Samantha Holt (Highland Fae Chronicles)

by To Dream of a Highlander

  Still weak and fighting the images in her mind, Catriona kept her eyes shut. She vaguely heard Lorna’s voice and then footsteps on wood. They were carrying her to her chambers, she realised. Soft blankets swallowed her as she was laid down, their herby fragrance comforting. She longed to stay locked in the dark abyss. Safe from life and the demons that shadowed her every step.

  ***

  Finn jerked awake, heart pounding unnaturally. He scowled, lay there for a moment and stared at the fabric canopy above him. He strained to listen. What had woken him? He rubbed his arm. It tingled and he was sure something had jabbed him.

  An odd sound stopped his eyelids from falling closed again and he sat. Was that crying? Screaming? It was faint but it certainly sounded like a woman. Climbing from the bed, he grabbed the shirt he’d flung carelessly over the chair in the corner and left the laces loose. Night still reigned and only splinters of silvered moonlight seeped in through the shutters to guide his way.

  Nearly stubbing his toe on the end of the bed, he hastened to the door and tossed it open. The torches were still lit and the one outside his chamber stuttered with the sudden gust. He paused in the doorway. Aye, a woman to be sure. And the tightness in his chest told him he knew which woman it was.

  Katelyn.

  He strode along the corridor that linked the chambers. The sound increased and even though he told himself she couldn’t be in danger, the tension in his gut amplified.

  Ready for anything, he eased open Katelyn’s door. It squeaked on its hinges and he grimaced. But no one attacked him. Indeed, the only person in the room was Katelyn. Lying on her side, the torchlight from the corridor revealed the long length of her thigh and her magnificent hair cascading down her back, clearly having come free from a braid. His racing heart slowed as he studied her. The blankets were entirely gone, kicked off onto the floor. She hadn’t bothered drawing the curtains around the bed. The weather had not been cold enough for that.

  So Finn had a glorious view of that incredible figure encased in a whisper of a chemise.

  Before his body responded to the sight, she tossed suddenly, a whimper coming from her lips. Finn stiffened as her anguished expression became apparent. She did it again, moving quickly and frantically, and her whimpers turned to cries. He watched, took a step forward and paused. Should he wake her? Would she be embarrassed to find him in her chamber?

  She made the decision for him when she nearly flung herself off the bed. If he didn’t act, she would surely harm herself. Quickly coming to her side, he caught her when she rolled again and urged her gently onto the bed with him. Sweat clung to her brow and it dampened his shirt as he bundled her into his arms and pressed her hard against him. Katelyn fought him but the noises quietened to a soft sob. The sound pierced him, like a knife wound. He’d seen this before, especially in men who had witnessed battle for the first time but he didn’t know women could suffer the same.

  When she ceased fighting him, her breathing slowed but still she cried. He stroked her cheek, felt dampness there and softly urged her to awaken. Katelyn tensed abruptly and he knew she was finally awake. But she couldn’t stop crying.

  Ach, powerless yet again.

  Finn raised her face to his. The golden glow of the torches still crept in through the open door so he saw the pain in her eyes. Katelyn didn’t look away or bury herself against his chest as he thought she might do. It appeared as though she was incapable. She sobbed openly, uncontrollably and he had to watch every heart-breaking moment of it.

  Unable to bear her pain any longer and refusing to question why that hurt anguished him so much, he did the only thing he could think of to soothe away her tears.

  He kissed her.

  She tasted salty and wet at first. And she still wept but the sound quietened, giving way to slow, heavy breaths. Katelyn opened her mouth to him while he cradled her head, a hand speared into her hair, the other stroking away the tears on her cheek.

  He groaned as the tang of salt was replaced with the flavour of Katelyn. Her tongue tentatively met his and his body instantly inflamed, became tight with need. He hadn’t realised she would taste so good. One sample would never be enough now. He pressed deeper and relished her sharp intake of breath. That sweet, supple body grew pliant and aligned with his. Awareness of how big and strong he was seeped in. Something about Katelyn brought out his need to protect.

  Removing his hand from her cheek, he trailed his fingers down her side, the heat of her skin almost scalding him. The soft swell of a breast, the indent of her waist, the line of a hip that begged to be grabbed. He needed to claim and defend this vulnerable woman so badly.

