* * *
Boots in one hand, Munro gingerly pulled open his bedchamber door and leaned into the hallway. A single lamp remained lit, the wick turned low, with heavy darkness hanging at both ends of the long corridor. At nearly three o’clock in the morning the generally bustling house stood silent but for the patter of rain against the windows and someone’s distant cough.
Lachlan and Winnie had elected to spend the night, which decision he had to put more to his sister’s immediate liking for Elizabeth than to any fear of a light rain. They’d even put the lass in the room directly beside theirs. That was good; she seemed happy to be back in civilization—or what passed for it in the Highlands, anyway.
And it wasn’t just Winnie who seemed thrilled to have her there. Surprisingly enough, even Ranulf had cracked a smile or two over dinner. Aye, Elizabeth was well bred and could likely hold her own in any conversation about fabric and fashion the lasses cared to have, but the MacLawry didn’t welcome just anyone into his household. Questioning her abrupt popularity, though, would be counterproductive; at least the lass’s being charming meant he wouldn’t have to spend all of his free time entertaining her on his own.
There was another lass with whom he’d rather spend time, after all. And he’d promised to protect her, too. With the hallway empty, he reached back into the room for the heavy bundle he’d wrapped in sealskin to keep the rain out. His stomach rumbled at him as he tucked the sack beneath one arm and silently shut the door behind him, but he ignored it and the hunger that went with it. If putting most of his dinner into his sporran allowed him to replenish some of the food they’d taken away from Haldane today, he would do it.
Quietly he descended the main staircase, avoiding the two squeaky steps with the ease of long practice. Usually, though, this was the time of night he returned home after spending the evening in the company of some lass or another. Meeting Catriona MacColl had upended his life in more ways than one.
The floppy hat and raincoat he donned in the foyer kept his top half mostly dry, but his feet were already wet by the time he sat on the outside step to pull on his boots. The weather didn’t matter; by Highlands standards the light drizzle was only one step removed from sunshine.
With the stable boys and grooms sleeping in the room at the rear of the stable, he led Saturn outside to saddle the big gray. Luckily the lad was accustomed to coming and going at odd hours, and he didn’t do more than snort once at the rain.
“Thank ye, boy,” Munro said, as he finished tying off the bundle and then climbed into the saddle. “It’s extra oats fer ye when we get back.”
At this hour and with the rain filling and covering any tracks they might make, he headed them directly toward what he’d come to think of as Cat’s valley. If anyone discovered him missing, they’d likely figure out where he’d gone, anyway—which was even more of a problem now than it had been yesterday. Especially when he felt the need to venture to Haldane before dawn and with its one known resident—as far as Ranulf and the others were concerned—asleep at Glengask.
He didn’t doubt Catriona had gotten the fire going again, but that kitchen wasn’t anything close to cozy. All of the blankets and her one change of clothes had left with Elizabeth’s things this morning. Cat’s sister had even had to conjure a tale of how she’d been prepared to dress as a lad if it came to that, which seemed to have satisfied everyone’s curiosity about the shirt several sizes too small for it to belong to him.
Even more than concern over Cat’s comfort, he wanted to know that she remained at Haldane Abbey at all. If she felt satisfied enough that Elizabeth was now safe, and angry enough at him for allowing Ranulf to discover her hiding place, she might well have set off deeper into the Highlands.
No. He wouldn’t accept that. Either she was still at Haldane, or he would find her and bring her back. Whatever it was he felt around her, they weren’t finished. Their tale had barely begun, and he couldn’t escape the … belief, he supposed it was, that Cat was somehow vital to him. To his future.
Anyone who knew him would laugh at the idea that he’d become obsessed with any one lass—much less one who wore trousers and carried a musket. Aye, she was that, but that wasn’t all she was. Whatever had driven her this far from MacDonald territory still troubled her, and that troubled him.
At the low wall he dismounted and tried coaxing Saturn into the entryway and out of the rain, but the gelding wouldn’t have any of it. “Fine, ye brute,” he muttered. “Ye stay oot here.”
