“Nay. The day we become even you’ll most likely kill me, so I intend to stay one step up.”
Growling at him, Stryder headed for the castle. “Follow me, my lady, and let us see what this matter is over.”
Lochlan stood in the empty great hall before the count of Rouen, who was an elderly man with gray hair and sharp brown eyes. His gaze was filled with contempt as he stared at him.
“What do you wish me to do with him, Oswald?” he asked the noble who’d confronted Lochlan earlier.
“Hold him hostage until his father comes for him.”
Lochlan scoffed. “That would certainly be quite a wait, my lords, since my father is dead.”
Oswald didn’t hesitate in his venom. “Then punish him in his father’s stead.”
Lucky for him, the count seemed to have better sense. “I can’t do that without just cause. He’s a Scottish lord.”
Oswald stiffened as if that offended him to the marrow of his bones. “And I’m the cousin of a king. I demand justice, Reginald. His father destroyed my sister. He took her honor, her virginity, and her tongue. For that, I want his bastard son’s neck in a noose.”
Lochlan ground his teeth to keep from protesting his innocence in this. It wasn’t as if they didn’t know. The problem was, Oswald didn’t care.
“I can’t hang a man for a crime his father committed.”
“Then flog him for it.”
Reginald gave Lochlan a measuring stare. “How do you feel about that?”
He had to ask? Was the man daft?
“I protest it. Greatly. I’ve done nothing to warrant such punishment.”
“Nothing he’s been caught for,” Oswald sneered. “But mark my words, he’s guilty of something. The apple never rolls far from the tree.”
In this case, it most certainly did.
Lochlan heard the door behind him open and close.
Reginald scowled as he focused his gaze over Lochlan’s shoulder. “Lord Stryder. To what do I owe the honor?”
“I heard my friend had been arrested and so I came to see why.”
Lochlan turned to meet the earl, then froze as he realized Catarina was with him. He hated for her to bear witness to this event. If anyone were to recognize her, she’d be in even more trouble than he was.
“This doesn’t concern you,” Oswald snapped at Stryder. “This is between us and as the highest-ranking noble present, I demand the MacAllister’s flesh. I want twenty lashes.”
Reginald let out a long sigh before he nodded. “So be it. Guards!”
Lochlan growled as the guards came to take him. He grabbed the first one to reach him and knocked him back. As he reached for the other, he heard a soft cry of alarm.
“Cease!”
No one moved.
Catarina approached Reginald and Oswald slowly, then stopped directly in front of Reginald. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken, my lord.”
“Mistaken how?”
She lowered her cowl so that they could see her beautiful face. “As a princess of France, I’m the highest-ranking noble present and I demand you release him. Immediately.”
Chapter 10
Reginald and Oswald, along with the guards, immediately bowed down before her.
Lochlan was too stunned by her actions to even breathe, never mind move. In order to save him, she’d just damned herself to return to her father’s custody.
Why would she do that?
“Rise,” she snapped at the guards. “And remove the shackles from him. Now.”
Lochlan arched a brow at her imperious tone. Not that he hadn’t heard it before, it just always surprised him when it was directed at someone other than him.
“You heard the princess,” Reginald said, waving them toward Lochlan. “Do as she says.”
Stryder glanced at Catarina as the guards rushed to obey her. He spoke in a low tone that only Catarina and Lochlan could hear. “Seems someone omitted a vital fact earlier when we met.”
Catarina shrugged nonchalantly. “I didn’t think it important.”
He laughed. “Aye, well everyone else does.”
“’Tis only a small birth defect that is often easily hidden. Were that this was such an occasion.”
“Princess,” Reginald said, rising to stand before her. “I shall have a room prepared for you immediately while I send word to your father to let him know you are safe and hale. I’m truly honored to have you grace me with your presence at our most humble fair.”
Cat had to bite back her sarcasm at his words. It wasn’t his fault that she had no desire to be treated like royalty, any more than she wanted her father notified of her whereabouts. Lord Reginald was trying to be graceful and kind and so would she, regardless of the knot in her stomach.
“Thank you, my lord. I appreciate your hospitality.” Just as she would appreciate someone knocking her against the head with a brick. She only hoped the smile she offered him didn’t appear as fake as it felt.
Lochlan approached her slowly. His gratitude shone from the very depths of his pale eyes. That alone made this worth it to her. “You didn’t have to do this,” he whispered.
She laid her hand on his cheek. “Aye, I did. I wasn’t about to let them hurt you after everything you’ve done for me. What’s a little confinement compared to a severe beating?”
“For you, I would think worse,” he whispered. It was true, but she would never let him know that.
Lochlan couldn’t breathe as he saw the pain in her dark eyes. No one had ever made such a sacrifice for him. Ever.
He closed his eyes so that he could savor her touch before he covered her hand with his. Her skin was so soft, her hand so delicate and yet it set fire to him in a way no woman or touch had before. He brought her hand to his lips and placed a tender kiss on her knuckles. “Thank you, Catarina.”
She inclined her head to him.
