Heat suffused her face as Alexander's eyes turned toward her. Her voice caught in her throat. "I'm sorry, Da, but I have no instrument here. I fear I wouldn't please you with my efforts."
Ian spoke up. "Ah, lassie, 'tis no problem, that. Alexander and William are both good musicians with the pipes and lute. Dinna deny us the pleasure of a woman's song in During Castle once again. Lads, fetch yer instruments and give the fair lassie some bonnie music to sing to."
William nodded. "Aye, brother, let us show your lady the way it was when Mam used to sing here."
When Alexander didn't respond immediately, Ian glowered over the edge of his tankard and set it down with a loud thunk, splashing ale onto the arm of his chair.
Katherine darted a glance from Alexander to his father. "'Tis all right, Laird MacGregor. Perhaps I can sing for you another time."
Alexander frowned and pushed his chair back. "Come, William."
The young man looked at him and shook his head. "'Tis no need for us both to leave. I can bring my lute and your pipes. You stay and try to make amends for barely speaking to anyone tonight." Clapping his older brother on the back, he turned and left the hall.
Katherine swallowed nervously. It seemed there was no way out, but to sing. She glanced at her father. "Da, what would you have me sing?"
He smiled and patted Monique's hand. "Sing the one about the mermaid. 'Tis one of your mother's favorites."
Katherine nodded. The words to the ancient ballad told of a lonely mermaid who fell in love with a human who didn't return her love. It was a favorite among the people of Scotland.
Within minutes, William walked in, his arms filled with lute and bagpipes.
She darted a glance at the all too apparent expression of impatience on her betrothed's face. "Alexander, do you and Sir William know the ballad, Lament of the Maighdean Chuain?"
Ian, it seemed was quick to notice her use of his son's given name. "Ah, so 'tis Alexander, is it now? Angus, did you know these two had become such fond friends in so wee short a time?"
Alexander frowned at his father. "'Tis no need to heap such import on her use of my given name. She and I would have done so, soon enough. 'Twill make the times we must converse, less formal, 'tis all."
Katherine cringed. The gentle friendship they'd shared when he told her the history of the castle seemed to have vanished. Ever since their passions had taken over in the garden, everything had gone wrong. How long did he plan to punish her with his anger?
She clasped her hands together in her lap. Whether she wished it or not, their course was set. They had no choice except to wed. But if they were to have any chance at happiness, somehow she must find a way to appease him. They couldn't continue this way forever.
William's voice drew her from her thoughts. "Aye, Lady Katherine, we know the song." He nudged his brother and they began to play.
Her heart swelled with emotion as she sang of the young mermaid who gave up her life in the sea to be with her love. When Katherine reached the part where the man cruelly scorned the mermaid, saying he would wed a lass better than she, her voice trembled. She darted an embarrassed glance toward Alexander.
His expression seemed to study her, as if he was not sure what to think. The apparent look of puzzled interest that she saw in his eyes unnerved her. She drew a quick breath to steady her voice. Or was it her pulse?
The sweet clear notes of the bagpipe droned on in the background. She sang of the mermaid who was left on the beach to weep eternally and whose tears created the foam of every wave that lapped the shore. By the time she finished the ballad a hush had grown over the entire hall.
As the last strains of the bagpipe and lute faded along with her voice, a loud sniffle came from the doorway. Katherine looked up to see the maid, Gillian, wipe a tear from her face then turn red with embarrassment.
Alexander chuckled. "Faith, lass, 'tis just a song. And 'tis sure I am, you'll never have a lad leave you to weep by the sea."
Gillian smiled brightly then turned to face Ian. "Laird MacGregor, I beg yer pardon. 'Tis a travelin' tinker in the courtyard, beggin' yer leave to speak with Lady Katherine and Lady Gordon. He seeks to show them his wares, seein' how a weddin' will soon take place here."
Ian looked at Angus and winked before he turned to Monique and Katherine. "Ah, ladies, do you wish to inspect the tinker's wares? If you dinna wish to be bothered, I will have him sent on his way posthaste."
Katherine could still feel Alexander's gaze. "Oh, Laird MacGregor, please don't send him away."
