by Blair, Willa
“Raise yer arms, lass.”
His voice fell over her shoulders, like warm honey over bread hot from the oven, and teased her nipples to peaks. She lifted her arms and leaned back as he pulled the heavy travel dress’s skirt upward then over her head.
As he laid it aside on the bed, his gaze fell to her chest. He swallowed.
She pushed her advantage, stepping close enough to brush her breasts against his chest. “Could ye unlace this one, too, please? I canna reach it.” She turned, making certain her hip brushed his groin as she did so.
The heat and pressure of his fingers as he fumbled with the laces at the top of her dress made her long for more. If he wanted to, he could easily turn her around, slip the rest of her clothes from her body and bind himself to her as she longed for him to do. She reached up and pulled her hair aside, exposing her nape. Would he touch her there, trailing warm, blunt fingers down her neck to spread her dress and help it fall from her shoulders? Would he even kiss her there?
Someone knocked on the door. Kenneth’s fingers stilled, tangled in the laces at her waist. He pulled them free and went to the door. Catherine turned to face it, disappointed. She’d forgotten about the innkeeper’s promised hot water. At least, she was still dressed. A lad came in with towels slung over his shoulders, lugging a steaming bucket. He poured its contents into the wash basin, dropped the towels on the chamber’s one chair, then turned and left, all without a word or making eye contact with either her or Kenneth.
Kenneth caught the door before it closed completely. “I’ll step outside and let ye bathe,” he said, his voice deeper and more gruff than usual. “Use it all. I dinna need to.”
“Stay, Kenneth.” She wanted him to. She wanted him.
“I’ll be right outside. Call for me when ye are finished.”
He didn’t give her a chance to reply. He slipped out and closed the door behind him. Just as well, Catherine thought. She would have begged him to stay, and for a lass determined to preserve some remnant of her dignity, doing so would have been foolish.
She stripped to her skin and took care of her needs. The hot water was bliss as was the rough towel she used to dry off. If she could have moved the basin to the floor, she would have soaked her tired feet in it. Instead, she soaked the towel she’d dampened drying off and wrapped it around her feet, enjoying the moist heat until it cooled. Then she moved the chair nearer the fire, washed her shift in the basin’s remaining hot water, and hung the garment over the chair to dry. Come morning, she would have something clean next to her skin.
And when Kenneth came in and found her naked in the bed, perhaps what he saw would entice him to join her. She considered for a moment calling him in while she stood unclothed before the fire, but her nerve failed her before she could call out his name. She would be bold, but not quite that bold. Not yet. She wanted more from him than seduction. She wanted him to want to be with her. To stay with her, not just for the night. She got into bed and pulled the covers up to her shoulders, leaving the dry towel at the foot of the bed.
If that meant he slept on the floor, so be it.
He opened the door and came in moments after she called. He barely glanced around the room. Surely he saw her bare shoulders peeking out above the blanket? Her shift on the chair. But he didn’t react, and something in Catherine gave up. Perhaps she should have stood naked before the fire.
He closed the door and stretched out across the entryway, then closed his eyes. His determination to avoid her reminded her so strongly of how he’d lain on the very edge of the blanket in Craig’s barn, she sat up and threw the dry towel at him. Let him use it for a pillow, or a cover, she didn’t care. She turned her back to him and pulled the covers up to her neck.
* * *
The next morning, he left the room to let her dress, then they rode onward along a good track used by drovers that ran from Stonehaven up to Aberdeen. When they reached the bluff above the smugglers’ bay, no ship waited. Catherine’s heart sank.
“By my reckoning, it would have left two days ago,” Cam admitted, still yawning after his night in the barn. “Though I hoped I was wrong.”
“What next, then?” Catherine asked. She expected Cam had passed a more peaceful night than she had. Knowing Kenneth lay mere feet from her, refusing to come to her, kept her tossing and turning. Kenneth had remained silent as she struggled to find sleep, and he did so now, apparently content for the moment to survey the pebbled beach below them.
“We might catch it at Aberdeen,” Cam replied with a frown, “or miss it entirely and have to hope a ship bound for the Highlands is in port.”
