Samantha Holt (Highland Fae Chronicles)

by To Dream of a Highlander

  “Finn is married?”

  “Was.”

  Catriona managed to stop the sigh of relief releasing. To think she might have been lusting after another’s husband! Finn had told her much of his life at Glencolum on their journey. He described the castle, his cottage and lands with such a smile on his face that it made her long to visit. But he had lost a wife. No wonder he never made mention of it.

  “What happened?”

  “’Twas a long time ago. She, Alice, died giving birth. The babe died with her—a girl.”

  “I didnae know.”

  “Finn doesnae speak on it. In truth, I know little myself. I was married off by then and we scarcely saw Finn while a clan war raged on Glencolum lands.” Catriona caught the sadness in Lorna’s eyes before her expression shuttered.

  “I am sorry.”

  Lorna waved a hand. “Well, my point is that should ye need someone to speak with...”

  “Be assured I have no fears about my impending nuptials.” Aside from the fact they might actually happen, she corrected herself.

  The marriage bed held little interest to her until recently. Until Finn. She’d been around enough animals and lovers to know what it entailed, heard enough gossip to understand the pleasure it might bring—had even become confident in the art of her own pleasure—but never had she considered how it would feel to take a lover. Finn’s arousal pressing into her skirts as he held her that day on the wall or when he had kissed her so passionately sparked all kinds of imaginings.

  “Will ye no’ tell me what plagues ye then, Katelyn?”

  Jerking from her thoughts, Catriona looked into Lorna’s pale blue eyes—eyes that were so very similar to her brothers—and patted Lorna’s hand. Yer brother, she wanted to say, even as the words in her mind made her face burn. She hadn’t seen him since last night. What did he think of that kiss? Mayhap it had been nothing more than a move to comfort her. Mayhap it meant little to him.

  “Naught,” she assured Lorna, “save that it has been a trying time and… and I miss my home.”

  Why did she admit to that? Was it Lorna’s kindness or a need to at least share some of her worries?

  Lorna nodded slowly. “That I can understand, but ye will make yerself a new home before long, just as I did here.” She motioned around the elegant room. “And a new family too.”

  With a wry smile, Catriona toyed with the folds of her gown as she considered her dead sister and cruel father. “A new family might be pleasant. I confess there are some people I dinnae miss on Bute.”

  “Ye have been mistreated,” Lorna mused and that slight dip of sorrow creased her brow briefly.

  Catriona longed to understand what caused those momentary flashes of pain almost as much as Lorna patently wanted the same from her. In any other circumstances they could be good friends and share whatever ills burdened them, but secrets and a foolish promise still held her back.

  Straightening, Catriona squeezed Lorna’s hand. “I am well enough. I have suffered no worse than anyone else. Indeed, I have been well-treated most of my life. The siege and all that has happened since has been… a trial, but naught I cannot overcome.”

  She spoke the truth. Aye, her father was no loving man but she had the servants who had helped raise her show her what true kindness was—and the memories of her mother. Time away from the keep—and her family—had usually kept her in positive spirits. Who could live on such a beautiful island and not be content?

  “Ye sound so very much like me,” Lorna observed with a grin. She chuckled. “Alas, I know many men, my brother included, who would think us fragile wee things, but they shouldnae underestimate us womenfolk.”

  Catriona failed to resist a giggle at Lorna’s determined tone. The woman was surely a force with which to be reckoned. “I dinnae think anyone would underestimate ye, Lorna. A stronger woman I have never met.”

  The woman tucked a strand of fair hair behind her ear and tilted her lips. “My men are well used to listening to my commands and will fight long and hard for me, but there are many who are anxious for the day I have a new husband.”

  “And that day shall be soon?”

  “If Laird Gillean has anything to do with it, aye. But I have fought off any potential suitors so far. Mayhap I can continue to seem unmarriageable and I shall spend the rest of my days alone.”

  “Alone? Surely not? And all yer men seem most loyal. Why, Logan....”

  A creak of hinges made her head snap around and Finn ducked into the room, looking sheepish.

