by Gayle Callen
“Aye, we need to be protected, so ye’ve told us.” Muriel rolled her eyes. “We are not outlawed, Duncan, only you.”
“But I don’t want the clan punished for what I’ve done, any more than it already has been. So I’ll continue to avoid ye as much as I can.”
“No one but Carlyles even travel to our remote village.”
“They could track the cattle your husband has thieved.”
She pretended outrage. “James is a law-abiding man. But if the English and the Lowlanders insist on making it difficult for us to feed our families, then they get what they deserve.”
For several minutes, they said nothing, just studied the barren mountaintops that surrounded their glen, and their silence gradually turned companionable once again. When he was a wee bairn, Muriel had tried to soften the blow of their mother’s wrath, even though she was often the target herself. Their older sister, Winifred, was far better at staying on Mother’s good side, saying just what the woman wanted to hear. When their father had killed their mother, Winifred had already been married and living far away. Muriel and Duncan had only had each other as their father succumbed to guilt.
Now she regarded him with obvious determination. “Aye, I’ll take your fine lady in for ye. I was wondering when ye’d come ask me.”
“That’s not why I’m here.”
Her determination changed to astonishment. “What? She’s to stay in that cave with your rough men?”
“And women. Maeve is taking good care of her.”
“Of course no one knows better than Maeve how to make a guest feel at home. But . . .” Astonishment changed to curiosity. “Ye don’t want to rid yourself of a woman who has no memories of her past?”
Duncan hesitated, and then realized he could not lie to his sister, even to protect her. “I cannot rid myself of her because I know who she is.”
He thought Muriel might exclaim in disbelief, but she only narrowed her eyes and studied him as if he was one of Robby’s worms.
“Go on,” she said coolly.
Releasing a sigh, he told her about finding Catriona and recognizing her as the daughter of the Earl of Aberfoyle.
Muriel threw her arms wide. “But ye did not feel it right to tell her—or anyone else?”
“At first I thought she was lying about the memory loss, that if returned to her father, she might reveal our location.”
“But when ye knew she’d truly lost her memory . . .”
“Now her father is discovering what it’s like to be missing a daughter, just as the poor parents of Clan Carlyle have had to do because of that man’s evil and greed.”
He knew his voice had grown cold, because his sister looked away from him and hugged herself.
“Och, Duncan, what have ye done.” She bowed her head.
“What had to be done. I saved her life. She doesn’t know anything about being a Duff. When I think her father has suffered enough, I’ll return her.”
“I think ye’re making a mistake that will haunt ye.”
“It won’t be the first. But ye must swear to tell no one. I should not have told ye, nor made ye bear the burden of silence, but I couldn’t lie, not to you.”
“But ye’ve lied to everyone else who believes in ye.”
“They’d understand,” he said stubbornly. “Now ye know why I have to refuse your offer of housing the lass. She feels safe with us, and I need to keep an eye on her.”
“Duncan Carlyle, when she regains her memory and kens what ye’ve done . . .”
“I’ll deal with it when it happens—if it happens.”
Muriel stretched out her legs and leaned back on the bench. Her eyes closed a bit, but she never lost sight of Robby, who was now moving on his knees through the grass, following the progress of his worm.
“Is the poor lass not afraid with all of ye?” she said quietly.
“She was uncertain and afraid at first. But she’s settled in well.”
Muriel rolled her eyes. “What is she doing all day?”
“Working with the women.”
She shot upright with a gasp. “Ye’re treating her like a servant?”
“Aye,” he said with sarcasm, “’twas my exact thought when I found her bleeding in the rain—look, another serving woman to help the cause.”
She folded her arms across her chest and grumbled, “Well, how am I to know. ’Tis your first kidnapping, after all.”
He grimaced. “She insisted upon helping, claimed that she owed us for taking her in. I told her she’s a guest, gave her the only bedchamber—”
“Your bedchamber?”
He deliberately kept his gaze on the sleeping bairn, so Muriel couldn’t uncannily read his mind about the night’s excursion into that chamber and what had happened. “Aye, ’tis not as if I don’t sleep beside my men when we’re on the road.”
“Hmm.”
Alice began to fret, and with a cooing sound, Muriel picked her up and put the babe on her shoulder. She looked at Duncan over the little bonneted head. “I understand that ye’ve taken responsibility for her. But what happens if her memory never returns? Are ye going to return her so that all believe her reputation destroyed? Ye’d have to marry her then.”
Duncan stiffened. Much as he desired Catriona, nothing beyond unrequited lust was ever going to happen. “Nay, I will not. There are over two dozen people with us at all times, proof that she’s been safe.” Now he really was lying to his sister. “And even if she wanted to, I would never allow a woman to be with me when I have so little to offer.”
Her expression crumpled into sorrow. “Oh, Duncan, don’t say such things. Ye’re chief of the Clan Carlyle. Ye’ll find a way to reverse the ruling against ye. Those noblemen ye wrote to—”
“Already told me they will not help.”
“Then another way will present itself.” Her eyes focused on Robby, who’d disappeared behind the well. She held out Alice, her little blanket drooping, her head still tipped forward in sleep.