He couldn’t decide whether it would be wiser to slip down the hall and get the musket out of her reach before she realized he was there, or to announce his presence and hope she wasn’t angry enough about his whisking her sister away to shoot him. If she was there at all.
“Cat?” he called. Stealth had never worked well for him where she was concerned, anyway. “I’m alone, lass! Dunnae shoot me!”
Silence. His chest tightening, he strode up the hallway to the half-repaired door. A low fire hissed in the fireplace, protesting the rain dripping down the inside of the chimney, and his insides unknotted a little. She had to be here, then. Somewhere.
“Catriona?”
Metal clicked cold and deadly behind him. “Ye’ve some nerve, Bear. I’ll give ye that.”
He whipped around toward the near corner of the room to see Catriona lowering her musket. Relief, joined by something sharper and more heated, sent his heart pounding. “Thank God,” he breathed, brushing the weapon aside and capturing her face in his hands. He kissed her hard, teasing at her mouth until she opened to him, their tongues tangling.
This was what he’d been yearning for all day, and this … heady arousal was what he’d lately felt only in her presence. Women, physical pleasure, were one thing. When he looked at her, talked with her, he felt more … aware. More alive, more challenged, than he had with any other lass he’d ever met. It didn’t make any sense, because she also frustrated him more than any lass he’d ever met, but there it was. Perhaps it was lust; for the devil’s sake, he hadn’t had a woman in over a fortnight. Not since two nights before they’d met, actually. There was only one way to find out if that would purge her from his thoughts—and he had no objection to making that discovery, at all.
“Stop trying to devour me,” she finally rasped, and shoved at his chest. “I’m angry with ye.”
“Ye arenae,” he returned, ignoring the protest when her mouth molded against his kiss again.
“I am,” she insisted a moment later, and shoved harder.
She might as well have been a wee dove, but he took a reluctant half step back, anyway. If she took a look at his kilt she would see that he wasn’t finished with her, but her chocolate gaze lowered to his mouth before she turned her back on him and with a shove of her shoulder against his chest walked over to the hearth. Swinging a pot over the low fire, she grabbed a spoon and began stirring.
Of course she wouldn’t starve on her own; she knew how to hunt and trap, quite possibly as well as he did. But every time she ventured outside, she risked being seen. He wanted her to be able to go out when she chose to, rather than when she had to. “I didnae plan fer Ranulf to follow me here. That is my fault, though, and I apologize to ye fer it.”
“Ye told a good tale for Elizabeth. And ye got yer brother to give his word that he’d see her kept safe.”
“Ye were listening, were ye?” From the roof, he’d wager.
“Of course I was.” She sent him a pointed glance. “Though I dunnae recall telling ye about the Duke of Visford. Did ye have that conversation with Elizabeth?”
Munro shifted the musket a little farther away, then stepped over beside her to sit on the floor against the side of the chimney. “I overheard the two of ye talking one day when ye thought I was elsewhere. I figured to keep my gobber shut until ye trusted me enough to tell me to my face, but when Ran appeared I had to tell him someaught of the truth or he’d know it was all a lie.”
She kept stirring. “That’s underhan
ded of ye.”
“Aye.” He shrugged. “Even if I’d had time to think up a tale, it had to be someaught Elizabeth could carry on with. And someaught that didnae involve ye.” For a moment he studied her profile, uncertain what he was looking for, but liking what he saw. “I still dunnae ken what yer secrets are, lass, but since ye stayed hidden I figured I had the right of at least one thing. Glengask doesnae have any idea ye’re here.”
She nodded, still refusing to look over at him. “It’s better that way. For my sake and for ye and yer brother. And for Elizabeth.”
“It’s clan MacDonald business, aye?” he pressed, reaching over to tuck a damp strand of her fiery hair back into place.
Catriona shrugged him off. “Dunnae ye try to get cozy with me, giant. Tell me how my sister fares.”
