Love with a Scottish Outlaw

by Gayle Callen

  She stepped down onto the first ledge of the pool, and the water was frigid. Her chemise caught in the little current that expanded out from the base of the waterfall, billowing out around her. Feeling with her toes, she found the next ledge and sank deeper, to just above her knees. One more step found her up to her waist, and she tried not to let her teeth chatter. For a moment, she thought of the bathing tub that was brought right to her bedchamber, the line of servants carrying buckets of hot water, the piles of soft, expensive towels, and the finest soaps.

  “See?” she called. “It’s not bad.”

  She turned to see if Finn was undressing, only to stumble back in shock as Finn came barreling toward her, fully clothed but for his shoes. He jumped from ledge to ledge until he reached hers, crouched until the water reached his neck. After scrubbing his face hard with both hands, he jumped back out again, streaming water.

  Cat could only gape at him for a long moment, as he shivered and looked proud of himself. She stepped up from ledge to ledge until she faced him head-on.

  “Finn, it’s obvious you don’t want to undress in front of me, and I understand that. But you have to take off those terrible clothes and put on new ones. I can turn my back.”

  Then she frowned and peered down curiously into his small face, free of dirt. A spasm of alarm widened the boy’s eyes, and he tried to turn away but she caught his chin.

  “Finn, what is your name short for?” she asked softly.

  He said nothing.

  “Fiona?” Cat whispered.

  “Nay, say no more!” The blue eyes flooded with tears.

  “Tell me. I’ll tell no one else.”

  “Finola.” The word came out full of misery and despair. “Ye’ll tell Himself and the clan, I know ye will.”

  “I will not.” Cat had her own secrets, after all. She stared down at the girl, her heart aching for her. It was terrible enough to be an orphan in the dangerous parts of Glasgow, but to be a little girl must be far worse. “You must have had a good reason to hide your true self.”

  At first, Finn said nothing. Cat remained silent.

  The little girl’s shoulders slumped. “Me mum was dying. ’Twas her idea, because I would have no one.”

  “How long has it been?” Cat asked gently.

  Finn shrugged. “Many years.”

  Cat put a hand on her shoulder. “You’re not alone now.”

  Finn hesitated, then shrugged it off. “I was safe this way.”

  “You were very brave and resourceful. I’m sorry your mother passed away.”

  “I—I barely remember what she looks like,” Finn admitted, her voice breaking.

  “Our memories can play tricks on us.”

  Finn searched Cat’s face, and Cat felt herself blush.

  “You don’t need to see your mother’s face to feel her love inside you,” Cat said gently. “And you’re not in Glasgow anymore. You’re where people want to take care of you.”

  Finn stiffened. “Tryin’ to push me off on someone else, ye mean.”

  “They want to find you a good home.”

  “This can be me home. Tell them. Himself listens to ye.”

  “That is not true. Maeve is the one—”

  “He doesn’t look at Maeve the way he does you.”

  Cat flushed. What had the little girl seen—and what did other people surmise?

  “Finn, Duncan wants you to have a new mother and father, not a group of people living a dangerous life.”

  “If havin’ a mother and father means leavin’ here, I don’t want it.” Finn’s lower lip trembled as if she fought to control herself.

  Cat looked down at the water that still dripped from the girl’s garments. “We don’t need to discuss it now. It’s more important that you wash and then change your clothes before you catch your death.”

  Finn blinked. “Me mum used to say that.”

  Cat suddenly had another flash of memory. Her mother, who was once so focused on her British aristocracy, had apologized to Cat’s cousin Riona for saying nothing while her husband had allowed Riona to be captured. Lady Aberfoyle had wanted a new start with her children, and Cat had been grateful and willing to believe things could change. Without thinking, Cat mused aloud, “People can change.”

  Finn frowned her confusion at the change of topic. “People don’t change,” she said firmly.

  The girl’s lifetime of experience had made her bitter; changing that would be a long process. “Then they can change their clothing. Go do so—but wash up first.”

