by Willa Blair
“Against both MacGregor’s and Fletcher’s wishes? Ye would risk Lathan in a clan war?”
“I ken the possibility.” Jamie’s head came up, and he looked her square in the eye. “Ye are worth it to me.”
“To ye, perhaps. But to Toran? He thought me trouble at fourteen. I canna imagine what he’d think of me if ye got him into a war over me. He sent ye here with a peace treaty, for the love of God!”
“He’s changed, lass. And given the danger to ye, he would support my decision.”
“Nay, Jamie. This is no’ why he wanted ye here. Ye’re no’ thinking straight.” She reached for him, but pulled her hand back. She dared not confuse him or herself any further, and touching him would distract them both. The longing for him burned within her. Yet guilt, or frustration, ruled him at the moment. “Ye canna do such a thing. There must be another way.”
“Kyle and I and the others are planning ways to get ye out of MacGregor, should the need arise. If yer da willna concede the truth. If I come for ye, ye must be ready to go. Can ye do that?”
Caitrin’s heart sank. How had things gone so wrong?
“Let me talk to Da. Perhaps he will see reason when he sees my face. There must be an honorable way to end this. To leave here in peace. I am no’ worth a clan war. I would marry MacGregor before I let that happen.” She almost believed her words.
“I canna let ye do that.” Jamie’s tone was flat, determined.
“I remind ye, ye dinna have any say in it. If both lairds sign the agreement, and if I agree to it, my fate is sealed.” Jamie nodded, but did not appear convinced. Catrin wondered if her bravado sounded as false to his ears as to hers.
“Kyle will escort ye. I dinna want ye going anywhere in this keep alone, but if yer da sees us together, he’ll be furious and he willna listen to ye.”
“He may no’ listen to me, whether he sees me with ye or no’. He forbade me from the company of any of ye Lathans. But I have to try. And I will let my bruises speak for me. He canna be fool enough to believe they are the result of eager wooing.”
“I hope ye are right, lass.”
“I hope I am, too.” She grabbed her shawl and wrapped it over her head, hiding the side of her face. “Very well. Kyle may as well take me now.”
****
Jamie, Kyle, and the other Lathans sat by the fire in the great hall a few hours later, cups of ale in hand. Jamie could see from Kyle’s expression Caitrin’s meeting with her father had not gone well.
“He told her to stop being fearful over nothing,” Kyle reported.
Jamie’s jaw clenched. He’d hoped the physical evidence of MacGregor’s cruelty would be enough to awaken Fletcher to the reality of the life he was condemning Caitrin to.
Kyle’s aggrieved tone made clear what he thought about the Fletcher’s lack of understanding for his daughter. “I stood by, outside the door, waiting to escort her back when they were done. I could no’ hear all they said, but he got loud enough at one point for me to hear that much.”
Jamie knew where this was leading, but he let Kyle continue his report.
“Ye shouldha seen her face when she left him.”
Jamie’s heart dropped at the thought of how Caitrin must feel, betrayed by her father, her pain insignificant to him.
“He canna see beyond his aspirations to his daughter’s bruises,” Kyle complained. “Instead of walking away from a bad situation, he seems determined to make it worse. So, Envoy,” Kyle continued, leaning forward in his seat “how do ye propose to settle this conflict?”
Jamie sighed and wished he had MacGregor or Fletcher to toss on the fire instead of a just a stick of wood. Either one would do. At the moment, he would gladly eliminate them both. He slapped the arm of his chair with an open palm then did it again, thinking. “I’m too close to this situation. I dinna trust in my judgement where Caitrin is concerned.”
“Ye?” Kyle clucked his disbelief. “Nay! ’Tis no’ possible.”
Jamie shrugged, beset by doubts, but he didn’t fail to notice the look Kyle cut to the other men. His temper had been uncertain since the first time MacGregor had manhandled Caitrin, and worsened steadily since then. He knew it.
They did, too. Kyle’s open sarcasm made that abundantly clear.