  But somewhere in the back of his mind, he recalled he’d merely intended to comfort. This was not about him. That didn’t mean he could stop though. Not yet. He tilted his head to press the kiss deeper and gave in to the urge to grab her hip. His fingers pressed into the yielding flesh of her rear and he kept her close, the warmth their embrace created sending wild sensations bolting through him. Desire and possessiveness controlled his movements. Having Katelyn in his arms threatened to overcome every belief he’d carefully instilled in himself throughout the years.

  A tiny whimper broke the moment. Though she didn’t seem ready to end the kiss —the nails digging into his shoulder led him to believe she was enjoying it as much as he—the reason he’d kissed her came flooding back. Gently, carefully, he slowed the kiss, touching her tongue once more and silently wishing he could repeat the experience. Then he broke away but kept her in his hold. Katelyn accepted his comfort easily and burrowed against his chest. Her arms snaked around his waist and his heart swelled at the trust this lass put in him. She barely knew him yet she was willingly sharing her grief with him. It seemed the exquisite Katelyn was stronger than she appeared.

  After many torturous moments of having her flattened against him, he spoke. “Are ye well, lass?”

  She nodded against his torso.

  “Ye suffer with dreams,” he stated gently.

  “Aye,” she whispered.

  “What do ye see? Can ye tell me?”

  He heard her gulp and her body stiffened so he stroked up and down her back until she relaxed again.

  “Blood…” Her voice was so quiet he had to strain to hear her. “So much blood. The Viking...”

  “Ye mean when ye were attacked…”

  “Aye.”

  “How long have ye been having these dreams?”

  “Ever since we arrived at Kilcree,” she replied quietly. “’Twas why I swooned yesterday.”

  He nodded. That explained much. Her sudden fragility, her strange moods and that fainting fit. It relieved him that it was at least not some illness. She had spent the rest of the day abed and insisted she needed no healer.

  “I am consumed by demons.” Her voice hitched.

  “Nay.” He tugged her back and forced her face up to his with a finger under her chin. “Nay, not by demons. Dinnae ever say such a thing again. I have seen grown men, bigger and stronger than I, taken by the same thing. They cry and whimper like bairns. Ye are stronger even than them, Katie. Any fool can see that. How many would admit to such fears and dreams? None, I’d wager.”

  She dropped her gaze but he kept the finger under her chin, forcing her to look at him again. His words were seeping in, he was sure, but would they have any effect?

  “I am sorry ye saw me like that.”

  Finn shook his head. “Dinnae be sorry, I am glad.”

  “Why did ye come?”

  “I heard ye.”

  “Ye could have left me.”

  “Nay, I couldnae.” He secured her with a look and something inside squeezed at the sight of her spiked lashes and shimmering eyes.

  Here was a woman so vulnerable and confused, and yet he still desired her more than anything. And if her kiss was anything to go by, she desired him too. But it meant little. While the kiss might have worked to calm her, it was a mistake. She stiffened, as if her thoughts had run the same
route. He brushed a kiss across her head and sighed. Katelyn had a long way to go and an uncertain future ahead of her. And he would have little to do with it.

  She slid out of his hold and arranged her shift around her. She probably didn’t realise that the laces on the front were loose and he spied the curve of one perfect breast as she shifted. Hands clasped tightly in front of her, she studied him with wide eyes. Even with the gilded glow of the torches, he saw the heat in her cheeks. Was she imagining similar things to him? Did she wonder how it might feel if their flesh connected? He climbed off the bed and straightened his shirt, aware of his bare legs beneath it.

  “Forgive me for waking ye,” she murmured, quickly lowering her gaze.

  “Dinnae apologise, lass. I’m glad ye did. Ye shouldnae keep these things to yerself. It doesnae do the mind any good, keeping yer fears locked away.”

  Katelyn raised her head. “Do ye share yers?”

  He tensed his jaw and laughed inwardly. Of course he did not. A highlander was not meant to be afraid. Instead of admitting as much, he grinned. “I have no fears, Katie.” The disappointment in her expression made him feel a fool so he spoke quickly to erase the look. “Will ye be all right now?”

