“I hear you had a lovely time at court.” Marin tilted her head in suspicion. “You attracted the attention of quite a few eligible nobles.”
She simply shrugged as the heat blazed in her cheeks. Sir Gawain would likely propose marriage soon and they would all know exactly which noble’s attention she had caught.
Marin laughed. “If you are being quiet, then what I heard must be true.” She withdrew a missive from her bag. “I was visiting with Ella and she asked me to give you this.”
“That was so kind of you to bring it all the way here to me.” It was all Cat could do to remain calm as she took the note. It was even more difficult to keep from tearing it open to read what Ella had written. No doubt it contained the requested information on Sir Gawain, exactly as Cat had asked.
“Of course, I was already planning to visit.” Marin peered at the entrance of the hall. Not once, but several times. Cat turned to regard the empty corridor behind her to see what pulled at Marin’s attention.
“Forgive me.” Marin flushed. “I confess, I’m also here to see Isla, in the hopes she might offer some advice on what I can do to encourage my ability to conceive.”
“Oh, Marin.” Cat’s heart flinched for her sister’s barrenness. It was so unfair that the one who had been mother to them all for the last eighteen years would now be without her own children.
“I’m not unhappy with my life,” Marin said quickly. Her face softened. “I’m incredibly happy at Kendal with Bran. It is quiet and peaceful. Mayhap a little too peaceful now that his sister and her family have moved to their own home.” The familiar, wistful smile tugged at the corners of her lips, the same as it always did when she spoke of her Bran. He’d been an unlikely husband when he’d threatened to kill Cat in order to breach Werrick Castle’s walls seven years prior.
She’d forgiven him almost immediately when she realized he’d managed to take the castle with only one single death. Eversham. The brave soldier’s name would forever be emblazoned on her heart. He had fought valiantly to keep Cat from being used as bait to force open the castle gates.
Cat fingered her letter, prodding her fingertips with the corners as she listened to Marin, who always took the time to give everyone her full attention.
“Regardless of what I try, of how much I pray, I continue to get my courses.” Marin glanced at the hall again. “Ella suggested I see Isla.”
Something tickled at Cat’s mind. She hadn’t had her courses since just before going to court and hadn’t had them again since she’d returned. Cold prickled all over her.
“Ah, there she is.” Marin reached for Cat’s hand. “Say a prayer for me.”
Cat simply nodded, mute with the force of the sudden realization. How could she still be sensitive to food she’d spent a lifetime eating? Especially when Nan was such an exceptional cook.
Cat had heard women with child were often ill. One of her sisters, Anice, had mentioned as much before. Typically, the illness occurred in the morning. Cat’s pulse thundered in her ears with the very real possibility that had not dawned on her until that very moment.
She could be with child.
With shaking hands, she wrenched open the letter from Ella, tearing through the Countess of Ellingsworth’s carefully stamped seal without ceremony. In desperation. Had Sir Gawain asked after her? Sought to see her again? Asked for her hand in marriage?
They would have to be wed soon, of course. Immediately. The thought sent a shudder racing down her spine. But she could not think now on if she wanted to wed him or not.
She unfolded her sister’s missive with haste and skimmed over the carefully curling letters looping across the parchment. There were several noblemen asking about Catriona after she’d left; one in particular, Lord Loughton, wanted to see her again so that she might meet his son who would be a wonderful match. Ella strongly encouraged the introduction. Cat drew her brows at that and read on. Why was Ella not mentioning Sir Gawain?
More details on men who had showed interest, then a bit of information on Ella’s daughter, Blanche.
Nearly panting in her frenzy for any news about Gawain, Cat flipped to the back of the page where one short paragraph was written. One awful, damning paragraph.
You asked after Sir Gawain, and I tell you that you need not waste another breath on him. I learned that not only has he been married for some time, but that his wife is soon to bear their first child.
Whatever strength had been holding Cat upright drained from her. She put her hand to the table to brace herself and carefully lowered herself to the bench.
She touched her hand to her stomach as another wave of nausea rolled through her.
Cat’s gaze went to the empty hall where Marin had departed with such hope, so desperate for what Cat did not want and irony’s cruel twist had most likely delivered upon her.
For there was a very strong possibility that Cat was carrying a married man’s child.
Four years had passed since Geordie Strafford left Werrick Castle. Now it rose before him, larger and far grander than even he remembered. The king’s coffers ran low from the war campaign and he’d sent the vast majority of his force home, including Geordie, who had no real home.
With parents who had abandoned him, leaving him to be slain for their sins, and no wife, Geordie returned to the closest thing to a home he had: Werrick Castle. To Cat.
His heart pounded in a collision of excitement, anticipation and nerves. He hadn’t seen Cat in four years, though they had exchanged missives when he was somewhere long enough to receive one. His gaze skimmed the top of the castle wall, seeking out a woman with ribbons of gold hair dancing in the sunlight, her bow drawn back to track his approach.
But there were only Werrick guards. And no white-fledged arrow sank into the ground when he got within an archer’s range. She was still at Werrick Castle, was she not?
