Highlander's Honor (Scottish Highlander Romance)

by Barbara Bard

  “Now we need to discuss Earl Gilbert of Hargrove,” Catrin said, glancing around the high table. “He forced me, against my will, to kneel before a priest and marry him. What are the legal proceedings to get an annulment?”

  Kesterton frowned. “You said you never spoke any vows?”

  “Right. I did not.”

  “And the marriage was not consummated?”

  Catrin smiled. “He threw me in his dungeon, but never touched me other than to hit me.”

  Kesterton glanced around the table. “We can appeal to the King and the church. I do not see why this forced marriage cannot be dissolved.”

  William of Breedmont frowned. “Are you so certain? I am not a student of canon law, but a marriage is a marriage if declared so by a priest.”

  Kesterton banged his fist on the table. “Her father did not give his blessing, he did not want Catrin marrying that filth. As her guardian until she is married, I am declaring the marriage null and void. Besides, he is dead – he just does not know it yet.”

  “So, what are we to do about him?” Catrin asked. “We outnumber him more than ten to one. Should we march and lay siege to his castle, demanding his surrender?”

  Both William and her uncle shook their heads. “No, Catrin,” Kesterton replied. “King Edward would be furious and would find ways to punish us all. We must go through him, permit the King to find him guilty and hang him.”

  “Is he even still in his castle?” Ffolkshire asked. “What information does he have? Does he know Henry is dead and will he try to press his suit as Catrin’s husband?”

  “Let us hope he does,” Ranulf said. “Bring him intae the open.”

  “Surely he knows I am missing by now,” Catrin added, “unless it was his intention to let me starve down there.”

  “Why did he not consummate the marriage?” William asked, his eyes on her curiously.

  Unwilling to admit she and Ranulf had already slept together and that had angered Hargrove, she merely replied, “I fought him when he tried. He said putting me in the dungeon was a punishment and I would learn better.”

  William nodded, accepting it. “He always was a wicked one,” he said. “I never have liked him.”

  “He murdered my brother to clear the way to marrying me and gaining my father’s wealth and lands. We all should find that behavior offensive.”

  Nods and mutters of agreement wafted across the table as Catrin at last picked up her wine to sip. She had hardly eaten of the feast on her plate, did not feel hungry. But when Ranulf nudged her and jerked his chin at it, she tried to make an effort to eat.

  “Was my father poisoned?” Catrin asked, nibbling on a piece of roast chicken. “We must find the outlaw who did it.”

  Kesterton shook his head. “We have no evidence either way, Catrin,” he said. “I have been asking the servants about anyone new since your accusations, and I have been told one such servant disappeared the day your father fell ill.”

  “Is that not proof?”

  “Yes and no. If we find him, we can question him, but unless we do, we have to assume this was your father’s illness, which everyone knew about.”

  “He wi’ return tae Bearstow,” Ranulf said. “Seekin’ his master.”

  “Who is his master?” William asked.

  “John Saul,” Ranulf replied with an evil grin. “He noo resides in Scotland wi’ me men.”

  “I have heard of this outlaw,” William said. “Will you turn him over to English custody for justice?”

  “Aye. If me men have’nae killed him yet.”

  “Forget the outlaw for a moment. Now how do we end this war before it begins?” Kesterton asked. “King Edward and his forces will be here in a week.” He glanced at Ranulf. “I expect King Robert is also marshaling his forces in Scotland?”

  Ranulf nodded. “I hae heard such in the castle ‘o Clan MacCreedy. Nae I wi’ ride tae the Scots and persuade them tae cease gatherin’ the clans. I wi’ send word tae Robert and ask him tae stand doon.”

  “That is a start,” Catrin said. “I myself will write a letter to Edward explaining what happened, and also ask him to rethink this war.”

  “He might listen to you,” William said. “He listened to your father. I, too, will write to him, and together perhaps he will turn his army around and return to London.”

  “We should send our messenger out this very day,” Catrin said.

  “If I were Gilbert ‘o Hargrove,” Ranulf said slowly. “I wid also be sendin’ a letter tae the King, demanding his rights as Catrin’s rightful husband.”

  “That would most likely bring Edward up here, to settle this entire matter,” William said thoughtfully. “If he does, troops on the border of Scotland could flare up regardless of our efforts. Tension between the two realms is strung higher than a lute string.”

  “That is exactly something he would do,” Catrin admitted. “We have to find him before he sets off this war.”

  Chapter 34

  Though he had not been given the old Duke’s lavish apartments, Ranulf had been shown to a series of smaller, but no less comfortable rooms in the same tower where Catrin’s apartments were. He did not mind, for he was not the laird of these lands in Sassenach country.

  Not yet.

  He paced restlessly around the place, examining the tapestries on the walls, the comfortable looking furniture, the priceless hides on the flag stone floor. Oddly, they were quite similar to his own rooms in Dorford Castle. “Not much difference between Sassenach and Scots,” he muttered.

