Cat didn’t know why, but something about his words amused her. And with the sunlight glinting in the reddish gold highlights of his hair, he was actually quite striking. There was an essence of power and nobility that bled from him. If she didn’t know him for the irritant he was, he’d be quite pleasing to look upon.
Her horse stepped away from his, jarring her slightly. An urge to run from him went through her, but she’d seen enough of his horsemanship to know he could outrun her. If she wished to escape him, she’d have to be even more cunning than she’d been with the guards.
But first, she’d try logic. “I have no wish to return to my father. Will you help me to find Viktor and Bavel…please?”
She could see the uncertainty in his eyes.
She only prayed she could use that uncertainty to move him to her side. It would be much easier to find her family if she had someone with her. A lone woman traveling through the countryside invited much undue speculation and attention.
Not to mention danger. There were numerous thieves and outlaws hiding in the forests who would love nothing more than to lay hands to an unguarded noblewoman.
“The guards are dead,” she said softly. “No one will know you helped me. I can assure you that I will certainly tell no one. Please, Lochlan. All I want in life is to answer to no man. Surely you can understand that. My father would saddle me with a crown and a husband that I don’t want. If you have any compassion inside you, then I beg you to be merciful. I would sooner you run me through with your sword than hand me over to them.”
Lochlan didn’t speak as he debated with himself. He knew the yoke she feared. There were times when it was oppressive and harsh and it weighed like an iron door on him. There wasn’t a day in his life when he hadn’t felt it choking him at some point.
Catarina was like a feral beast that would sooner gnaw its own limb off than be caught in a trap. A prince or king would demand complete obedience from her and if she failed to give it, her husband could, and most likely would, imprison her just as the English king had done his queen. For that matter, her husband could demand her life.
At the very least, she’d be beaten into submission. It was something he’d wish on no person. Not even her.
“Very well, Catarina. I will help you find your uncle and cousin, but first I must needs travel to Normandy to see a man about my brother.”
She looked at him suspiciously. “Swear you this isn’t a trick?”
“No trickery. I swear it on the souls of my brothers. I will stand by you and see you to Viktor and Bavel. What happens after I deliver you to them is your business.”
Her eyes dazzled him with her spirit and happiness. “For that I would kiss you…if you weren’t a cad.”
In spite of the insult, her words amused him. “You do remember what happened the last time you insulted me, do you not?”
“Aye, but you did come back for me, didn’t you?”
“Mayhap next time I won’t.”
“Perhaps…” She kicked her horse on ahead of him.
Beguiled by her spirit, Lochlan watched the way she rode. Her spine was straight and she moved in perfect synchronization with her horse. Her regal bearing was hard to miss and yet he’d been stupid enough to not catch on to it the first time they’d met. Of course, he’d been a bit preoccupied with Ewan and the mess his brother had gotten himself into with Canmore when Ewan had run off with the man’s daughter…
Still, Lochlan should have seen it.
Now there was no mistaking her birthright and yet there was also a feral quality about her. This was a woman who loved life and she didn’t try to hide that fact. While other noblewomen conducted themselves with the utmost care for what others thought of them, she lived with abandon. If she was happy, she laughed. If she was angry…
She bit.
God help whatever fool ever gave his heart to such a woman. He’d never have peace in his home. She would ever argue and fight until her husband either gave up or gave in.
Shaking his head, he caught up to her and forced her to slow a bit. “We need to spare the horses as much as possible.”
“Should we walk then?”
He was taken aback by her suggestion. “Are you willing?”
“Should I not be?”
Most women of his acquaintance weren’t. While beautiful, the countryside was a bit jagged. It was tiring to walk for very long. “Nay.” He reined his horse and slid to the ground. Before he could make his way over to assist her, she was on the ground herself, stroking the horse’s forehead as it nuzzled her shoulder.
She cast a smile in his direction before she began making her way down the road on foot. He was mystified and captivated by her sudden turn of temperament.
“You are of a merry mood.”
She threw her arms out and leaned back as she walked. “I’m free—at least for another day. That alone is cause for celebration.” She straightened to look at him. “Do you never celebrate the fact that you’re here, right now, alive and well with the sun on your face and the birds singing around you? That the sky above is a particularly striking shade of blue?”
He was beginning to wonder if the woman wasn’t possessed of moon-poisoning. “Nay. I have to say that I’ve never considered such.”
She frowned at him. “Do you not dance when you hear music?”
“I’m laird of my clan, lass. ’Tis unseemly for me to do such. Besides, whatever woman I choose to partner with immediately assumes more to my intention than a mere dance.”
Cat paused as she heard his emotionless words. Poor man to fear something so simple as a dance. “I can’t imagine a life without dance. ’Twould be like living without laughter.” She cocked her head to look at him as she remembered her brief stay with him in Scotland. “You don’t laugh either, do you?”
“When the occasion calls for it.”
“Rarely you mean.”
He let out a long breath as if exasperated by her and their conversation. “If you are wishing to list my shortcomings, you needn’t bother. I assure you, I’m quite aware of each and every one of them.”