“Let’s go, then.” Kenneth turned his mount. Catherine followed and Cam brought up the rear. Their path took them inland, away from the coast for several miles, and the farther north they went, the worse the countryside looked.
“Can Domnhall have already gotten this far and burned Aberdeen to the ground as he threatened?” Kenneth wondered aloud. “Or will Mar’s men do it for him? They are doing more damage the farther they go.”
Catherine had to agree.
“As much as sailing home would be easier and safer, getting to a ship looks to be harder and not safe at all,” Kenneth complained. “Especially no’ for Cat. Too much destruction.”
“’Tis safer than cutting across war-torn countryside full of desperate people and two armies,” Cam argued.
Kenneth shook his head. “In the mountains, we can stay out of sight.”
When they found burned bodies at the next croft, Catherine had seen more than enough. Belly churning, she covered her mouth and choked out, “This is no’ good. We’re too exposed near the coast. I’m for turning inland right now.”
“With luck, we could be sailing by sunset,” Cam argued, his expression pinched. The smell must bother even him.
“Or wind up like them,” Catherine responded, hoping what she was feeling was prudence, and not that she was losing her nerve. They were still a long way from home. “We’ve had nay luck at finding a ship.” She made eye contact with each man, daring them to argue, then added, “Kenneth was right. We can take the narrower tracks through the mountains an army can no’ use. We can hide in the trees. That is how we should go.” She turned her mount and took off, forcing the men to follow.
Near sunset, they encountered men headed west, some injured, some hale, all glad to be alive. Kenneth’s mouth settled into a grim line when they learned from them the battle had already happened two days before, northeast of their present location, on the way to Aberdeen. Kenneth traded a look with Cam that said they might never have made Aberdeen at all. Though horrified by the tales the men told of the ferocity of the battle and the astounding number of the dead, Catherine was relieved. Kenneth had missed the fighting. He was safe and with her. Now if they could get to Brodie, they’d have a chance at the future she wanted. At the future Kenneth had once wanted. She had time to change his mind and make him imagine a life with her again.
Kenneth questioned the men they met. Since they were not pursued, everyone supposed Mar’s remaining forces had turned east for Aberdeen. Eventually one man told them when he’d last seen Brodies and how they’d passed him by while he searched for a lost comrade. Kenneth thanked the man, then rode off.
Catherine exchanged a glance with Cam, who gestured for her to follow. She frowned and complied, though suddenly reluctant. The men of Kenneth's clan couldn’t be very far ahead. Brodie fighters meant the end of her relative privacy with Kenneth. Kenneth’s obligations to his clan would suddenly be impossible to ignore. It meant facing Iain, too, if he’d survived the battle. She wouldn’t have to go as far as Brodie or Rose to be in trouble. She was certain she’d hear about all of her shortcomings from Iain first.
They caught up to Kenneth, and soon found the Brodie contingent following a burn through a grassy glen. Iain was not with them. A man Catherine didn’t know explained, “He’s arranging a way to get more wounded men home. Do ye ken about Calum?”
; Kenneth dismounted and spoke quietly to the man, whose voice carried to Catherine.
“Hours ago, we managed to claim an abandoned wagon,” the man said. “Iain sent Calum on ahead with three men, to get him to the healer.”
“Is Iain still at the battlefield?” Kenneth demanded in a louder tone.
“Nay. He’s coming behind,” the man explained, pointing at a more northerly angle from their back trail. “He should be along soon.”
Catherine’s heart sank at the news. Brodie would not be the only clan with dead and injured men. She dismounted and approached them. “What about Rose?”
The man shook his head. “Sorry, lass. I dinna ken what happened to the Rose fighters. We got separated in the battle…”
Catherine shook her head as ice slid down her spine. Guilt suddenly weighed on her for running away, replacing the righteous indignation she had carried these past weeks. She had refused three betrothals that would have led to alliances good for clan Rose. Had her absence made her da think he had no choice, and driven him into joining The Lord of the Isle’s army to secure what he saw as an even more advantageous alliance? As angry as she was with her father, she didn’t want him dead on some battlefield to the east. Where was he, and where were her clansmen?
