a good idea to give it a rinse in the loch and see.”

  Niall smiled. “Ah, Fingal, ye might be right, because now that ye mention it, I have never heard a mound of dirt talk as much as this one.” Katherine laughed and for the second time that day she rewarded Niall with a heart-stopping smile. Raw desire rose unbidden, and once more he forced himself to remember he did not want this marriage, no matter how bonny a smile his new wife had. “In fact,” he added, “I think I will join ye.” Niall rose and walked toward the loch, accompanied by Diarmad and two other guardsmen, Alan and Keith.

  Fingal scooped a squirming Tomas up under his arm and followed. “But I don’t need a bath,” moaned Tomas.

  “Trust me, ye do,” Fingal said firmly.

  Katherine laughed again. “Behave, Tomas,” she admonished with mock severity. The enchanting sound of her laughter followed Niall. He could not deny he desired his lovely little wife, but his wedding night would have to wait until they reached Duncurra. Niall suspected the chilly loch water would do little to cool his desire. Suddenly, he realized he had one more excellent reason to hurry home. While he didn’t need or want a wife, having his bed warmed by this lass might prove to be an unexpected boon.

  ~ * ~

  When they reached the loch, the other men stripped and dove in, leaving Fingal to deal with Tomas. Determined to scrub off a layer of dirt and the accompanying aroma, Fingal had to wrestle Tomas out of his tunic, much to the amusement of the other men. Finally able to pull it over Tomas’ head, he stopped, looking very serious. Even in the low light, Fingal saw old, dark bruises on Tomas’ thin frame, as well as two fresh, angry lash marks on his back. With a casual calm he didn’t feel, he asked, “Lad, who took a whip to your back?”

  The other men fell silent as Tomas answered quietly, “Sir Ruthven.”

  Niall clenched his jaw and Fingal recognized the furious expressio
n.

  “What happened?” Fingal asked, trying to keep his voice nonchalant.

  Tomas looked down, embarrassed. “He was out until very late last night. Berty, the stable master, went to bed and made me wait in the stables until Sir Ruthven returned. Sir Ruthven was still out when the storm hit, and when he got back to Cotharach he was drenched and the horse was winded and lathered. I met him like I was supposed to and took the horse into the stable. He followed me, telling me he wanted me to take special care of his new saddle because it was very valuable. I said I would and I took it off the horse. I—I—I thought he would want me to take care of the horse first. Honest, I did. The horse looked bad, so I started to rub him down, but Sir Ruthven screamed at me, saying I was too stupid to live, and hadn’t he just told me to take care of his new saddle.”

  “He wanted ye to take care of the saddle before the beast?” Diarmad asked in disbelief.

  “Aye, he grabbed a whip from the wall and started to beat me.”

  “Ye must have gotten away, ye only have two stripes on your back,” Alan said.

  “Nay, I didn’t run. He would be sure to kill me then,” Tomas said seriously, “He only hit me twice because Lady Katherine got there.”

  “Lady Katherine?” Niall asked, his voice deadly calm. “She stopped him from whipping ye?”

  “Not exactly,” said Tomas in almost a whisper. “Lady Katherine put herself between us and Sir Ruthven beat her instead.”

  Fingal glanced at Niall, who appeared to be barely able control himself as he got out of the water and pulled on his clothes. Waves of white hot anger practically rolled off him.

  Tomas continued, “I tried to get her to move away, but she had her arms around me tight to keep the whip from hitting me. He must have hit her eight or nine times before the steward came into the stable and told Sir Ruthven his bath was ready. Sir Ruthven threw the whip down, screamed at me to tend to his saddle, and left. Lady Katherine let go of me and tried to get up, but she was shaking. Her dress was torn and her back was bleeding. The steward woke Berty, telling him to see to the horse, and I took care of Sir Ruthven’s saddle like he ordered. The steward helped Lady Katherine into the keep.”

  Fingal asked Tomas one last question. “As we rode today, ye told me Lady Katherine was the healer at Cotharach. Who tended her wounds?”

  “Lady Katherine tells her maid, Emma, what to do when she is hurt herself. She sent Emma out to the stable to put a balm on my back, too, ‘cept I didn’t need it as much as my lady, cuz he only hit me twice this time.”

  Tomas had said this time. Those two words spoke volumes. Not only had Ambrose Ruthven beaten Tomas before, but that Lady Katherine’s maid had experience tending her injuries suggested Ruthven had very likely beaten Katherine before as well. It also explained why she had unilaterally arranged for Tomas to accompany them.

  Niall strode away without speaking. Tomas looked up at Fingal and said timidly, “Is the laird mad at me?”

  “Nay, Tomas.”

  “Is he mad at Lady Katherine?”

  “Not really. He is angry at her uncle.” Fingal thought, judging by the other men’s expressions, Niall wasn’t alone in that. Determined to give Tomas the much needed bath and, in an attempt to break the somber mood, Fingal looked at him squarely and said, “I still have to find the lad under this talking mound of dirt.” Tomas giggled and Fingal gently scooped him up again and carried him squealing with glee into the loch.

  ~ * ~

  Katherine looked up from where she sat on the plaid and saw her husband stride angrily into camp. The men whom he had left at the camp immediately became alert, but he waved them away, telling them to go to the loch. Stopping at the edge of the plaid, he asked, “Why did ye not tell me ye were injured?”