“Your Highness,” Reginald said sharply before he forced them apart. “If you’ll come with me…”
Lochlan saw the reluctance in her gaze before she pulled away. He wanted to curse as he watched her follow the men from the room.
Stryder stepped forward and drew his attention from Catarina back to him. “Well now, here I thought I’d be the one to save your hide.”
He scoffed. “I didn’t think anyone could spare me what they intended.”
But one thing was certain, he was going to find a way to spare Catarina from her father’s plans.
Simon shook his head as he, Stryder, and Bracken stood in Stryder’s tent, across from Lochlan. “You cannot break her out of the castle, Lochlan. That’s kidnapping…and suicide. They’ll hang you for it.”
Those words did nothing to deter him from his plan. “They’ll have to catch me to hang me.”
Bracken snorted. “He’s right about that and believe me, I know. But”—he cut a warning glare at Lochlan—“they will look hard and won’t stop. Trust me on that, too.”
Stryder made a sound of disgust in the back of his throat as he moved to pour himself another cup of mead. “Bracken is absolutely right. You take her out of that castle while Oswald is there and you know he won’t rest until you’re dead.”
And none of that mattered to him. All he cared about was keeping Catarina away from a marriage she didn’t want. “I made a promise to her and I intend to fulfill it.”
Simon rolled his eyes. “While that is noble, is it really worth your life? For that matter, is it worth what they might do to your people?”
Lochlan paused. Oswald did know exactly who and what he was, and it was an enormous risk he was taking. But at the same time, he knew how much Catarina loathed being in their hands. How could he abandon her to that?
He looked at Bracken and remembered the story of her as a child, being beaten in order to force her submission.
Most of all, he remembered the way she’d looked when she’d handed him her gift.
And in that moment, his course was set in stone. “Aye, it’s worth my life. I’m a
man of honor and I will not see her punished for helping me. Ever.”
Bracken gave a reluctant nod. “You know I’m at your back…so long as we’re not heading to England anyway. I’d go with you even there if I didn’t have two people who depended on me for their support.”
Lochlan could respect that. If he had any better sense, he wouldn’t be doing this either. He was about to go up against a king, swipe a princess, in the country that her father ruled, and try to take her to another against her father’s wishes.
No doubt there was a special corner of hell reserved for fools like him.
Simon gave a bitter laugh. “You can count me in, too. I just have to go tell my wife what I’m about so that she doesn’t banish me from our bedroom for all eternity when she wakes and finds me gone.” He indicated Julia and Bryce, who were sitting off in a corner in complete silence. “You can leave them in her custody. As soon as the tourney ends, she was heading to Scotland anyway. We can rendezvous there.”
Lochlan couldn’t believe Simon, Stryder, and Bracken were in this with him. Were they out of their skulls? They had as much to lose, if not more, than he did. “This is more than I can ask any of you to do.”
“Nay,” Simon said with a laugh, “we’ve all…” he paused before he continued, “well, I, for one, have certainly done far more foolish things for causes nowhere near this noble.”
Stryder nodded. “Likewise.”
Perhaps, but Lochlan was grateful to them more than he could ever express with something as meager as words. “My thanks.”
After clapping him on the back, Simon left to speak to his wife while Lochlan stared at Stryder, whose eyes accused him of all manner of stupidity. The sad part was that he agreed completely. What he planned was stupid.
And at the same time he couldn’t make himself let it go.
Catarina needed him and he couldn’t bear the thought of disappointing her.
“You know,” Bracken said, “it never ceases to amaze me the things men will do for the love of a woman.”
“I’m not in love with her.”
Bracken scoffed. “Of course you’re not. Why else would you risk this?”
“I made a promise.” But even he was beginning to doubt his conviction. The truth was Catarina meant a lot more to him than she should have.
“I think it’s romantic,” Julia said dreamily. “It makes Lord Lochlan a true and decent hero.” She leveled a meaningful glare at Bryce. “Would that all men were so noble.”
Bryce groaned as if her words cut through him. “Careful, Lord Lochlan, I fear my sister may have set her sights on your hand.”
Julia slapped playfully at her brother. “You’re such an unfeeling cad.”
“And you’re a ninny.”
“And the both of you are annoying,” Bracken snapped. “For the love of God and all his saints, hie yourselves to Simon’s tent and pester his wife while we think without your mewling voices and petty arguments.”
Both Julia and Bryce looked highly offended. For the first time, they locked arms in a unified front, lifted their chins haughtily in the air, and left the tent.
“Good job,” Stryder said to Bracken. “Thought I was going to have to kill one or the other.”
“Please don’t. For all their trying ways, they are the only thing I have left in this world that means anything to me. As much as they irritate me, I would truly miss them if they were gone.”
Stryder laughed. “As an older brother, father, and husband myself, I completely understand.”
Bracken let out an appreciative breath. “’Tis a wonder you haven’t thrown yourself from the nearest turret given that load.”
“There are times…” Stryder turned his gaze to Lochlan. “Then again, it appears I am definitely a bit suicidal to join in on this crusade.”
Lochlan joined his laughter. “Aye and when they lead me toward the gallows, remind me again that I did this for honor.”
