by Carmen Caine
He panted as, his head dropped to her forehead. He eased his weight off her, lying at her side, his hands still caressing her silken skin.
Breathless, she looked up at him, her green eyes dark with passion. As he ran his hand lightly down her body, she shivered.
“Lass, ye delight me,” he said huskily.
She smiled. “I haven’t quite figured out what it is you do to me.”
He laughed and pulled her to him so her back was to his chest and his arms encircled her. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to keep doing it then, at least until you get it sorted out,” he said, and kissed her head.
~ * ~
In moments his breathing had become slow and regular and she knew he had drifted off to sleep. She found that a little astonishing because she felt energized. As she listened to his deep steady breaths, she enjoyed feeling the weight of his arms around her.
She had never really imagined what it might be like to fall in love, or to feel loved by a man. Smiling to herself, she supposed that as a young lass she might have had some romantic notions about love. She couldn’t really remember too much about her parents’ relationship. As in her marriage, her parents barely knew each other when they wed, but they had seemed affectionate. She remembered her father’s sorrow when her mother died. Maybe they had grown to love each other.
After her father died, she’d had precious little time to think of much else other than protecting her clan and herself from her vicious uncle. The fear of who her uncle might choose for her accompanied any thought of marriage, so she avoided romantic thoughts at all costs.
Now she found herself in the arms of a husband who, by all accounts, was a good man who was respected by his clan. She enjoyed his company and she reveled in his love-making. She knew she could love Niall, but she feared he could not love her in return. She had heard him tell Cairbre, “My heart was never part of this bargain.” A voice inside told her to tread carefully; there would be pain on this road. It would be best to accept what Niall could offer, but at all costs protect her heart.
Then Father James’ words came back to her. You have learned the surest way to open yourself to hurt is to love, and yet you love anyway. She realized it was too late. Not only could she love him, but she feared she had already lost her heart. If you can’t love me back, Niall, please, please, don’t hurt me too badly.
~ * ~
The sun had risen when Niall woke in the morning with the beautiful nymph from last night still in his arms. The lacerations on her back had mostly healed, leaving red scars. He knew eventually they would fade, joining the other fine white lines there, but he wondered if he would ever be able to look at them without a murderous rage building. He leaned down to kiss her white shoulder.
She stirred and rolled over to face him. Smiling sleepily, she said, “Good morning.”
“Good morning, my sweet,” he said and kissed her.
She stretched like a cat as she wrapped her arms around him, returning his kiss full measure. He wanted nothing more than to make love to her again as he had last night, but he knew he should give her a little time. He pulled away, saying, “Ah, temptress, we will have to pick this up later, or nothing will ever be accomplished at Duncurra again.”
“Well, then, get off me, ye brute,” she said, laughing. As he rolled to his side, she hopped out of bed, washed quickly, and dressed. After watching her for a bit, he, too, rose to dress and as he did, she asked, “Niall, have you given any more thought to Tomas?”
He really didn’t want to start the morning out with this, but he knew he had to address the issue. Resigned to it he answered, “Some. Tell me, why was Tomas living in the stable at Cotharach?”
“Because I was fond of him and my uncle is cruel.”
He frowned and said, “I was looking for a bit more information than that.”
She sighed, “It isn’t just that Uncle Ambrose is cruel, it is almost as if he enjoys causing pain. He takes pleasure in his victim’s reaction to it.”
The anger Niall felt earlier, when looking at her scarred back, rose again.
Katherine paced as she explained. “I learned if I controlled my emotions and didn’t let him see he was hurting me, he soon lost interest in trying. Then he discovered he could hurt me through other people. If he saw me show someone a kindness, causing that person pain became another way to punish me. When Tomas’ grandfather died a few months ago, Uncle Ambrose found a new target in the boy. He said he was being very generous to let Tomas live in the stable and if anyone interfered, they would be punished. I interfered a bit.”
Niall arched an eyebrow. “The scars on your back suggest ye interfered more than a bit.”
“All right, I interfered a lot, but no one else dared.”
Niall thought about this for a moment. “So you feel responsible for him?”
“Partially, I suppose.” Her brow furrowed as she appeared to consider her feelings about the little boy.
“I have clansmen with families who would take him in.”
She looked stricken. “Do you think that is best? I was hoping—I was just hoping...” she stammered. “Niall, please, can he not just stay with us?”
Niall reached for her to stop her pacing. With his hands on her shoulders, he said, “As what Katherine—a stable boy? He needs parents.”
“Can we not be his parents?”
“Ye are asking me to claim a Lowland peasant child as my foster son?”
“It doesn’t matter to me that he was a peasant. I—I’m sorry, I didn’t think it would matter to you. I love him,” she finished somewhat helplessly.
She had finally said the words he wanted to hear. “That doesn’t matter to me. I want him to have parents who love him.” He paused again, considering the decision he was about to make. “I think he will. He is ours.”
She rewarded him with a heart-stopping smile and, to his surprise, threw her arms around him and kissed him soundly.
~ * ~
When they arrived in the great hall they found a number of people there breaking their fast. Fingal, Diarmad, and Tomas sat at the laird’s table.
