Highland Troth (Highland Talents Book 3)

by Willa Blair

  “The opportunity to gain allegiance from both Fletcher and MacGregor, of course. As my escort and advocate. But I should have known he’d pass off anything to do with me to ye.”

  For once in his life, Jamie was speechless. What had happened to the lass he used to know? And why was she now seemingly determined to put a barrier of resentment between them? While she lived at Lathan, Toran had paid her no more heed than he could avoid and tormented her when he did notice her. Was she truly smarting from his absence? Or from Jamie’s presence?

  Jamie realized his ego was coloring his perception of her. While she tried to put distance between them, he wallowed in his long-held jealousy of the interest he thought she’d shown in Toran. Nay, this had nothing to do with Toran, or their past. She was scared. Understandably, though he hoped she did not fear him. She knew no more of the man he’d become than he knew of her. Perhaps she also missed the lad he once was and feared his loss. But why go immediately on the attack? Did she think to force him to refuse her escort as a way to avoid the match her father was making? She was no more free to ignore her laird’s wishes than he was. Or did she also remember him fondly and fear his presence would distract her from the man she was intended to marry. His ego preferred that explanation, but he’d learned the hard way not to trust that fickle beast.

  “It’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other, Caitrin,” Jamie said, trying to change the tenor of their conversation before they got too far down the wrong path. “Canna we begin again as the friends we once were?” He studied her eyes, searching for the lass he used to know, then smiled, hoping to encourage an answering smile from her. “Yer da’s description in his letter to the Lathan didna do ye justice.” Flattery might work. It usually did with a lass. Certainly, it couldn’t hurt.

  “Think ye to sway me with sweet words, Jamie Lathan? I am nay longer a lass of sixteen years to be swept away by a lad’s fawning attention. I’m the heir to Fletcher. Dinna patronize me.”

  “I never would,” he replied. Too quickly, he realized, as her eyebrow arched. Ach, think. What was she up to? “I merely hoped to renew our acquaintance. Since we’ll be spending the next several days together, I thought we might enjoy—”

  “We may be forced to travel together, but there’s nay reason for us to make anything more out of the journey. Ye are here to do a job.”

  Jamie winced as she spoke the same words he’d said to himself not so very long ago. At least they were in agreement on one thing. “Aye, I am.”

  “Then I trust that ye will do it well and deliver me to my da.”

  “Of course.”

  How had this gotten so out of hand? Jamie knew better than to go into a negotiation with expectations of how his adversary would act, but this…he’d never thought of Caitrin as an adversary in his life. Nor had he thought their first meeting would devolve into this sort of…he had no word for what this had become. Disaster, perhaps. Disappointment, surely. While Caitrin’s beauty had matured, her nature had…soured. What had happened to her in the intervening years? When he had the time, he’d discover the truth, and mourn the loss of the lass she used to be. But for now, he must deal with the woman before him.

  Thankfully, the kitchen staff arrived with their meals and gave him time to get his emotions—and expectations—under control while they ate. Caitrin passed the meal in silence, seeming to have dismissed him from further consideration. Jamie allowed her that, for now. But he vowed to find out what had caused such an unhappy change in the lass he used to know.

  ****

  Caitrin swallowed her food past the lump in her throat. The reality of Jamie’s presence was so much…more…than she’d imagined. She’d nearly swooned when she entered the hall and saw him. And that made her teeth clench. And her eyes well up.

  He was here—at last. Why now and not sometime in the last six years? More handsome than she could have dreamed he would become. Bigger, broader, with hair turned so dark it was easy to miss the reddish highlights she recalled from his youth. His eyes were the same deep blue she remembered, and had widened a bit, the moment he first saw her, as though her appearance surprised him. And why would it? She was much the same. Taller, more filled out, but the same hair, the same eyes, the same…longing. For him. Aye, and that made her even madder. How dare he appear now? Years too late. Why was he the man fate decreed to take her to be wed to a stranger?

