by Lois Greiman
“You did not want me,” she said. “You but wanted a few hours of my time.” She paused, looking small and frightened. “I wanted more. I wanted your love.” Her voice was little more than a whisper. “But I see I do not have that, for you cannot even bear to touch me.” She took a step closer, but he tightened his grip on her wrist in warning.
“Who were you with?” he asked, his voice low in the darkness.
“Lord Drummond,” she said.
“Drummond!”
“And why not? He is a handsome man.”
” ‘Tis said he raped his first betrothed. Is that what you want? A violent man who would lie with you even as he tries to win another’s hand in—” He paused and drew a deep breath, then loosed her arm and stepped back a pace. “You lie,” he said softly.
Quiet held the room, then, “Ask him,” she said.
Pain ripped his insides, diminishing the ache in his knee, but he could not quit now. “As you wish,” he said, and placing his hand on the latch, nodded toward the door. “You first.”
She didn’t move. “I want you.”
“What?”
” ‘Tis you I want.”
He dropped his hand from the latch. Pain turned to agony.
” ‘Tis the truth,” she murmured. “I swear it, Haydan. Say you will forgive me and I will never again lie with another.” She stepped up to him. Her nearness filled his head. She touched his cheek. He closed his eyes to the confusion, the temptation. She was promising to be his!
Why, he didn’t know, but surely it didn’t matter.
Her fingers trembled against his cheek. She was scared. Why?
Reaching up, he took her hand in his and kissed it gently.
“Let us talk to Drummond,” he said and reached for the latch again.
“Nay!” She jerked out of his grip.
He watched her in the darkness. “Why not?”
” ‘Twould be…‘Twould be embarrassing.”
“So you can lie with him but you cannot speak to him?”
She jerked a nod.
“Come,” he said and grabbed her hand again.
She tried to pull from his grip, but he held on, drawing her closer.
“Tell me the truth, lass, and I’ll not make you talk to Drummond.”
” ‘Tis the truth!”
Rage spurred through him. Taking her by the arms, he shook her. “Damn you, Catriona! You’ve no right to make me love you if you will not trust me.”
“You love me?” she whispered.
“Tell me, God damn it, or I will lock you away until I know you are safe from whatever evil you fear.”
Her face went white as death in the darkness. “You would not.”
“I swear I will,” he growled.
” ‘Tis Lachlan,” she whispered. “They have taken my brother.”
Chapter 27
“Who?” Hayden rasped. “Who has taken Lachlan?”
“I do not know.” She lifted her gaze to his. The truth shone there in all its dark misery. “I do not know who has him,” she whispered. “But Lachlan will die if I do not follow his orders.”
“What does he want from you?”
“Jewels!” She croaked the word and grasped his tunic in clawed hands. “He said he wanted jewels. I told him I have no jewels. I told him. He laughed. He said he did not expect me to own them, but to steal it. After all, Gypsies are all thieves.”
“You have been stealing?” he asked.
She was silent for a moment, not breathing. ” ‘Tis not just any jewels he wants, but a special medallion.”
“The vellum drawing I saw. ‘Tis that for which you search.”
” ‘Tis for my brother’s life,” she whispered.
“Why did you not ask for me help?”
“I dared not,” Cat whispered. Turning her face against his chest, she cried. “He said if I told anyone, Lachlan will die.”
He squeezed her to him, pressing her against his heart, aching with her horror.
“I have killed him!” she rasped. “I have killed him.”
“Nay. Nay!” He pushed her away far enough to see her face. “You have not killed him, lass. ‘Tis not true.” He shook her gently, forcing her to look up. “There’s no way for the brigand to know you have told.”
“He’ll find out,” she whimpered. “He’ll find out and kill him.”
“Not so long as there is breath in my body!” Haydan growled. ” ‘Twill be the villain that dies.”
“Nay!” Her eyes widened in abject terror. “You must not try to learn his identity. I cannot risk Lachlan. He is all I have.”
