Samantha Holt (Highland Fae Chronicles)

by To Dream of a Highlander

  Chapter Nine

  Gillean watched Catriona closely. All throughout the morning meal, she felt his gaze on her. She yawned. Hopefully she could retreat to her chambers before long. She simply had to avoid any more talk of the wedding. Her eyes itched from crying and her body ached—but in the most beautiful way. If only the ache in her chest was the same. True to his word, Finn had left by dawn. She hadn’t seen him all morning and neither had Lorna. Had he truly gone without a word? She thought he’d meant he would leave her chambers but mayhap he meant to leave Kilcree too.

  She fingered her gown as she waited for Lorna to finish speaking with Logan. They conferred by the fire pit, their words hushed but urgent. Whatever they were speaking of, she did not wish to interfere. Gillean lingered in the periphery of her vision, like a wolf eyeing his prey as he sat on a large carved chair, tucked into one corner. He had yet to say anything more than the basic greetings and that made her more nervous. Gone were the overly-friendly touches and the words that were intended to be charming. Coldness had crept over him. Here was the true Gillean, she concluded. The one she’d be marrying.

  Logan swivelled on his heels and walked briskly out of the hall, a scowl on his face. Only the three of them now remained. The servants were busy in the kitchens or in the chambers making up the beds and the men-at-arms had taken up their positions while the night watchmen slept in the armoury. The silence made her clench her hands together.

  Lorna shook her head and finally turned to face Catriona, a tight smile on her face. “Is all well?”

  “Well enough. Is all well with ye, Lorna?” Catriona asked, noting the lines of tension around Lorna’s usually youthful eyes.

  “Aye, aye.” She waved a hand. “Do ye need something? For the wedding mayhap?”

  “Nay, I just wondered… I know it has no’ been long, but have we word from the coast yet?”

  Lorna gave her sympathetic smile. “Nay, and be assured, as soon as we have news from Bute, I shall pass it on to ye.” She patted her hand “Ye must miss yer father very much. And yer sister… Catriona, is it?”

  Catriona had to bite back the correction on her tongue. All her life she’d been correcting people when they thought her Katelyn. It was a wonder she hadn’t slipped up already but she could not do so now, not when she was so near to the end.

  Hopefully.

  She shrugged. “I wasnae close to my family,” Catriona confessed, “but I shouldnae wish them harm and I long for word of Bute. Besides,” she flicked a peek at Gillean, “my father should want desperately to be here for my wedding.”

  “I understand. Alas, Gillean is an impatient man and may not wait much longer. He has many duties and must return home to see to them.”

  Catriona nodded. “Aye, I know.” And it was going to be impossible to delay any longer. Her future hung on a precipice and she was losing the will to fight. Without Finn by her side her strength deserted her.

  Lorna patted her hand again. “I must see to my ledgers but if ye need me, I shall be in my solar.”

  “Aye, thank ye.” Catriona drew up her shoulders. Hadn’t Finn, in his way, intended for her to stay strong. His words to her were meant to carry her through whatever was to come. She eyed Lorna’s progress up the wooden stairs and debated speaking with Gillean. But his folded arms and frosty demeanour had her skirting around him and making for the stairs herself.

  He stood suddenly and blocked her way. She glanced around the empty hall, a chill sweeping through her as if a breeze had blown in.

  “On the morrow, we shall be wed,” he told her, expression stern. “The priest arrives this day. One more day is all ye shall have and no more.”

  “But, my laird—Gillean,” she tried, softening her tone, “my father should be here soon. I know he would wish to witness the joining of our families. I ask but a few days of ye, ‘tis all.”

  “Nay. No more delays. Ye dinnae behave like the excited bride-to-be. I was told ye were keen on our match and I am tired of yer behaviour. I should have myself a docile, obedient wife and I willnae be patient any longer. Ye have made a mockery out of me and I shallnae tolerate any more of this disobedience. Ye might no’ be my wife yet but ye are my betrothed and I expect ye to behave as such.” He glowered at her. “On the morrow, we wed.”

  She gulped. On the morrow? It was too soon. Her situation was hopeless but she had to try.

