by Mary Wine
Now, MacPherson stood next to Gordon, and McTavish broke bread with Grant. It was a fine sight. She would be the monster if she ignored it. Living with the MacPhersons, she’d heard the tales of raids and feuds. Seen the children growing up without fathers and watched as Ailis Robertson sat beside her husband, Bhaic MacPherson, when Morton had forced them to wed. Ailis had done so with grace, when she had been anything but welcome in the stronghold of her enemies.
So Morton had his uses, it would seem.
As did she.
Perhaps Rolfe didn’t care for her taking risks, but he was standing there, and she soaked up the sight of him before she turned and contemplated the setting sun. Day surrendered to darkness as she felt herself accepting the harsh reality of Rolfe’s nature. It had always been his devotion to his honor that had attracted her to him. Yet she’d been foolish not to realize that the trait that enamored her would trap her if she stayed with him.
He’d not accept a hellion as his wife.
No, she’d be expected to be as graceful as Ailis and Helen. Taking her place and learning to obey her husband.
She couldn’t do it.
Honestly, it wasn’t a matter of wanting to or not; she simply didn’t know how. For the first time, she realized her education was lacking. Severely so. No one had taught her to run a house, to keep the books, to ensure there was enough food stored to last through the winter. There were memories of such lessons back in her childhood. That only served to shame her. She had always thought of her stepmother in harsh terms, yet Bridget Hussy had made sure her stepdaughter had tutors.
It all left Katherine feeling as if she were standing in a puddle and the rain was pouring down on her, threatening to make the puddle much deeper. The question was, how long would she be able to stay there before it became unbearable? Would it be long enough for the rain to stop? The uncertainty ate at her.
“He’ll come to terms with it, lass.”
She jumped, so absorbed in her thoughts that she hadn’t realized Adwin had ventured after her. The captain gripped his wide belt, clearly not accustomed to soothing a female’s melancholy. He offered her a bundle, and she saw it was a dress, rolled in a length of McTavish plaid.
Katherine took it, feeling as though it were as heavy as chains.
“Rolfe has more devotion to honor than most,” the captain continued, searching for words he thought a woman would like to hear. It was a strange pairing to say the least, with the bushy, dark beard that went from his face to his neck, the scars that decorated his cheeks, and the two breaks in his nose. He was a hardened Highlander, suited to his environment and thriving on the challenge of living in the northern country.
“It’s to be expected that he’d be less than…gracious about accepting help. Seeing as how he did vow to protect ye at yer wedding.”
And she had promised to be obedient, submissive, and meek.
“Perhaps it was a mistake,” she muttered. “For us to wed.”
Adwin tilted his head to one side, clearly perplexed by her words.
“Since his father detests me,” she continued. “And now Rolfe is vexed.”
There was no arguing with the two points she had made. Katherine watched Adwin try to think of something to say. “It was kind of you to try to soothe me, Adwin.”
She started to turn away, realizing the best she could do was to release the man from any feelings of obligation to her unhappiness. No, it was hardly his fault she was unsuited to the task of being Rolfe’s wife, or that she was English.
Adwin reached out and caught her upper arm. It surprised her, drawing her attention back to his face.
“I will no’ forget.” His tone was deep and hard. She watched a look of respect cross his eyes. “Ye might have left him in chains, and no one would have blamed ye because ye are a woman.” He released her and nodded firmly. “I will no’ ever forget ye kept him from that fate. No McTavish will curse yer name in me hearing.”
A man such as Adwin only gave respect to those who earned it. At least she seemed to have done something right. In his eyes, she witnessed the belief that she had.
“Well, except for your laird.” She’d meant it as a way to lighten the mood. A mild jest, something to take her mind from the turmoil her emotions were in.
Adwin nodded again. “Well, as ye say, except for Laird McTavish. I can nae be smashing him in the jaw.”
“Do not smash anyone on my account,” she implored him. “I did what was correct.”
Adwin snorted. “Ye did it because ye love that lad. Do nae deny it. I see it in yer eyes.” He looked back toward Rolfe. “The lad is young, and blind. He’ll come ’round.”
She tried to let the confidence in his tone soak into her. Adwin took it as a sign she’d accepted his reasoning on the matter. He tugged on the corner of his bonnet before he turned and returned to the camp.
The fire illuminated the faces of the men as they talked. It wasn’t that she felt they would send her away if she ventured toward them, but they would change their demeanor. Right then, they were relaxed, teasing one another as they shared stories of a nature they’d deem unfit for her ears.
And yet she’d heard them.
Still, time had caught her firmly in its grasp, making it so she was no longer in their world. At least not as one of them. As a woman, yes, and along with that came the expectation for proper behavior.
Hellion…
Truly, it was what she was.
She’d been naive to believe Rolfe would accept her as such. She was far from the first bride who’d discovered the courting finished once the soiled sheet had been flown. She belonged to him now, and a man who could not control his wife would never be followed by men.
That hopelessness returned. She settled down and pulled the skirt of the dress around herself. She was being perverse in refusing to use the plaid, but she wasn’t in the frame of mind to be objective. The dress was made of wool and warmed her, luring her off to sleep as she floundered in a sea of unruly emotions.