  “Forgive me....”

  Lorna got to her feet and Catriona followed suit, smoothing the heavy silk over her hips. Finn stared at her, his gaze tracing her from head to toe and she dropped her gaze to the floor, hands clenched tightly in front.

  “Finn?” Lorna prompted. “What is so urgent that ye must enter my chambers without even a knock?”

  “What?”

  Catriona lifted her head to see his confused expression. He blinked and snapped his attention to his sister.

  “Oh, aye, a rider just arrived. From Laird Gillean. He has been sent ahead of his master who is about two days’ ride away. He craves a word with ye.”

  Catriona squeezed her fingers until her nails dug into the backs of her hands. Two days? And no word from her father yet. The journey from Bute was a sennight at least. She only hoped he had already left and had just had little chance to send a message.

  “I see.” Lorna smiled quickly, barely disguising the apprehension in her expression. “Well, I shall see ye at supper, Katelyn.”

  “Aye, good day to ye, Lorna.” Catriona fought the need to rub her chest. Why did Lorna appear so apprehensive? Did she know something Catriona did not?

  Lorna brushed past Finn, leaving him standing in the doorway. The tightness in her chest increased, but no longer from fear.

  “So… this is yer wedding gown?”

  “Oh.” She brushed her hands over the bodice and glanced at the gown. “Aye… aye it is.”

  “Ye look very fine in it, Katie.”

  “Thank ye,” she murmured.

  Sweet Mary, had the room grown hot? Her bodice was too tight. Her nipples jabbed against the hard fabric as his gaze roved over her. Tingling lips reminded her of his kiss, his heated tongue, his stubble grazing her. The idea that mayhap he thought little of their kiss seemed foolish now he looked at her so intently. He considered her lips, indicating he too was recalling their embrace. But was his attraction to her driven by anything more than a man’s need for a woman?

  And why did she care?

  Nothing could come of this, she reminded herself yet again. Hopefully she’d be gone soon enough. If her father ever came for her.

  Finn took a sudden step forward and she released a startled sound, retreating so the back of her legs hit the bed. He didn’t frighten her—not like the Viking had—but a well of need and frustration in her stomach bubbled up and threatened any remaining composure.

  He towered over her, allowing her to study him closely. The tiny scar on his lip taunted her, begged her to dash her tongue over it. Extra golden stubble graced his jaw and she had to clamp her hand to her side to prevent herself from grazing her nails across it. His brows nearly knitted and it occurred to her how odd it was not to see him smile. Even in the most serious of moments, Finn could be counted on to break into a grin. She tried to swallow but her arid throat refused to cooperate.

  Dazzling blue eyes bore into her. The back of his hand skimming her cheek startled her and she flinched. He dropped the hand but remained close. The warmth emanating from him sucked the air from the room until she feared she might swoon.

  “Did ye rest well?” he finally asked, after an eternity of silence and staring.

  “Aye, very well,” she rasped. “Thank ye.”

  “Good.” Finn considered her gown and took an abrupt step back. “Good. Ye’ll… ye’ll need to be well rested for yer wedding.”

  The sudden distance and coldness to his tone dis
concerted her. Had she been wrong? Had he only been comforting her and now feared she had the wrong idea? “I… I suppose so….”

  “Well.” He rocked back on his heels and she watched his chest heave as he drew in a breath. “Well, I shall bid ye good day.” He spun on one heel and paused, speaking to her over his shoulder. “Ye really do look very fine.”

  Catriona nodded numbly as he dipped his head and left, drawing the door shut slowly. She sank onto the bed and rubbed her chest. What had that been about? Where had her cheerful, confident Finn gone? The one who offered her such words of solace last night? He had been so uneasy. A sudden shard of doubt struck her heart and she rubbed harder at the aching spot. Had he discovered her?

  ***

  Finn stared at the door for a moment. The sound of creaking ropes told him she’d slumped onto the bed. What a fool he must have seemed. Yet, surely she felt the same. The desire shimmering in her gaze practically begged him to throw her on the bed and plunge into her. It had taken all his willpower not to behave a barbarian and take her then and there.