  “Pray, my laird, I dinnae mean to disrespect ye. I am all excited anticipation for our wedding but ye must see that I need my father by my side before I take such a step.”

  “Nay, I dinnae see, and I dinnae see ye being obedient as I ask. Ye might be a bonny lass but that carries no weight with me. I shall put ye in yer place should I have to.”

  His face reddened and she backed away, eyes wide. What had she done? Now she had incensed him. His hand darted out and he snatched her arm, stopping her retreat. She gasped as fingers pinched her arm.

  “My laird,” she protested, tugging away. “My laird, pray there is no need—”

  “There is,” he hissed, spittle flying from his lips. “Ye are a little deceiving whore and I shall have it no longer. Ye shall be mine, body and soul on the morrow.”

  “Gillean—”

  “No more lies, Catriona,” he spat out.

  “Pray, Gillean.” She tugged away again but his grip tightened. Her strength deserted her as his words sank in. Catriona lifted her hand to her mouth. “Ye know?”

  “Aye, I know.” He reeled her in until he had hold of both her arms. “I know ye intended to trick me. I know yer sister—my true bride—is dead. I received word on my travels of her death. And,” his lips turned up into a sneer, “of yer father’s.”

  “My father’s?”

  “Aye, killed by a Norse arrow.”

  Her head swam and she sagged against his hold. He held her upright with great force, hurting her arms. Her father? Dead? “What of the isle?” she asked desperately.

  “The king has taken it back and installed a new steward. Yer home is lost to ye now, Catriona. Either ye marry me or wait for the king to find ye a husband.”

  “Bute is safe?” Her deception was over. Bute was safe from the Norse and now under the protection of the king. Weariness seeped into her bones.

  “Safe enough,” he grumbled.

  “Aye, now ye cannae get yer hands on it.”

  “But I can have yer dowry and ye.”

  “Nay,” she shouted, her voice echoed around the hall and startled even her. “Ye cannae have me. I willnae let ye.”

  “Who’s to stop me?” he hissed. “Yer on my lands, in my keep. Ye have no one to protect ye. I shall wed ye and bed ye and then ye shall be mine, pretty one.” He wrapped his strong hands around her head and forced his lips upon hers.

  She squeaked and scrabbled against his chest. Blood tainted her mouth as his teeth dug into her lip.

  “What in the devil—”

  Gillean broke away, panting, hands still compressing either side of her head to glare at Lorna as she scurried down the stairs. Catriona considered breaking away but the pressure on her head had her fearing he might crush her skull and be done with her. Her limbs shook while she tried to absorb everything. Her father was dead. Her home lost to her. The truth was out.

  “Gillean, what are ye doing?” Lorna demanded. “Release her.”

  “Sister,” he warned, “dinnae get involved.

  “I’ll no’ have ye handling a lass like that under my roof.” Lorna propped her hands on her hips.

  He skipped his gaze between Catriona and Lorna. Catriona winced when his face filled with rage once more. “This is my castle. I have been kind enough letting ye stay after my brother’s death.” He finally released Catriona and flung her to one side, sending her sprawling. Reeds dug into her palms. “Dinnae tell me what to do in my own home.” Gillean stalked toward Lorna but Lorna raised her chin, her stance firm.

  “I have looked after yer home well, brother, and the men are loyal to me. Dinnae think ye c
an behave so and get away with it.”

  Gillean licked his lips and snatched Lorna’s chin, lifting it. Catriona scrabbled to her feet and waited. Her heart threatened to burst from her chest and the tightness increased. A swoon might overcome her soon, she feared, as Gillean’s behaviour began to blur with the Norseman’s. But she kept her gaze focused on Lorna and fought to draw in deep breaths.

  “We shall see how loyal yer men are when I have their mistress locked away.”

  “Nay!” Catriona flew at him, landing on his back.

  With a grunt, he fought her hold on his neck. She dug her nails in but she was no match for him. He flung her off in an instant and her head connected with the stone wall. Pain blasted through her skull and her breaths shortened. There, on the floor, panting and wheezing, she finally succumbed to the darkness as Gillean descended on Lorna.

