Hugh glanced to Alaric. "Why not? Give the order for the men to depart in the morning. They are restless with all this travel and nothing to swing their blades at."
Jamie laughed. "Traveling with you and nothing or no one to fight, imagine that."
Hugh ignored the remark.
"They'll go home and have plenty of lasses to swing their blades at," Alaric said, his tongue loosened by the ale.
Jamie's brows shot up in surprise at the bawdy remark, but he chuckled anyway.
Hugh grunted, then suddenly realized how long it had been since he had had a lass in his bed. How very long it had likewise been since he had slept in a bed at all for that matter. At once, Jamie's offer seemed more pleasant than not.
"Do you remember the last time you stayed in a keep? It did no end verra weel," Alaric said.
Hugh leveled his stare with Jamie's. "I'm sure the laird means me no harm."
Jamie scoffed. "Abduct my sister, drag her across Scotland as a captive to use as a pawn in exchange for a keep and lands, only to bring her home to me a month later … why ever would I have reason to harm you, McCross?" He held up a hand. "I but jest," Jamie said, though a dark twinkle in his eye belied the forced evenness of his tone, as though his words had sparked his former ire and he struggled to smother the flame.
He motioned to Hugh's bluish jaw, the left side of his face somewhat bulging along his jawline. The younger man winced. "I come bearing an olive branch. I do'na ken if you have any siblings, but if you do, I am sure you can understand my feelings over my sister. I have had time to speak with her now, and she assures me nothing happened. She has assuaged my worry. Her story aligns with yours. Now, if only her identity in this mess remains a secret, perhaps she can be back to the abbey within the next se’nnight. Come, join me in my hall for the evening meal, allow me to offer you a soft bed for your slumber, and for the sake of Dia, send your men home in the morning and stay on a few more days to rest yourselves. Catriona tells me you have been gone from your home for quite some time."
The more the man talked, the more Hugh's suspicions arose at this turnabout in Jamie. "Why is it you really want me to stay?" Hugh asked, cutting through to the marrow of the truth.
Jamie glowered but shifted uncomfortably under Hugh's hard stare. "I only wish to make sure nothing unforeseen comes to light, for I have a feeling that once you’re gone, I'll no get you to stand by your word."
Out of the corner of his eye, Hugh saw Alaric's hand go to the hilt of his sword, so he reached out to stay the man. "You again question my honor?" His dark brows rose with his question, his hackles jumping as well.
Jamie shook his head and then drained the ale. He set the horn aside as he gained his feet. "The less you ken the better."
Hugh didn’t like that remark in the least. "The less I ken of what?"
Jamie's eyes smoldered. "You ken of our connection to the king?"
"Aye."
Jamie shrugged insouciantly. "I only hope he does no find oot. For your sake. 'Twas at his behest Catriona was sent to stay with the sisters, no mine."
Hugh understood the younger man's worry. To anger a king, even a fair king, was never good. He stood and reached out, clapping Jamie on the shoulder. "Then, let us both hope Catriona's escapade stays a secret. I shall join you for the evening meal, McBruiey."
Jamie seemed relieved at Hugh's confidence. He nodded once and then turned for the tent flap. "And I shall have a chamber prepared for the both of you."
When he left the tent, both Hugh and Alaric stared at the flap for a several minutes without speaking.
Alaric broke the silence first. "That whelp thinks he's pulling the wool over our eyes, he does. There's more to his wanting us to stay than he's letting on to."
Hugh sighed. "Do what you can to find oot what his ploy is."
Alaric nodded and rose. "I'll be telling the men the good news and make a few wagers along the way."
"Wagers on what?"
"Whether you'll yet bring home a wife before this is over or no."
Hugh shot him a glower straight from hell and quickly bent to pick up a piece of wood by the brazier and threw the stick end over end to hit Alaric square in the back as his second exited.
****
Catriona watched the big brute enter the hall and covered her nervousness with a sip from her goblet, slipping a covert glance at him above the rim as she drank.