Duncan leaned back on the bench as Muriel put the babe on his chest.
She lifted her skirts and strode to where her son had disappeared. “Robby! Stop right there!”
Alice barely felt like any weight at all, as if Duncan lifted even one hand, she could blow away in a light breeze. Tilting his head down, he watched her yawn with those tiny, perfectly formed lips, then settle right back against his chest into a deeper sleep.
For several long minutes, he could hear Muriel giving a low scolding to Robby, but Duncan was alone with Alice. The bairn was as needy of her mum as his clan was of him. He felt the responsibility of that position—did the Earl of Aberfoyle feel the same for Catriona? Then why wasn’t the man looking for her?
Chapter 10
It had been easy for Catherine to go for a stroll, to stretch her legs and escape the smell of so many bodies, cooking fires, and a recent batch of meat that had gone bad. Angus, her shadow, was still with her, but after she promised she would only roam the area around the cave, he didn’t protest when she walked past the paddock and found a path heading up the cliff side, to the castle, she hoped. When he called her name, she paused, her mind scrambling for a way to persuade him, but all he said was that the way was steep.
“I’m ready for the challenge,” she called back.
She heard him telling another man where they were going, but she only lengthened her stride before Ivor or someone had second thoughts about letting her walk alone.
The way was steep, but Cat felt energized using her muscles and breathing deeply of the heather-scented air. Though the castle above was deserted, someone walked this path regularly, and she guessed that it was probably Duncan. He felt powerfully responsible for his clan, and she imagined he felt a duty to the castle as well. He was an honorable man, the kind any woman would be proud to be with.
Soon her rambling thoughts faded as her breath huffed and sweat broke out on her forehead. She tripped over a rock once and came down hard on one knee, but she didn’t
let that stop her. It was a rare blue-sky day, and the sun beat down on her mercilessly.
She turned a rocky corner, and the castle seemed to rise up as if by magic. It was made of uneven-sized stone, fit together by a master mason. The outer walls were square in shape, with towers at each corner. The walls had been breached in several places, and there was no gate lowered in the gatehouse. The road leading up to it was high with weeds, and Catherine picked her way up it, trying to watch her footing and still gape at the romantic reminder of a wealthier time for Clan Carlyle.
She was just approaching the gates when someone called her name. She looked back and saw Duncan coming toward her, his expression ominous. She caught a final glimpse of Angus giving her a pained look of sympathy as he headed back down the path.
Catherine stopped and waited for Duncan to approach.
“I did not give ye permission to roam the countryside,” he said coldly.
A week ago, she might have been afraid of that voice, but not anymore. The chief would be hard on his enemies, but not her.
She gave him her happiest smile. “I know,” she said, with conciliation in her voice. “But you allowed me to walk around the cave area, and this is . . . around the cave. Angus was with me as well.”
He scowled down at her. “Ye dragged the man into your misbehavior.”
“It just felt so good to be moving about, using my legs, breathing the country air. Plus, I’d had a revelation, and could hardly contain myself.”
“What revelation?” he asked dubiously.
“When Ivor told me you’d gone to visit your sister, I had a sudden memory. I have a brother!”
His expression turned blank.
“I know, it’s shocking,” she said happily. “I remember nothing about him, can’t even picture him, but I know in my heart I have a brother.” She put a hand on his arm. “This is more proof that my memory is slowly returning. I feel so much better, although I remind myself that at this pace, it might take a year to remember everything. But I hope not,” she added, feeling wistful.
Duncan said nothing.
“How is your sister?”
“Well, thank ye.”
“Well? It sounds as if it’s only duty that keeps you visiting. I’m sorry to hear that.”
“’Tis not duty. I appreciate that she offers wise counsel. Sometimes.”
He added that last word in a tone she couldn’t quite read.
“And do you offer the same to her?”
He arched a brow. “She’s a married woman with a husband and three bairns. I don’t think there’s much I can aid her with.”
“That’s not true. You’re a wanted man, and yet you make time to see her, risking your freedom. I’m sure she appreciates that.”
He shrugged.
He was obviously uncomfortable with the subject, so she turned to face the castle. “I’m here, so I’d like to go in.”
“And if I say no?”
“You won’t, will you? I’m fascinated by history.”
“Ye’ve remembered that, too?” he asked dryly.
She lifted her chin, sensing victory. “I’m fascinated right now, so no memory is involved. When was it built? If you know, that is.”
“Of course I know. ’Twas finished in 1230.”
“That’s almost—” And then her voice caught, as she realized she didn’t know what year it was.
His voice sounded just a bit softer as he said, “In three years, ‘twill be five hundred years.”
“Ah, so it’s 1727.” She tried to sound matter-of-fact, but the sadness came through. “At least mathematics hasn’t failed me.”
He let out his breath. “Very well, we’ll enter the courtyard, but when I tell ye ’tis too dangerous, ye’ll listen or I’ll throw ye over my shoulder and carry ye out.”
She eyed his broad shoulders and thought, You promise? But it wouldn’t be fair to say those words aloud. “I’ll obey your every command.”
He rolled his eyes.
