by Lynsay Sands
"So you remained strapped to the mast all the way to the south of France?" Jetta asked, coaxing her along.
"Nay. The captain claimed he was afraid of another storm coming along and stealing his profits. Once we were far enough away from port that I could not possibly swim to freedom, he untied me from the mast, and tied me to his bed in his cabin instead."
Jetta stiffened, her head coming up. "His bed? He did not--?"
"Rape me?" Cat finished for her when she hesitated to ask. Sneering, she said, "Nay. Did I not mention he was more interested in his first mate?"
"Oh aye," she murmured.
"Anyway," Cateline continued. "The trip was uneventful and short. It only took five hours. There was not a whisper of a storm, but the wind was up. Mostly I was bored during the journey, and then we landed. The captain untied me, ordered me to clean myself up, and after informing me that he had stationed a man outside the window, and would stand guard at the door himself to ensure I did not escape, he locked me in his cabin."
"What did you do?" Jetta asked, her fingers working feverishly at the knots in the rope binding her, despite the certainty she had that it was impossible. The binding was too tight, making it hard to reach much of the rope to work at it.
"What could I do? I prepared myself to meet my doom," Cat said dryly. "By that point I had become resigned to my fate. I would marry the marquis, and become a marchioness, and pray he did not hurt me."
"Did he hurt you?" Jetta asked quietly.
Cat stared at her icily for a moment before speaking again, and when she did, it was not to answer the question. She simply continued with her story. "The marquis was not waiting at the docks as expected. But then, the ship was two days late thanks to the storm and your escape. So the captain hired a wagon, and a maid to accompany us for propriety's sake, and delivered me to the marquis personally."
She fell silent again and Jetta peered at her, wondering what she was thinking. Now that she had her memories back, Jetta suspected she had never really known her sister and that much had been hidden under all her fluff and flounce. Certainly, despite Cat's often selfish ways, Jetta had been completely flummoxed to find herself bound to Le Cok's mast. And even that had not prepared her for finding herself in this situation. The woman before her was not the sister she'd thought she knew growing up. This woman was empty and cold and really rather scary.
"He was beautiful," Cat said finally and there was wonder in her voice. "Truly, I have never seen a more beautiful man. His hair was like spun gold, and his eyes as blue as a cloudless sky. When he smiled, it was enough to make a saint weep." Meeting her gaze, she added, "And he was so charming and kind.
"I expected the wedding to take place right away, but he told me it would not be for a week, that he had arranged it that way for my benefit. He wanted me to feel comfortable with him before we became man and wife." Meeting Jetta's gaze she asked, "Is that not the kindest thing you have ever heard?"
"It was kind," Jetta allowed, and did not tell her Aulay had shown her much more kindness saving her life, pretending to be her husband to make her feel safe and comfortable enough to heal, and in a hundred other ways since she'd washed up on his shores.
"That was truly the most wondrous week of my life," Cateline went on in an almost dreamy voice. "Compliments rolled off his tongue like honey. He proclaimed himself the most fortunate of men to have me to wife. I was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. I would give him the loveliest children. He looked forward to our future together with excitement and wonder."
Smiling softly, she said, "I actually fell in love with him that week. I thought your death was fortuitous, that God had surely arranged it so that I would have to marry this man who had obviously been made just for me. I could see my life before me, and it would be just like a fairy tale. And the wedding!" she exclaimed with remembered delight. "The marquis had planned and prepared in advance. It was not rushed and tawdry like yours."
Jetta stiffened at that description of her wedding to Aulay. It may have been rushed, but there had been nothing tawdry about it in her mind.
"My wedding was beautiful," Cateline continued. "That week he arranged for a dress to be made for me, and it was the most glorious concoction I have ever seen. He spared no expense on the food and drink, and arranged for minstrels and entertainers to come from far and wide. It was like a dream," she breathed. "And then came time for the bedding. I was excited and nervous, but rather than bed me, he said he could see I was afraid, and would give me one more night to adjust to my new home and to him as husband. And then he cut his own hand and smeared the blood on the linens for the priest to find in the morning. But he did not leave the bed," she assured her. "He wrapped his arms around me and held me all night as if I was the most precious creature alive."