"You’re nervous," Gillie teased from her left. "Any word on if your brother will force you to wed yet?"
She cocked a glare at her cousin. Gillie, three years younger than she, had been her best friend since they were playmates as children. Gillie, his father having passed early in his life, had lived with her father in the summer months every year, and later trained under Jamie after her father's death.
Though she had resided in the village most her childhood, many were the times she ventured to the keep to play. At first they hadn't known of their relation, had simply been friends. She supposed Gillie's closeness to her and Jamie was the reason for his presence here rather than at their uncle's keep.
Though Barnaby was full-blooded kin to Gillie, he was only her half-uncle and … well, he did not acknowledge her. Not even a little bit. And if she felt anything over his rejection, she had never voiced any hurt. The one time she had met the odious man, when she was a little girl, was shortly before her mother passed. Catriona crossed herself. Barnaby had not so much as glanced down at her to acknowledge her presence, though she had made a show of waving to him.
Gillie, or rather Gilbert—she had always called him Gillie, same as he had always called her Cat—was the youngest son of her half-aunt, having only sisters come before him. He would inherit his father's holdings soon. As soon as their uncle the king deemed him responsible.
Lands, wealth, and lairdship did not suit Gillie at present.
Catriona snuck a glance at the lanky young man from under her lashes and drank from her goblet.
He had a lot to learn.
Gillie, often guilty of being too familiar and too inquisitive, had no sense when not to ask something. He likewise, and just as frequently, said the wrong thing at the wrong moment, but was otherwise completely and utterly harmless.
She reached over, taking his hand in her own and gave his fingers a squeeze.
"Nay, I think he believes Hugh's story, and mine. I think this treaty with the King of Wessex will hold and sooner than later I'll be a queen." Catriona rolled her eyes there. "Can you imagine that?"
Gillie harrumphed and fidgeted with his empty trencher, turning it halfway around and then back, before shuffling in his seat. "I happen to think you would make a fine queen." He gave a nervous laugh, and his cheeks reddened.
"You would think so, wouldn’t you? Perhaps you could accompany me."
He suddenly became so excited Gillie all but flew from his seat.
Catriona chuckled at her cousin, then returned her attention to the plodding group of men closing in on them.
"Take caution, Gillie, for the lout approaches."
He snorted. "You take heed. He's got no quarrel with me."
Catriona snorted and sipped her wine to steal another glance at the ever-cross McCross. Her eyes quickly darted away when she found him already looking at her.
It was Catriona's turn to shuffle in her seat, pretending to adjust her skirts. She did everything she could to ignore him as he continued to gawk at her.
Good Lord! Why did he disturb her so?
She had bathed, leisurely, and dressed in normal clothes still kept in her chambers for when she returned home on brief sojourns. Even though those times were sparse in number, she enjoyed the privilege. Days ago, she had lied to Hugh when they spoke in his tent. She had come home for special occasions. Why, just days before Hugh's men had taken her from the abbey she had received a missive from Jamie stating that he would be sending men to escort her home before the winter solstice to celebrate Christmastide at home, which she had missed. She would have stay
ed through the Advent celebrations before returning to the sisters.
Earlier, once they were alone, Jamie had told her why he wanted Hugh to stay. The truth. He had then proceeded to tell her why she couldn’t tell Hugh, however. The reminder soured her expression. All the details Jamie told her she would have found out if she had stayed at the abbey and let Tamsin go to her fate. Details that seemed pertinent but moot now, she supposed. She only hoped they were not beyond moot. Jamie seemed to think her situation might yet be salvageable.
He had stressed imperativeness that Hugh not learn the whole truth, on the slim chance they could sweep all this away. Not that she desired to tell him anything or say one more word to the man who had assisted McAlison in trying to harm her friend, debt or not.
The twisting in her belly increased tenfold at Hugh's approach, a half sickening excitement burning through her core. She watched the men as Jamie appeared across the hall and met the barbarian and the man who had guarded her since they left Atholl. Their moods had shifted for the better, or so it seemed.