“Lass—”
“Nay!” She tightened her fingers like talons against his arms. “Please, promise you will not. I will find the medallion. I must.”
“I will assist you,” he said, tightening his grip on her. “We will find it together, and I will purchase it from him.”
“What if he refuses to sell it?”
“I will find a way to convince him. But only if you vow to take no more risks.”
“I must deliver it to him very soon.”
“Nay. I will do that.”
“He said I could bring no one.”
“You will not. I will go alone.”
“But—”
“Nay!” he said, gritting his teeth. “I will deliver the medallion to the bastard. Just as I will deliver the lad to you.”
She opened her mouth as if to speak, but he shushed her.
“You have my pledge, Catriona. As God is my witness, I shall not fail you.”
Her hands trembled against his chest as she rose to kiss him. Her lips tasted of salt. He cupped her face in his palms and allowed himself a brief glimpse of heaven, but in a moment he drew away.
” ‘Tis time you return to your room.”
“Nay.” Her fingers clutched his tunic. “Please, Haydan.” She drew a shuddering breath. “Life is short. There is no guarantee that we will see another tomorrow. And if I die this night, I would wish to die in your arms.”
He tried to be strong. He tried to refuse. But she trembled again and there was nothing he could do but lift her into his arms and carry her to his bed. It sighed beneath her weight. He leaned over her, and she pulled him down beside her.
Their lips met, but her hands were already moving, tugging up his tunic, tossing it to the floor. She rolled to the top and pressed her face against his chest. Haydan felt his heart thrum against her ear. She remained there for a moment, and then, turning, she kissed his heartbeat before sliding down the midline of his body. He trembled beneath her, awed by her power.
Her hands freed his belt and plaid. He felt it give way and reached for her garments, but she captured his hands. Kissing each one, she nudged them aside, then with agonizing slowness, she undressed herself.
She seemed to shine in the darkness, like a beacon in the blackest night. He slid his hands about her waist, worshipping her, urging her closer as she leaned over him, her nipples caressed his chest. Her bottom lapped his erection, and then, like a goddess of yore, she welcomed him inside.
He sucked in his breath and pressed into her. Her eyes fell closed and she moved against him. There was no delay this time. No thought of waiting, for they needed more than they could say with words, and so they strove to please and be pleased, to touch and caress and give until they were poised on the edge of relief.
She leaned over him, her breasts like fire against his chest as she increased her pace. ‘Twas all he could do to await her pleasure, to see her fall over the edge of desire before he lifted her from him and found his own aching release.
“That is his lady?” asked Roderic.
Haydan turned a glare toward his half-sister’s husband. The great hall was crowded with the noble families of Scotland. Haydan’s own kinsmen, the MacGowans and the Forbeses, were gathered around him like bad apples, and there was none more likely to cause trouble than Roderic the Rogue.
“She is not my lady,” Haydan said, b
ut Shona had already leaned across the table to speak to her father.
“They are planning a performance together,” she said.
Haydan gritted his teeth. The noise level had risen with the hour. ‘Twas late now and loud, and most of the young folk had been ushered to bed.
Beyond the towering windows, the night was dark, but inside, a hundred candles blazed. Upon the center dais, not far from James and his multiple bodyguards, an elderly bard sang a melancholy ballad.
Tremayne listened with tears in his rheumy eyes. Lord Drummond pressed closer to Lady Fayette. MacKinnon watched. The Earl of Hogshead drank himself into a good-natured stupor.
And Catriona…
She was there, not far from the king’s side.
Haydan’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of her, but he forced his gaze away.
“A performance?” Roderic asked.
“Aye. On horseback, I am told,” Shona added.
“Horseback?” Flanna asked. Though she was Haydan’s half-sister, she had raised him as a son. Seated beside her husband, the lady flame of the MacGowans looked like an auburn-haired queen. ‘Twas a well-known fact that her clan would have only half their power and wealth were it not for her own steeds. “I thought she was a tumbler.”