  Her shoulders straightened as she sucked in a deep breath. “Aye, thank ye, Finn.”

  Finn studied her for a moment and shook his head. “Yer a daft lass. I think I shall keep ye company this night.”

  Her eyes widened once more. “What?”

  “I can watch over ye while ye sleep if ye like,” he explained. Though he had to admit, he could think of better ways to spend the night.

  A grateful smile spread across her face, lighting her expression. If only he could make her smile more often.

  “Aye, I would like that, thank ye.”

  Disturbed by her gratitude and the way it made his heart bound, he nodded brusquely. “Get yerself to bed then.” He closed the door slowly, focusing on the wood while she picked up the blankets and rearranged them. Once he was sure she was settled, he strode over to the chair in the corner and sat. It took all his restraint not to jump up and offer to watch over her from a much closer distance. “I willnae be here on the morrow, lass,” he whispered. “’Twould not do for me to be seen leaving yer chambers.”

  “Aye,” she whispered back. “Good night, Finn.”

  Ach, like a knife to his heart. He loved hearing his name on her lips. “Good night, Katelyn.”

  ***

  A tickle roused Catriona. Something danced over her arm and she swept it away with a grumble. Slowly she peeled open her eyes to see one of the maids, Mae. Catriona sat with a jolt. Sweet Mary, she’d slept through the night. No dreams, no shortness of breath. Normally she woke covered in sweat and struggling to breathe. She considered her body and all seemed fine. Apparently Finn’s presence meant she hadn’t hurt herself either. Bruises and scratches were becoming a regular thing. She wasn’t sure what she did at night but sometimes she awoke on the floor.

  “Come on, milady, ‘tis late,” Mae urged her out of the bed with an arm wrapped around her shoulder. The brown-haired woman paused and eyed her. “Ye look well rested, milady.”

  Katelyn heard the surprise in Mae’s voice and peeked at the chair where Finn had spent the night. She understood Mae’s wonder. The maid witnessed her dishevelled state each morning.

  “I am well rested, Mae,” she replied softly, glancing at the seat once more. There was no sign Finn had been there but she sensed him in the air. For the first time since coming to Kilcree, she had slept. The large warrior soothed away her fears.

  Catriona took the chance to study herself and dipped a swatch of linen into the steaming bowl of water Mae had put out for her. Nay, no bruises or scratches. She truly had slumbered well. Warmth rushed into her cheeks when Mae helped her change into an emerald green gown and she recalled the sensation of much stronger fingers spanning her waist. She traced the golden embroidery on the front. Who knew why she returned the kiss or why he even kissed her, but being pressed up against that unforgiving chest, secure in his hold calmed her more than any tonic could. It seemed Finn was the answer to her problems.

  Or mayhap not. Finn complicated an already difficult situation. It could be only days until Laird Gillean arrived and claimed her hand. With his plan to marry her—or Katelyn—at Kilcree so she needed no escort to his lands, her disguise could come unravelled before she heard from her father. Or else, she would have to continue the ruse and marry the man. Where would that leave her? Trapped in a marriage to a man who had threatened her father with war. At least until word of Katelyn’s death reached him. Then who knew what might happen?

  She scowled and raised her arms, allowing Mae to secure a girdle around her hips. Her lips tingled. She’d have to see if they were as swollen as they felt. His kisses were like magic, working where nothing else had.

  Catriona rubbed her heated cheeks and sat obediently on the bed to allow Mae to do her hair.

  “Yer quiet, milady,” Mae commented.

  “Aye, forgive me, Mae. I have a lot to think on.”

  Mae squeezed her arm. “I know, milady. All will be well, I am sure. Yer betrothed will be arriving soon.”

  Catriona stifled a response about the laird. Her failure to play the coy bride might draw attention though she imagined Katelyn’s behaviour would have been no better. Either she would have revelled in her upcoming wedding to a powerful man or played the spoiled lady and demanded a great celebration. Neither came naturally to Catriona. If she ever married—assuming she escaped her current predicament—she wanted love and a small ceremony. Power did little for her. She’d seen how it corrupted. Once, Katelyn had not been unlike her but as beauty increased and time passed, Katelyn became more like their father. Always wanting more, her every move was carefully considered. With the passing of their mother, Catriona found herself truly alone. Only the servants and villagers could be called her friends.