She gave a snort to that, noting the injury to Hugh's face. She examined the bruised swelling as he came closer and covered her humor by lifting her goblet to her lips again and drank heartily when her brother led the pair of men to the dais and up the steps. She decided the goblet supplied excellent subterfuge.
Hugh's stare on her lingered and delved, unnerving her until she couldn’t help but look back. She was too unwilling to allow his stare to cow her. Only when he proceeded to the seat Jamie gestured to did he look away. Unfortunately, he was still too close, only on the other side of Jamie. She could practically sense his stare on her when Jamie's attention drew elsewhere and glanced up quickly to catch Hugh at it, only to see his head turning away at the same moment.
She knew what he was doing, damn him. He was goading her. Well, she wouldn’t have it. She refused to cave into his whim for his amusement.
Catriona narrowed her eyes and set her empty goblet down harder than warranted, grabbing the pitcher and pouring herself another. Jamie shot an askance look at her, naturally perplexed by her indulgence when she normally did not partake of so much wine. Only the strictest of diets were allowed at the abbey and never wine.
"Will you no speak to our guests?" Jamie gave her an elbow to her arm, catching her lightly wherever he could in an unnoticeable way. He leaned back so Catriona could see past him to Hugh and Alaric.
Her eyes widened, catching only on Hugh before she looked around everywhere but at him. A long moment passed. "Good evening," she said curtly, unsure what else to say to Hugh given their dislike for one another. She supposed, now that the danger was over, it wouldn’t hurt to try to be civil. She offered both guests a smile.
"Look there," Alaric started, leaning around Hugh and nudging his arm to get his attention. He then cast a beguiling smile on Catriona. "I'd no thought it possible, but oot of the nun's clothes comes a lady. Methinks I should have placed my bets higher."
Wine nearly spewed from her nose, and Catriona choked. It took her a moment of embarrassment to recover, wiping the sleeve of her gown against her mouth and chin.
She glared at Alaric and then watched the laughter dancing in Hugh's eyes turn devilish. Her belly clenched with apprehension at what was likely to spill from his lips at any moment.
For a brief clash, their eyes met and locked.
War was declared.
Hugh grinned at Alaric's remark. "That she does. More like a docile lady than a spitting hellion."
Jamie choked on a laugh. "You've no idea. Hellion? You did no encounter that one as a child."
"Jamie." She choked on a shrewish pitch that brightened her cheeks. Could this get any worse? That he had dared call her docile or a spitting hellion, she wasn’t sure which bothered her more. She found both as insulting as Hugh had meant his taunts to be. "You'll no be recounting my childhood to these—" she sputtered, forcing the word out, "men."
They all laughed at her shrillness. Even Gillie snorted to cover a laugh of his own.
"I'm sure the tales could entertain us the night through," Hugh said. He leaned around Jamie to give Catriona a look, his eyes fairly glimmering with a taunt.
"Wagers?" she pressed. She wouldn't be letting that remark slide. So, Hugh's men were taking bets of some sort on her?
Hugh's blue eyes sparkled. "It seems the men have wagered… Och, 'tis no for a lass's ears. And I would no want to rile your brother though my men but jest." Hugh took a hearty swig and sat back as though he had said nothing that would upset her.
Oh, but he had.
Her eyes rounded in shock that he had said even as much as he had. Her cheeks blossomed with heat, and her fist turned into a little ball on top of the table.
"Oh! You are hopelessly absurd. You are lying. You are only trying to rile me." Catriona quickly reached for the pitcher and poured until the wine reached the top of her goblet. She shook out the remaining drops from the pitcher and looked to a servant, making eye contact and the serving girl came to take the empty jug to replace it with a full one.
Jamie said nothing in her defense. She shot daggers with her eyes at her brother, truly hoping he felt the heat from her stare. Meanwhile, despite the discomfiture they had caused her, Hugh and Alaric continued in the humor of their jest.