Angus grinned at Ian. "Faith, old friend, have you e'er known a lass who didna wish to see a tinker's wares?"
Chuckling in return, Ian replied, "Nay. I dinna think 'tis such a lass in all of Scotland. Or anywhere else for that matter." He nodded at his sons. "Alexander, William, play us a bold march while we wait for the ladies. 'Tis sure I am, they will lighten the tinker's load and Angus's purse before they return."
Katherine turned to her mother. "Please, Maman, will you go with me?" Seeing her nod, she rose gratefully and hurried from the hall.
The tunes of Glengarry's March and the March of the Highlander drifted out of the open window and followed Katherine across the courtyard. Gripping her skirts in her hands she quickened her step. Could she not even escape him there?
Chapter Seven
Katherine awoke at dawn, feeling restless. Her dreams had been plagued with visions of Alexander. One moment he was the pleasant gentleman who spoke sincerely of his parents' love, and the next, a cruel, demanding one who tried to force himself on her. She shuddered and rose from her bed, wanting no more such visions.
This morning, the lovely chamber held no attraction for her. Faith, she didn't wish to look at the garden. No. She'd been there all night in her dreams. All she wanted was to escape any reminder of things to come and bitter dreams of unfulfilled passion and anger. She dressed quickly and walked to the stable.
Sounds of snoring greeted her as she entered. Looking about, she saw a young groom still dozing on a pallet in an empty stall. She smiled as she walked up to her horse. That wouldn't stop her.
Patting her horse's neck, she gazed at the dozens of cumbersome saddles lined against the nearby wall. She doubted she could lift one of the men's heavy ones but the sidesaddles set aside for the women were uncomfortable and confining.
Another quick glance around the stable assured her no one else was about. She grinned. None would know if she rode bareback. Leading her mare over to an upended barrel, she stepped on it, mounted her horse and smiled down at the young groom who slept on, unaware of her presence.
She straddled the animal's firm back easily, just as she often used to ride when she was younger. Until Maman had learned of it and told her a true lady never rode without a saddle. 'Twas then Da taught her to ride and use a dirk. He'd insisted she be able to harness, saddle and mount her horse on her own before he allowed her the freedom to ride about their lands as she wished.
How many times, when she was young, had she heard the reason for his lessons? She smiled, remembering when he was not within earshot, how she'd repeated his advice, trying unsuccessfully to mimic his deep gruff Gaelic.
"Be payin' attention now, daughter. Every good Scotswoman knows how to ride well and defend herself."
She would end up in a fit of giggles as she stomped around the paddock, with her thumbs hooked into the armholes of her tunic, copying his proud swagger and attempting to sound like him, only to have her voice come out in a high pitched squeak.
Ah, then there was the time he'd caught her practicing throwing a knife after she'd been told she was too young to learn. It had always been her habit to go to the fields and watch the older children train with their daggers as they aimed at a log or piles of peat squares drying in the sun.
But once, when a sennight of wet weather had kept her from the fields, she had slipped away to the oats shed, alone, to practice with a knife she'd taken from the kitchen. Her inexperienced aim had gone a little w
ild and the razor sharp blade embedded in the shed door frame just as Da had walked in, looking for her.
The memory was as strong as if it were yesterday.
Da had automatically drawn his own dagger as he looked up from the quivering blade embedded in the doorframe mere inches from where he stood. Silently he sheathed his dirk, worked the other knife free and walked over to her. "Your mother is lookin' for you, lass." He looked down at the knife lying in his hand. "Your aim is a wee bit high."
"Oh Da! I'm sorry. I didn't see you coming. I'd never forgive myself if I hurt you. I have been content just to watch the others practicing in the fields but 'tis been too wet now for days to do so." Her bottom lip quivered.
"Shh, lass. No harm's been done. Dinna fash, Katy. You'll have your mother worryin' over your red eyes. Och, I trow she willna mind waitin' a bit longer. Here, take this and watch me. I'll show you how to hit what you mean to. Remember, a good Scotswoman—"
"Can ride well and defend herself. Aye, Da."