Bracken scoffed. “I still say you’re doing this for love, but every time I say it you dismiss me.”
“And still do.” But the more he denied it, the more he wondered if he wasn’t protesting too much. His heart did soften at the thought of Catarina and with her absence there was an ache inside him that he didn’t even want to contemplate. It was as if a part of him were missing.
That was ridiculous. Catarina annoyed him to the core of his soul. She insulted him.
She’d bitten him.
Yet he considered her a friend. One he was willing to risk his life and his clan for.
Aye, there was something wrong with him, no doubt.
Cat tried to focus on what Lady Anabeth was saying as a small group of women sat sequestered in a sewing circle in the lady’s solar, but honestly she couldn’t. It was something to do with the trim of her gown or perhaps a gown someone else wore. The woman rattled on without pausing even to breathe. In all her life she’d never seen anything like it.
Mayhap she should have allowed Lochlan to be beaten after all…
But even as she thought that she knew better. What was a little boredom compared to what they would have done to him?
Still the lady droned on in her high, nasal tone about something garish.
Then again…
“Princess?”
She looked up at the young maid who was bowing before her. “Please rise, child.”
The girl did, then handed her a small piece of paper. “I was bid by a gentleman to give this to you, Your Highness.”
“Thank you.”
The girl bowed again before she left the room.
“Is it a love note?” Lady Anabeth asked breathlessly, as all the women stared at her as if she held the grail.
Cat somehow doubted it. Who on earth would send her such? A hate note, she’d believe in an instant. But it did make her curious.
Opening it, she had to force her eyes not to bulge.
My dearest,
Meet me at midnight out in the gardens and I shall make all your dreams come true.
Lochlan
She had to read it three times more to make sure her mind wasn’t playing a trick on her. She couldn’t imagine Lochlan writing something like that.
It was so…
Poetic. Gentle. Tender.
So extremely unlike him. Perhaps it was his idea of a jest? He did have an odd sense of humor. However, she understood the sentiment. If he was indeed planning to rescue her, she couldn’t be more grateful.
God bless the man. Then again, it was the least he could do given that she wouldn’t be in this predicament without him.
“What does it say?” Anabeth leaned forward, trying to read it.
Cat smiled as she folded it carefully, then tucked it between her breasts so that one of the nosey ladies wouldn’t find it. “It appears to be a lover’s note after all.”
The women gave a collective gasp.
“Who?” the small blond beside her asked.
“A secret admirer.”
Anabeth’s eyes bulged. “Really? Who do you think he could be?”
“I vote for Lord Stryder.” Lucinda giggled from beside Anabeth. “He would make a most splendid lover.”
“Shh,” Anabeth said, placing her forefinger to her lips. “Lady Rowena would have your tongue if she ever heard that.”
“Aye, but I envy her.” Lucinda looked around. “And I know I’m not the only woman here who feels that way.”
The entire group broke out into a round of wicked giggles.
Cat rose from her chair while the women speculated on the virtues of the knights who were competing and tried to guess who among them would have sent a note to her. Little did they know not a one of those men held her heart.
It seemed to beat only for a rigid man whose brogue was as thick as a Scotsman’s porridge. She ran her hand over the front of her gown so that she could feel his letter there. For the first time since she was led to her prison, she was relieved and when next she saw Lochlan, she would make sure he knew exa
ctly how grateful she was for his kindness.
Hours seemed to have dragged on into infinity before Cat was able to head down to the great hall below to partake of supper. Of course Reginald insisted that she sit at his table up on the dais and away from the other nobles. The only thing that made it bearable was the presence of Rowena.
Unfortunately, the countess sat on the other side of a rather rude, boisterous earl who kept sucking his wine through his teeth.
If I do have to marry the prince, please don’t let that be one of his habits.
Cat would slit her wrists before she condemned herself to another meal with such a man. The best she could do was lean forward and wave at Rowena.
Sighing, she leaned back in her chair as she watched the other nobles at the lower tables eating while the musicians filled the room with soothing melody. Servants came and went as she picked at her food and swept the hall looking for a certain blond warrior.
He was nowhere to be seen and that saddened her.
Where are you, Lochlan?
Perhaps he was planning their escape even as she sat here. They would have to be careful since Oswald knew him and hated him.
Maybe Lochlan has forgotten me.
Now that was a foolish thought. He wouldn’t be so cruel as to send her his note, then not follow through.
The waiting, though, was even more torturous than the man sucking wine beside her. She could swear a full decade had passed before the meal finished and the servants began clearing tables and moving them so that people could dance.
Cat left the area and headed down toward the crowd in search of Lochlan or Bracken.
“Would you care to dance, Highness?”
She looked over her shoulder to find a tall, handsome knight smiling at her. Around her own age, he had jolly blue eyes and dark brown hair. There was an air of charitable humor to him.
“Aye, my lord, thank you.”
He inclined his head before he held his hand out to her. Taking his proffered hand, she followed him to the floor so that they could dance.
“Do you have a name, sir knight?” she asked, as they took up position with the other dancers.
“Frederick, Your Highness. Baron of Chantilier.”
The Warrior Page 13