  But the gentleman buried deep down saw her confusion and fear. She’d been scared of him. Or mayhap of her need? He couldn’t be sure but he never wished to frighten her with his hunger. He spun away and leaned on the cold wall. Slamming a palm against the stone, he lifted his gaze to the wooden rafters and sighed. He needed an ale. That empty ache in his throat had to be quenched by something for it could not be satisfied by Katelyn—a frightened, unsure maiden with a wedding only days away.

  He put a hand over his face and shook his head. Why did he forget that whenever he was in her company? The last thing she needed was a broken man who could offer her nothing more than a few hours pleasure. He would be very bad for Katelyn indeed. Likely Laird Gillean would break off the contract should he discover her innocence had been taken.

  Not that it would. Finn might not be the most honourable of men, but he would never stoop so low as to ruin a lass’s future with one simple act. Not that it would ever be simple between them. And that sent a chill down his spine more than anything. Already, she’d sucked him in too deep. Who knew what would happen if he lost himself to her body for a while?

  Dropping his hand from his face, he drew himself up and pushed away from the wall. A few more days and she’d be gone. A few more days of resisting temptation and he could return home. He smirked inwardly. In truth, nothing kept him now but he needed to see this through. He had to hand her over to Gillean and put her from his mind, not to mention he wanted to offer Lorna support while the laird visited. He’d been a neglectful enough brother as it was. A little more time was a small enough sacrifice to make.

  Grip tight on the wooden railing, he descended the stairs into the hall. Ah, good, some ale remained from the midday meal. He strode purposefully over to the rear table, squinting as bright sunlight spilled over the white linen. Ale in hand, he poured himself a large cup and drank it down quickly. Ach, he needed something stronger. Mead, mayhap, but it would do. He helped himself to another cup while servants and men-at-arms continued with their duties. The slight warmth loosened his muscles and he debated the bottom of the earthenware beaker for a moment.

  A hand to his shoulder drew him from his thoughts and he spun to see Logan staring him down with a raised eyebrow. “Ye’ll no’ find any answers in the bottom of that.”

  Finn contemplated the cup again and released a sharp breath before dropping it to the table. “Yer right.”

  “What troubles ye, my friend?”

  “Naught more than usual.”

  “So our guest doesnae bother ye?”

  “Bother me?” He feigned confusion. “Why should she bother me?”

  Logan laughed and shook his head. “Dinnae take me for a fool, Finn. Yer sister may not be able to see it, but I know a man on the verge of love when I see one.”

  “Love? Logan, have ye been indulging in the devil’s brew?” What on God’s earth made Logan think such a thing. Love? Ach, just the word turned his stomach.

  “My role as protector of the keep affords me much time to watch and learn. And I know enough of love.”

  Finn narrowed his eyes. As far as he knew, Logan had never been in love or even close. The man rarely did anything but work. Yet he spoke as if he understood the crippling agony that captured his own heart. Not that he would concede such a thing to love. “Do ye?”

  Logan’s jaw stiffened, a grim smile coming across it. “Aye, plenty.”

  Finn dragged a hand through his hair and let it rest on the back of his neck. If Logan noticed his behaviour, surely others had, including Katelyn. He needed to find a way to regain his composure, remind himself why he avoided women. Strange how the memories of Alice’s death—the cries of pain, the pale skin, the tiny bundle beside her, so quiet and still—was muted in Katelyn’s presence. These recollections no longer shadowed him.

  But only with her.

  Now they were fresh and raw, and stabbing his fragile heart.

  He did what he did best. He flicked on a grin and slapped a hand to Logan’s back. “Have no fear, friend, ye’ll no’ catch me falling in love any time soon. And certainly not with the bride of Laird Gillean.”

  ***

  The faery stomped her feet against the wooden railing of the gallery and huffed. By the stars, it was all going wrong. Hurt swam in Catriona’s eyes as Finn’s declaration rang out through the hall, no doubt made louder by those two beakers of ale he’d consumed.