  It seemed her lot in life was to be handed off from one set of strangers to another. She was tired of it. So achingly, bone-wearily tired of it. Sitting next to Jamie should have pleased her, but instead it served to rub salt in the wound of her insecurity. Would she ever find a home, a family, a husband, who would not abandon her or send her away? And why did Jamie’s presence in the hall make these feelings so much more pronounced? She’d kept them at bay for years. Now, anger and despair seemed to fill her, blocking out any lighter emotion, such as gladness at seeing her old friend.

  She’d pushed him away with rudeness and hauteur when what she really wanted to do was lean into him and rest her head on his shoulder, to feel is arms go protectively around her as they once had done when she was upset at Toran, or at anything else. Jamie had been her friend, her protector. He didn’t deserve her ire, and he’d borne it with typical Jamie good grace. Only she knew him well enough to see him struggle to hold his reactions in check, to allow her to vent. She saw his puzzlement at her verbal attack, though she was certain no one else could. He knew he didn’t deserve such treatment, but he let her get away with it. And now, suddenly, shame added itself to the mix of anger and despair that filled her. To hold back tears, she bit the inside of her cheek. She had spoiled what should have been a happy, or at least a pleasant, reunion. Her peevishness turned it into acrimony. How would they ever recover from what she’d just done?

  This was not like her. Jamie must be shocked at the change. But, perhaps it was for the best. Perhaps, deep down, she knew she must keep him at arm’s length. He’d returned to her too late to save her from anything.

  She glanced around the room and saw Will smile at her and nod. He’d been watching, and probably listening, though how much he could hear from his seat was a question she couldn’t answer. No matter. He’d have seen their faces. He’d be pleased by her actions. He lived to do as her father commanded. Too bad, she did not. Oh, who was she kidding? She could no more defy her father’s wishes than Will could. Fletcher was busily arranging a match that would benefit their clan. She had no choice in the matter.

  And at this moment, she would do anything for the chance to choose Jamie Lathan. But she dared not.

  When the meal ended, Jamie stayed by her side, watching her and, it seemed, patiently waiting on her pleasure. She stood abruptly, no longer able to bear being near him when unable to reach out to him as her old friend. Jamie immediately got to his feet, politely dipping his head.

  “Let’s go to the solar,” she said and wondered from where those words had sprung. She hadn’t meant to say anything but that she would be ready to ride in the morning. Then dismiss him. But her unruly heart apparently had other ideas.

  “After ye,” he responded with an open-palmed gesture. He placed a hand on her lower back as he helped her down the dais steps and left it there as he escorted her across the hall. Caitrin could barely see anything around them. Jamie’s touch held her in thrall and let her hope she had not fatally wounded their relationship after all. It took a great deal of effort to make Jamie angry. Perhaps she’d fallen short. Now that she’d had the time during the meal to cool off, she hoped so.

  In the solar, she gestured him to a seat then went to the sideboard and poured them both a liberal dram of whisky. She almost missed his quick frown, as he tasted the first sip. “If it isna to yer liking,” she offered, determined to keep pleasant the tone of the first words spoken to him since their earlier confrontation, “I can provide something else. Ale? Mead?”

  “Nay, ’tis fine enough,” he answered smoothly. “But I will have to introduce y
e to the MacKyrie spirit.”

  “Superior, is it?” Damn it, her sarcastic tone was back.

  But Jamie must have refused to take it amiss. “Superior to any spirit I’ve tasted, anywhere. Dinna mistake me, this is quite good and entirely appreciated.”

  He told the truth. She would know if he lied, not that the quality of the whisky meant so much to her. She would not be able to prevent the awareness coming over her. Especially not from someone as close to her, physically and emotionally, as Jamie. “I’m glad.” That sounded lame, but she was too taken in by his implied promise of a future meeting to come up with anything more profound. “I want to apologize for the way I acted in the hall.” A sense of peace settled over her when she thought of a future that included him. But nay, that could not be, not if her father had his way.

  “Ye dinna need to apologize, Caitrin. We ken each other too well. And it seems to me ye have a right to be concerned, even scared, about this journey and what might await ye.”

