Leaning close to the fire, she lit her candle. It was a temptation to linger near the warmth, but the boy would no doubt return before long. She didn’t want to be caught snooping and have to explain what she was doing.
Cupping her hand around the candle to prevent the light from going out, she started down the first narrow aisle between the stalls. If she remembered correctly, the horse she’d been riding was kept back here.
Cate found the stall she was seeking on her second try. Fortunately the beast was standing with his rear end toward her, munching away on his oats. He looked enormous in this light. Holding her candle high, keeping a wary eye on his hind legs, she leaned in and gently ran her hand across his flank.
The horse swung his head up to look back at her as her hand skimmed the first bump. He whinnied and stamped his front foot when she touched the second.
That was good enough for her. She’d found the proof she’d come looking for. Now she just had to figure out what it meant and what to do about it.
* * *
Connor sat high on the battlements overlooking the courtyard, seeking solace in a pitcher of ale. He regretted immensely his high tolerance to the stuff. He would gladly welcome the respite from his thoughts that being down-on-his-face drunk might bring. The fine cold mist only added to the weight of his mood.
The woman was driving him insane in a way no other ever had. He had spent the last fortnight avoiding her as much as possible, spending long hours in the lists driving his body to exhaustion, all to prevent what he had then allowed to happen last night. He was such a fool.
He was sworn to protect her, but in order to do that he had to be near her, and it seemed as though he could no longer be near her and keep his hands off her. She turned that alluring green gaze upon him and his innards came to life. She placed her tiny hand upon his chest and his brain ceased to function. For the first time since childhood, he was unsure of what to do.
He wondered if Rosalyn had guessed, if that was what she had referred to with her cryptic words about the Fae. Was she trying to tell him this was the price he had to pay for seeking the help of his Faerie ancestors? He had spent the past seven years mastering his emotions. Self-control was always his now. He wouldn’t allow it to desert him because of a woman.
He must keep in mind who and what Cate was. In spite of the irrational possessiveness he felt every time he came near her, he’d do well to remember that she wasn’t his. Even now she wore another man’s betrothal gift, the man who would claim her when she went home.
That bastard, Richard.
She might say she wouldn’t marry him, that she valued love over wealth and power, but she was only a woman like any other, and when she returned home, she’d seek the wealth and power. She still wore the man’s ring, didn’t she?
He’d do well to remember when he wed her on the steps of the church, it would mean nothing to her but a task completed so that she could go home. And go home she would, in less than a fortnight now.
To Richard.
It would be Richard who spent his days drowning in the green pools of her eyes, indulging in the softness of her lips. He hated the man for his expensive cart, for having his mark upon Cate, but most of all for waiting patiently seven hundred years in the future.
“I thought I’d find you here.” Connor started as Duncan sat down beside him.
“It’s no a good idea to be creeping up on a man in the dark of the night, Duncan.” He made no effort to keep the irritation from his voice.
“I dinna creep. I fair stomped.” Duncan took a drink from the tankard he held. “And I’d thank you no to snap at me. I’m no the one yer angry with.”
“My apologies, old friend. Yer absolutely right.” Connor sighed deeply. “It’s my own self who disgusts me this night.”
After all these years, all they’d been through together, he owed Duncan honesty at the very least.
“Aye. But you hae no need to apologize to me. I ken it’s a fair mess yer twisted into by our wee lassie.” Duncan calmly took another drink.
Connor’s head snapped around to stare at him. “And just what ‘wee lassie’ might you be speaking of?”
“Dinna try to deny it to me, lad. I’ve learned yer ways since you were a wee bairn in changing cloths.” Duncan snorted. “You sit alone in the dark with yer sour face, biting at any who’s foolish enough to come near you. There’s no a doubt in my mind who the root of yer problem is, only what you plan to do about her.”
“There’s naught needs to be done. Within the fortnight, the marriage will be accomplished and she’ll return home. I’ll be free to look after Mairi.” He turned to the older man. “The plan is as it was from the beginning. No changes.”