  Now Catriona had to be convinced there was no future for them. And at this rate there really wouldn’t be. Laird Gillean was on his way. She could delay him with yet more weather spells or ask for help from the nymphs but she was meant to do this alone and keep her magic to a minimum. What if she messed with fate again? She’d never return home.

  Catriona spun and hid herself in her room. Tèile tapped her foot, crossing her arms. Two days? It wasn’t enough. Three days and they were destined to come together properly. How much could a faery do with such limited powers?

  Her wings sagged. This was all going to be for nothing. And the idea that maybe she wouldn’t get to return home wasn’t the only thing that bothered her. She scowled. These two people might miss their chance at happiness and for some reason that really anguished her.

  Chapter Six

  With one day before Laird Gillean’s anticipated arrival, the need for escape struck. Despair beat heavily in Catriona’s chest as she hurried out of the castle walls and onto the surrounding peaks. She paused and glanced at the keep, nestled so perfectly in the dips between the yellow-green hills, and sucked in a breath. Releasing her skirts, she dropped to sit, closed her eyes, tilted her head to the sky and enjoyed the pricking warmth of the sun on her skin. She needed a few moments of freedom. A little time not having to play a part. Of not suffering heartache every time Finn came near.

  She rested her head on her knees and wrapped her arms around them. What to do now? Wait and pray her father arrived? Admit the truth? Go ahead and marry the laird and hope he did not take his anger out on her when her true identity came to light? Which it would. Eventually.

  All yesterday, the desire to spill out everything to Lorna raged inside. The woman was kind and caring, but this was not her fight and Gillean was her kin by marriage. Lorna’s duty was to the man who was her overlord first. She refused to risk Lorna getting involved. She suspected the woman would gladly stand at her side and demand Gillean cease his attentions toward Bute but where would that leave Lorna? Her home and future depended on Gillean.

  Her only other choice was Finn. The man who had dismissed her so easily. She’d been right in the first place. He felt nothing more than a passing fancy for her. Simple, masculine lust. How foolish she had been to read anything more into it. Catriona snorted to herself. She could not blame him. Who would want a woman plagued by demons? One who was betrothed at that. She should not be hurt by his dismissal. After all, he was clearly the only one with any sense.

  A prickle skipped along her
spine and she drew her head up. Oh Lord, not him. Of all people, did it have to be Finn?

  With a strong and steady gait, he strode up the hill, purpose written on his face. She heard his heavy breaths as he came to her side. He snatched her arm and hauled her to her feet.

  “What in the devil are ye doing out here alone?”

  She fought his hold, heart pounding—not from fear but from surprise. His glowering expression chilled her. “What are ye doing, Finn?”

  “Ye…” He grabbed her other arm as she wriggled and pinned her flat against his chest. “Damnation, keep still! We didnae know where ye were. Keep still!” he said through a clenched jaw.

  “Release me,” she demanded, panting from exertion and the crush of his body.

  “By God, lass, do ye not know how dangerous it is to be out alone? In yer state too?”

  Catriona froze. “What do ye mean?”

  He glowered at her while his fingers dug into her upper arms. “I dinnae know what yer capable of right now. Not after.…”

  “I wouldnae harm myself!”

  “Well, I didnae know that, did I? Hell’s teeth, Katie, Lorna’s had her men searching the keep top to bottom. I thought….”

  “What?”

  “I thought ye could be dead!”

  He said it with such sincerity, such concern, she almost believed he cared. Mayhap he did purely because he’d yet to tumble her. But the anguish flickering in his gaze pulled roughly at her heart. Drawing her chin up, she vowed not to succumb to such weak emotions. She’d spent enough time feeling fragile and helpless.

  “Why should ye care?”

  “Why should I...?” he spluttered. “Ye surely are the most confusing, aggravating, troublesome lass I have ever met.”

  “Ach, if ye came out here to insult me, ye can turn around and leave me now.” She flattened her palms against his chest in a bid to push him away but all it succeeded in doing was make her aware of the sinuous muscle and strong heartbeat beneath the linen.