"Aye," he said. "And 'tis best you be rememberin' that. Look here, lass. 'Tis the way you need to be throwin' your dirk. Bend your knees and crouch down. Dinna hold it so tight. Loosen your grip a wee bit. Aye. Balance the weight of the handle in your hand."
He stood beside her, demonstrating, as he explained. "Now, look to your target. Get it sure in your sight. When you are ready, pull your arm back, straighten your legs and rise up as you let the dirk fly. 'Twill put force to your throw."
Pointing to a dark knot in a beam of the shed, he went through the steps he'd explained and sank his knife in the center of the spot, almost faster than she could watch. He cocked an eyebrow and locked his thumbs in his plaid. "And that, Katy, is how 'tis done. Now, you try." He retrieved the blade and gave it to her.
She bent low and stared at the spot for a moment, holding the small kitchen knife gently in her fingers.
"Aye, that's it," he prompted. "Now come up quick and throw hard."
She popped up and slung her knife at the same time. It landed just short of her target. Disappointed, she stuck out her lip and stamped her foot.
"I dinna remember showin' you that part," he said and ruffled her hair. Smiling in encouragement, he added, "It takes time to learn to be good with a dirk. Great skill doesna come in a day. Remember that. And from now on, Katy, see that you practice the way I showed you. For I fear there willna be a shed safe in all of Scotland 'til you master it."
Katherine smiled remembering all her da had taught her and patted her mare's neck. "All right, girl. Let's go."
Determined to enjoy a few moments of freedom, she rode out into the bright morning sunlight. Blinking to accustom her eyes after the dimness of the stable, she looked across the bailey toward the front of the castle.
Oh no. She'd not thought of that. The drawbridge and portcullis were still closed. Here she'd managed to get away for a ride without an escort and now she couldn't leave the castle grounds.
Impatient, she pulled sharply on the reins. Her horse pranced about in a tight circle. "Ah, Fraoch, you act as if you've been trained to the dance. That's it! We'll ride on the training field. 'Tis early yet. No one will be there, so we can enjoy a wee run."
True enough, the large area was empty. She smiled. It would seem the MacGregors didn't arise as early as she was wont to do. Leaning forward, she whispered into her mare's ear. "Come, Fraoch, let's run with the wind whilst we may."
Tapping the horse's side with her reins, she flew down the field, her mare's hooves pounding across the open land. She laughed in delight as the wind blew her hair back from her face and lifted her skirts up around her calves. Dust flew from beneath her horse's hooves as she urged it on. "Faster, Fraoch, faster."
Katherine galloped the full length of the practice field then turned and cantered back. Ah, how she enjoyed such moments of freedom. As she neared the end of the run, she leaned over her horse's neck and patted it. "That was grand. Perhaps on the morrow we—"
A noise startled her and she looked up. She was no longer alone. A tall broad shouldered man stood beside the gate, holding the reins to a large black horse.
Riding closer, she recognized Alexander and slowed her mare to a gentle trot.
He smiled at her and spoke in a pleasant tone as he swung into his saddle. "Good morrow. I didn't mean to disturb your ride. I thought myself the only one who would be riding here so early this morn."
Katherine chewed her bottom lip and smiled nervously. "Do you oft ride here? I didn't mean to take it from you."
He nodded, then shrugged. "I rise early each morn and exercise with Tursachan whenever I can. Usually, I ride outside the castle grounds. 'Tis more fitting a course for us." Smiling, he added, "You are a good horsewoman, lass. Would you care to ride with me this morn? I was headed for the drawbridge when I heard your horse." He motioned toward it and then looked back at her.
She glanced longingly toward the entrance gates to the castle. "Aye, I would love to ride beyond the castle. But then everyone would discover my dark secret."
His eyes narrowed and his words came out in a low, clipped tone. "What dark secret?"
An impish smile lit her face. "That I enjoy riding bareback. You have caught me riding when I didn't expect to be seen. I fear I'll be in disfavor with Maman when she hears of this. Oft has she told me no true lady rides without a saddle."