* * *
She heard someone venture near her just before first light. A soft step on the ground, just a shifting of gravel beneath a boot heel. It brought her awake in an instant, because Marcus had bedded his training troops down in the yard more than once to sharpen their skills.
Waking up blurry-eyed and slow-witted was an invitation to get kicked in the backside by one of the captains.
Rolfe bent his knees and hunched down near her. The sky was just starting to lighten. It wasn’t day yet, just that hazy time when it was no longer night and the first birds had yet to sing in welcome to the dawn.
“Ye do nae care to wear me colors?”
The length of McTavish wool was lying a couple of feet from where she’d slept. She’d used the hip roll as a pillow and slept in the skirt of the dress. Rolfe didn’t care for what he saw, but there was only one way to appease him, and that was with submission.
“You do not care for my ways.” She’d sat all the way up and was perched on her feet, crouching low, as secure in the lunge as he was. Surprise flickered in his eyes for a moment.
“I never deceived you as to what I am,” she stated clearly.
“Nor did I hide from ye what I felt ye needed to learn,” Rolfe answered her, his expression becoming stern. “Ye still wed me, Katherine, of yer own free will. Get dressed. We can come to agreement once we’re out of Morton’s reach.”
“You mean to say that I can accept my lot.”
He’d pushed to his feet but looked back at her. She watched him grip his belt and set his jaw. He left it unsaid between them, turning his wide shoulders on her and walking back toward where the horses were starting to stir.
Refusing to put the dress on would have been childish and foolish, considering she started to shiver now that she was clothed only in the thin court clothing. Silk might be very pretty, but it w
as completely ill-suited to nights spent outdoors in Scotland.
The cold was cutting through the fabric, making her clench her teeth to keep them from chattering.
She gave a little huff and gathered up the parts of the dress before moving behind some bushes to dress. Stubbornness wouldn’t keep her warm. When she emerged, one of the younger retainers was standing there. He’d turned his back on her position, nodding when he heard her come around. He offered her the length of McTavish plaid, having plucked it from the ground where she’d left it.
Confusion flickered in his eyes when she didn’t reach for it. He didn’t seem to think it worthy of a question, but followed her down to where the horses were waiting and tossed the wool across the back of a mare.
Her will meant nothing.
And the knowledge of that was like salt water flowing into a garden. Her happiness strangled on it, poisoned by harsh facts and blunt reality.
* * *
“Still being stubborn?”
Rolfe looked up and found Adwin contemplating him.
“She did ye a service.”
Rolf finished his business and dropped his kilt. “Ye should never have allowed her to show herself. Christ, Adwin, Morton might have wed her to a bastard who would have been happy to have her.”
Adwin looked straight back at him. “Life is no’ fair. I taught ye that lesson a long time ago, and do nae forget it was me. For all that yer father is laird, he was no’ the one riding beside ye, taking the same risks ye were, willing to stand in front of ye to shield ye from harm. I’ve had plenty of experience protecting ye, so do nae start suggesting I will be changing me ways. I’d have done anything to get ye out of that dungeon. If that makes me a bastard, so be it, but I’m one who watched yer back.”
Rolfe rocked back on his heels. “I’d do the same for ye, Adwin, but hiding behind a woman?”
“Morton was nae going to hang her,” Adwin responded. “I’d no’ have allowed her near the man if I’d thought her life was in danger. And before ye argue with me further, yer bloody life was in jeopardy. Morton is a mad bastard. He’d have chopped off yer head as an example, and ye’re a fool if ye do nae believe so. He’d been bested already by Marcus over Katherine, so he had a great deal to lose if he was duped again.”
“So I am to just accept that me wife might have been called upon to prostitute herself on me behalf?”
Adwin stepped toward him and lowered his voice so it didn’t carry. “Ye recognize she does nae put herself above ye. That’s a rare thing, lad. I’ve lived more years than ye have, and I’m warning ye, do nae let her affection be strangled by yer pride.”
“It’s more than me pride to want to keep her from being bedded by another. A man she did no’ choose. That’s rape, Adwin. Something I’m sworn to shield her from.”
Adwin closed his eyes, and when he lifted his eyelids, there was a hard glint in the dark depths. “Better some fucking than yer head rotting on a pike. Hate me for saying it, but at least ye’re alive to do it.”
Adwin turned and left. Rolfe watched him go, feeling as though he’d been smashed in the jaw.
“I can kick ye in the balls if ye do nae see the wisdom in what yer man said.”
Rolfe turned to discover Marcus MacPherson standing behind him. The war chief had stopped in his favorite pose, feet braced shoulder-width apart as he crossed his arms over his chest.
“Yer turn to have a go at me?”
Marcus only curled his lips back and gave Rolfe a flash of his teeth.
“I’d think ye would disagree with Adwin on the matter of being raped as something to be dismissed.”
Marcus’s grin faded. “Aye, I do.”
“So ye understand why I took her back to McTavish land.”
“That’s a matter that has been laid to rest,” Marcus responded.
“No, it has nae,” Rolfe responded. “Do ye think I enjoy reprimanding her? Would ye have me allow her to place herself at risk? What manner of husband would that make me?”