But he refused to excuse it. “In this case, it appears to be so. There may no’ be an honorable solution that prevents the betrothal. We may have overstayed our welcome as it is. If Fletcher and MacGregor both discover the other has invited us to leave, we’ll be tossed out the gate before we can saddle our horses.” Nay, he would not simply sit by and let Caitrin be sacrificed to her father’s ambition. He straightened up. “Ewan, I’ll trust ye to stay with the horses and see they’re kept ready. Ye are the youngest of us, so yer presence in the stable will go unremarked. Ye look closer in age to MacGregor’s grooms, so ’twould be natural for ye to seek companions there. We must be ready to ride at a moment’s notice. If the worst happens and we have to run for it, especially with Caitrin, every second will count.”
Ewan nodded. “I will.” Then he chuckled. “So much for my bed. I’ll be sleeping on hay while the rest of ye bide here.”
That earned him a swat from Bram. “We all do what we must.”
Kyle frowned. “Ye canna believe it will come to that.”
“I hope it doesna. But we may have only one chance to save her if her father refuses to see reason, and MacGregor continues to accost her.”
“If they sign the marriage contract, we’ll have nay recourse,” Kyle answered and spread his open hands in a sign of helplessness.
That set Jamie’s teeth on edge. “I ken that all too well,” he snarled. Kyle eyed him warily as Jamie drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair. “We must prevent it. If I can keep MacGregor busy and Lady MacGregor can ensure Fletcher is amused and diverted, the matter may be delayed until Caitrin convinces her father, or until we can develop a different solution.” Jamie pondered for a moment. “Did her father confine her to her chamber or to the keep?”
Kyle cut his gaze back to Jamie. “No’ that I heard, but I couldna hear all that was said. Why?”
“’Twould be simple enough to have her leave the keep to go into the village with one of the other ladies. There must be many reasons why she would do that.”
“Indeed…”
Hope began to blossom in Jamie’s chest. “That may work to our advantage. She must talk to the other ladies and find reasons to go.”
Kyle shook his head. “She may be reluctant to be seen…”
Jamie grimaced, recalling her bruises. “She may indeed.”
“And what do ye propose to do once ye remove her from MacGregor’s tender care?” Bram asked. “Take her home to Fletcher, and she’ll end up here again.”
Jamie sighed. “I ken that as well. It would be best if I can find a way to prevent the betrothal.”
“Ye’d best work on MacGregor, then,” Kyle advised. “Fletcher must think he has too much to gain or lose by this match.”
“Perhaps more than he realizes,” Jamie answered. “He hopes to gain the MacGregor’s favor, but he’s in danger of losing Lathan’s. In the long run, which do ye think he’ll value most?”
Chapter Fourteen
Caitrin spent the next day in her chamber, refusing to see anyone but Nan while her bruises faded. Even the MacGregor left her alone. Perhaps the story of illness she concocted had its desired effect.
“How are ye, milady?” Nan asked when she arrived and knelt before the chair Caitrin occupied. Then she saw Caitrin’s face. “Ach, nay.”
Too ashamed of what Alasdair had done to her to meet Nan’s gaze, Caitrin couldn’t look up from her lap. “I’ll be fine,” Caitrin told her.
“Will ye? Will we?”
That brought Caitrin’s head up to meet Nan’s gaze. It was like looking in a mirror. Nan’s face was bruised, too, her eye swollen nearly shut. The arm that lay across her midriff showed small, oval bruises, like fingertips. “Nan! Who did
this?”
“The same man who beat ye, milady.”
“Why?”
“Because…” Nan’s voice broke and tears began to course down her cheeks.
Caitrin stood and pulled her up into her embrace. “Alasdair did this?”
“Aye.” Between hiccups, Nan told her. “He set me to spy on ye, milady. But ye have been so kind, I couldna tell him anything that would harm ye. I wouldna. The laird is easily angered, as ye ken fine. When I couldna tell him anything, he hit me. I’ve hidden bruises from ye nearly the whole time ye have been here.”
“Nay.” Caitrin held her away so she could study her face. “Nan, tell me ye did no’ suffer beatings for me.”
“Nay, lady. For myself. For my honor. I wouldna betray ye.”
“Ach, Nan. I dinna ken what to say. How can I thank ye?”
“Take me with ye when ye go. Or…ach, I canna say it.”
“What?”