  The little girl went to her pile of fresh garments and gave Cat an almost fearful look over her shoulder that nearly broke her heart. Cat turned her back and hugged herself, giving the girl privacy as she began to splash in the water.

  As Duncan crossed the great hall toward the footbridge, he saw Maeve give him a concerned look. When he turned toward her, she waved him away and went back to her work table, shaking her head.

  He didn’t know what that was about, but if she didn’t need to talk, that was fine with him. Unless Catriona had confessed what he’d done to her. She’d promised she wouldn’t, but Maeve was her closest friend here. He couldn’t blame her if she needed to talk. But he imagined she would keep her word. It meant much to her—and his meant so little.

  How had he come to this?

  As he entered his—and now Catriona’s—chamber, he came to a halt, frowning. The usual mess of women’s garments, shoes, and hair fasteners was gone, and the book she’d been reading was closed upon his trunk. He stormed back into the great hall, and Maeve was watching as if waiting for him. She pointed to pegs in the wall, and he recognized Catriona’s garments. Maeve shrugged as if clueless; Duncan nodded, then returned to his chamber.

  So Catriona had relinquished her privacy, but didn’t seem to have told Maeve why. He should be relieved to have his own privacy once again, but he hated the thought that she might be afraid of him, afraid that he might try to seduce her. How could he blame her?

  There was a commotion in the passageway, and Finn raced past. Duncan leaned out into the hallway to see the boy carrying a bundle of clothing that dripped on the cave floor. Duncan looked back toward the pool cave, saw that a light still flickered, and went to investigate. He drew up short in the entranceway, stunned to see Catriona standing next to the pool in a chemise that was wet to her waist. She froze when she saw him, and he looked his fill like a man starved for the sight of a woman. This particular woman. The chemise was made of linen rather than the silk she was probably used to, but the sodden fabric clung to her thighs and calves. Without the bulk of gown and petticoats, she looked small and delicate, so beautiful and forbidden to him that he ached. He thought of all he could uncover and touch and kiss. She didn’t hide herself in embarrassment, but stared at him, her face pale and disdainful. The air between them seemed heavily charged, as if a thunderstorm were imminent, the kind that would crackle through the mountain, start floods that would alter the very landscape itself.

  He briefly bowed his head. “Mistress Catherine.”

  As if he didn’t know her real name.

  It was a long time before she took a deep breath and arched a brow. “Did you need something from me?”

  She didn’t say his Christian name, and he missed the sound of it on her lips.

  He cleared his throat. “There was no shoe outside, and Finn went rushing past with dripping clothes. I was curious.”

  “I made him bathe for the harvest festival,” she said coldly, “and he was not happy about it.”

  “I see. And did he wash his clothing, too?”

  “He decided to bathe wearing them.”

  Duncan simply blinked at her for a moment.

  Catriona looked away. “It’s a long story, and not mine to tell. Finn will be fine for the festival.”

  “Do ye wish to attend?”

  Her piercing gaze returned to him. “You would allow it?”

  “You already know everything. And ye’ve given your
word ye won’t reveal where my people are.”

  “You trust me?” she demanded.

  “I do.”

  “You think you know me so well?” That ugly disdain he well deserved had returned.

  “I’d never doubt your word.”

  He found himself missing the easy way they had been together, the way her eyes had lit with excitement and eagerness when they talked. He only had himself to blame for its absence.

  “I imagine it would be safer for your secrets were I to stay hidden,” Catriona mused, eyeing him.

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “My people are vulnerable because of the price on my head. I’d rather stay away myself, but they continue to insist they need me to make the occasional appearance, and they’ve decided an official assembly is necessary.”

  She frowned. “You’ll hold court, then, make decisions on behalf of your clan?”

  “I will. But ye’ll not have to sit through such things. There’ll be booths with items for sale and contests of skill.”

  “And I can just wander freely?”

