by Amanda Scott
Everything that Fin had considered saying vanished from his mind. With nothing else to say, he kept silent.
“Sithee, ye ken fine that he told us who ye be. Likewise, Ivor told us about your part in the battle at Perth, including that he urged ye into the river so that someone from your side would live to tell the tale. Have ye told it yet?”
“Only to Catriona, sir. I’ve not been home since then to see the others of my clan.” That fact alone had not seemed distasteful to him when compared with his flight and his father’s bequest. But it did now when he admitted it to Shaw.
“So although ye’ve not told your own folk, ye did tell our Catriona, did ye?”
“I did, aye,” Fin said. “She had befriended me—mayhap even saved my life. I thought that she deserved to know.”
“And did ye tell her likewise that ye be brother to a Cameron chieftain?”
“I did.”
“And that ye were born at Tor Castle, a place over which our two clans had long fought until the battle at Perth, and over which we still share much tension?”
Quietly, Fin said, “I did not tell her that.”
“Doubtless the opportunity did not arise,” Shaw said almost amiably.
“We did talk of Tor Castle,” Fin admitted, feeling as if he were nearing a precipice… or a gallows. “She asked if I knew of it and said that the Mackintosh goes there every Christmas. I said only that I did know of Tor Castle and Loch Arkaig.”
“I see.” To Fin’s surprise, Shaw’s eyes twinkled. But he said only, “I expect there will come a time when ye’ll wish ye’d been more forthcoming with the lass. But that is only one of the consequences that ye’re going to face now.”
“I could name several, certainly,” Fin said, thinking not only about Catriona and the anger he had seen in her but also about Rothesay.
“Aye, well, I’m concerned with only one consequence at present,” Shaw said. “Unless ye be meaning to give our Catriona the lie.”
“I would not do that under any circumstance,” Fin said. “However, I am sure she will clarify the matter as soon as she can. As easily as she speaks her mind, I’d not be surprised to hear that she has already declared that she spoke in haste.”
“Now, lad, I’d remind ye that I put her in the charge of her brothers. So she’s said nowt yet to anyone else. Nor will she. I’ll not permit her to make a scandal of herself, nor ye to do it for her. Had I thought that ye had such a thing in mind,” he added when Fin moved to reassure him, “I’d have seen to it that ye kept your mouth shut. As it is, I ken fine that I can trust ye to deal with the lass as ye should.”
“As I should, sir?”
“Aye, sure, for ye’ll have to wed her now, will ye not? Sithee, we’ve three powerful lairds here. And every one of them will expect to hear that ye’ll marry.”
Fin heard the words. But their impact on him, though strong, was much different than he might have expected. A hunger overcame him unlike any he had known. He wanted Catriona and suspected that he had never wanted anything more.
That he might win her…
His body stirred at the thought, and his mind hummed.
It was something of a shock, though, to discover that Shaw believed, exactly as he did, that the best punishment for any man was to let him suffer the consequences of his own actions.
Chapter 13
Catriona paced while she waited with her brothers, annoyed at their refusal to tell her more but knowing it would do no good to press them. Neither Ivor nor James had made further comment. Both men sat silently, watching her pace.
When the door opened, she started violently and whirled to see Shaw filling the doorway, his expression grim.
“What have you done to him, sir?” she demanded.
Raising his eyebrows in clear objection to her tone, Shaw said, “Ye’ll come into yon chamber with me now, Catriona.”
She swallowed hard but said, “Prithee, sir, where is he?”
“I warned ye, lass, that I had things to say to ye. I would say them to ye now.” He stood aside, gesturing implacably toward the chamber across the landing.
With much the same sense of doom that she had felt as a child ordered to that chamber, she collected herself only to feel shaken again when Ivor shot her a look of sympathy. Hoping that she could maintain her dignity through what lay ahead, she walked past her father, crossed the landing, and entered the larger chamber.
Fin stood by the hearth, looking solemn but otherwise at ease.
Her heart had been pounding, but seeing him apparently unaffected by whatever had occurred between him and her father steadied her.
She was about to speak when Shaw said, “Look at me, Catriona.”
Closing her mouth, she turned to face him.
Instead of the scolding that she had expected, he said, “I have told Sir Finlagh that he may describe for you the discussion we have had as he chooses and the outcome that I expect from it, as well. I know I can trust him to make my position and that of your lord grandfather clear to ye, lass. I’ll trust ye, too, to recall your own part in the matter as ye talk it over with him.”
“Aye, sir, I will,” she said.
Nodding, he went on, “When ye’ve finished here, ye’ll retire to your chamber for the night. That will spare ye the need to talk with any of the other women. Likewise, ye’re to spare Ailvie any details until tomorrow. I will be most displeased if she prattles to anyone about this. Do you understand me, Catriona?”
“I… I think so,” she said, aware that she still understood little but hoping that Fin would explain what was happening. She had a strong feeling that if she demanded clarification from Shaw, she would get more than she wanted to hear and perhaps more than just words. He already looked most displeased with her.