Cat heard the pain behind his tone and decided to give him a reprieve. It was obvious that someone in his past had spent a great deal of time telling him what his shortcomings were.
“I wasn’t listing your shortcomings, Lochlan. My intent was only to make conversation with you to pass the time. If you’d rather we walk in silence, then I shall try to manage it.”
He inclined his head to her in a manner that was so noble it was all she could do not to chide him for that as well. “Forgive me for my assumption, my lady. Please, by all means, continue on with your interrogation.”
Cat cocked a brow at his unexpected retort. “Was that a jest?”
“A poor one apparently if you must ask.”
She laughed. “But it was an attempt and for that I’m proud of you.” She watched him for a moment as he walked slightly ahead of her. He held a powerful, manly gait. It was cocksure and straight—as if he expected to have to defend himself at any moment. It was a warrior’s gait, not noble. His gaze continually searched the area around them as if looking for threat.
There was something unbelievably compelling about that. And she found it strange that he was here without a servant or guard.
“Have you been alone on your entire journey?”
He glanced back at her. “For the most part. Aye. Pagan left my company before I boarded the boat to leave England.”
She smiled at the reminder of her old friend. Pagan had left the company of her and her family while they were in Scotland to look after personal matters. He’d been a churlish man, but still she’d valued his friendship. “Oh how I miss him. He was always so caustic and morbid.”
“And you miss that?”
“Aye. He could be quite amusing with his rancor.”
Instead of responding, Lochlan drew up short and motioned for her to stop and remain quiet.
Cat would have asked him what was wro
ng, but by his actions, she could tell that silence was the better part of valor.
He peered into the trees around them and tilted his head as if listening for something.
She moved to stand just beside him. “Is something amiss?” she whispered beneath her breath.
“I’m not sure.”
She swallowed at his barely audible words. And as he continued to search the area with his gaze, she became acutely aware of just how close she stood to him. She’d forgotten how large a man Lochlan really was. When surrounded by his brothers, he tended to get lost in the mix.
But like this…he was extremely unsettling. His shoulders were broad and very well muscled. The ties of his tunic had come loose, showing her the corded muscles of his chest while his hand rested on the hilt of his sword, as if ready to battle.
Personally, she’d always thought of blond men as a bit plain and feminine. Yet there was nothing plain or womanish about him. He had sharp, chiseled features and his eyes were searing with their beauty and intelligence.
But what surprised her most was the sudden urge she had to reach out and touch his cheek to feel the stubble that graced it. She didn’t even know why she wanted to touch it, and yet that compulsion was so strong that she wasn’t sure how she kept from complying.
Lochlan glanced down, then froze as he caught the hot look on Catarina’s face. He was used to seeing lust in a woman’s eyes, but not in hers. It was both disturbing and arousing. Given the less-than-friendly nature of most of their encounters, he couldn’t believe that such a look from her actually made his body heat up. A suicidal part of him even wanted to kiss her.
Och, man, stand down. You don’t want to be tasting the lips of a viper. She’s a hellion for sure and the last thing you need is to be mixing with a woman who’s going to complicate your already complicated life.
It was true. He only wanted peace. There was enough turmoil in dealing with his people, brothers, and mother. The last thing he wanted was to invite more misery and argument into his home. He wanted a lass who was pliant and calm-natured. One who would soothe him, not rile his spirit more.
Clearing his throat, he stepped back from her and retook his horse’s reins. “Whatever I felt seems to be naught. Let’s keep moving.” He started back down the road.
She moved to walk beside him. “So how are your brothers? Is Ewan taking care of my cousin or has Nora skinned him yet?”
He kept his gaze forward and not on the fetching sight she made standing beside him. “They’re all well. And while Nora has threatened to skin him a bit, Ewan looks completely content to let her.”
“But you’re worried.”
Those words succeeded in making him look at her. “What makes you say that?”
“My mother held second sight and I have a bit of it myself. You’re not at peace where your family’s concerned, I can feel it.”
It was true. There was much unrest at home. Braden had told their mother of Kieran’s plaid and now his mother wept with fear over the son who was lost to the world. Lochlan had promised her, he wouldn’t return until he knew for certain what had happened to Kieran.
“At least I’m not running from them,” he reminded her of her own family plight.
“True. My father is a stubborn man. Like you. But I’m surprised that you’ve come alone. Who is leading your clan while you’re away?”
“Braden and Ewan are seeing to it, along with my mother’s help.”
“That seems so out of character for you. I can’t imagine you entrusting anyone with your clan.”
He chose to ignore the biting sarcasm of her tone. “I’m not entrusting just anyone, lass. It’s my brothers and they are well versed in clan politics. Besides, I couldn’t ask my brothers to leave their wives and children for this long and I wouldn’t trust such a journey to anyone but family. I was the only one who could do it. So here I am.”
“And have you found word of Kieran?”
“Aye. He left Scotland and went to the Holy Land in search of our brother Sin.”
“But he never found him.”
