A Fierce Archer (Clan Ross Book 6)

by Hildie McQueen

  Catriona’s last words came to mind. She’d come to him and apologized and admitted to caring about him. He’d not meant to be cruel when insinuating that she’d only done so because he was to be laird. Although it was actually the first hurtful thought that came to mind.

  The accusation, as unfair as it was, had served its purpose. Catriona had become angry. Of course, he knew she wasn’t the kind to marry for position or title. It was not in her nature. She’d left everyone behind to be with her friend.

  He was the one who’d convinced her to travel so far. The new location and home had, in fact, proven to be the best thing for her.

  She’d grown stronger, more outgoing. According to Esme, Ruari’s wife, Catriona was more like the woman she’d been before the attack.

  As much as he wanted to trust her, experience had taught him that love was a dangerous thing. It was the act of exposing oneself to be torn from limb to limb, left for dead without the ability or the energy to defend oneself. Catriona had not touched her heart when turning down his marriage offer. She had sent him away without any regard for his feelings.

  The woman he married would be someone unremarkable. Not so much in looks, but someone who’s personality and manner would not be attractive to him. He wished for a good wife, a good mother, but not someone he could ever love.

  Then again, that could be Catriona, because what he felt for her now was indifference.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Catriona sat back, her mouth open.

  In the room, Malcolm and his wife, Elspeth, watched her with interest. Elspeth smiled. “It shouldn’t come as a surprise. I know he proposed to ye before.”

  This time, Ewan was asking for her hand in marriage through the laird and his wife. He wasn’t present as he’d told them it would be easier for Catriona to make the decision. She looked to Esme, who seemed to be holding back a smile.

  “It is not funny,” she finally said to her friend. “Why is he proposing so formally?”

  Malcolm cleared his throat. “I believe it is because I had to approve the match. He is to be laird and things are done through negotiation.”

  “What are the terms?” Esme asked since she was there as Catriona’s family’s representative.

  “Nothing unusual,” Malcolm replied. “Marriage within a fortnight, word sent to the Frasers and yer family so they can attend. Live together at Tuath Avon.”

  Then by the change in the laird’s expression, there was to be another term that was not usual.

  “What else?” Catriona asked.

  “That ye cannot take a lover. Any children must be from him.”

  “Why would...” she stopped, knowing it had to do with his previous wife. “Anything else?”

  “No.”

  Catriona contemplated the terms. In truth, she could never consider anyone else to marry. And she would never insult Ewan by turning him down a second time. She lifted her chin and met the laird’s gaze. “I will marry Ewan Ross.”

  “If ye will remain here for a few moments, I do believe he wishes to speak to ye.” Elspeth smiled warmly at her. “I do love the idea of planning a wedding.”

  When they walked out, Catriona looked to Esme. “Does this all not seem overly formal to ye?”

  “In his defense, ye turning down a proxy would not be as personal, I suppose.” Esme looked to the door. “I best go.”

  For some reason, Catriona wanted to beg her to stay. The Ewan who’d returned from the northern post was not the same man she’d known up until then. He’d changed.

  Ever since returning from Uist, she’d not had an opportunity to speak to him. There had been constant travel between there and his new home as they’d done all kinds of preparations to ensure it was habitable.

  Catriona herself had gone there to help clean and organize, each time spending three or four days. He’d never been there when she was. It seemed whenever she headed back to Ross Keep, he left to go to his new home. And so, she’d not been around him for many weeks.

  Even before seeing him, she felt his presence. Ewan entered the room dressed casually in a loose green tunic and tan breeches. He wore boots and his hair had recently been cut. Still, the dark waves fell almost to his shoulders.

  “Catriona,” he said, his hazel eyes meeting hers. “I am glad to know ye have accepted my proposal.”

  She stood. “I was surprised by it. I thought ye did not care for me.”

  His mouth opened as if he were to say something but thought better of it. “We should set a date.”