  ***

  Finn scowled and Dìleas whinnied as he put her in the stables. He sniffed the air and shook his head. Something had put the horse on edge and he felt the same. He set aside the saddle and searched for a stable boy.

  No one.

  He stepped out of the stables and peered around. Men patrolled the walls but all was quiet—unusually quiet. Where was the cheerful banter? The laughter of men and the noise of a castle at work? He made to walk up the inner steps to speak with one of the men-at-arms, but Logan approached, his dark hair in disarray as if he’d been running his hands through it.

  “Finn, thank God.”

  “Logan, what is this? Is something amiss?”

  Logan went to put his hand to his sword and shook his head as his hand found nothing but his belt. Finn’s frown deepened.

  “’Tis Gillean. He has yer sister held prisoner.”

  “Hell’s teeth, in truth? Why?”

  “A disagreement. Over Katelyn—nay, Catriona.”

  Finn stared at the man. Was he addled? What did he mean?

  A hand in his hair, Logan sighed and drew Finn toward the stables. “Much has gone amiss this morn. Lady Katelyn is in fact not Lady Katelyn but her twin, Catriona. It seems her father wanted to use her to appease Gillean who was threatening war.”

  Finn sucked in a sharp breath. Katelyn was not Katelyn? What in the devil...?

  “Gillean knew as much but intended to marry Catriona regardless. He hungers for her dowry, which is like to be plentiful, and, as I’m sure ye noticed, he hungers for K—I mean Catriona too. It seems Catriona denied him and Lorna interfered.”

  Katelyn—nay, Catriona—really did not want Gillean then. No wonder she had been upset the previous night. His mind whirled. But why had she not told him? Did she not trust him? “Why has he locked Lorna up?”

  “He plans to marry Catriona regardless of whether she consents or not. Ye know Lorna wouldnae allow such a thing.”

  “Hell…” The blood drained from his face, a chill swept through him. Yet Catriona had deceived him. Had she not brought this upon herself? He blew out a breath and set his hands on his hips. He had been a friend to her, so why had she not told him? But then he had not been the most reliable of men either. He’d never declared anything more than friendship for her. And now she was in danger of being forced into a likely terrible marriage.

  He snorted. Regardless of her name, he knew Catriona. The lass had a kind heart and whatever decisions she’d come to they were likely driven by good intentions. She loved Bute, that much she’d made clear. If she thought the isle depended on her, she would risk little, especially telling all to a man who was known to get into his cups or run at the first sign of intimacy.

  “Have ye tried to get to Lorna?” He gripped the man’s arms. “Logan, I trusted ye to take care of my sister.”

  Logan shook his head and tore away from him. “I can only look after her so much when she denies me. Ye are her blood, Finn. I have been here to tend to her tears and wounds, so dinnae lecture me of my duty. Gillean has set his own men at the doors of the hall. No one will go up against him while he threatens Lorna’s life. He has disarmed us and we are impotent.” Logan lifted his arms to demonstrate his lack of a weapon. “Gillean is our laird. None will help us for in the eyes of the law he has done naught wrong.”

  Finn scrubbed a hand across his chin. What to do? Since Alice’s death he’d avoided caring for any women and now the two women he cared for most were in trouble. He had no choice. “We need to get to them, Logan. We cannae let Catriona be forced into a marriage and I willnae abandon Lorna to his whim.”

  “I agree. But ye’ll struggle getting word to our men. They are scattered amongst Gillean’s and I cannae say who will stay loyal to Lorna.

  “Then ‘tis just us.”

  “Aye.” Logan nodded.

  “I have my sword,” Finn offered.

  Logan laughed. “Well, then we shall have little troubles.”

  Finn laughed too and slapped the man on the shoulder. A lump still caught in his throat. What would Catriona be enduring in there? And his sister? Ach, if he’d only been around instead of behaving like a coward, none of this would have happened.

  “Come then, let us see what we are up against.”

  ***

  Tèile fluttered anxiously between the hall and the bailey. Everything had gone wrong. Finn and Catriona had come together properly at the right time, so why had fate not played out as it should? And Laird Gillean was planning to marry and take Catriona against her will.