He shook his head. “There were many who knew Kieran though. The last anyone saw, he was with a knight named Stryder of Blackmoor. I was told that Lord Stryder would know what became of Kieran.”
“And if you find this brother–”
“I shall beat him until he bleeds and begs me for mercy,” Lochlan growled.
“Why so angry?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he remembered the last time he’d seen his brother.
Kieran had been drunk, sitting in their childhood nursery as he wallowed about in pain. “Do you remember the day Isobail first came here?”
Lochlan had been trying to take the mead from him, but he’d refused to let it go. Portions of it had splashed Kieran’s tunic, molding it to his chest. “I remember.”
Kieran had curled himself protectively around the jug. His eyes bloodshot, he’d stared up at Lochlan. “How did you know she was evil?”
Knowing his brother needed compassion more than thrashing, Lochlan had stepped back to answer the question. “She was calculating. Her gaze was only warm when you were looking at her. The moment you looked away, there was a coldness that would settle about her.” And they had fought that night of her arrival when Lochlan had told his brother what he’d seen. Kieran had called him a jealous bastard because he had the love of Isobail while Lochlan had nothing.
Kieran had sniffed back his drunken tears. “I should have listened to you. But what do you know of love or women? I’ve never even seen you with one. I’ve oft wondered if you’re even interested in them.”
Lochlan had frozen at the bitter accusation in Kieran’s voice. “What say you?”
Kieran’s gaze had pierced him. “You know what I’m saying. I think it’s men who hold your interest. Is that why you turned Isobail from me? You were jealous that one of us had a woman while you can’t even approach one.”
Rage had suffused him, but Lochlan had refused to give in to it. “You’re drunk.”
“I’m not the only one who thinks it. Braden, Ewan…even our mother and father. Da told me of the whore he’d bought for you that you spurned. He said you were nothing but a worthless gelding.”
Lochlan had backhanded his brother for that. Aye, he’d turned the woman away and paid her because no human being should have to sell themselves for food. It’d angered him that his father would be so callous. That he thought no more of people than what he could use them for.
Nor did Lochlan want to be as his father, a philanderer who held no regard for the women or bastards he left behind. He’d seen the results of trifling with others’ emotions. It’d ruined his mother and brother Sin, and countless others. The last thing Lochlan had ever wanted was to know a child of his was hurting.
Kieran had come at him then with a sword and they’d fought. In the end, Lochlan had disarmed his brother and sent him slamming to the ground.
Kieran had lain on the floor, flat on his back, glaring up at him. “For once in your life, Lochlan, be a man. Kill me.”
Lochlan had sheathed his sword. “I am a man, Kieran. Believe me. There’s a lot more to manhood than fathering bastards and stealing women from others. I’m not the one crying in my cups over the fact my brother ran off with my woman. If you’d been half the man you think you are, then you’d have been able to hold on to her.” It’d been a lie. Isobail’s heart had been frigid and she’d only been using all of them, but at the time, he’d wanted to hurt Kieran as much as his brother had hurt him.
Kieran had laughed. “At least I’ve had a woman in my bed. I’m not the weak-kneed Ganymede, hiding in my father’s shadow.”
Lochlan had tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword. Afraid he might yet kill his own brother, he’d turned to leave.
“That’s right, you coward. Run from the drunken unarmed sot on the floor. You’re afraid of everything—women, conflict, and life. You might as well be dead for all the living you’ve done. You’re
useless, Lochlan. Useless!”
He’d turned to glare at his brother. “At least I’m not trying to spread misery with my life. Want to talk about useless? All you’ve ever been able to do is make everyone who loves you weep in grief. You’re the one who should be dead.”
Those had been the last words he’d spoken to his brother and they had burned a hole in his heart every day since they’d found Kieran’s sword and plaid and had assumed him dead.
No one knew of that moment in the nursery. No one knew how much guilt Lochlan felt and how much hurt. It was his alone to bear.
And if Kieran was alive and had put him through this for no other reason than selfish vanity, he would kill him for sure this time.
But none of that would take away the sting of truth. Because of his father’s reckless infidelities and the responsibility for running the clan while his father was drunk, Lochlan had become isolated very early in his life. He’d done his best to keep the truth of his father’s character from everyone. His mother, his brothers, and his clan.
The only time he’d ever sought the comfort of a woman, she’d betrayed him foully and it was that betrayal he could never get past. There was no way he would ever open himself up to another person for that kind of pain again. He’d had enough of it.
Catarina cleared her throat, dragging his attention back to her. “I asked you a question, Lochlan, and it seems to have gotten you lost in thought. Are you all right?”
“I am fine, my lady.”
“Hmmm…my mother used to say that men will only admit to being fine when they’re hiding something. What are you hiding?”
He let out a long, tired breath. “You are relentless with your questions.”
“And you are very much like your brother Ewan. That’s not an insult, by the way. I happen to like Ewan a great deal…when he’s not being stubborn. But he was never one to talk much either. He said it was because he could never get a word in while his brothers were talking. I can only assume he meant Braden and Sin since neither you nor Ewan speaks.”
The Warrior Page 3