* * *
Kenneth turned them in the direction the man had indicated, looking for the main group of Brodie warriors—and Iain. His laird would have news of neighboring clans, including whether the Rose had joined the fight himself or just sent men to Domnhall. For Cat’s sake, he hoped her father was well. With only daughters to inherit, clan Rose territory would be easy pickings for Domnhall, should he care to add Rose’s land and people to the Ross and other western holdings he already claimed.
Cat rode beside him, looking pensive and worn out. She’d shown great fortitude during the trip, but he could see the miles and her worries taking a toll on her. Sutherland looked little better.
Kenneth was tired after staring all night at the ceiling of the chamber he’d shared with Cat, listening to her toss and turn and knowing she wore nothing under the bedcovers. He’d had plenty of time to contemplate his sins, past and prospective. They alone had kept him in place, on the floor, instead of naked and in bed with Cat, enjoying all the delights she so gently offered. If he’d come in and found her naked before the fire, he would have taken her. Such behavior suited the whores in France, but he’d refused to teach Cat what they knew. Though he regretted his sins, he regretted the missed opportunity, too. Cat wanted him. He had no doubt she’d thrown that towel at him in frustration. And he wanted her. But undressing and hiding from him under the covers proved to him she was still innocent. He was glad her bold challenge to him in the library had been far from her mind last night. What they both wanted had consequences he wasn’t ready to accept.
When he noticed Iain approaching up the glen, Kenneth’s elation at finding a group of Brodie warriors headed home turned to anxiety. He’d been gone from Brodie for weeks and had thought about never returning. Yet one glimpse of his friend and laird set his heart to racing as though preparing for battle, and the sense of homesickness he’d felt when he encountered the familiar faces of those men swamped him anew. All this time, he’d been more angry at himself, he realized, than at Iain. He had a lot to atone for—to Cat and to Iain.
He knew the moment Iain spotted him.
Iain pulled up on the reins, slowing his mount, then kicked it into motion again and rode up. “What the hell are ye doing here? Ye are supposed to be in Stirling.” Then he leaned over and grabbed Kenneth around the neck before he could reply and gave him a fierce hug. “I am glad to see ye,” he said as he released him. “I am. Now explain.”
Kenneth didn’t waste a breath. Iain wanted answers and in typical Iain fashion, he wanted them now. “I’ve come from St. Andrews, where I was taken from Stirling. I heard what Domnhall was up to and escaped. Once hostilities broke out, there was no point in continuing to claim the bishop’s hospitality. I hoped to join ye before the battle.”
“So ye are late as usual, aye?” Iain reached over again, but this time to slap him on the back. Then he laughed. “Ye are a sight for sore eyes, and aye, we couldha used ye…days ago.” He paused, then added, “Though, without weapons, ye wouldna have been able to do much.” He nodded. “We picked up plenty of steel on the battlefield. Ye can have yer choice of blades of any size.”
Kenneth shrugged, fighting the urge to grip the handle of his stolen dirk. “How did Brodie fare?”
Iain’s mouth pinched, and he gave a little shudder. “Better than most, worse than some.” He gestured at the Brodie riders still gathered nearby. “Did that lot tell ye about Calum?”
“Aye.” Kenneth put as much regret as he could into the tone, then sighed. If he’d fought with Brodie, perhaps their losses would have been fewer.
“I pray our healer can save his sight, but I’m no’ hopeful.” He turned his horse and slapped the reins on its neck to get it moving—homeward.
Kenneth, perforce, did the same. He glanced over his shoulder where Cat and Cameron Sutherland waited. Iain had yet to notice them, which surprised him. Iain usually saw everything. But perhaps he was still distracted by the battle and its aftermath.
Iain’s gaze roved the countryside around them, searching, Kenneth supposed, for more wounded, or for ambush. That thought brought him up short and he scanned the surrounding tree-covered hills. “What are ye looking for?”
“Brodies I’ve yet to find. Domnhall demanded such a hasty retreat overnight, we had nay chance to search the battlefield for our dead and wounded. We were slowed by the injured we did manage to find, so some of my men may have gotten ahead of us.”