“The next in line, unless ye give him an heir, is no’ like the MacGregor. He’s kind, and he has a kind wife. Things would be so different…”
Nan broke down into sobs, unable to continue, much to Caitrin’s relief. What she proposed was treason. Nay, an act of desperation. No less than that. “Ach, Nan, I didna ken how truly awful he is until yesterday.”
“If ye still live, ye have yet to see his worst,” Nan choked out. “My brother…” The sobs returned and Caitrin could do no more than hold her and let her cry it out.
“Ye must remain here with me. I’ll have the guards fetch us meals. I’ll say ye have caught the same ague that has kept me confined to my chamber. We willna be disturbed. Least of all by Laird MacGregor.”
When Caitrin finally emerged two days later, well before the evening meal, she easily covered the remaining discoloration on the side of her face with her hair.
But what she saw in the great hall distressed her—Jamie and the MacGregor in their cups, laughing together. What had happened to Jamie’s enmity for Alasdair while she retreated to avoid more trouble? Jamie had seen what he’d done to her. How could he laugh with him now?
Had the betrothal been signed? Her stomach churned. Or was Jamie still working to prevent it? He looked so cozy with the MacGregor, she had her doubts, and that sent a spurt of panic through her chest, making her heart pound.
To avoid being seen, she ducked down the hallway to the kitchen. Perhaps she could catch up on the news there, since the maids and serving wenches gathered in its warmth when they weren’t busy elsewhere.
She listened to the staff gossip while she nibbled on some bread and cheese after telling the cook she could not wait for the evening meal. According to them, Jamie had been spending a great deal of time with the MacGregor lately and earlier tension between them seemed to have dissipated. Fletcher and Lady MacGregor were frequent companions at meals and in between as well. Caitrin allowed herself a moment’s amusement, imagining her father offering for the lady. Would MacGregor agree? And if he did, would that match satisfy her father’s ambition for a stronger tie to MacGregor?
Nay, she was dreaming. That might please her father, but it did not settle the question of control of Fletcher upon his passing. He needed an heir, a male child of hers. Which meant he needed a husband for her as well. Caitrin’s appetite deserted her with that thought. She thanked the cook and took the back stairs to her chamber with a meal for Nan, hoping to avoid any further encounters.
But she quickly came upon Lady MacGregor in a hallway.
“Caitrin, my dear! ’Tis good to see ye. Ye must be feeling better, aye?”
“Aye, milady, thank ye. I am.” Caitrin bowed her head, determined to keep the marks on her face covered rather than have to explain to this woman what her son had done.
“But ye are returning to yer chamber with food? Will ye no’ join us for the evening meal?”
“Thank ye, nay.” Caitrin shook her head then froze as she felt her hair move away from her face. “I visited Cook and just ate in the kitchen. This is for my maid. She is still ill.” Madeleine’s frown told Caitrin her bruises had been noticed.
“Who did that to ye?” Madeleine voiced her demand politely, but Caitrin had no doubt she expected an answer.
“I would prefer no’ to say, milady.”
“That does no’ please me. Ye must tell me. Who hit ye?”
Caitrin bowed her head and studied the floor.
“Was it my son?”
Shocked, Caitrin’s gaze flew up to meet the older woman’s. “Ye ken how he is?”
Madeleine pursed her lips. “Alasdair has always had a temper. Since becoming laird, he feels he is entitled to exercise it regularly.” She reached out and placed a hand over Caitrin’s cold fingers. “As his wife, ye will have to find a way to soften his moods. Ye willna wish to live in fear of his fists.”
“As ye did of his father’s?” The question was a stab in the dark. Or perhaps not such a wild guess. When they visited the portrait gallery, Madeleine had hinted at mistreatment by her husband—even by his brother.
Madeleine’s eyes popped wide open before she looked away.
Despair made Caitrin’s limbs heavy. So it was true. Madeleine didn’t need to say it. Her face said it for her. “How can ye condemn me to the same?”
“I hope ye will be wiser and more circumspect.” Madeleine sighed and met Caitrin’s gaze. “I took too long to learn my lesson. My stubbornness cost me two babes before Alasdair’s older brothers came along.”