How dare Jamie agree with them! She had not been so horrid as a child. She caught her brother in an unpleasant glare that had him shuffling to recover from his humor and change the subject.
She shook her head and drained yet another goblet of wine. Jamie turned again, blocking her view of the other men. Good! She had no desire for their talk of war or keeps or any such manly things. Or wagers.
Oh, how she missed her friend and needed one at present. She worried for Tamsin briefly and then began to berate herself over her idiotic actions. She only hoped what she had done was not in vain.
The courses began to arrive, and Catriona delved into the roasted peacock, seasoned to perfection with rosemary and thyme. The meal made her realize how much she missed home, not that her life in the abbey was unlivable. However, the food was certainly better here at home.
She heard them talking again, and it only served as a reminder of their earlier jest.
She ate silently for the most part, chatting here and there about the food with Gillie— wishing Hugh would evaporate—enjoying the feast Jamie had had prepared, a feast she assumed to be in celebration of her return, but she was no longer so sure. Perhaps the meal had been planned for their guest's delight. Either way, though the latter suited her poorly, she enjoyed each succulent course and devoured her helping of sweet cherry tart at the end. The delicious treat left a deep, rich hum of butter in her mouth, and the crunch of walnuts finished each bite very satisfactorily.
Catriona was lost in her meal by the time she started on the posset, which was served as a finish. She quickly devoured the grace on top, then the custardy middle, and by the time she drained the ale settled on the bottom, well, her vision swam before her.
She only briefly looked to her right, to catch Hugh staring at her. He quickly turned his attention across the hall in an absent manner.
She snorted. Had the lout been staring at her again?
She then instantly regretted the four cups of wine she had so quickly drunk before the meal.
"Jamie," she said. She reached to cover her mouth. Her brogue slurred noticeably.
He lifted a brow at her, but said nothing. His fingers traced the brim of his goblet as he turned over his shoulder to look at her.
"I think I shall retire now," Catriona said.
He appeared humored. "Do you need assistance?" he asked, casually, but his implied meaning gained the desired response.
She gave him a short glare before rising, then briefly considered the offer. Jamie rose as she did, his hand going to her elbow to steady her, but she pulled loose before anyone noticed.
Hugh and Alaric followed his show of courtesy as Catriona left the table. To her dismay, she
stumbled as she passed the last chairs and a set of strong hands caught her.
"Steady, lass. Steady."
Her head swam even more, and the heat of mortification engulfed her, making her stomach churn with turmoil. Oh, she had both eaten and drank far too much too fast.
A warm body touched her back, an arm snaked around her waist to steady her, and a rough hand pulled her hair from her face.
She looked up horrified as she realized Hugh had caught her. She gave him a glare for his earlier remarks and practically jumped from his embrace. Despite his aid, she wasn’t quite ready to forgive him just yet.
"Och, you're no still smarting from earlier, are you?" he asked on a whisper so only she heard. "I'd think a lass as scandalous as you would recover faster." He couldn’t hide the smile he gave her.
She jerked from his hold so fast she almost caused herself to fall. The shock of his touch and the tickle of his breath on her neck sent her into a panic.
"Thank you, Laird McCross," she said, then stumbled down the dais steps so fast it was a small wonder that she did not fly to the floor on her face. In her frazzled state, she made her way across the hall and toward her bedchamber before she realized she had crossed the space of the hall already.
She briefly closed her eyes, pausing before taking the next step.
Damn Hugh.
It was his fault she had consumed as much wine as she had.
If he hadn't been looking at her so strangely, goading her, she wouldn’t have had the need.
She felt the meal she had so quickly consumed rising and hurried to the privacy of her chamber before anyone saw her further disgrace herself.
Chapter Six
For a reason he could not fathom, Hugh sat there watching her when he should have been running, fleeing as far from McBruiey Keep as was possible after his narrow escape from matrimony days past. He should have been in his bed by now so he might rise early in the morning.
Belonging to a Highlander Page 4