But then, he had not received a letter in several months. Had she been married off, as Lady Ella had? The thought churned his stomach. If Cat was not at Werrick castle, was it still home?
He did not ask after Cat when a soldier called down for him to announce himself, nor did he see her in the bailey. Lord Werrick emerged from the keep and gave him a hearty embrace as soon as Geordie disembarked from his steed.
“My boy,” the older man said fondly. “Has the campaign finally run its course?”
“For now,” Geordie confirmed. “Until the king can secure more coin, from what I understand.”
“And you, a knight.” The Earl of Werrick nodded in approval.
Geordie’s chest swelled with the praise. Lord Werrick was as close to a father as he’d ever had, and Geordie had spent his entire life in the pursuit of the honor of becoming a knight. A profession of the most noble, to compensate for his true father’s notorious perfidy. It was an accomplishment Geordie was proud of. One he could not wait to share with Cat.
He glanced about the courtyard but did not see her.
Lady Leila, the youngest of the Earl of Werrick’s five daughters, welcomed him next. The little girl had grown into a lovely young woman. His fellow knights would have tripped over themselves to bestow her with trite endearments of affection and nonsensical sonnets. She gave him a huge smile and embraced him. The scent of dried herbs told him she was still dabbling in the art of healing.
“It’s good to have you back.” Lady Leila released him and stepped back. “Cat will be overjoyed to see you again.”
“Is she—”
Before he could finish the question, Drake, Werrick Castle’s Captain of the Guard, clasped arms with him in greeting. “Sir Georgie.” He flashed a wide grin at him and emphasized the word “Sir.”
“You’ll be in these ranks soon,” Geordie promised. If it weren’t for the constant training from Drake, Geordie might never have succeeded in becoming a knight at all. Or lived through battle, for that matter.
“Being half-Scottish doesna recommend me.” Drake spoke stoically, as though it didn’t matter, but Geordie knew it did. They
had always shared their hopes of becoming knights.
A howl of delight turned Geordie’s head. A large woman with gray hair peeking beneath a floppy mob cap bustled toward him and stopped abruptly. “Surely, this isn’t my Geordie.” Nan, the castle cook, cast a playfully shrewd look up at him. “He was a stick of a lad, as tall as he was thin.”
Geordie offered a helpless shrug.
“Always the quiet one.” She leaned close and offered a saucy wink. “You just wait ‘til Cat sets her eyes on you.”
Geordie’s pulse spiked. “Is she here?”
Nan’s kindly face split into a wide smile. “That she is, but she’s only been home for a bit of time since her jaunt at court. You’ve got excellent timing.”
“How is she?” Geordie asked the simple question, rather than the storm of the ones assaulting his mind. Was she healthy? Was she happy? Had she missed him? Had she become betrothed?
It was the last question that left a gnawing at his gut.
Nans lips pulled downward. “She’s been ill since returning from court. The food there might have been too much for her. Aside from that, she’s been as bright as the sun, the same as she’s always been.” Nan winked at him. “And always eager to get a letter from you.”
Warmth touched his cheeks at Nan’s last comment. “She is well now?”
Geordie had only been to court once for a sennight, but he knew how rich the food could be, and how vastly different than the fare Nan dished out.
“I’ve not heard of any more complaints of her illness, and she looks bonny as ever.” Nan clasped her hands to her chest. “I’m so delighted to have you home. I’ll make some roast pheasant in honor of your arrival.” She hesitated. “If you still care for pheasant…”
It was all too easy to recall Nan’s roasted pheasant, baked within a wall of bread and rising from a sea of roasted vegetables. After nothing but cold cheese, murky ale and the tough bit of grain they called bread at taverns, the idea of getting such a meal was nearly more than he could bear.
“Oh, aye,” he confirmed. “I very much like pheasant still, especially if you already have some on hand. You needn’t go out of your way on my behalf.”
“I don’t.” Nan swept at a dusting of flour on her apron. “But, I’m on fine terms with the butcher.” A flush colored her cheeks.
Geordie stared at Nan with curious assessment. Was she actually blushing? “Surely, this isn’t the butcher you hated when he first bought old Betsy’s business?”
Nan gave a girlish giggle. “Edmund is not so bad once you get to know him.”
Any other questions Geordie might have asked died away on his tongue as the slender figure of a young woman filled the entrance to the keep. She strode outside, into a beam of sunlight that lit her hair like rare gold and made the deep sapphire blue of her eyes glow. If Cat had been ill, she did not look it now. She radiated with good health, her cheeks and lips a becoming shade of pink.
She stopped abruptly, then gave a squeal of delight and rushed toward him, not stopping until she had thrown herself into his arms. He embraced her gently despite her firm grip around him and breathed in her delicate floral scent. She still smelled the same, like summer roses fresh in bloom on a sunny day.
“Geordie.” She eased back and looked up at him, no longer a girl, but very much a woman.
The most beautiful woman in all the world.