They sat together in silence, staring out over the darkened courtyard for a few moments.
“Hae you thought to ask yer woman to stay here with you then?” Duncan asked it quietly, gently, as if to soften the magnitude of the question.
“She’d hae no reason to stay. She’s no my woman. There’s a wealthy man who waits for her in her own time. Richard.” He forced down the urge to spit to rid his mouth of the nasty taste left by saying the man’s name. He took another drink instead. “The ring she wears is his betrothal gift to her.”
“It’s only a wee bauble, that.” Duncan said thoughtfully. “No much for a wealthy man.”
“Aye.”
“And this man, this Richard, he’s a verra far distance away from her now, is he no?”
“Aye, a verra far distance.” Connor nodded his head slowly.
Surely Duncan must understand. Women might all be deceitful in matters of the heart, but he could never be. His honor would never allow it.
“I’d no steal another man’s woman.” It came out hard, cold.
“I dinna think you would. I’m only saying a thing that’s given freely canna be stolen.”
“She’s given me nothing, Duncan.”
“As you say, but I could no help but notice the way she clung to you last night. And the way you looked at her.”
Connor stiffened. “She was hurt. I’m responsible for her safety, and I failed to protect her. I have a role to play, and I play it. It’s that and nothing more. I’ve no desire to be tied to any woman.”
Silence stretched out, the two men once again staring into the night, each lost in his own thoughts, until Duncan abruptly nudged Connor’s arm with his now empty tankard.
“Weel, laddie, since yer doing naught but playing a role, it looks like it just might be time for the next act to begin.” He pointed down to the edge of the courtyard. “Isna that yer lassie there, creeping along in the dark?”
Connor stood and cursed.
What could she be up to this time? She moved slowly across the courtyard, attempting to keep to the shadows.
“Christ. She’s no even wearing a cloak. She’ll be soaked to the skin and down with a fever next.”
The woman was a plague to his peace of mind. With no thought to her own safety, she merrily traipsed from one predicament to the next.
He’d a mind to just let her go. Or throw her over his shoulder and carry her off. Or tie her up and toss her into his room, where he could keep an eye on her. His mind raged with frustration.
She disappeared into the stables.
A man would have to stay with her twenty-four hours a day to keep one such as her out of trouble.
Cursing again, he threw down his tankard and trotted off to the stairs.
* * *
Cate was nearing the exit now, moving slowly away from the animals toward the large stable doors, when her candle went out.
She gasped as she felt a breath on her neck, only seconds before a torch sprang to life, dimly lighting the area around her. She turned.
Blane, only a few feet away, was fitting a torch into a holder. He started toward her and she slowly backed away, realizing she was only steps from the wall.
“I saw a light moving through the dark. I would no hae expected to find you
here.” He looked predatory in this light.
“My candle went out.” She could think of nothing else to say.
He was close enough now to reach out and touch her, which he did, running the pad of his thumb over the scratch on her face. She jerked her head away and edged closer to the wall.
“Aye, it did. I blew it out. Dinna anyone ever tell you fire is dangerous in a stable?” He moved closer and once again ran his thumb over her cheek. “But perhaps danger is another of the poor choices you make.”
He’d been drinking. This close, his breath reeked of alcohol. Again he moved his thumb over her cheek.
“If you were my woman, I’d no let this happen to you.”
“You were there with me yesterday, and yet this happened.” Logically she knew she shouldn’t argue with him, but she said it anyway.
“Aye. Because yer no my woman.”
He lowered his eyes and it suddenly occurred to her that the wet linen shift covering her breasts left little to the imagination. Obviously he realized it as well. She crossed her arms in front of her and he smiled, his teeth gleaming in the torchlight, the predatory look more pronounced than before.