  Wary, Katherine looked away and tried to school her expression, but as his words sank in, she became angry. “Tell you? When exactly would I have told you? When you rode into my home with a small army and a missive from King David requiring my uncle to give me to you in marriage? Or perhaps when the priest was summoned so we could be wed immediately because you were anxious to leave?” At this she rose to her feet, no longer the image of perfect submission, her anger clearly rising. “Mayhap I should have mentioned it as my dear uncle gave me away. That would have made a lovely addition to the wedding ceremony, ‘Aye my lord, I will marry you because my doting uncle thinks less of me than he does his cursed saddle!’ Perhaps I should have said something as we were riding out of my home, which had just been handed over to my uncle in exchange for my hand and a bag of gold.” A sob escaped her lips as tears threatened for the second time that day.

  She turned away, not wanting him to see. “Perhaps I should have said, ‘Oh, by the way, the beast who just bought my birthright from you laid my back open with a whip last night. That isn’t a problem for you, is it?’”

  She choked on another sob and turned to look at him again, at his eyes black with fury. She knew she should stop, but exhaustion and pain pushed her past the point of caution. “And what if I had told you? What would you have done then? Wrought vengeance on him for doing something he had every legal right to do? I don’t think starting a war over a bit of chattel would have pleased our king, do you?” As the horrible image passed before her eyes of her new husband’s lifeless body cut down in the courtyard at Cotharach, ,she could no longer hold back the tears. Her anger spent, she sobbed, sank to her knees, and said with a note of desperation in her voice, “You would have been killed.”

  ~ * ~

  Niall had seen women cry before, usually when all other forms of manipulation had failed. His stepmother’s tears had stopped having any effect on him years ago. He realized then that he had never seen a woman cry genuine tears of sorrow and pain. His heart began to ache for her, for everything she had suffered, and for the first time in his adult life he felt completely helpless. He knelt beside her, taking her gently in his arms so as not to cause her further pain, and pulled her onto his lap, holding her while she cried. “Wheesht, lass,” he crooned, kissing her head while rocking her gently. Eventually she stopped crying, giving in to her exhaustion. She fell asleep in his arms, but for reasons he didn’t fully understand, he continued to hold her.

  He thought about what had just happened. Walking away from the loch, he had nursed a hot rage. As Tomas told his story, images of Katherine throughout the day flashed through Niall’s mind: her white knuckles, her tenseness in the saddle, an occasional wince, the drawn expression on her face when they had finally stopped—all things he had blamed on her weakness. He had unwittingly added to her pain throughout the day by the brutal pace he set. As he headed back to the camp to confront her, he hadn’t known who angered him most: himself, her insane uncle, or Katherine, for not telling him about her injuries from the start. If she had only told him, he began to rationalize to himself…but he knew better. The signs were there and he had simply failed to heed them.

  He wanted to kill Ambrose Ruthven. Only a man who was completely without honor abused women or children. Niall now understood why Ruthven suggested that they wait to consummate the marriage. The bastard was worried about how I might react when I learned of his abuse, and wanted to make sure that didn’t happen until I was too far away to do anything about it.

  His guilt made him angry at himself, and his sense of honor fueled his rage for Ruthven, but why had he been angry with Katherine as well? Because she didn’t give me the opportunity to murder the abhorrent bastard. Then the last words she said before collapsing into tears penetrated his thick head. You would have been killed. Shaking his head slightly, he realized Katherine had been worried about him. She sought to protect him by not revealing her injuries. When he heard the priest tell her, you are one of the few who always considers the needs of others before your own, he hadn’t believed it, couldn’t believe it.

  Maybe she is different, he thought. The surest way to open yourself to hurt is to love, and yet you love anyway, the old man had said. Niall knew risking th
at kind of pain took a strength he didn’t have. Maybe the fragile lass, who clung to him in her sleep, did.

  ~ * ~

  When her tears stopped, Katherine became aware he was holding her. With his arms snugly around her, she felt secure. I’m safe, she thought, as she drifted asleep.

  ~ * ~

  After bathing Tomas, Fingal wrapped him in a plaid and washed his dirty tunic. The boy looked up at him seriously and said, “I have never heard my lady yell like that.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me.”

  After a moment Tomas said “It would have made Sir Ruthven mad. Will it make the laird mad?”

  Fingal knew Niall would have flattened any man who dared to speak to him that way, but he would never hurt a woman intentionally. He said, “Tomas, there is no need to worry about Lady Katherine. Our laird takes care of his own.”

  “Am I ‘his own’ now, too?” Tomas asked.

  “Aye, Tomas, ye are,” Fingal answered.

  The boy seemed relieved. He turned onto his side, curled into a ball and went to sleep.

  Chapter 3

  When the men returned from the lake, Niall eased the sleeping Katherine onto the ground and wrapped the plaid around her. Rising, he told Diarmad they’d have to set an easier pace.

  “I thought as much,” Diarmad replied.

  Niall shook his head. “The problem is, we carry a small fortune, and half of Edinburgh knows about it. I had hoped that by moving quickly, we would stay ahead of any threat, but we need a contingency plan now. I want ye to go ahead with half the men and most of the dowry. Travel as fast as ye can. We shouldn’t be more than a day or so behind ye.”

  “Do ye want your brother to ride ahead with us?”

  Niall gave him a dark look. “Nay, he’ll stay with me. I’m beginning to question the wisdom of bringing him back from Laird Chisholm’s. Perhaps I should have considered making Rowan MacKenzie a guardsman instead.”