Before Niall and Katherine joined them, Edna, Bridie, and several other women approached. Edna said, “Laird, there is something the women of the clan would like to give Lady Katherine.”
He nodded to her and she turned to Katherine.
“My lady, it is a Highland tradition that when a woman is married, she covers her hair with a kertch.” She indicated the covering on her own head. “It is a triangle of pure white linen and represents the Holy Trinity, under whose guidance the bride will walk. By custom, the bride’s mother or another clanswoman ties it on her head the morning after her wedding, asking for God’s blessing on the new bride.”
Bridie stepped forward and said, “We became your clanswomen when ye married our laird and, although a few mornings have passed since your wedding, we would like to give ye a kertch now.” She tied the kertch on Katherine’s head. Together the women said the prayer for God’s blessing and each one gave her a kiss on the cheek.
Overcome by the gesture, Katherine let several tears slipped down her cheeks before she could blink them back. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Edna gave her a quick hug, and the other women curtsied before excusing themselves.
Niall hadn’t thought much about it, frankly, but the fact that his clanswomen had welcomed her in this way pleased him. Even though it was not a custom in the Lowlands, the gracious way in which Katherine had accepted it also pleased him. Smiling, he took her hand, guiding her to the table. She wiped away her tears as they sat down. Tomas looked at her seriously and said in a loud whisper to Fingal, “Lady Katherine doesn’t like people to see her cry.”
“It’s all right, Tomas,” she said, embarrassed. “These are happy tears.”
“Tomas,” Niall said, his voice sounding very serious.
“Aye, Laird?” Tomas answered in a small voice.
“Lady Katherine and I have decided ye need
to have a family; ye need parents.”
“But I don’t know how to get a family.” Tomas sounded concerned.
“That’s all right, you don’t need to worry about that.” Katherine knelt beside him. “We thought maybe you would like for us to be your parents.”
“Really? Can I call you Mama?”
“Aye, sweetheart,” she said, and he flung himself into her arms, nearly knocking her over with his fierce hug. Then he looked shyly up at Niall and asked in another loud whisper, “What do I call the laird?”
“I think ‘Da’ will be fine.” Niall said and Tomas threw his arms around Niall’s legs.
Fingal laughed, saying, “Before ye ask, Tomas, ye can call me Uncle Fingal.”
Chapter 9
With Edna’s help, Katherine slipped easily into life at Duncurra during the next several weeks. Her days fell into a comfortable rhythm. Although she was in the habit of waking very early, Niall generally arose before her. He had usually dressed and gone by the time she woke. He spent much of the day away from the keep, seeing to the needs of the clan and the training of his men, while she managed the keep.
Katherine looked forward to the evenings when they sat together by the hearth in the great hall before retiring. While no one could ever forget Niall was their laird, he seemed more relaxed and at his ease during this time. Fingal and Diarmad nearly always joined them, as did other guardsmen occasionally. Tomas also liked to stay with them at least long enough to hear several stories before Katherine put him to bed. During these relaxed evenings, she began to see the man she married more clearly.
When they did retire, she found joy with him she had never dared to hope for. One evening as they lay in each other’s arms, savoring the afterglow of their love-making, the gold ring on her left hand caught her eye. She smiled to herself as she remembered her thoughts about it on her wedding day. As each day passed she recognized that the stranger to whom the king had given her hand now very firmly held her heart.
Happier than she had been in many years, Katherine embraced her Highland clansmen and their culture without reserve. She found the women of her new clan more than willing to help her adjust. She hadn’t had a woman in her life to guide and help her since her mother’s death, and it pleased her when every matron in the clan, most particularly Bridie, treated her like a daughter. It was not uncommon to hear, “Och, lass, let me show ye now, if ye do that this way...,” She was genuinely happy to learn from them. She didn’t mind the familiarity. It also wasn’t uncommon to hear her say to an older woman, “Och, Ana, that is much too heavy for ye to lift. Let me get it.” Truthfully, she knew exactly how to run a castle and she worked as hard as her clanswomen did, which earned her their respect.
Learning how to live with the man she had married proved to be a bit more difficult. As laird, he ruled the clan without question. The words he said to her on her first evening at Duncurra, Katherine, if I ask ye to do something, I want no argument. I expect ye to do it, came back to her over and over again.
Katherine had no idea how difficult that seemingly simple request would be for her. It seemed odd in a way because her uncle had certainly been demanding. If he gave her a specific order, she followed it, or at least her interpretation of it. However, other than the things he needed to ensure his own personal comfort, he didn’t really care about much else. She found Niall much more demanding in many ways, and while he would never raise a hand to her, she managed to raise his ire frequently. More often than not this happened because she broke a rule she either didn’t know or didn’t understand. In some cases she didn’t quite realize something he said was an order.
On one of these occasions Katherine was working in one of the kitchens preparing an infusion of wych elm. When it came to preparing the plants and herbs she used in medicines, she preferred to complete the tasks herself to ensure the best results. Although time for the midday meal approached, she didn’t expect Niall back at Duncurra until evening. She planned to finish her task and, if necessary, give orders to serve the meal without her. One of the serving maids found her in the kitchen.