Meeting Jetta's gaze, she said solemnly, "I fell asleep feeling cherished and loved, and woke up thinking myself the most fortunate woman in the world." Cat paused as if to savor that feeling for a moment, and then continued, "Of course, the next day all our guests left. They had already stayed more than a week, longer than expected, so every one of our guests was gone by the sup. Frankly, I was happy to see them go. I was eager to spend time with my new husband. But eventually everyone was gone, we sat down to sup, and then my sweet husband escorted me up to our room and my true wedding night began . . . and my lovely dream turned into a nightmare."
Jetta blinked, but remained silent, leaving her to tell it in her own time.
"My beautiful marquis with the honeyed tongue vanished and a cruel, monstrous beast took his place. My wedding night became one long week of unending torture and depravity." Her gaze met Jetta's and for a moment the Cateline she'd known as a child was there, peering out of her eyes. Young, vulnerable, bewildered, she said, "He hurt me . . . and enjoyed the hurting. He did things . . ."
Shuddering, Cat turned her face away as she confessed, "At first, I tried to hide it from the servants and soldiers . . . that he was hurting me. But after the second or third night I could not hide the bruises and burns, they were everywhere, and the servants and soldiers began to eye me with pity. I bore that for a week, but then torturing me in our chamber was not enough. He dragged me naked down to the Great Hall, and beat and raped me on the trestle table for all to see."
Jetta gasped in horror, but Cat wasn't done. "When he was finished, he rolled me off the table to the floor to lie with the dogs as he said I deserved, and then he pissed on me."
"Oh Cat," Jetta breathed with horror, and Cateline's head whipped around like a striking snake, fury all that was left of her.
"Shut up!" she shrieked with rage. "It should have been you! It should have been you who suffered all of that disgusting . . ." She inhaled sharply, and turned away again. After a moment, she continued in a calm, uncaring voice, "Anyway, by that time I was . . ." Turning back, she gave a wry smile and said, "Well, frankly by that time I was so battered and bruised and appeared so weak, no one even imagined that I had anything to do with his falling down the stairs and breaking his neck on the way back to our room."
Chapter 20
Jetta stared at her sister, her thoughts in an uproar as what Cateline had revealed whirled in her mind. She could not begin to imagine what Cat had gone through, and didn't want to. No one deserved to go through that, and Jetta was very aware that she would have suffered that fate herself, had providence not intervened. So, she was not sorry that the marquis was dead. In fact, she took comfort in the knowledge that he could never again hurt Cat, or anyone else. For Jetta was sure a man such as that had not restricted his tortures to just his first wife and Cat, or even females alone.
However, Jetta was more concerned about Cat herself. She was just a ball of pain, buried under rage as far as she could tell. But the lightning-quick way her fury came on and just as quickly seemed to disappear troubled Jetta a great deal. She was certain she now understood Cat and what she was doing a little better. While her sister had been selfish and spoiled before, she was now br
oken . . . and she suspected very, very dangerous.
Taking a deep breath, Jetta released it slowly and simply said, "You pushed him down the stairs."
"Aye." Cateline's mouth twisted with bitterness. "And got absolutely nothing for my trouble. Everything was left to some cousin twice removed; the title, the castle, all that money, everything. Even my dower!" she added with outrage, and scowled as she continued. "The new marquis arrived to be titled four days later, and wanted nothing to do with me. As far as he was concerned I was an interloper. A week to the day after I killed my husband, the new marquis handed me over to Captain Casey."
Jetta gave a start of surprise and Cat smiled bitterly. "Aye, the very same captain who delivered me to France. Bastard," she added. "I shall have to pay him a visit when I am finished here."
Jetta forced herself not to react, but inside she was thinking, Oh God, Oh God, Oh God. Cat was more than broken. She was completely and utterly mad if she planned to go about killing everyone she even imagined had done her a wrong. Jetta had not liked Captain Casey either, but in the end, he had just been doing his job, delivering who he thought was a young girl to her betrothed. An unwilling young woman, but the betrothal contract had been real.