  The feast and meeting had broken up an hour ago, with Catrin taken aside by her uncle, the Earl of Kesterton. Though the hour was growing late, Ranulf had no urge to try to sleep. He knew Aswin and the others would be worried about him when he did not return as he had planned to, and he itched to be in the saddle riding north.

  Pouring himself a goblet of wine, he paced to the window and stared out into the night. “Tomorrow,” he muttered, drinking a gulp of his wine, “I plan tae ride tomorrow.”

  When the knock came at the door, he assumed it was his assigned man servant arriving to prepare him for bed. “Come,” he called, not turning around.

  He listened absently to the light footsteps approach, then spun around when he realized they were too light for a man. Catrin smiled at him, continuing to walk forward until she stood so close, she had to tilt her head back to gaze into his eyes.

  “You act surprised to see me,” she said.

  “Aye,” he breathed, his senses reeling at the scent of her hair, her breath warm on his throat. “I thought ye were with yer uncle.”

  “I was. But I need you, Ranulf. I buried my father today and I need your arms around me.”

  “Aw, lass.”

  Gathering her into his arms, Ranulf held her close, her breasts pressing hard against his chest, her arms around his waist. He breathed in her feminine odors, sensed her emotional vulnerability, felt the slight trembling in her body. His body responded without his consent, the faint stirring in his groin told him how much he wanted her.

  “I love ye, lass,” he murmured against her hair.

  “I love you, too, Ranulf,” she said, her voice muffled against his tunic.

  By her tone, he suspected she cried. Lifting her face from him, he found it to be true. Bending his face to hers, he kissed her tears from her cheeks, tasting her salt, then his lips found hers. She opened up to him willingly, clinging to him almost desperately, kissing him with an ardor that made his manhood rise and strain against his trousers.

  Picking her up, he carried her to his bed, kissing her, her arms around his neck as she pulled his face to hers. Laying her down, he knelt over her, her fingers fumbling at the lacings of his trousers. Shoving them back, exposing his length to her hands, he sucked in his breath to prevent a groan of pleasure escaping.

  “Ye need tae be naked, me love,” he murmured, nibbling on her lips.

  He undressed her with care, slowly, despite her obvious impatience. Her ha
nds stroked his organ, her nails tickling under its head and making him hiss. Baring her body to his hands and mouth, Ranulf licked first one nipple then the other, sucking gently, nipping tenderly with his teeth, Catrin thrashed under him, arching her back, pushing her breasts up and into his attentions.

  Lying beside her, his mouth still teasing her nipples, his hands caressed her flat belly down to her hips. Catrin moaned as his hand slid further down, circled around her pelvis, then across her mound. Spreading her legs, Catrin mutely invited him further, but her hands forced his head from her breasts and her lips demanded his kiss.

  His finger delved between her lower lips, teasing her tiny nubbin, making her moan against his mouth. Even as his tongue danced, tangled, with hers, his hand found her moist, her juices gushing over his fingers. Though she was no longer a virgin, he knew her body still needed time to grow aroused, readying for him.

  Removing his hand from her mound, he caressed her hips and stomach again, relaxing her, teasing her. Taking his mouth from hers, Ranulf once again nibbled and sucked on her erect nipples, licking the faint sting away. He listened to her indrawn breath, her tiny moans of pleasure.

  In this position, she could not reach his manhood, though she strained for it. She bucked her hips up, spreading her legs, lifting her knees. “Take me,” she muttered, her voice hoarse. “I need you. Please.”

  Though she may have wanted it, his fingers delving into her tunnel informed him she was not yet aroused enough. His fingers rubbed her tiny nub, gently pinching, pulling, making her moan and thrash. His mouth captured hers, his tongue stroking the inside of her mouth even as his fingers made her wetter, hotter.

  After several more minutes of teasing her, Ranulf raised his body over hers and pulled his trousers down past his hips. He nudged the entrance to her tunnel with his organ’s head, pushing in a short way. As when he took her virginity, he opened her slowly with short, gentle thrusts, pushing only when he felt her body welcome him.

  Though his own lust desired to bury himself deep inside her with a single fluid lunge, he could not risk hurting her. Forcing himself to contain his own raging desires, he kissed her even as he delved in deeper and deeper, working his organ in slowly, letting her body adjust to his size and length.

  Catrin muttered unintelligible words, moaning, her head thrown back. Ranulf kissed and sucked on her throat, nipping with his teeth then soothing the sting with his tongue. Her nails raked his back in her own fierce lust and desires. Sinking into his full length, he began to stroke smoothly in and out.

  She wrapped her legs around his thighs, granting him deeper access even as his arms wrapped around her hips, raising them, gaining a deeper angle. Burying his face into the pillow beside her head, he gasped for breath as he sawed in and out of her, faster and faster. He knew he would climax soon, her tightness around his hard shaft drove his lust into greater heights.

  He knew when her orgasm took hold of her, for her body shuddered under his and she emitted a long, drawn out moan. He knew he would soon follow as his imminent explosion built and grew deep in his loins. He tried to think of mundane things in order to last longer, but his shaft burst deep within her.