“Lady Katherine, the laird has just arrived.”
“He’s back already? I didn’t expect him until much later.”
“He said he is ready for the meal to be served.”
Intent on her work, Katherine said cheerily, “Oh, please begin without me, then.”
In a few minutes the maid was back, saying, “My lady, the laird asks ye to join him for the meal.”
“Well, please tell him I can’t leave just at the moment. I need to finish this. Go ahead and serve the meal, and I will be along in a bit.”
Moments later a white-faced Bridie found her and said, “Och, lass, the laird’s in a fine temper. I will finish this for ye. Go.”
“What is he in a temper over?” Katherine asked, thoroughly confused.
“Lass, did Seanna not just come and tell ye the laird wants ye to join him for the meal?”
“Aye, but—”
“If he wants ye to join him, ye’d best not keep him waiting,” she said, shooing her away from the kettle.
Exasperated, Katherine went into the hall. It was unusually quiet and the glare with which he pierced her as she entered would have put the fear of God into most people. When she reached the table, she said matter-of-factly “You’re angry.”
“Aye. I’m angry.”
Glancing at the table, she saw Diarmad suddenly rubbing his brow, looking as if he was trying desperately not to laugh.
“Why?” she asked.
“Why?” he repeated incredulously. “Ye defied me.”
“Defied you?” She sounded astonished. “I’m terribly sorry. I certainly didn’t intend to defy you.”
“Ye didn’t intend—Katherine, sit down,” he growled and motioned for the meal to be served.
When the noise in the hall rose to normal levels, Katherine leaned over and said sweetly, “Niall, how did I defy you?”
Diarmad shook in silent laughter.
Now it was Niall who looked astonished. “Were ye not told that I wanted ye to join me l?”
“Aye.”
“And did ye not say me nay?”
“Not exactly, I didn’t realize it was a command, and I just couldn’t leave what I was doing at that moment.”
“Katherine, if I ask ye to do something, I expect ye to do it. I don’t care what else ye are doing at the time. I will not tolerate defiance. Don’t do it again.”
His anger seemed diffused and she ate in silence for a few minutes before asking, “Just so I understand, what do you mean by ‘defiance’?”
Looking even more astounded, he asked, “Do ye truly not understand what the word means?”
“Oh, nay,” Katherine said lightly, “I understand what it means. I am just wondering if it means the same thing to both of us.”
A muscle in Niall’s jaw twitched. “Defiance means willful disobedience. Do we understand each other?”
“Aye, I think we do. So you agree I didn’t defy you and your anger is misplaced.”
“Ye didn’t—I—what?”
“Well, I didn’t realize I had been given a command, thus I couldn’t have made a conscious or willful choice not to follow it. So based on your definition, I didn’t defy you; I was simply confused and you shouldn’t be angry.” She calmly turned her attention back to her trencher.
Niall stared blankly at her for a moment. He chuckled softly, but soon his chuckles evolved to uproarious laughter. When he finally had control of himself again he said, “My lady, I apologize. In the future I will try to make my wishes clearer.”
“It will certainly save you a tremendous amount of upset if you do,” she said imperiously, and he laughed again.
When he had stopped laughing and they were no longer the center of attention, she put her hand on his arm, leaned towards him again, and said in a voice only he could hear, “Niall, please don’t always assume the worst of me. It was a misunderstanding. I would never intent
ionally defy you.”
Katherine had no idea how difficult that simple request was for him.
Chapter 10
Fingal had said Niall “protects his own,” but it took Katherine a while to really understand what that meant. She loved to go riding, but she had been so focused on the management of Duncurra, she hadn’t been on Eachann’s back since the day she arrived. On one late summer day, the open heath outside of Duncurra’s walls practically called to her. She needed to replenish some of her herbs, so she gathered the supplies required for collecting them and headed to the stables. When she asked a stable hand to saddle Eachann for her, he seemed confused and asked, “Are ye riding to the village?”
“I need to gather some medicinal herbs,” she answered by way of explanation.
“In the village?”
She laughed. “Nay, lad, there are not many herbs growing in the village.”
The boy looked uncomfortable and asked, “So ye are planning to ride outside the walls?”
She laughed again. “Aye, lad. I will need to if I want to gather herbs.”
“Then where is your escort, my lady?”
“My escort? I don’t need any help.”
Looking even more uncomfortable, he said, “My lady, ye can’t ride outside the walls of Duncurra without an escort. It wouldn’t be safe. The laird would never allow it. If ye will wait a bit, I will find the laird or Diarmad so an escort can be arranged.”
She smiled at him and said, “Nay, lad. Thank you, but I don’t wish to pull anyone away from more important work.”
Disappointed, she left the stables. It seemed silly to tie up manpower with an escort, especially since she didn’t really need to ride. She just wanted to for the enjoyment of it. She could gather much of what she required just beyond the village, so she strolled down the sloping crag through the crofts. When she reached the barbican, the watch there stopped her. “My lady, I can’t let ye pass.”