High cheekbones showed where once her cheeks had been apple round, and he noticed for the first time how full her lips were, how supple. But it was more than just her face, it was her body as well. Her waist nipped in at the middle, then flared out with a swell of womanly hips, and her narrow chest had blossomed into firm, rounded breasts. He was staring. He knew it and yet he could not stop himself.
But he was not the only one.
She gazed at him, lost in her own observation. Her mouth parted. “Geordie,” she said his name again.
Even her voice had lost its childish softness and was now stronger, with confidence and sensual femininity.
All at once, those four years of separation, the hollow loneliness, the letters having to make do for her absence, they all faded away. Catriona. Cat. His Cat.
She was all that mattered. And with her, he was finally, truly home.
One-Click CATRIONA’S SECRET
Author’s Note
I did a lot of research on books while writing Ella's story. I found it all so fascinating, I wanted it to be in my author's note for those of you might be enjoy learning about them as well. Books in the 14th century were actually referred to as ‘manuscripts’ (meaning written by hand). However, I took the creative liberty to refer to them simply as ‘books’ for the ease of reading.
Pages of a manuscript were of either parchment of vellum which were made of animal skins, generally from a sheep, calf or goat. The process to create the parchment was lengthy: cleaning the hide, bleaching it, scraping it free of hair and stretching it, scraping again to remove remaining hair, then sanding it down with pumice. This process took several days. On average, one calf yielded about 3.5 pages. When you consider how many pages are in a book, that's a lot of animals to generate one manuscript.
As far as the content within those manuscripts, the writing was copied by hand from one book into another. Space on a page was used as much as possible to prevent needing more pages than necessary so it was not uncommon to see the page filled. It also was not uncommon to find notes in the margin, either to add in a misplaced word or even a forgotten line by the person copying the manuscript. After all, eye strain is a factor no matter what era one lives in. If the scribe or monk caught the error quickly enough, they could actually use a knife to scrape the ink off the page since it was animal skin. If not, in the margin it went.
These manuscripts took a considerable amount of time to create. That said, they were exceptionally pricy, around the cost of a car today. Here is where I confess at having taken some creative liberty with Ella's story. In all reality, Ella would most likely have had about two or three manuscripts - maybe five at most. While the Earl of Werrick was a wealthy man, owning the few dozen manuscripts they had in the solar would have been an extravagant cost and pretty unlikely. Impressive libraries in the 14th century — generally monasteries — would likely only contain a hundred books, of if they were really impressive: hundreds. So, while it would have been historically accurate to only have Ella possess only a couple of manuscripts, I could not (with my reader's soul) give her only those few to read.
I would like to note here as well that there was no mention of blank journal-like manuscripts in my research, ergo this was part of my creative liberty as well. I would assume based on my research that any newly formed stories like the ones Ella created would have been done on individual sheets of vellum or parchment rather than in a blank, fully bound book.
After learning the process of creating a manuscript back in the 14th century, it's definitely given me a newfound appreciation for the books we have today and how plentiful our libraries can be. But no matter how grateful we all are, I would imagine calves, goats and sheep are even more so.
Want to learn a little more about each of the characters and the history of the Borderland Ladies? I have a history of the Borderland Ladies, character bios and free short stories on the supporting characters on my website:
Read more about the Borderland Ladies here
Acknowledgments
Thank you to my amazing beta readers who helped make this story so much more with their wonderful suggestions: Kacy Stanfield, Monika Page, Janet Barrett, Tracy Emro and Lorrie Cline. You ladies are so amazing and make my books just shine!
Thank you to Janet Kazmirski for the final read-through you always do for me and for catching all the little last minute tweaks.
Thank you to John Somar and my wonderful minions for all the support they give me.
Thank you to Erica Monroe who saves my life time after time for doing an amazing job with edits and is always there for whatever I need.
I swear, you add more years back onto my life with all the help and laughter you bring me.
And a huge thank you so much to my readers for always being so fantastically supportive and eager for my next book.
About the Author
Madeline Martin is a USA TODAY Bestselling author of Scottish set historical romance novels filled with twists and turns, adventure, steamy romance, empowered heroines and the men who are strong enough to love them.
She lives a glitter-filled life in Jacksonville, Florida with her two daughters (known collectively as the minions) and a man so wonderful he's been dubbed Mr. Awesome. All shenanigans are detailed regularly on Twitter and on Facebook.
Also by Madeline Martin
Borderland Ladies
Marin’s Promise
Anice’s Bargain
Ella’s Desire
Catriona’s Secret
Leila’s Legacy
Highland Passions
A Ghostly Tale of Forbidden Love
The Madam’s Highlander
The Highlander’s Untamed Lady
Her Highland Destiny
Highland Passions Box Set Volume 1
Heart of the Highlands
Deception of a Highlander
Possession of a Highlander
Enchantment of a Highlander
The Mercenary Maidens
Highland Spy
Highland Ruse
Highland Wrath
Regency Novellas
Earl of Benton
Mesmerizing the Marquis
Ella's Desire (Borderland Ladies Book 3) Page 25