“Oh, she is more than a tumbler, Mother,” Shona said. “She is a juggler and an artist and a… a magician, is she not, Hawk?”
Was it the truth? Haydan wondered. Had Catriona told him everything? It seemed right. It felt right. And yet—
“Haydan.”
“What?” he growled, and his family laughed at his snappish mood.
“It seems our Hawk has found his prey,” Roderic said.
“From what I hear, she is more the huntress than the hunted,” said his daughter.
“Secrets,” a woman murmured.
Haydan spurred his gaze toward Rachel, but her own attention was captured by her mother, Fiona, the renowned Lady of the Forbeses. The two turned as one toward him.
Their combined attention hit him like a rock to the gut. He had spent some years with Lady Fiona. ‘Twas she who had nursed him from a failing lad into manhood. And never in those years had he managed to keep a secret of any substance from her. ‘Twas eerie, is what it was.
“What can I do, Haydan?” she asked softly.
The bard’s song came to an end.
Haydan shook his head. “All is well, Lady Fiona.”
“Are you certain?”
It was then that he noticed that Catriona was gone. Panic ripped through him. He snapped his gaze to the king, and there she was, seated beside him, their heads together as they talked.
Haydan was on his feet in an instant.
“Haydan?” Rachel said.
But he was already fighting his way through the crowd.
“Kelvin is here,” James whispered.
Catriona sat very still, barely breathing. “Kelvin?”
James grinned. “My twin,” he said, but then leaned closer still and laughed. “In truth, he is Lady Shona’s fostered son. But he could be my own double.”
She stared at him, her gut twisted in hard knots.
“When I sneak from the castle, ‘twill be that much easier if Kelvin is in my chambers while—”
“Nay!” she snapped. Then she forced her voice to soften and her fists to open beneath the table. “Nay, Your Majesty. We must not involve others.” Especially not Haydan’s beloved family.
“Then how—”
“I will think of a way,” Cat said, and her gut tightened another turn.
“When? ‘Twill have to be soon. My birthday is only—”
“Your Highness,” Haydan interrupted.
Catriona tried to look nonchalant as she turned her gaze to him. Dressed in a bright ceremonial plaid and deep blue doublet, he was bowing toward them.
“Your guests are requesting that you play the psaltery.”
The boy made a face. “Now?”
Haydan moved closer. “The crowd is getting restive.”
“Aye.” Lord Tremayne appeared beside him. “It might be wise to remind them that we are a cultured lot and not a mob of wild barbarians.”
James grinned. “I like wild barbarians.”
Tremayne straightened, his cheekbones shining as sharp as blades in his parched face as he turned toward Haydan. “I have warned you to keep your savage kin away from His Majesty.”
“There is naught like music to soothe the savage soul,” Haydan said, and canted his head toward James. “A tune, sire? Mayhap sung in Latin?”
“French is more lively,” James said, his eyes mischievous
Haydan bowed again. “French it is. Cockerel?”
The guard stepped up, psaltery in hand, as if snapped straight out of Haydan’s imagination.
James took it as he rose to his feet.
Lord Tremayne cleared his throat and lifted his chicken-thin neck. “King James of the royal Stuart line will now gift us with a song,” he called.
There were cheers and whistles before James settled onto the edge of a table and struck the first notes. They sailed clear and sweet across the wide hall, and soon his words joined in a language Catriona could not identify, but only appreciate, for he had a fine voice and a gift for emotion. Her own raw feelings welled like tears inside her—feelings of loyalty and love and honor.
“You are well?” Haydan asked.
She forced herself to turn toward him with a smile. “Aye.”
Their gazes met. She caught her breath as a crush of new feelings and a hundred vivid memories assailed her. She could not betray him. There had to be another way.
“Haydan,” she whispered.
But he lifted his gaze past her shoulder. “Is there something you need, Lord Tremayne?” he asked.