  He’d not made to move near her. In truth, she’d expected an amorous encounter as he’d never shied to approach her before...before he’d gone away. Before she’d turned him down.

  Instead, he went around to the other side of the desk.

  “As ye will know, the house is almost ready. We only require a few staff members. Moira assures me that she has that matter well in hand.”

  Unsure of how to handle this new Ewan, Catriona decided to act as if nothing had changed between them and they remained friends. “I will require at least a sennight for my family to be sent for and return. Once we marry, I will be ready to relocate to Tuath Avon.”

  “About the wedding,” Ewan said, his gaze touching on her only for a moment before sliding away to somewhere past her shoulder. “I would hope we can settle for a small affair. No need for more than the family to attend. There will be plenty of festivities once we arrive at our home.”

  Catriona wasn’t sure if he wished to keep things small because of her, or because it was to be his second marriage. Either way, it was something she’d not considered yet. Usually, it was the groom’s family who handled the plans and intricacies of a wedding. In their case, neither lived with their immediate family.

  “What of yer family, Ewan?” Catriona asked. “Will they be in attendance?”

  “No. I extended an invitation for them to come once we are settled. I expect Mother, my sister and several of my brothers may come then.”

  When he didn’t offer any other explanation, she decided at the moment it wasn’t important enough. There were many questions lingering in the air, she had but to utter them. Yet, there was something about Ewan, a sense that he wished to be anywhere but there, alone with her.

  “Why?” Catriona uttered, but then hesitated when his eyes flashed to hers. “Why are ye marrying me?”

  Something akin to dread settled in her chest. The tightness of when one expects bad news. She tried to convince herself in the moment of silence that she was being silly. The longer she waited for his reply, the harder it became to breathe.

  “I wish to marry ye, because ye will make me the perfect wife. I trust ye to be true, and to not seek to betray me.”

  It was the strangest of answers. Each word strung together almost haphazardly, not making much sense. But because, in that moment, she too wished to leave, Catriona nodded as if understanding exactly what he’d meant.

  ***

  The wedding was as Ewan had dictated, quite small. The three Ross brothers and their wives, Ruari and his wife, along with Ian McElroy and Naill Hay, both members of the guard, and their families all sat in the chapel to witness the marriage.

  From Fraser lands, both Laird and Lady Fraser had traveled, along with Flora. Her parents and sister, minus her brood, had traveled with the Frasers, making her feel special that Laird and Lady Fraser had ensured they traveled in comfort.

  All through dressing and allowing the women to fuss over her appearance, Catriona couldn’t shake the feeling that something was amiss. Since their engagement, Ewan had not once called upon her to walk in the garden. Nor had he sought her alone for any reason.

  For goodness’ sake, they’d slept in the same bed while friends. And now as an engaged couple, they’d not even shared a kiss.

  According to Esme, he had been overly preoccupied with all the preparations of having to take over new responsibilities. And in truth, he seemed to spend every waking hour with Malcolm, either in the laird’
s study or with the guards. When not with the laird, he’d been gone to Tuath Avon for days on end.

  She let out a breath studying herself in the mirror. The woman who stared back was pale, but not unattractive. Someone had added a pinch of color to her lips and cheeks, which Catriona had to admit was quite flattering. She wore a pale green dress, her favorite color. It had been made for her by a local seamstress who was extremely talented by the way the gown fell so perfectly, enhancing each curve of her body.

  The long sleeves fell just past her elbows before falling in a cascade of fabric, hanging beautifully from her arms.

  A veil was placed on the crown of her head and allowed to fall down her back. Catriona wasn’t sure why they’d gone to such lengths to ensure her hair was pinned just right when the veil would cover their creation.

  “It is time,” Elspeth, Lady Ross, announced.

  The chapel smelled of fresh flowers, all sorts. Usually, one kind was chosen for a wedding. But in her case, it was like a field of wildflowers, bouquets of different colors hanging from the end of each pew.