She did not breathe easily until he had gone, shutting the door behind him and leaving her alone with Fin, who still stood quietly behind her at the hearth.
He had not said a word, so she turned slowly to face him, vaguely aware when a glowing ember in the fireplace cracked and shot sparks into the air. Her gaze sought his, but when they met, her sense of increasing ease shifted to wariness.
He did not look any more pleased with her than her father had. His expression was not as intimidating as Shaw’s had been, but neither did it give any hint of what Fin might say to her or what he was feeling.
“What did he say to you?” she asked with more force than she had intended.
He continued to hold her gaze, but his expression altered when she spoke, as if he were gauging her mood in much the same way that she was trying to judge his.
She felt herself begin to relax again. Something about Fin made it easy to be with him even when he was displeased. He might contradict her—sakes, contradiction was a habit with him—but he did not customarily dismiss what she said as James sometimes did, or tell her that she just ought to trust and obey him as Ivor far too often did. Fin talked to her as if she had wits of her own. In fact, if he became irked with her, it was usually because she was not using them.
At last, without moving toward her or suggesting that they sit but with his expression hardening as if he had resolved upon something, he said, “What you said out there to Rothesay… Was there even a grain of truth in it, Catriona?”
Remembering Ivor’s declaration that she had thrown Fin into the devil’s own fire with her words, she said ruefully, “I am sorry about that, sir. I’d meant to explain the whole thing to Father myself, although James said that it would do no good. But Father and Granddad can mend matters for you, I’m sure.”
“What were you going to tell your father?”
“Why, that I had said what I did only to make Rothesay leave me be, of course. I thought you realized that.”
“I did,” he said.
Reassured, she went on, “Sithee, you had kept silent for so long by then that I did not know what to think. After Rothesay declared that you wanted me for yourself, I did hope that you would not proclaim to the ceiling be
ams that you wanted none of me. But, in troth, I could not be sure of that because of your so strong sense of honor. I certainly expected you to tell Father straight out that I had lied. But Ivor said that you would not.”
“Ivor was right. Nor could I have reconciled it with my sense of honor to abandon an innocent maiden to Rothesay’s clutches.”
“I expect you mean that to call me a liar would be a sort of betrayal, but—”
“I do mean that,” he said. “Recall that I know Rothesay’s habits better than you do. But tell me something else. Why did you frown at me?”
“When?”
“Don’t try me further tonight, Cat. My patience is spent.”
“If you mean when you confronted him as you did—mercy, sir, you as much as challenged him! I could see that you were making him angry, and you had already annoyed him earlier, for he said that you had abandoned him.”
“To which I said…?”
“That he had commanded you.” She sighed, realizing that she had overstepped. “I expect the truth is that the two of you toe-to-toe like that frightened me witless, although you will say that I ought to have known you could manage him. Sakes, the plain truth is that I took umbrage when you told me to hush.”
Fin replied mildly, “You were not helping, but I’m glad you realize that anyone who tells Rothesay that he is behaving badly treads on dangerous ground.”
“Well, then—”
“Sithee, lass, your resistance to his advances merely spurred him on at first,” he said. “But I could see that you were getting angry enough with him to behave in a way that he would not tolerate. You have yet to give me a clear answer, though, to the most important part of my question. Was there any truth in what you said to him about your feelings for me, or was that declaration just a lie?”
She hesitated, wondering what he hoped she would say and wondering, too, just how strongly she did care for him. A short while before, facing her father on his entrance to the room across the hall, Fin had been all that she could think about.
She had feared for him, feared what Shaw might have said to him, and feared that Fin might never forgive her for making him face her father in such a way.
The truth was that she loved being with Fin. He fascinated her, he made her think about things that she had rarely considered before, and he listened to her. He made her opinions seem worthy, even interesting.
His beautiful eyes let her see straight to his thoughts whenever he allowed it, and he had ways of looking at her that she could feel to her very soul.
But what did she know of him other than what he had revealed to her? And how fair would it be to let him think she cared enough to marry him but not enough to ride off with him and live among strangers… enemies… when he had to leave her?
“May I ask you a question, sir?”
“Aye, anything,” he said.
“Anything? Sakes, but you say that so easily. Do you not fear that someone may ask you a question so personal that you have never had the courage to share its answer with anyone? Most people do have such personal secrets, after all.”
There was, briefly, an arrested look in his eyes. But it vanished and he said, “I will answer any question that you ask me if I can, personal or otherwise.”
She watched him carefully, determined to note his every move and catch his slightest expression, so that she could accurately judge his response. Then she said, “Have you told me everything about yourself that I should know?”
Fin considered her question and how he should answer it, nearly smiling at how quickly she’d fulfilled her father’s prediction that she would call him to account.
Shaw had been right in saying that she would have to know about his family. Fin knew that would have to tell her more about himself, too, because sooner or later he would take her to Loch Arkaig and she would see that the original seat of the Mackintosh was also the original home of Fin Cameron.