“A dead one,” Marcus informed him. “By my hand. I promise ye so.”
Rolfe snorted. “Then ye understand why I can nae find peace with her trading herself for me.”
Marcus slowly shook his head. “Nae, ye’ve got it wrong, lad. It was yer father who put ye both in the position of having to deal with Morton.”
“It was me duty to see the man. A son’s duty.”
“Aye, and yet ye chose to shield Katherine from him,” Marcus continued. “Ye forget, I know something about that meself. I could have wed her as a child, when Morton tried to press her on me, but I reasoned with meself about the fact that she was too young to take to me bed. Aye, I might have placed the good name of me father and me clan before me own decency, telling meself I’d bed her once and she could simply come to terms with it as more than one bride has been forced to do. Brenda Grant might have refused to help her, too. Lord knows, Brenda has taken her fair share of abuse in this life and did nae need to be the one to face Morton when the man discovered both meself and Katherine gone.”
“Another reason Katherine must learn to mind me.”
“Everyone has a choice in life,” Marcus explained slowly. “Katherine made the decision no’ to live in fear. I let her train to build her confidence. So, ye’ll have to understand that I will no’ allow ye to crush her. If ye can nae come to terms with the fact that she stood by yer side and it is her nature to do so, I’ll take her home to MacPherson land.”
Rolfe stiffened, feeling every muscle he had tightening. “Ye will nae.”
Each of the three words came out in a clear warning. Marcus wasn’t a naive man when it came to such things. He stared straight at Rolfe, taking his measure.
“Do ye recall how ye felt when I took Helen from ye?”
Rolfe’s question caught Marcus off guard. The man growled, and Rolfe grinned at him.
“I can see that ye do.”
“What point are ye trying to make?” Marcus asked.
“Was yer union any more settled than mine is?”
Understanding dawned on Marcus. He shook his head reluctantly.
“So do nae threaten to take Katherine from me,” Rolfe warned him softly. “We’ve no’ had the time to learn to trust each other, and here on the road is no’ the place for us to be settling things between us.”
“So ye’re thinking I am going to allow ye to take her into yer stronghold while she is miserable?” Marcus asked. “I can nae do that, lad. She’s dear to me, make no mistake about that.”
“Be careful about letting me father hear ye say that,” Rolfe replied. “He’ll be pressing ye for a dowry.”
“If Katherine were content in the union, I would gladly provide it.” Marcus drew in a deep breath and let it out. “I’d no’ have Helen without Katherine. Many might say Katherine was simply a pawn caught in the scheme, but I do nae care about the details. I believe in gifts from God.”
“Katherine is as much mine,” Rolfe stated clearly. “I will nae allow ye to take her, and before ye argue further, know I am staying away from her because all I want to do is kiss the hell out of her.” Rolfe shot Marcus a knowing look. “No’ exactly a fitting thing under our current circumstances.”
Marcus growled at him, low and deep.
Rolfe didn’t take it from him.
“I recall the way ye had Helen cornered on a riverbank.” Marcus stuck a finger out at him in warning, but Rolfe only smirked. “So taken by her that I snuck up on ye.” He snickered at the memory. “I’m no’ going to lie. That tale has done me name well.”
Marcus popped his knuckles and made a fist that he sent smashing into his opposite palm.
Rolfe stopped toying with the man and sent him a hard, serious look. “Do I strike ye as any less taken by Katherine? I defied me father to wed her. Only once before have I ever willingly committed such
defiance against him.”
There was a long silence between them. Marcus contemplated Rolfe, searching his gaze for long moments before he nodded.
“I believe ye, lad.”
“So, ye’ll be telling her no,” Rolfe clarified, “when she comes to ye looking to go home with ye?”
Marcus closed his eyes. “Aye.” He opened them, granting Rolfe an unguarded glimpse into his thoughts. “It will tear something inside me to do it, and I’m warning ye”—Marcus pointed at him—“I will be checking back to make sure she’s settled to her satisfaction.”
“I expect no less.”
Marcus shook his finger at Rolfe before he left. Rolfe stood for another few moments, realizing just how uncertain he’d been of the outcome of his conversation with Marcus. Satisfaction moved through him in a slow wave that left him with a growing sense of urgency to reach McTavish land.
Katherine was withdrawing from him.
It was like a raw wound that wasn’t healing. One he needed to tend to in private.
She’d be his. He refused to accept anything less.
He just wished he didn’t know firsthand how often life made him take what he didn’t want.
Eight
She needed to ask Marcus to take her home.
Katherine put it off for several more days, coming up with excuses of not wanting to spoil the camaraderie of the trip. People watched them as they passed, the news of four clans riding together making its way ahead of them.
Yes, that was it. She didn’t want to sour everyone’s disposition.
You don’t want to shame Rolfe…
That was also true. Which just made her sigh because she cared for him.
Love, you mean…
Her inner voice was being perverse.
And annoying.
Yet true…
Fine, yes, yes, and yes again. It wasn’t really fair to shame Rolfe by deserting him when he was only expecting what every man wanted from a wife.
“Marcus and Symon will be splitting off tomorrow.”