Caitrin’s stomach threatened revolt as horror washed over her. “He hit ye while ye carried his babes?” Could Alasdair do the same to her?
Tears glinted in the older woman’s eyes, but they were quickly blinked away. “Dinna make the same mistakes. Ye have years ahead of ye, to suffer or to enjoy. ’Tis up to ye.”
With that, Madeleine brushed past Caitrin and continued down the hall. Caitrin turned to watch her go, chilled to the bone by what she’d learned. Women in this clan had suffered at the hands of its lairds for years. Nay, Madeleine MacGregor would not help her escape this marriage. She had only one option left—admit to Jamie how she knew as much as she did about the MacGregor and hope he believed her. If Jamie refused, as her father did, to accept her ability, she would be lost indeed.
****
Caitrin waited until midnight before making her way silently down to Jamie’s chamber door. She tried the latch, not really expecting it to open, but it did. The door swung inward at her touch. She slipped inside and closed it silently behind her, latching it against another’s entry.
In the dim glow of failing embers in the hearth, she could see Jamie sprawled on his back on his cot. Boots, belt, and plaid lay strewn on the floor where he’d stripped out of them. Likely he’d enjoyed too much of MacGregor’s ale or whisky by the time he made his way here.
Caitrin took advantage of his repose to study the man before her. A day’s growth of dark whiskers shadowed his face, and his hair fell across his eyes. His broad chest rose and fell with each quiet breath. The rumpled, drawn up hem of his shirt exposed strong thighs but hid the bulge above them. He had tucked his feet beneath one end of his plaid that remained on the bed. His arms crossed above his head, and his hands were hidden by the sack that served as his pillow. His mouth, relaxed in sleep, invited her kiss.
He looked delicious. She wanted to stretch out on top of him and wrap her arms around his neck.
She took a step toward him then paused. Nay, she dared not go too close. He was a warrior. Likely one hand clutched a dirk under that pillow, and she could find herself with her throat cut before Jamie came fully awake.
“Do ye like what ye see?”
Jamie’s sleep-gravelled voice startled her into a squeak of surprise. “I thought ye asleep,” she admitted, approaching him. He had yet to move or open his eyes, but she had no doubt he knew, even before she made a sound, who had entered his chamber.
“I slept until I heard ye come in.” His eyes opened then, blue shadowed to the color of the midnight sk
y.
She reached out and brushed his hair away from those eyes.
Quick as a lash, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her atop him.
Just where she wanted to be. She wriggled herself fully on top of his body and heard him groan as he gripped her hips.
“Ye’d best stop that.”
“And if I dinna wish to?” She wiggled again and felt the evidence of his desire beneath her body, hard and straining against her.
“Ye try me, lass.”
“I hope to, aye.”
In answer, Jamie rolled her underneath him. Then he found her mouth and kissed her.
She pulled his head tightly to her while his mouth plundered hers.
As suddenly as he started, he stopped and lifted from her. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he rubbed his jaw. “Nay, we canna do this. My beard will mark yer face as surely as MacGregor’s fist did.”
Caitrin sat up behind him and draped an arm over his shoulder, resting her head against his broad back. “I hate this, Jamie. I want to leave here—with ye.”
“I ken it. But we must find a way that doesna lead to war.”
“And is drinking with the MacGregor getting ye any closer to that?” she taunted softly.
Now Jamie scrubbed his face with both hands. “I canna say for certain.”
“I can. He lies as he breathes, easily and without thought.” Jamie tensed against her cheek.
“Ye canna ken such a thing.”
Caitrin slid around beside Jamie and turned to face him. Taking his hands in hers, she steeled herself against his reaction to her deepest secret. Her old nurse’s warnings echoed in her head. Ye canna frighten people when ye reach yer new home. Do ye wish to be left all alone? Ye willna have any friends. Now that she had decided to expose what she could do, nerves make the words pour out of her in a torrent. “But I can. It’s something I’ve always been able to feel. I ken when someone lies. I kent ye and Toran lied to me about the bridge, but I didna wish to be left behind, so I played along. I kent ye lied when ye told me ye didna care when they sent me home.” She bit her lip against the memory and heaved a breath. “But there was naught I could do, and so I accepted yer words.”