"I was still in bad shape," Cat went on. "But the new marquis could not be rid of me quick enough. He handed me over to the captain with nothing but a sack of coins. Even the jewels I was given as a wedding gift were taken from me. They were family jewels, and were to go to the new marquis's wife.
"I was still battered and bruised, but the marquis had arranged with the captain to have me returned home and we sailed back. Again, Captain Casey was to deliver me himself, but he had things to do first, so had one of his men go out and rent a wagon and put me in it. And then they just left me lying in the damned thing for hours with the sailor to guard me until the captain was ready.
"That is when I found out you were still alive," Cat said with a bitter smile. "I was lying in the bottom of the wagon, wrapped in furs, waiting impatiently for the captain to arrive, and a young man came along. He asked my guard if any ships had sunk in that storm a little more than three weeks back. My guard asked why he was asking, and he said he'd heard that a mast had been found floating about and thought perhaps a ship sank. My guard assured him he had not heard of anything of the like, and the young man went away."
"It was not long after that when the captain finally deigned to show himself. The guard told him what had transpired. They wondered if it was not their mast, and thought it must be, but decided you obviously had not been still on it or would have been mentioned. But I knew," she said with satisfaction. "I just felt it in my bones that that young man or someone connected to him had found you and you were still alive."
"But how did you know where I was?" Jetta asked at once.
"My guard recognized the man who had questioned him as one of the Buchanans. He told the captain they all look alike, but he thought it was the youngest one. Alick."
Jetta closed her eyes on a sigh, but then stilled as it suddenly occurred to her that Cateline had known all along that she hadn't bribed the captain, or escaped the ship. Cat knew the mast had ripped away, taking her with it. It seemed she needed to blame her for her woes in whatever way she could find.
"The captain delivered me home that evening," Cat continued. "Father pretended to be glad to see me alive and well. He claimed he had 'just known' I would come out all right. I smiled and nodded and suggested we celebrate my return."
Cateline offered her a smile that was all teeth. "He tried to say nay at first, but I insisted. We had to toast to my survival, after all. Eventually he agreed and I had the whiskey brought out. We toasted to my survival, and then I insisted we toast to your sad passing, and then Mother's, and so on. I did not drink my own whiskey, but made sure he drank his." Pausing, she glanced upward as if trying to remember and said thoughtfully, "I think it was probably the seventh or eighth whiskey that I put the poison in, and then I insisted on one final toast to his health and watched him die."
Jetta's head jerked up as if a string had been yanked. "You killed our father?"
"With pleasure," Cat growled.
"Why?" Jetta asked with amazement. Her father had given Cat everything she had ever wanted, including shipping Jetta off in Cat's place to marry the marquis at Cat's urging.
"I was very angry with him," Cat growled, her fury flashing briefly, and then it was gone again and she added mildly, "Besides, he was not drinking himself to death as I expected once you were gone. In fact, he was hardly drinking at all anymore. Where Mother's death made him drink, news of your so-called death seemed to sober him up. He stopped drinking altogether except for a stein of ale at the sup." Her mouth tightened, but her tone was still light when she said, "Until the night he died."
Jetta bowed her head. Her sister was more than insane. Killing the marquis was one thing, but their father was quite another. He had been her comrade at arms in the effort to ship Jetta off in place of Cat.
"Of course, the healer said it was the drink, and congratulated himself for being right when he had warned Father that drink would be the death of him. I just tried to look sad and nodded." Grinning, she added, "And suddenly I owned everything! I am the Lady at Fitton. Mistress of all."
"The king will appoint a guardian until a new marriage is arranged for you," Jetta predicted quietly.
"He already has--Father's brother, Uncle Albert."
Jetta gaped at her. "But Uncle Albert is--"
"Mad? Suffering woodness?" Cat suggested with a smile. "Aye, he is. Which works to my advantage. He is always off with his books, trying to prove that the devil exists, which leaves me to do as I wish." She shrugged. "So I am in control. He allows me my way in all things. In fact, he probably has not noticed that I am not at Fitton at present. That is the amount of freedom I now have. He cares not how I spend coin or what I do with my time."