  Her lips curved at seeing the familiar faces turn to her with expectation. Then upon meeting Ewan’s frosty gaze, Catriona only felt one strong emotion.

  An unwavering urge to flee.

  He did not plan to love her, quite the contrary. It was as she’d inwardly known all along. The reason Ewan Ross was marrying her was because he would never love her and, for him, it was exactly what he wished for in a wife. Someone to control, keep in hand and who would bear him children. A perfect partner, but nothing more.

  Catriona’s footsteps faltered and her father looked to her, a questioning look, but said nothing. They continued forward, her legs heavy now, as if she dragged an anvil from each ankle.

  Knowing it would be impossible to keep from either crying or glaring at Ewan, Catriona did not meet his gaze. Instead, she kept her eyes downcast, raising them only when the priest asked that she repeat the vows and, even then, she kept them on the clergyman.

  By contrast, Ewan kept his gaze on her face. She could feel it. His voice was clear and without any hesitation as he recited the words.

  They were pronounced husband and wife and the kiss was as chaste as one between a brother and sister. Or of strangers mistakenly kissing on the lips when meaning to kiss each other’s cheek. A lump caught in her throat until she thought she’d choke from it.

  “Breathe,” Ewan whispered into her ear. “Relax. It is over.”

  “On the contrary, my laird,” she murmured back, finally meeting his gaze. “The farce has just only just begun.”

  His eyes widened, but he did not say anything in return. After all, what could he say? Deny the truth that he’d tricked her into marrying him by playing on her guilt over hurting him?

  What a fool she was to think he was the same person who’d been so kind to her. Ewan Ross had changed. Perhaps from his time at the northern post or because of his trip back to Uist. Or even, a combination of both. Whatever it was had turned him into a stranger, someone she could not claim to know.

  “This is the most beautiful wedding I’ve ever been to,” her mother exclaimed, her face bright and eyes shining with unshed tear. “Ye look so very beautiful. Like an angel.”

  “A bit pale,” her sister interceded, studying her closely. “Is yer bodice too tight?”

  “I think it is,” Catriona said, happy for an excuse not to cause her sister or mother to worry about her. “Perhaps we can steal away to a private room and ye can loosen it a bit.”

  Her mother smiled indulgently. “I think ye can withstand it another few moments. It will be suspicious for the bride to disappear so soon after the vows have been spoken.”

  “Well look at ye,” Catriona teased. “So well versed on etiquette.”

  “I have asked Lady Fraser for counsel,” her mother replied with a light blush. “The entire way here, she told me all about the duties ye will be expected to perform. I plan to ensure that ye spend as much time with her while we are here so that ye can be prepared.”

  Catriona hadn’t considered it. In truth, she had little idea of what would be expected of her. Now that she thought about it, both Lady Fraser and Lady Ross barely seemed to have time to themselves as the duties of running a keep were many.

  Thankfully, she’d have that. She would have the distraction of running a household to keep her busy and from having to spend time with a husband who she did not respect.

  “I would be eternally grateful for that, Mother,” Catriona said, meaning it. “I am so very glad ye bring it up, as I’d not given my future duties much thought.”

  Together, they walked into the great room where Ewan, surrounded by his cousins, seemed to be enjoying themselves with rousing toasts and loud laughter.

  “Men are so basic in their actions,” Esme said, rolling her eyes. “I can only wonder how they would ever get on without women to guide them in daily necessities.”

  The other women laughed. Catriona could only stare at her new husband, who seemed to have already forgotten her existence.

  “Should he not be sitting here with me?” she whispered to Esme. “Should we not be toasted as a couple?”

  Esme’s eyes narrowed. “What happened?”

  “What do ye mean?” Catriona regretted her questions. Now, Esme would suspect not all was well between her and Ewan.

  “Did ye exchange words? Are ye cross with each other? Ye seem perturbed.”

  “I am a bit,” Catriona said with an exaggerated pout. “He should be fawning over me at this moment.”