“My offer’s still open if yer interested yet. Sometimes the choices we make are not necessarily what we want, only the better of two poor options. You might find the benefits of belonging to me more pleasant in the long run than the alternative.”
Her mouth went dry as his hand slid from her face to her neck. She nervously bit at her lower lip, a move she instantly regretted as his eyes fastened on her mouth and he licked his lips.
She weighed her options. Her back was, literally, to the wall. He was a big man. Not as tall or as muscular as Connor certainly, but he still towered over her. He’d been drinking, apparently quite a bit, but she doubted even that would give her the leverage she needed to defeat him in a contest of strength, if it came to that.
Which left her with her wits as her only weapon. And as stupid as she’d been to come out here in the dark alone, she was feeling sorely underarmed and outmanned.
“Well, since my decision hasn’t changed, I really do need to get going. I’m sure Mairi’s waiting for me and I don’t want her to worry.”
“I canna believe Mairi has any thought as to where you are, wee Caitlyn.”
He took her braid into his hand, staring down at it. He slid his fingers down her hair, jerking off the small strip of cloth she tied there, crushing it in his hand.
Real panic engulfed her as his other hand tugged at the laces that held her dress closed over her shift. For the first time in her life, Cate regretted not having learned even one of the martial arts moves Jesse was always trying to teach her. She could certainly use one of them now.
She tried to push him away, but he pressed up against her body, crushing her back into the wall, his breath in her ear when he spoke.
“Is it a rendezvous yer here for then? I wonder who it is you might be thinking to meet so late at night in a dark stable? I wonder what you might be planning to meet him for? Perhaps he’s no coming and we should start without him.”
His mouth came down harshly over hers, his teeth grinding into her lips when she heard the deep baritone response to his question.
“That would be me she’s waiting for, and I’m no one to take kindly to her starting anything without me.”
Blane eased slightly away from her, allowing her just enough room to see Connor standing at the edge of the torchlight. His hair was dripping, the small side braid plastered to his cheek. His wet shirt molded to the chest muscles that flexed as he deliberately laid his hand on the hilt of his sword. But it was his eyes that held Cate’s attention, glittering with intent.
She’d thought earlier that Blane looked predatory. Connor looked absolutely feral.
Slowly moving to her side, Blane let her laces slide through his fingers and she released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. He continued to move slowly away from her until he was nearly a yard distant.
Connor hadn’t moved at all.
He and Blane stared at one another, locked in some primal battle of wills.
“Sorry, Cousin.” Blane bowed his head slightly, a little off-balance, though never breaking eye contact with Connor. He held up the little strip of cloth he’d taken from Cate’s hair. “Should I assume this to be yer territory marker then? It is yer plaid, is it no?”
Connor’s eyes continued to glitter dangerously, but his voice was low and even when he spoke. “Aye, Cousin. I’d think you’d hae recognized it sooner. It marks her as mine. But you were already aware of that, were you no? This is ground we’ve covered before.”
Cate ran the back of her hand over her mouth, tasting blood where her lip had been cut. She heard a pathetic whimper and was shocked to realize it had come from her.
Connor strode to her side then, turning his back on Blane. He gently took her laces and tied them with shaking hands. He pulled her hand from her mouth and looked at the blood smeared there, his face losing all expression. His eyes hardened as he turned and moved toward his cousin.
They stared at one another for a brief moment.
Connor leaned over and picked up the strip of plaid from the floor where Blane had dropped it. He straightened and, without warning, swung his arm, connecting the back of his hand to Blane’s mouth with a sickening thud. Blane flew back against the stall nearest to where he’d been, sliding slowly to the hay-strewn floor. He brought his hand up to his mouth, where blood trickled from the corner. He shook his head and glowered at Connor but said nothing.
Connor’s voice was low and lethal as he leaned down over Blane. “Consider that yer last warning, Cousin. Cate belongs to me. I’ll no kill you this time because yer in yer cups, and I’m thinking you’ve no idea what you’ve done.” He paused and breathed deeply as if he were fighting for control when he spoke. “But mark my words. If you ever touch her again, you’ll take yer last breath at my hand.”