So she still wouldn’t tell him what troubled her. Very well. He could be patient, even if it was something he didn’t practice much. “I imagine she’s sound asleep in a soft bed with a warming pan at her feet and a fire in the hearth. My sister, Winnie, and her husband, Lachlan, are staying the night to see that she settles in, and I ken Ranulf’s wife, Charlotte, is happy to have another proper English-bred lass aboot.”
“Good. Elizabeth showed more spleen than I had any right to ask of her, but she’s nae one to be happy unless she has people about. I ken she brightened up whenever ye came calling here. And nae just because ye gave her yer solemn vow to keep her safe.”
Munro frowned at her. “Ye dunnae need to remind me aboot the words that came oot of my own mouth. I havenae fergotten them.”
“Good. Because ye’re the only friend she has, now. I imagine she’ll be relying on ye quite a bit.” The spoon’s swirling accelerated. “In fact, ye should likely get back to Glengask before she or anyone else misses ye.”
In his mind as he’d lain awake for most of the night and then made his way to Haldane Abbey in the damp, predawn darkness, Cat had been alone and cold and worried. He’d damned well been worried for her, wondering if he would ever see her again. Ideally by now they would have been naked together on the blankets he’d brought her, and he would finally be satisfying the craving that had seized him almost from the moment they’d met.
Instead she stirred a day-old rabbit stew and suggested that he leave. “I brought ye blankets and some venison.” Perhaps that would earn him some damned gratitude.
“I hope ye didnae do anything that would bring yer brother out here again, Bear.”
“I took my own things, and my own dinner. Ye neednae worry.”
“Very well, then.” She lifted the spoon to gesture at the large room, then returned to stirring. “As ye can see, I’m perfectly fine. And I’ll be better if ye dunnae bring any MacLawrys back here to see what ye’re about. So go home, Bear. Elizabeth needs ye. I dunnae.”
That did it. Alone, nothing but a small fire and the rain for company, and she still wanted him to leave. Whatever the devil troubled her, she could at least tell him the truth about one damned thing. Munro reached over and grabbed the spoon out of her hand. “Ye dunnae need me?” he retorted, and flung the utensil across the room. “Then why are ye stirring soup at three o’clock in the morning? Why are ye nae sleeping?”
“I was sleeping, ye giant, until ye woke me with trying to get a horse into the foyer.”
As she spoke she faced him again, and he got a good look at her in the firelight. Tired circles beneath her eyes, her damp hair in a loose, careless tail, her delicate jaw clenched—if she’d been asleep, he was a bloody Irishman. “Dunnae lie to me, lass. Ye were sitting in that corner where ye surprised me,” he stated, taking her by the shoulders and pulling her to her feet. “Ye had that damned musket across yer lap, waiting fer trouble to find ye. Tell me I’m wrong aboot that.”
She lifted her face, her dark brown eyes meeting his squarely. “Fine. Aye. I’ve been awake, because I didnae have any idea who else might have spied ye visiting here and might decide to invade my house.”
“Then ye do need me, bonny lass. Because this isnae yer hoose. It’s mine.” He tugged her closer. “And ye’re mine.”
Chapter Ten
“Dunnae ye try that tone with me, giant.” Catriona blinked, something unexpected jabbing into her chest.
“Ye disagree then, that withoot me ye wouldnae have a place to stay?”
The idea that she couldn’t have protected her sister without someone else’s help, that she needed him for … well, for anything—her first instinct was to punch him in the nose and tell him to bugger off, because it was just his manly pride talking, and she could make do quite well on her own.
“I ken the abbey is yours. That isnae what I was objecting to.”
At the back of her thoughts, she tried to concentrate on the idea that he had proven useful, rather than how he’d just tried to claim ownership of her. She had to remember how tired and worn down Elizabeth had been before they’d stumbled across Haldane, and how relieved she’d been to find at least one room with an intact fireplace and most of a roof, somewhere they could spend a night without worrying about the weather and the temperature and highwaymen. Somewhere she could close her eyes and not think about anything but what sort of game she would be roasting tomorrow.
Eyes narrowed, he regarded her. Then he took in a hard breath through his nose. “Stubborn lass,” Bear muttered.