"Then why are you here?" Jetta asked, suspecting she knew the answer, but seriously hoping she was wrong. "Why are you not at Fitton enjoying your new freedom?"
"Because there is still you," she said. "You are as much at fault for what I suffered as Father. If you had not escaped your fate and forced me to take your place I would not have suffered the marquis's abuse and depravities."
"It was not my fate. I--"
"So I decided I would come find and kill you too," Cateline continued. "The first morning I arrived I saw who I thought was you frolicking in the woods with whom I presumed was the laird here. She had the same hair as us, and very similar features too. I can only think Father made his way up here at some point fifteen or sixteen years ago and got some maid with child. The lass looked a lot like us. At least, she did from a distance. By the time I got close enough to see her, they were on horseback and riding for the castle. I followed and shot her just ere they went through the gate."
Jetta swallowed. Cateline had always been an excellent shot with the bow and arrow. "You shot a maid named Katie, not me."
"Aye, I found out later," she admitted dryly and grimaced. "Shortly after I shot who I thought was you, a soldier came charging out of the gates. I knew it had to have something to do with my arrow, so I followed him. I was trying to think of a way to find out what had happened . . . if you were dead or not. I had just decided that I would wait until he stopped for the night and make him tell me at knifepoint, when he arrived at the lodge. An old woman was coming out and he talked to her, told her the maid Katie was shot while riding with Geordie, and Rory was needed.
"I was sore disappointed," she admitted on a sigh. "But then the old woman said Rory and the master were down breaking their fast at the beach with 'the young English lass.'" Cateline clucked her tongue. "I had a feeling again, the same one I had when I heard young Alick asking around about any ships that sank. So I followed the messenger to the beach and there you were!"
Shaking her head, she said, "You were terribly thin. Skeletal. And you were wearing the most ridiculous outfit, too. But you wer
e laughing, and there was color in your cheeks and you looked like you were having a grand time." Smile dying, she added angrily, "Like you had been having a grand time the whole time I was suffering."
"I was unconscious for weeks, Cat. I had only woken up less than two weeks before that, probably about the same time you were delivered home. And that day at the beach was the first time I'd left the room since I woke up in. I had no memories. I thought Aulay my husband."
"Hmm," she said dubiously and shrugged. "At any rate, the messenger and Rory left at once, but you two packed up and headed back to the lodge. Only Aulay left right away to follow Rory. After he left, I slipped inside while you and the old maid were still above stairs. There was a pot of stew boiling over the fire and I dumped some poison in, hoping that would do the trick. After giving it a good stir, I slipped back outside and went and found a nearby spot to camp and rest a bit while I waited for you to eat the stew. I returned later that night, expecting to find you and the old woman dead. Instead, there were men everywhere and the only thing dead was a dog," she said with disgust.
Jetta didn't explain that the stew had charred over the fire and been tossed out. Why bother?
"Of course, with Acair and the men there I did not dare stick around. I could hardly blend in with soldiers, so I retreated to my camp to try to decide what to do. And it was there I recalled the plaid you had dropped."
"The plaid?" Jetta echoed with confusion,
"Aye, ye dropped it on the beach ere leaving when the storm struck after yer picnic."
"Oh," Jetta murmured, recalling now. Aulay was actually the one who had dropped the plaid, and she'd almost thought he'd rush back for it when he realized, but the rain was coming down so heavy . . . She'd been relieved when he left it and they'd headed back to the lodge. Jetta had assumed he'd fetch it later, but then he'd left for Buchanan and she hadn't given it another thought. Now she asked, "What use was the plaid to you?"
"Well, I could hardly slip into Buchanan in my expensive gown, could I?" she asked dryly. "That plaid is how I managed to slip in without notice. I made an arisaidh of it, gathered some rushes, lavender and other plants on my way back to Buchanan, and then left my horse tethered in the woods and simply walked into Buchanan with my weeds as if I belonged there. No one gave me a second glance, not even the men on the wall. And why would they? I was just an innocent young lass."