  “Ach, that makes me feel better, that does.” She grimaced and took a healthy sip of the whisky then coughed as it burned its way down her gullet. Instead of apologizing, Jamie grinned at her, and it occurred to her that he’d taken a few lessons from Toran over the years, since he probably meant that as payback for her behavior in the hall. If she’d had a pillow to hand, she would have tossed it at his head. Was it appropriate for an heir and a former friend, nay, a friend…a male friend…to be playful while alone together? Probably not. But she didn’t care. The vision of the pillow smacking him in the face made her answer his grin with one of her own.

  “What evil are ye contemplating, Caitrin, my lass? Remember, I told ye, we ken each other too well.”

  “Only knocking that grin off yer face—with a pillow,” she answered. “But it seems undignified, somehow.”

  “Aye, that it would.” He answered her sip with one of his own then sighed and settled back in his chair. “What’s really going on, lass?”

  Caitrin pressed her lips together so hard they cramped. She rubbed a hand over her mouth to ease them and watched as a concerned frown drew down Jamie’s dark brows. “I dinna ken. Da thinks the future of Fletcher depends on this alliance. Why?” She shrugged. There were so many possibilities. Protection seemed most likely, but from what? “I’m the price he plans to pay for whatever he’s after.”

  “Then whatever it is, the cost is dear indeed.”

  “Where’s a pillow?”

  “I mean that, Caitrin. Aye, marriages of alliance happen every day in Scotland, but to barter ye away to a man ye’ve never even met? Fletcher wants something, and he wants it verra much.”

  A shiver ran down her back at that. “Which means he’ll no’ be easy to dissuade.”

  “Do ye want to?”

  “I…canna say. I havena met the MacGregor.”

  “I have.”

  Caitrin sat up straighter. “Tell me about him. What kind of man is he?”

  Jamie shook his head. “Nay, lass. Ye will want to form yer own opinion. I’ll no’ be the one to blame for whether ye like him or no’.”

  But he would be the one to blame, Caitrin thought. Jamie was the standard against which she assessed all men. The MacGregor would have to be special indeed to measure up to the man sitting across from her.

  ****

  Morning came early, but Jamie was ready for it despite the whisky he and Caitrin had shared last night. He tightened the girth under his mount’s belly and rechecked the contents of his packs as he thought back. Much to his relief, they seemed to end up on a better footing than where they’d started. He hadn’t recognized the beautiful martinet who’d greeted him before the meal, and thanked all the saints and angels Caitrin was not really like that. Her fear had been speaking. He’d been one more unknown in a host of them she had to deal with, one that carried extra weight because of their shared history. He could understand that. He could even forgive it, despite the uncomfortable meal that followed. They’d both loosened up over the whisky, which in no way compared to MacKyrie’s, he thought with a snort. But Jamie would let Caitrin form her own opinion about that, too. Someday. After she met Alasdair MacGregor, he hoped he’d get the chance.

  He’d seen her eyes light up when he mentioned treating her to the MacKyrie spirit. He didn’t think her sudden interest was in the taste, but in the notion of a future encounter. A future with both of them in it—together. She might hide it from others, even from herself, but that notion hadn’t left Jamie’s mind since the comment came out of his mouth. It had kept him awake long into the night, imagining something that might never take place.

  What was he doing, saddling up and readying to ride with her to her betrothal? Possible betrothal, he reminded himself…unless they arrived to find a signed contract of marriage. There was still a chance they might have time to get to know each other again, and for Caitrin to refuse the match her father was negotiating. Except Toran intended Jamie to help negotiate—not undermine—the match while he got the MacGregor’s signature on the Lathan treaty. Bollocks.

  He shook his head. A lot depended on the outcome of this journey. Too much for his comfort, truth be told. Not just Caitrin’s future, or his, but the futures of three clans. It was a heavy burden. One they both bore reluctantly. Of that, he was certain.

  He glanced around when he heard Caitrin’s voice. Finally. She quit the keep with Will in tow, and from the exasperated tone of her voice and the low, chopped cadence of his, Will was still trying to convince her to overrule Jamie and bring more Fletchers in escort.

  “Jamie knows what he’s doing.” Caitrin’s voice rang clear in the morning air as they approached.