“I heard what yer brother told ye this morning,” she finally said, trying to pull out of his grip and failing to budge him as much as an inch. “Aye, Haldane belongs to ye, Bear. Congratulations. But ye promised to keep my sister safe. And the best way for ye to do that is to marry her. So stop saying I belong to ye and go back to Glengask and propose to her. Leave me be.”
He actually looked shocked. “The hell ye say.”
“It makes sense, and ye know it. I’ll go, and ye marry her. She likes ye well enough as it is. All ye have to do is let go of me, ye big ox.”
Instead, he gripped her more tightly. “I dunnae want ye to leave, wildcat. Ye are the lass I should be with, and I have nae idea what the rest of that nonsense means—except that I’m nae going to marry yer delicate Sassannach of a sister.”
Catriona hammered a fist against his hard chest. “Ye cannae be as thick-skulled as all that.” For God’s sake, if he would just let go of her and stop looking at her so intently, she could explain why her plan for him and Elizabeth made sense. More sense than him pursuing her and causing more trouble for both of them, certainly. No one pursued her. Ever.
“It seems I am that thick-skulled,” he growled back at her, walking her backward until she had to sit in the chair. “So I’ll stand here glaring at ye, and ye explain to me why I shouldnae be calling ye a Bedlamite.”
If he did claim to have some … claim on her, he might at least try using complimentary words and not calling her mad. Catriona folded her arms over her chest. “It’s very simple,” she announced, wishing he would see the situation logically for once, because she wasn’t entirely convinced, herself. “Ye promised to see Elizabeth safe. She can rest easy at Glengask now, but she cannae be a permanent guest.”
“So ye say. I dunnae think ye ken what my brother can do fer her up here in the Highlands.”
“Hush. I’m nae finished. I reckon the only way to keep Visford away from Elizabeth is for her to be married to someone else.” She paused, but he only continued glaring at her.
“And?” he prompted, crossing his arms as she had, clearly refusing to see reason.
Surely he’d had at least one passing romantic thought about her sister. Until the duke had come along, Elizabeth’s letters had been filled with stories of the handsome young gentlemen who pursued her. “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she finally burst out. “Ye brought her home across yer saddle.”
His glare shifted into a frown. Abruptly his hands dropped, and he backed away a step or two. “I was being polite,” he growled.
“That’s nae politeness. That’s nearly a proposal. Marry Elizabeth. It’ll save her from the duke, an
d she’ll civilize ye some. As much as can be done with ye, anyway.”
He continued to stare at her for several hard beats of her heart. Then, his hands and his jaw clenched, he turned on his heel and strode out of the room. His heavy bootsteps receded down the hallway until she could no longer tell them from the rain.
“Bear?”
Well, that hadn’t gone at all well. Or perhaps it had. If it stopped him from kissing her and making her wish she had some idea how to act like a female, then good. He needed to go kiss and chat with Elizabeth. As she’d told him, her sister knew how to act like a lady, and could very likely teach him how to be a gentleman.
“Ye’re daft, Catriona,” Bear’s deep growl came from the doorway, making her jump. “My brother’s been trying to marry me off to one lass or another fer nearly two years, and I told him what I’m telling ye now—dunnae try matching me up with some lass because it suits yer lunatic ideas of domesticity.” He took two long strides forward into the room, his head low and his eyes narrow. “I like yer sister well enough, but I willnae be marrying her. I dunnae want her. I want ye.”
Her heart abruptly hammering, Catriona stood up and backed away from him. She’d heard his anger when he’d confronted his brother, but she’d never seen evidence of a temper so notorious that stories about it had reached even to the Isle of Islay. Until now. “Elizabeth makes more sense for ye,” she said anyway. “For both of ye.”
“Nae,” he retorted, grabbing up the musket that still leaned against the table and tossing it across the room like a twig. “It makes sense fer ye, because it leaves ye oot of the equation, free to go off and do as pleases ye withoot any guilt. But ye’re in my equation, wildcat. I’m nae going away.”
Some Like it Scot Page 16