  “Not alone, no. Ye’ll be with someone. Ye must understand that my people are vulnerable. I’ve not told them all where our encampment is. They know about the children, but not the smuggling of whisky. I protect them, but they don’t need to suffer for what I’ve had to do, any more than they already are.”

  He’d kept her trapped here so long, it had to be a relief to soon be out among people again.

  “What have you told them about me?” she asked.

  “Very little. I didn’t want people assuming ye’re my—” He broke off.

  “Whore?” she said starkly.

  “Ye could never be that,” he said between gritted teeth. “Since the men know ye’ve lost your memory, I’ve given permission for their families to know. That should protect your reputation.”

  She gave a bitter laugh. “My reputation? I live in a cave with dozens of strange men. I imagine I’ll have no reputation left when people find out the truth.”

  Another thing he’d done to her with his plot against her father, another thing she had every right to hate him for.

  “I am sorry.” The words were gruff and inadequate.

  The silence between them grew, and he couldn’t help continuing to stare at her.

  She licked her lips and looked away. “I wish to dress.”

  “Of course.” He paused in the doorway. “Ye didn’t need to leave my chamber. I would never force ye to be alone with me.”

  “I cannot take that chance.”

  Her eyes betrayed a stark angst as she turned away. He left to give her her privacy. She’d brought such grace into his life. Being with her had given him back a part of himself that had seemed dead for a long time. But it had only been a cruel illusion of his own making.

  Chapter 16

  Cat was able to distract herself the rest of the day, but that night, when she huddled on her pallet, unable to sleep because of the grunting and snoring of dozens of men beyond the screen, her mind kept betraying her by returning to the moment she’d faced Duncan in the pool cave, wearing naught but a chemise. She hoped she’d portrayed calm indifference, but underneath, she’d been aghast that her body didn’t seem to care that Duncan had betrayed her. Her skin had felt flushed, her breath had been shallow, her breasts had ached to be touched, and between her thighs—oh, she wasn’t going to remember how that felt, didn’t want to admit she was desperate to experience that moment of pleasure again.

  She tried to think of something else—stirring the hot water in a laundry cauldron, kneading bannock dough, pulling weeds in the vegetable garden, all chores she’d never done before she’d come to Clan Carlyle.

  She’d never lain with a man, either.

  This was what her giggling friends had meant by being attracted to a man who wasn’t good for you. Your brain wouldn’t listen and your heart heard only its own, desperate beat.

  She rolled onto her back and flung her forearm over her eyes in disgust.

  In the morning, at least Cat had something else to concentrate on. She was more excited by the harvest festival than she wanted to be. She didn’t like being beholden to Duncan, when she should have been free all along. But her anger couldn’t hold a candle to her curiosity. Though she’d had a hard time sleeping, now she felt awake and eager. She mounted her horse and tried to avoid Duncan, but he rode up beside her with Finn at his back. Sheena rode her own horse just behind. The rest of the men dispersed then, disappeared through woods or along the cliff or past the paddock.

  Seeing Cat’s frown, Duncan said, “My people don’t know where our encampment is. We try not to be seen coming from the same place, even by Carlyles.”

  She nodded and said to Finn, “Neither of us will breathe a word.”

  Finn shook her head solemnly, while Sheena rolled her eyes, as if they lacked all good sense.

  Duncan glanced over his shoulder and said to Finn, “This is a chance for ye to be seen. There are families considering bringing ye in, so take every opportunity to show yourself for the good lad ye are.”

  There was a determined look in Finn’s eyes that made Cat uneasy, but she kept quiet. She looked back and saw Maeve standing at the cave entrance, waving.

  “Why isn’t she coming with us?” Cat asked. “I heard the men say they were taking turns guarding the cave. She isn’t needed here.”

  Duncan nodded. “She’ll come. In her own time.”

  “But—”

  “’Tis her choice, Catherine.”