  Jamie finished his inspection of his own mount and moved to Caitrin’s. This confrontation had been building up since he and Uilleam had left the Aerie. He’d hoped Will would see sense and give up arguing for more men to accompany them. Just Jamie’s luck that the taciturn man would find his voice in time to use it to aggravate the hell out of him.

  “Good morrow,” he said as he adjusted a cinch strap. “We’re ready to ride. Are ye?”

  “Aye,” Caitrin answered.

  “Nay.” Will’s voice drowned hers out. “We’re no’ ready at all.”

  “Will ye stay behind then?” Jamie asked, looking straight at Will. “We need to keep this group small, but yer company would be useful and welcome.”

  “And a dozen more Fletchers would be more useful still,” Will replied with a stubborn set to his mouth. “Two dozen. We canna risk Lady Fletcher with so few men to protect her.”

  “She’ll be best protected by traveling quietly and no’ proclaiming her presence across the countryside.” Jamie dropped the leather cinch and held his hands out by his side. “Ye have a choice, Uilleam Fletcher. Get on yer horse and ride with us, or stay here and send one other Fletcher fighting man with us. One. The Lady Fletcher values ye and yer guidance, but in this case, if we must make our way without ye, I’ll accept that, and we’ll manage without ye. ’Tis yer decision.”

  “Will…” Caitrin held out a hand to him.

  “If anything happens to her, and the attackers dinna kill ye, I’ll finish ye myself,” Will blustered.

  “If anything happens to her, ye’ll no’ get the chance. We’ll all be dead defending her. Now are ye going to ride or stand there making idle threats?”

  “Will!” Caitrin’s shout rang out as Will’s hand hovered near his dirk. “If ye are foolish enough to try that,” she warned, “I’ll order ye to stay behind right now. I need ye to keep me safe, no’ to brawl because ye dinna agree with yer orders.”

  “’Tis what I’m trying to do,” Will growled. “Keep ye safe. Yer Lathan friends are too few to do the job.”

  “And what ye propose will bring half the brigands in the Highlands down upon us, ye fool,” Jamie hissed, his patience at an end. “All the Fletchers here willna be enough if that happens.” He kept his gaze on Will. “Caitrin, we’re going to have to leave him behind.”

&
nbsp; “Nay!” Will barked the objection. “I’ll come. Just remember what I said.”

  “Ye’ll kill me, aye,” Jamie answered, exasperated beyond all reason. His control was slipping. Normally, he could handle anything with calm reason and a touch of humor. But Caitrin had mattered to him, as no other lass ever had. Apparently, she still did. Is this what being around her did to him? If so, Will had better watch his step. “Good luck to ye. Better men have tried.”

  “Jamie, Will, stop it. I’ve heard more than enough of this. We’re leaving. Quietly. This argument is over.”

  Jamie took a breath and nodded, determined not to let his sudden lapse make things worse.

  Will locked gazes with his mistress and narrowed his eyes, then he, too, nodded.

  Jamie admired the air of authority she exhibited, but he dared not let his pleasure at her display of backbone show on his face. Will would surely misinterpret a grin as a challenge, or as a taunt that Jamie thought he won the argument. With Will’s temper, they might wind up in a brawl after all. Jamie didn’t care about besting Will in an argument or a fair fight. He cared about keeping Caitrin safe, and as head of the Lathan scouts, a fact Will was not aware of, he knew his business. Jamie would get Caitrin safely through any danger that might befall them. The rest might die defending her, but Jamie would get her away. A chill ran down his back.

  Even if that meant getting her away from MacGregor.

  Chapter Four

  Caitrin stared at Jamie Lathan’s broad back. Since she’d been sent home from Lathan, his long, lanky frame had filled out most attractively with muscle, and he carried himself with more confidence than he had displayed as a lad. She admired this new Jamie still, like the lad she’d spent the last six years longing for, yet in many ways, more. Much more. Her grip tightened on the reins as she shifted uncomfortably in the saddle. She wasn’t sure what to think. On her way to meet the man her father intended her to marry, she had no business letting her adolescent longings overcome her good sense.