Recalling Ivor’s description of her as a wildcat, he suspected that fur and claws would likely fly when they did have that talk. So to have it now would be unwise. Only when he could be private with her without fear of interruption would he tell her all that she wanted to know.
He would not do so where Ivor or James might walk in or where she could easily walk off, bolt her door, and refuse to talk to him.
At last, seeing clear signs of impatience in her expression, he said, “Cat, sheathe your claws. I cannot possibly have told you all that you may want to know about me. I can think of two or three things straight off that I cannot tell you because they relate to people who would take a dim view of my sharing their confidences with you. I’ll admit, too, that there are things that I have not told you as a friend that I would feel obliged to tell you under other circumstances.”
“What circumstances? You cannot mean that you would tell an enemy.”
He waited, knowing how quick she was, and she did not disappoint him.
“You mean if I do agree to… if we… that is if you were to…”
“Just answer my question,” he said quietly when she faltered. “Did what you said to Rothesay reflect feelings that you do have for me, or did you lie to him?”
Visibly swallowing, she said, “I think I may regret saying this, but I… I believe that there may be some truth to what I said. Still—”
His heart leaped, startling him with the surge of emotion and more physical responses that coursed through him. “Art sure, lass?” he asked, hearing his voice crack on the words. “Recall before you answer me that you did apologize to me and tell me that you had said it only to make Rothesay leave you alone.”
“Must you contradict even my half-formed thoughts, sir, and use my own words against me when you do?”
He took a step toward her, realized that he had done so impulsively, and recollected himself to say, “I am not contradicting you. I just need to know what you feel now, to have some idea of how you will react to what must occur next. Sithee, there is one thing that I must be sure is clear to you before we leave this chamber.”
Catriona stared at Fin as a flurry of thoughts danced through her mind, including the last thing that her father had said to her, that Fin would make clear what Shaw’s position was, and that of the Mackintosh.
Abruptly, the truth dawned.
“God-a-mercy, they mean to make you marry me!”
“The Mackintosh and your father have discussed it,” he said. “That is to say, they have discussed us and they have discussed Rothesay. Your grandfather has decreed, and Shaw agrees with him, that nowt shall happen to cause ructions between the house of Mackintosh and that of Stewart. So they do suggest—”
“They insist, more like! But I never meant—”
“Whatever you meant, you have wreaked havoc, lass. Try to imagine, if you will, what Rothesay’s reaction will be if he learns that you lied to him to evade his attentions. He is young and gey proud, and such a tale would spread fast.”
Wincing at the image he’d created in her mind, she said, “I do know that others were nearby. Ivor said that most of them would delight in telling the tale.”
He nodded.
With a sigh, knowing that she could not defy them all and knowing, too, that she did not want to defy them if it meant never seeing Fin again, she said, “Very well. They may give it out that we will marry. Then we’ll see. But there is one thing that you should understand clearly about me before we do this, sir.”
As she spoke, he had moved closer, much too close. He looked into her eyes. “What is it that I must understand?” he asked.
Striving to keep her emotions out of her voice, she said, “I do not like it when men assume that I cannot look after myself. Because I can, sir, and I do.”
“Ah, lassie, come here,” he said, pulling her into his arms. “I have seen that you can. You are intrepid. By my troth, though, that worries me more than any weakness you may have, because no woman is always capable of looking after herself—or any man, either, come to that.”
> “It is something, I expect, that you will admit that,” she murmured, leaning into him and welcoming his embrace. As she did, she realized something else. “You have not said what you think of all this. You must be vexed with me and hate as much as I do that they are forcing you to do this. Also, if what I’ve done puts you in bad odor with Rothesay, whom you do serve…”
She sounded sincerely worried, so when she paused, Fin hugged her and said, “Davy will recover from his displeasure the first time he needs me, lass. And I am not vexed with you or even opposed to your father’s plan for us, although it may complicate my life for a time. Especially with my family.”
She nodded. “I expect it will. I doubt they will like our marrying.”
“Whether they do or not, they seem to be honoring the truce,” he said. “In any event, after we marry, they will want to meet you.” He did not add that his brother Ewan would say that they ought to have met her long before then. What Ewan would say about Fin’s marrying a Mackintosh, Fin did not want to imagine.
Catriona said quietly, “My feelings about leaving Loch an Eilein have not changed, sir. I have seen, with Morag, how hard it is to live amongst strangers even when their clans have never been enemies. We have nearly always been at odds with the Camerons. Also, if you have not seen your kinsmen for some time…”
“Not since the battle at Perth,” he said.
“God-a-mercy, they must think that you died there!”
“I don’t know what they think,” Fin admitted. “I doubt that anyone but Ivor knew who I was when I left the field. So folks in Lochaber likely do believe that all thirty of the Camerons at Perth died there. But I like to think that my family will be glad to learn that I did not and will likewise welcome the woman who so recently kept another rogue from killing me. But if they are not glad about the first—”
“Why would they not be?”
He had not meant to raise that subject. But he said honestly, “The men of my family number amongst those who would think that leaving as I did was cowardly.”