  Cat nodded, but didn’t feel convinced. With a last wave, Maeve retreated into the cave. Cat eyed Duncan, and didn’t like feeling that they had something in common, a guilt they shouldn’t feel but couldn’t control regardless. Every day, Duncan had to remember that his mother disfigured Maeve to punish her husband. Cat would always live with the knowledge that her father had allowed Riona to be kidnapped, when it could have ended badly. And now she knew he’d allowed children to have the same fate, torn from their families, never to return.

  After an hour’s ride, they followed a path around the side of a hill, and the glen was laid out before them, the reds and golds of autumn like a painter’s palette. The village itself was smaller than any Cat had seen before, only a dozen stone cottages with tall thatched roofs that sloped near to the rocky, uneven ground. There were vegetable fields nearby, and in the distance, shaggy cattle roamed the bare hillsides.

  Dozens of people were gathered in clumps of twos and threes. They didn’t seem to care about the mud or the overcast sky. Though it seemed like a sparse, barren existence that made her feel uncomfortably privileged, Cat could hear music being played, and the sounds of laughter and singing. There were booths set up, their tables guarded against the rain by makeshift pavilions. A young man was juggling, a young woman called that she had venison pasties for sale.

  Cat saw the first person notice her, and then heads seemed to turn in an undulating wave of curiosity. She glanced at Duncan, but he didn’t seem to be at all worried, as if he knew that these villagers, in such a remote part of the Highlands, would never have seen her before.

  It was . . . odd to draw attention because she was a stranger, rather than because she was the daughter of an earl. Wherever she’d lived or visited in her lifetime, everyone knew her. Her father, her family, were the subject of awe. Even in England, their title and wealth made them a favorite at every salon and ball. Here in the Highlands, it was Duncan who was the subject of awe, the one who protected these people, the one who saved them. Perhaps they wouldn’t even care the lengths he’d gone to to support them. Whisky smuggling or cattle raiding—it was all a way to get even with your neighbor for whatever had been done century upon century.

  Duncan wore a sober expression, a man serious about what he did, who bore the weight of his people on his shoulders and accepted the good and bad that came with it.

  Cat’s station as daughter of the earl had kept her apart from the ordinary people of her clan, the tenants
who scraped by in the barren mountains. Now as they rode past the cottages, she felt as uneasy as if she wore fine silk instead of homespun wool; she felt like a fraud.

  Sheena saw someone she knew and veered away from them. Cat followed Duncan past every cottage to where a little lane lined with flowers led to a small manor. Behind, Cat could see an extensive garden, both vegetables and flowers. The front door opened and Duncan’s sister Muriel emerged, carrying a baby and leading a little boy by the hand.

  Though Cat was pleased to see the woman, she also realized that Muriel was probably her companion—her keeper—for the day. Cat, Duncan, and Finn dismounted. Another boy, a little older, came around the house and took the horses’ reins.

  Duncan put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “This is Muriel’s eldest, Logan. He’s a fine one with horses, and will see to ours this day.”

  The boy reddened, but gave his uncle a quick, grateful look. Then he stared at Finn, who stared back.

  “Ye want to see the stables?” Logan asked.

  “Aye,” Finn said without hesitation. She didn’t look back at Duncan or Cat as she followed the boy.

  Duncan was frowning.

  “Och, stop that. The boy will be fine.” Muriel put the baby in Cat’s arms. “This is Alice.”

  Cat, unused to babies of any kind, gave a little gasp and tried not to stiffen. Muriel didn’t even check to see if she was doing it right, just turned to her brother. Cat’s eyes must have been wide with uncertainty, because she saw Duncan press his lips into a firm line as if to keep from smiling.

  “Support her head—that’s the most important thing ye need to know,” Duncan said.

  He never smiled, she remembered. He’d never had the sort of life that inspired smiling. She forced away a hint of sympathy. He was a kidnapper, no better than the men he pursued.

  Well, that was a little harsh . . .

  And he knew something about babies. That was more than she could say. Although with both her cousin and her sister-in-law with child, Cat would be getting more than enough experience soon.

  When she went home.

  “She’ll be fine with Alice,” Muriel said.