A muscle quivered at a corner of Alexander's mouth. Then his lips smoothed into a devastating grin. The grin widened into a smile and he threw back his head and laughed.
The deep pleasant rumble made Katherine's heart race. Not only was he handsome, but also when he laughed, his friendly manner wrapped itself around her heart like a warm glove. She found herself wishing dreamily of a long and happy life with him.
Alexander nodded. "Well now, I wouldn't wish to be the man responsible for you being in disgrace with your mother. And as to being a lady, it takes more than fancy manners. A true lady is at ease with others and puts others at their ease. Perhaps you were thinking of your horse's comfort when you left your saddle in the stable," he said, grinning once again. "If you truly wish to ride with me, I'll saddle your mare for you and none here need know."
Katherine smiled back. Once again she was enjoying his company. "That would be most kind of you, Alexander."
"Ah, lass, we MacGregors have been known to show an act of goodwill from time to time, especially if it should also bide us well. And riding out on a sunny morn with a bonnie lass by my side doesn't cause me to grieve. Come along then. I'll saddle your mare before your dark secret is discovered."
Turning his horse, he trotted off in the direction of the stables.
She nudged Fraoch and followed close behind.
After he dismounted, Alexander walked over to her and held out his arms to help her down from her perch.
She leaned toward him, felt his strong hands around her waist, and slid off her mare's back into his arms.
For the space of a heartbeat, she felt him hold her close before he set her down. She turned away quickly and looked at his horse, fearing her face would betray her thoughts. The closer she came to Alexander, the more she found herself wanting his touch and to touch him in return. Part of her felt shy. Another part sought out the wild daring of his strength, his independent nature. Perhaps, in time, they would create a happy life together for themselves.
Alexander left Tursachan standing where he'd dismounted, took the reins to her horse and led it into a stall to saddle it. The skittish animal pranced about for a moment, unused to his touch. "Shh, easy lass," he whispered and rubbed the mare's neck. "I won't hurt you. Aye, there now. You're a bonny lass, aren't you?" He stole a quick glance at Katherine. "And as for your mistress, och, but she's a very temptin' lass too. Aye?"
As he whispered to the mare, Katherine's voice called out. "Alexander, shall I hold your horse's reins? Or do you wish for me to tie them to a stall?" Without waiting for his answer, she walked up to Tursachan and picked up the stallion's reins.
When he turned to answer, his smile vanished instantly. "Lass, don't move! Let go of the reins slowly and step back. Tursachan takes to none but my hand. Many a man has been injured trying to ride him." He hurried over to her, astonished by what he saw. Apparently not only was she not afraid of his high-spirited horse, but neither did Tursachan show the usual display of wild-eyed nervousness that it always did with anyone other than himself. "Lass, you surprise me yet again. Never have I seen Tursachan so calm with anyone else. 'Twould seem you've found an ally. As to your question, I never have to tie him. He's as firm to stand as the great circle of stones of our ancestors for which he was named. He obeys only my command."
Katherine smiled. "Ah, that explains why he has the name he does. Tursachan in Gaelic means standing stones. I did wonder why such a name had been given to your horse."
Before he could stop her, she pulled an apple from a small cloth bag tied at her waist and held it out to the stallion. She rubbed the side of the horse's neck and crooned quietly to him as he ate from her hand as docile as a lamb.
**
The early morning sunshine filtered into the stable through small windows high in the wall, lighting the scene before him. Alexander watched in amazement. Tursachan ate the apple from Katherine's hand and stood calmly as she stroked his long mane. The woman's poised beauty created an enchanting image. She seemed to take on an almost ethereal quality as she stood bathed in the glow of dancing motes of sunlight. The pleasing image settled in his heart, creating a home for itself.
"Ah, lass, it would seem I have no need to fear for you around Tursachan. Unless it were to be the fear of losing him to you." He gifted her with a smile, then returned to saddling her mare and led it over to her.
Her smile seemed to offer open friendship. "You have no need to worry about that. While I'm glad he seems to abide me, I don't think I could ever control his spirit. He has a sense of independence that I think he would never surrender to me."
Highlander's Bride (Heart of the Highlander Series Book 1) Page 10