“We should have held the festivities at Stirling,” said the old man. ” ‘Twould have been easier to guard him.”
“You needn’t worry,” Haydan said. ” ‘Tis my responsibility.”
“Aye. And your neck if anything should happen to him,” Tremayne said. Turning, he wended his way through the crowd.
“Lady Cat,” someone called. “Give us a performance.”
“Aye,” James said, his song finished. ” ‘Tis my birthday, you know.”
“I’ve nothing prepared,” she demurred.
“Then what has Sir Hawk been doing in your company?” someone called. ” ‘Twas said he was practicing to perform for the king.”
There were several cries of assent.
“Nay,” Haydan rumbled, but just then the great arched doors burst open. There was a clatter of hooves and suddenly Bay danced into the room. Atop his broad, bare back, Shona grinned. Firelight flashed off her auburn hair.
“Move the tables,” someone yelled, and a dozen servants rushed forward to do just that.
“What the hell are you about?” Haydan asked, his voice grim as he strode up to his niece.
“What else but making trouble?” someone called. ” ‘Tis her right by heritage.”
Laughter rolled through the hall.
“Your steed, Lady Cat,” Shona said and slipped from the gelding’s back.
James’s eyes seemed lit from within as he trotted over. “Come, Hawk,” he urged. “If you perform the trick now I’ll call your vow fulfilled.”
The gelding danced in place, lifting his heavy hooves in a spirited piaffe.
“Lady Cat,” the king pleaded. ” ‘Tis no reason for you to wait for the actual day of my birth. Perform for us now.”
She nodded, but Hawk shook his head as he stared at her. Still, she approached him. Their gazes locked. She could feel his emotion, and then he reached for her. His hands touched her waist, and he lifted her. The crowd fell silent, and he set her gently upon the gelding’s back.
The onlookers laughed. Catriona pulled her gaze from Hawk’s with an effort and took the reins from Shona. Riding sideways on Bay’s broad back, she let the steed circle the narrow area at a mincing trot.
The boy grinned, others chuckled.
“So I will do what I can,” she said. Setting Bay in a circular pattern, she tugged his head into a deep arch then leaned toward his ear. “Steady now,” she commanded. He rocked along, his mane swishing in a slow cadence as she slid toward the middle of his back. “Haydan the Hawk,” she called. “I am a bit thirsty.”
From the corner of her eye, she saw Hawk lower his brows.
“Might you throw me a mug?”
“Aye. And it might crack you on the pate.”
“I had planned to catch it. There.” She pointed vaguely as the gelding continued to circle. “That one will do fine. Toss it to me on my next trip round.”
Her back was turned for several seconds, and when she faced him again, he had indeed retrieved the mug.
“Excellent,” she said. “Now toss it to me.”
“Is Physic in the hall?” someone asked.
Laughter rolled around them, but Hawk tossed the requested item. She managed to catch it as it soared over Bay’s croup and raised it high for the crowd to see as they continued their circuit. “Another,” she called. Another mug soared. The execution was better this time. The third, better still. In a moment she tossed them into the air one at a time, so that they flew in a circle as Bay continued his rocking course. The crowd gasped and stared. But she had not been sought by kings for such an elementary performance, and so she rose slowly to her feet. ‘Twas no simple task, but finally she was standing, rocking along as the horse galloped and the mugs soared. The mob broke into a roar of approval, but she was not yet finished. Stepping cautiously backward, she balanced precariously on her steed’s rolling rump. A hundred nobles held their breath. A hundred servants gaped.
The turn was not as difficult as it looked, yet when she pivoted about to catch her mugs in the opposite direction, she was grateful for the gasps of amazement.
The floor blurred beneath the gelding’s clomping hooves, the mugs blurred before her hands, but she did not notice, for this next part would require all her concentration. She waited, letting Bay lope about the hall twice more as she gathered her courage and fortified her mind. Then, just before she was even with the king, she leapt.