  If only she had greater control over humans. It would make her job much easier. Alas, she could not kill a human, though she’d very much like to at this moment. She squeezed her hands together with a gleeful smile. Could she ensure Gillean met with an accident?

  Shaking her head, she let slip a sigh of relief and flew down toward Finn. Hadn’t she already learned not to interfere more than necessary. If fate wanted Gillean dead, fate would deliver the blow. She cocked her head and listened to the men.

  Why did he insist on being so stubborn? Finn clearly loved Catriona. If he’d confessed as much, Catriona would surely have told him all. The faery rubbed a weary hand across her face and nodded along as they discussed their plans.

  Still, being a faery had some advantages. The men were up against terrible odds but she had magic on her side. Flying over to a small door—the one that hid the escape route—she eyed the two men stationed in front of it. They were armed—men loyal to Gillean. She needed a distraction.

  ***

  Finn, trying to act natural while keeping his sword tucked in the folds of his plaid, led the way to the rear door. They paused before they reached it and feigned conversation for a moment as they took in their surroundings. Men patrolled the walls. While many were Gillean’s, some were their own men. But Logan was right. Most were likely loyal to his sister, but would they go up against their own laird and risk death? They could not rely on them.

  “There are two men at the door.” Logan shook his head. “We could take them out easily enough but without being seen? I think it unlikely.”

  “Aye, ye are right. Can ye cause a disturbance mayhap?”

  “And risk being run through?” Logan shrugged. “Aye, that I can do though who knows what ye shall come up against inside the keep. There are but a few servants and certainly none of our men in there now.”

  “Aye, well, I’ve been up against worse.” He considered the moment he’d infiltrated Bute castle and taken Catriona. Who knew his life was destined to change so drastically that day?

  “I dinnae see we have any other—”

  A shout made them both pause and turn. A hay cart, not far from the stables had caught alight and flames crackled their way across it with frightening speed. Men scrambled from the walls and hurried to the well in search of buckets. Finn scowled. There were no open fires nearby. No one would be fool enough to leave a cart near one anyhow—castles went up in flames too easily with their wooden interiors. Yet he would not complain.

  Both men at the rear door abandoned their station and helped to tackle the fire. Assuring himself Dì
leas was safe—the fire was far enough away from the stables and his horse was too canny to remain should the worst happen—he dashed across the bailey, not even checking if Logan followed.

  Hauling open the door, he raced down the steps into the dark interior of the passageway and paused to find his bearing. Logan bumped into his back and muttered an apology.

  “It’s darker than the depths of a loch here,” the man grumbled.

  “Aye. Well yer meant to be in charge of this damned keep so ‘tis yer fault for not keeping the torches lit.”

  “Ach, there’s no point. Kilcree hasnae seen war for a long time and we have no need for escape passages.”

  “Apart from this day,” Finn pointed out.

  Logan sighed. “Aye, apart from this day.”

  “Well, there is but one way out, so we cannae go far wrong. Just watch yer footing.”

  Hands to the walls, they shuffled along. The ground was wet in places and their boots slurped and slipped on the mud. Moisture and the scent of cold stone lingered in the air. With each step, Finn’s anxiousness grew. Would Catriona be well? Had Gillean harmed her? The man surely had to be addled to go to such measures, but then he could almost understand it, for Catriona had surely addled him.

  Finn cursed as his toe stubbed against a step. “We are nearly there.”

  “Let us pray, we are no’ against too many men,” Logan whispered.

  “Ach, I am no’ afeared and nor should ye be.”

  “Dinnae forget he has Lorna and K—Catriona. I will admit to being afeared for them.”

  Finn clenched his hand around his sword. Logan was right. He might not be afraid for himself but for his sister and the woman he… he cared for? Aye, dread curled around his insides and twisted them until sickness pervaded every part of him.

  They took the steps slowly and Finn found them to be slick under his boots. When he reached the top, he paused, eyeing the thin slit of light creeping around the wooden door. He put his ear to it and listened.

  “Well?”

  “Cease yer noise,” Finn snapped. “I cannae hear a thing with ye in my ear.”