“Domnnhall lost?” That surprised Kenneth. The Lord of the Isles surely commanded an overwhelming force.
“He claims we won. But in truth, both sides lost.” Iain frowned. “Both had such heavy casualties, the ground ran red with blood.” He stayed silent for a long time, then added, “I think Domnhall realized carrying on the fight would have been pointless.” He ran a hand roughly through his hair. “All those Scots died, and they didn’t solve anything.”
Kenneth reached over and briefly clasped a hand on Iain’s shoulder.
Iain nodded. “Well, let’s speak of other things. How did ye get from Sterling to St. Andrews? And from there to here?” He swept a hand aside, taking in the glen they rode through.
Kenneth shrugged and tried for a bit of his old humor, thinking if anyone needed a chuckle, Iain surely did. “The usual way. On foot and on horseback.”
Iain cut him a glance, but didn’t smile.
Kenneth shifted his weight in the saddle. So much for trying to lighten Iain’s mood. “Someone put the idea into Albany’s head that moving the hostages would keep their clans from rescuing them,” Kenneth continued. “Those of us at Stirling got sent in different directions. In St. Andrews, I was the only hostage—the bishop treated me well enough. But when the news arrived that Domnhall had taken Dingwall, then headed for Inverness, I knew my status would change, and no’ in a good way. ’Twas time to get outside the castle—and the city walls. Highlanders were no’ safe on the streets.”
“And ye came all this way alone?”
Kenneth winced and glanced aside. Cat and Sutherland were well behind him and Iain. “Nay, I had…companions.”
“Where are they?”
Kenneth hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “With the lads, behind us.”
Iain pulled up. “I want to meet them,” he demanded.
Kenneth stiffened and reined in his mount, too, knowing what was coming. Iain would not be pleased to see his wife’s sister in Kenneth’s company in any case. Even less so to find her here. But he couldn’t avoid the confrontation. He nodded and turned his mount. Sutherland’s larger form was easy to spot, but for a bad moment, he couldn’t see Cat among the ragtag remains of the Brodie fighters. Then he located her, trailing behind the northerner, in conversation with someone he couldn’t see
. He kicked his mount and headed their way.
Iain kept pace, then slowed. “Ach, nay. Ye canna be serious.”
Cat’s gaze met Kenneth’s and went wide-eyed. After a moment’s hesitation, she pulled her mount around Sutherland’s and approached. “Iain,” she greeted him. “’Tis good to see ye alive—and hale.”
Kenneth noted the set of her shoulders and the lift of her chin as she regarded his laird. Aye, she was daring Iain to chastise her. He was certain that was a very bad idea, but her courage made him proud, nonetheless.
“Sister. I’m surprised to find ye here.” Iain’s tone was deceptively mild.
Kenneth expected sparks to fly at any moment, most of them in his direction. He could take them. He didn’t want Cat singed. “’Twas my decision. I judged St. Andrews no safe place for any Highlander, even a lass, once the news reached us…”
Sutherland rode up in time to hear Kenneth’s comment. “And a sound judgment it was,” he added, “given what we heard only a day later, was done to a Highland sympathizer. A priest, no less. I’m Cameron Sutherland,” he added. “Or Cam. And ye are?”
“Iain, Laird Brodie,” Kenneth, Iain, and Cat chorused in unison.
“Ah….” Sutherland cleared his throat. “Well then, ’tis good to meet ye, Laird Brodie. I’ll be glad of a larger escort, at least as far as the firth, on my way home. We all might get more sleep.”
That comment startled Iain into uncharacteristic silence.
“Kenneth and Cam have been very good escorts,” Cat put in with a narrow-eyed glance toward each. “Most of the time.”
Iain found his voice at the same time Kenneth and Sutherland objected, “Most?”
Cat snickered at the sound of three male voices raised in outrage, but Kenneth wondered what Iain must think. Cam’s phrasing could be interpreted as provocative, or simply a statement about the difficulty of posting a night guard with only two men available to take the duty. Cam could be flippant. Kenneth hoped he had not just put Cat’s reputation at risk.