  Despair sat in the pit of her stomach and she drew her shoulders up, refusing to succumb to such thoughts. As much as last night had been a mistake, Finn lent her a sense of strength and she was going to fight these demons and claim back her life on Bute. The thought of her seeing her friends again sent warmth to replace the anguish and she smiled.

  ***

  Stretching her spindly arms, Tèile frowned as she spotted Catriona’s smile. She turned and peered out the gap in the shutters and grimaced. Dawn had been and gone and Tèile had slept the entire night. Watching, waiting and following took its toll on her delicate wings and had fatigued her. She suspected the boredom wearied her most of all. A faery really wasn’t made for just sitting around and biding her time. However, in a few days’ time she could put her plans into action and encourage Finn and Catriona’s first kiss. A few dreams and a little accident or two—maybe Catriona could trip into Finn’s arms—and fate would be on track. Finn would be so enamoured, he would surely challenge Laird Gillean for her hand.

  She peered at the woman again and narrowed her eyes. Tèile recognised that smile. She’d seen it on Alana’s face. And that glazed look in her eyes…. The faery curled her hands and shook her head. Something had happened. Her fingertips tingled as if fate had truly slipped from her hands over night.

  Something had happened. Something had changed.

  ***

  Catriona yelped and the seamstress, Beth, murmured an apology. Resisting the urge to rub her side, she kept her arms raised as Beth fitted the pale blue material to her body.

  Lorna nodded approvingly. “Ye suit this shade, Katelyn.”

  The afternoon sun warmed the solar, enhancing the plush red fabrics of Lorna’s chambers. Gold embroidery and pearls reflected the sunlight, and gilded Lorna’s fair hair. It struck her how at home the lady appeared in this warm room, surrounded by an intricately carved bed and ornate iron candelabras.

  Unlike her.

  Fingering the silk, Catriona crushed a sigh. This gown meant she was one step closer to marrying Gillean. It sat heavily
on her hips, threatened to weigh her down. Or was that the thought of her impending nuptials?

  The seamstress came to her feet and stepped back. “’Twill take me a few days to finish the embroidery,” she told Lorna.

  Indignation heated Catriona’s skin. How long would she have to stand around and accept her fate being dictated by others? The laird was funding their wedding and as such, Lorna had taken on all the preparations. With her naturally commanding nature, Lorna thrived on such tasks and had it been anything else, Catriona might have been grateful to her, but not on this—not when it was her future.

  “What troubles ye?” Lorna’s brow furrowed. “Do ye no’ like the colour? Blue is traditional for brides.”

  “Nay, the colour doesnae trouble me.”

  Lorna took a step forward and grasped Catriona’s hand. “Tell me,” she said quietly, “are ye nervous? I know yer mother passed when ye were young. I can offer ye a word or two....”

  Now Lorna surely had to see the warmth in her cheeks. “Nay, nay, ‘tis nae that. I know well enough what…” She glanced at Beth and Lorna motioned for her to leave. With a curtsey, the woman scurried away and closed the door to the solar. The creaking hinges made Catriona wince.

  Lorna urged her to sit on the bed and sat beside her. Catriona ran her fingers over the thick blanket, unable to meet Lorna’s gaze. The last thing she needed to be thinking of was the marriage bed, not after how Finn had kissed her. Not now that all she thought on was his powerful arms and strong hands and how enticing they might be against her skin.

  “I am aware I’m only a few summers older than ye but should ye need anyone….”

  Guilt jabbed her. Lorna had shown her nothing but kindness. Her only sin was being connected by marriage to an ungodly man. Catriona offered her a small smile. “I thank ye, Lorna, for yer care and hospitality. However, I dinnae need any advice. I may not be worldly, but I am no fool either.”

  Lorna laughed suddenly. “I dinnae think ye a fool at all, Katelyn. Far from it. But ye are clearly no’ happy here. Would that I could offer ye some comfort. I know I should have liked some kind words before my own marriage. Indeed the only person I know not to have suffered an arranged marriage was Finn.”