* * *
Connor stalked across the courtyard, dragging Cate along beside him. She was forced to run to keep up with his stride, but he didn’t care. White-hot fury slashed through his entire being. It filled him, consumed him, leaving space for only one other emotion. An emotion with which he had no experience.
Fear.
Fear for what had almost happened to her. Fear for what could yet happen to her.
The mist had turned to a steady falling rain, but Connor didn’t feel the cold. He was impervious to everything around him until Cate stumbled and would have fallen but for the grip he kept on her arm. He stopped.
Turning his face up to the heavens, he breathed deeply, raggedly, fighting desperately to regain some vestige of control over his raging emotions. His eyes closed, the rain washing over his face, his mind continued to replay the same scenes over and over. Blane’s hands on Cate; her dress hanging open, exposing the soaked shift she wore underneath; the heart-wrenching sound of her whimper; the blood he’d seen when he’d lowered her hand from her mouth. Her blood.
He opened his eyes and gazed down at her. Her face, too, was turned skyward, eyes closed, allowing the rain to wash down over her. Her hair, completely loosened now, hung in clumps about her shoulders. The raindrops joined in her lashes and rolled down her cheeks in small rivulets of water. She looked delicate and fragile. His stomach clenched as the unfamiliar fear rolled over him once more.
“Yer going back to yer room and yer staying there.” He forced the words through gritted teeth.
“No.” She breathed the word wearily, keeping her eyes closed. “I don’t want to go to my room now. I need to talk to you.”
“You’ll do as I say.” He yelled it at her, grabbing her other arm and giving her a small shake.
Her eyes flew open. “I’ll do no such thing. I told you I need to—”
“You will.” He cut her off.
The fear receded, leaving a cold calm behind. He knew what he had to do now.
“You’ll do exactly what I say.
You’ll stay in yer room. You’ll go out only with an escort. I’ll no risk harm to you again so long as yer here, Cate. I canna.”
Her eyes blazed with rebellion as she opened her mouth to respond.
He’d allow no discussion. Crushing her to him, he covered her mouth with his. He intended to punish her for her defiance, but the moment their lips met, he could think of nothing but her softness and his need for her. He ravished her mouth, pouring his soul into the kiss.
Forcing himself to pull back, he looked down at her. Her lips were softly parted, her eyes glazed.
Seeing her that way, he decided to follow one of his urges from earlier in the evening. He gathered her up in his arms, tossed her over his shoulder and headed toward the castle.
He smiled triumphantly, knowing the shock would guarantee her silence. It did.
At least for the first few moments.
* * *
“Put me down this very instant,” Cate hissed into the back she hung against, emphasizing her demand by smacking her hand into him. She might as well have been smacking the stone walls around her.
One minute she’d been trying to get her wits about her to tell Connor what she’d discovered, the next he was kissing her senseless. And then, without even allowing her time to recover, he’d slung her over his back like a bag of dirty laundry, hauling her off through the darkened castle halls.
“Be quiet,” he growled, tightening his grip around her legs.
They came to a stop and she realized they had reached her room. He slammed the door open and stomped inside, dumping her unceremoniously onto her bed.
“What’s going on?” Mairi jumped up from her spot by the fire. “What are you—”
“Out.” He pointed at the door without taking his eyes from Cate’s.
“But what—”
“Out,” he bellowed, and Mairi ran from the room.
“Look, Connor, I don’t know what you think you’re doing but—”
He didn’t allow her to finish. “I canna stand guard on you twenty-four hours a day, woman, and since you’ve no the good sense to watch out for yerself, I’ll no allow you to blunder into harm again. I’ll hear nothing from you on this. Yer confined to this room. You’ll go nowhere without Duncan or myself in attendance.”
Thirty Nights With a Highland Husband Page 12