  The intense pleasure of his orgasm shook him to his very core. He continued to thrust into her, prolonging the pleasure of her flesh trapping his, his seed pouring deep into her womb. He groaned through his clenched teeth as his manhood quaked and shuddered, thrusting inside her until he felt his shaft weaken and grow soft.

  Exhausted, he rolled off her. But his arms took her with him, cradling her head on his chest. Catrin’s legs entwined with his as her warm breath caressed his flesh, her hand stroked his cheek, his jaw, his throat. While he wanted to tell her how much he loved her, he knew she had fallen asleep, wearier than he was.

  Smiling, Ranulf held her close and followed her into slumber.

  ***

  Though Ranulf tried to dissuade her from coming with him, Catrin ordered the grooms to saddle a horse for her. “My uncle has everything under control,” she said, handing the groom her saddlebags to tie to the cantle. “I sent the messenger with a letter to King Edward last night along with Breedmont’s.”

  Ranulf sighed. “Ye be safer in yer castle, Catrin. We dinnae ken where Hargrove be.”

  “Most likely sulking in his own,” she replied tartly, wearing a plain gown for traveling under a warm wool cloak. “There is nothing for me to do here, and I can help you persuade the clans to stand down.”

  He did not like risking her so, since messengers sent to the Hargrove castle returned saying the Earl was not there, and no one knew where he had gone. Still, he admitted to himself that Catrin’s presence at his side would lend a great deal of credibility to the clans when he rode north to ask they not go to war with England.

  The Earl of Kesterton, his grey beard and black cloak blowing in the brisk wind, strode toward them as Ranulf spoke again.

  “Ye nae be a great risk tae Hargrove, lass. He told ye he murdered yer brother, noo ye free from him tae tell the King.”

  “I did tell Edward,” Catrin said, “in my message.”

  “But Gilbert does not know that,” Kesterton said, striding up. “Ranulf is right, he had not planned for you to escape him, thus he will not be satisfied to have you back. He must kill you in order to save himself.”

  Catrin stared at them both, her hands on her hips. “It is far more important I help stop this war, Uncle. If the clans see me, united with Ranulf, they surely will think twice about going to war.”

  Kesterton stared helplessly at Ranulf. “Can you not talk her out of this?”

  Ranulf shrugged. “She be as stubborn a wench as an Irish mule.”

  Catrin scowled. “How dare you compare me to a mule.”

  “It be the truth.”

  “I will send an escort of men at arms with you,” Kesterton said. “I think Sir Alban needs a task to get his mind off Henry’s passing. He is taking it hard.”

  “We will be happy to have him along,” Catrin replied, her tone slightly smug to Ranulf’s ears.

  “I wi’ need men tae escort John Saul back tae ye,” he said to Kesterton. “If he still be alive.”

  “Of course. I will see to the soldiers right now.”

  An hour later, Ranulf, with Catrin at his side and Sir Alban behind leading an escort of a dozen men at arms, galloped across the drawbridge. It worried him that Hargrove roamed the countryside while Catrin was not within the stout walls of her castle. The men within it could protect her, yet he could not shield her from an arrow in the back.

  It took them all day, riding hard, to return to the shallow valley where Hargrove and Saul had ambushed them. A shout from atop the ridge announced they had been seen and recognized. The sun had begun its descent over the moors as they trotted into camp, his clansmen hailing him with relief.

  “I thought fer sure ye be killed, laird,” Ian said, clasping his hand as Ranulf dismounted. “We hae planned to gae north oan the morrow.”

  Ranulf grinned, glancing around at the well ordered camp, the fires, and the captives who sat around a fire with their hands and ankles tied securely. Saul appeared paler than Ranulf remembered, his cheeks sunken, though his eyes still glared their hatred toward him. “Ye ken I be tae hard tae kill. How be Aswin?”

  “Healin’.”

  Following the sound of his voice, Ranulf found Aswin lying in his blankets near a fire, his welcoming grin wide. “Right glad I be tae see ye, laird.”

  Catrin slid down from her horse with Sir Alban at her back. “I am so glad you are alive,” she said, hurrying to him to sit beside him. “I saw you fall from your horse and I feared the worst.”

  Aswin dipped his chin in respect. “Thank ye, Me Lady. I also be happy tae see ye.”

  Ranulf eyed Saul and his outlaws. “Ye dinnae kill him then?”

  “Nay, he gie nae trouble.”

  “Then he gae back to England wi’ these men.” Ranulf gestured to the men at arms dismounting and unsaddling their h
orses. He looked at Sir Alban. “Yer men take them come dawn?”

  “Yes.”

  Ranulf followed the direction of his eyes and saw him watching Saul with a neutral expression. But John Saul’s flesh had paled even further, his countenance less defiant. “I think he will wish you had killed him,” Sir Alban continued, thoughtful. “He has a very nasty execution waiting for him in England.”

  “I nae hae the horses tae spare,” Ranulf said. “Those lads wi’ hae tae walk.”

  Sir Alban shrugged. “So, they walk. Tied hand and foot with nooses around their necks, they will have little chance of escaping.”