She put a hand to her chest in mock outrage. “Do you doubt my honesty?”
He didn’t say anything, only strode past her toward the gatehouse. Excitedly, she fell in behind him. Within the gatehouse, the darkness smelled dank and unused, perhaps with even the remains of a dead animal.
She looked up at the black hole that was above her. “No one let the portcullis down?”
“With the walls breached, it matters little.”
She winced, hating to appear stupid. Apparently she could suffer the sin of pride about some things. They came out into the courtyard, where weeds and grass grew as high as her waist. The towerhouse, the main building, was part of the wall opposite her, and there were lower buildings along other walls. Everywhere doors were missing, and the weeds seemed to continue right inside.
“How was it damaged?”
“In the war between the Royalists and the Covenanters almost a century ago. After the walls were breeched, my family tried to remain, but a civil war involving Scotland, England, and Ireland made it dangerous to be so unprotected. When the war had ended, my grandfather moved to a manor home in the nearest village, and there we’ve been ever since.”
Left unsaid was that there had obviously not been enough funds to repair the castle.
She eyed the towerhouse again. “You must have kept watch here, since there doesn’t seem to be much damage.”
“It helps that there are rumors of ghosts.”
She shot him an astonished look. “Ghosts? How intriguing.”
The wind picked up, and the wail she’d heard from the caves was so much louder, warbling and eerie.
“Ah, I see now. You did that deliberately.”
He said nothing.
“How did you do it?”
She didn’t wait for an answer, only walked quickly toward the towerhouse’s main entrance.
“Catherine, stop—”
But she pretended not to hear, ducking inside. The windows had no glass, but they let in enough light. Broken furniture was scattered across the floor through rubble, and the dirt from her passing rose up and made her sneeze. And yet the wailing continued, and she realized it wasn’t just one sound, but a combination of many, a jarring disharmony. She headed for the circular stairs in one corner.
“I said stop!” Duncan’s voice reverberated like thunder through the stone great hall.
She stopped on the first step, turning to face him. “Then tell me what it is.”
“Reeds.”
“What?”
“Dried, hollowed reeds as thick across as my thumb.”
He came toward her and she realized that the stair put her face-to-face with him. She was suddenly distracted by the thought of being free to rest her arms on his shoulders, to lean into him, to let him sweep her into his embrace—
All of this, after her vow to stay away from him? She shook herself out of his spell and heard him finish.
“. . . in each window upstairs.”
“Uh . . . the reeds are in each window?”
He frowned. “’Twas what I just said. They’re well fastened, and then when the wind picks up, it whistles through them in that strange, eerie manner.”
“Quite clever.” She caught herself staring at his mouth and forced herself to look into his dark eyes. “Did you come up with it yourself?”
“My sister and I used to play with them.”
“The sister you visited today?”
She found even his nod fascinating. Had she ever been so distracted by a man? She wished she knew. The weak part of her said to take what she wanted, that he wanted it too, that she couldn’t stop living—she might never remember anything.
She could never dishonor him that way, especially if they discovered she was married. As always, the thought made her heart begin to race with the fear that she might never know herself at all. But . . . she’d remembered a brother. Instead of taking comfort in that, it suddenly made her almost dizzy. If she had a husband, shouldn’t she have remembered that firs
t?
She needed to distract herself. “Why can I not go higher?”
“’Tis far too dangerous.”
“What about the battlements?”
“Most certainly not.”
“You just don’t want me to see the lay of the land.”
“There are many ruined castles on hillsides—’tis more of a concern for your safety.”
She didn’t believe him but she understood his need to protect his clan. It made it difficult to disobey him, however much she wished to.
“Very well. But take me through the towerhouse.”
“It cannot be that ye’ve been living in a cave too long,” he said dryly.
She smiled at his humor, although he did not. She tried to imagine a broad grin on his face, but she couldn’t. He was a stoic, serious man. It would be a rare and wonderful gift to be able to make such a man laugh.
“I admit, it’s good to get away and see something different.” She gave him her winningest smile.
For a long moment he simply frowned at her. She thought all was lost until he suddenly spoke.
“Very well. But I lead, and we won’t be going near windows.”
That ended up being easier said than done. But grateful that he’d given in, she didn’t push her luck much. They wandered through several floors of empty rooms that had been stripped of everything long ago. The longer they looked, the sadder she became. She felt like she could see the ghosts of children running through these corridors, mothers chasing them, fathers looking on with pride and love. The eerie wailing only increased her mournfulness. No wonder people stayed away.
It must be far worse for Duncan, knowing his ancestors built this castle, and he and his clan could no longer live here. She didn’t ask if he’d considered restoring it—of course he had. She imagined being an outlaw didn’t allow for such funds. She’d heard the men talking, knew how difficult it could be to survive in the Highlands. And Duncan was unable to speak on behalf of his people without risking gaol.
Instead, he helped the most vulnerable, the children, when he could have remained safe in this glen. She looked at his impassive face, as he studied the remains of a dais down below them in the great hall, where once his ancestors had reigned. He was not a man who dwelled on the past, which she thought a very noble trait.