  As she’d expected, Esme laughed loudly. “Ross men do not fawn. I would pay dearly to see it.”

  The laughter made Ewan turn to them. Catriona pretended not to notice, joining Esme with soft chuckles.

  “Bending over and kissing our feet would be a good start,” Esme said between giggles.

  “Bowing as we pass by,” Catriona added. As much as she didn’t quite feel up to being jovial, the picture of any of the Ross men acting that way was comical.

  Finally, the meal was to begin. She and Ewan were seated next to Laird Ross at the high board.

  Ewan acted the part of the dutiful new husband, ensuring to place food on her plate and filling her cup with sweet mead. He asked about her well-being and listened as she told him with sarcasm that she was doing so well, it was hard to imagine a happier time in her life.

  Hazel eyes met hers and, for a flicker, she thought to have seen the old Ewan, but it could have been her imagination as they was flat when she studied them.

  ***

  “Ye do not have to submit to me until ye are ready,” Ewan said when they finally went to what would be their shared bedchamber until they moved to the new keep.

  Catriona brushed the tangles from her hair. Already in her nightshift, she hadn’t expected there would be any type of formal bedding ceremony. Everyone was aware of how delicate her situation was and, therefore, any talk of what would happen once they were alone was left unsaid.

  Well, except for a few drunken men who’d picked on Ewan.

  “I will do my wifely duty by ye.”

  Ewan didn’t reply. He went to the wardrobe and began undressing. Once he disrobed, he donned a white oversized tunic with long sleeves and went to the hearth.

  She couldn’t help but slide a look to his muscular legs as he bent to add wood to the fire in the hearth. The room brightened when the flames grew larger, and also grew warmer.

  Unable to delay the inevitable, Catriona stood and went to the bed. A part of her wondered how ready she actually was to be taken by a man. Shivers traveled down her spine.

  Would it bring back the nightmares? The visions that would appear out of nowhere, forcing her to relive the horrible episode of her life.

  She slipped between the covers, at this point, shaking so hard that she could barely keep her teeth from chattering.

  “Come here,” Ewan said, joining her and pulling her against his side. “Relax.”

 
Unable to keep from it, she clung to him, her fingers digging into the fabric of the tunic. “Do it, please, quickly.”

  It occurred to Ewan that Catriona had never been made love to. She was, for all intents and purposes, a virgin when it came to intercourse.

  At the moment, she shook so hard, it was as if she were naked out in the snow. He held her gently against his body and ran a hand down her arm and the other across her back, soothing the woman.

  Despite the fact he did not love her, he did care and would never do anything that would bring any kind of distress.

  In a ploy of distraction, he took her mouth with his. Kissing her gently, softly lingering in one place before trailing his lips to the edges of her pouty lips.

  He continued the soft kisses until her body finally stopped shaking so violently and now only trembled just enough that he felt it.

  That night, he would not take her, nor perhaps the next. Even before the wedding, he’d decided it would be Catriona who would initiate intimacy. Ewan knew enough to realize that because of her traumatic experience, it could be no other way.

  “Sleep,” he whispered, pressing kisses to the side of her jaw, then trailing his tongue on a path down her neck.

  Catriona gasped when he cupped her breast, allowing the pad of his thumb to circle the pert tip.

  “Rest,” he said, his mouth moving back up from the enticement of her breasts. “I will hold ye all night.”

  When she let out a long sigh, he realized she was relieved. At the same time, perhaps subconsciously, her hand rubbed his shoulder almost as if she tried to calm him in some manner. It was not meant for him, but a way of her settling, so he accepted it for what it was.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The list of duties and responsibilities made Catriona’s head spin. The women had gathered in Lady Ross’ sitting room. Some embroidering, others mending, a pair with bairns on their laps, everyone discussing the topic of running a keep.

  Ladies Fraser and Ross were the most vocal, which was understandable as they were, in fact, doing the work that was required of a laird’s wife.