Alaric nodded. "Or 'tis also likely, with all the goings-on that the abbess simply lied to me and the lass is in deep hiding among the sisters."
Hugh's scowl deepened. "I'll send a mon to McAlison. Surely he is—"
Alaric was already shaking his head. "We took the liberty of stopping by and questioning the McAlison. He swore until he was blue in the face that he did'na have the lass, and we did no see her there during the brief visit either. The old lecher said if he had her he would no be sitting in his cold hall, he would be busy making an heir with his young bride." Alaric squeezed his eyes shut in disgust and shook his head harder this time, taking a long drink to clear the image.
Hugh didn’t like this news at all. He liked even less the mere thought of breaking such news to his wife. She would likely demand they storm every keep in Scotland looking for the lass.
Hadn't Catriona herself said Tamsin would have escaped the place as soon as he left with Catriona a month ago? His brow furrowed. Where could the lass have been all this time?
And still, there was another possibility. The lass could have escaped of her own accord, and the abbess feared retribution from her father if he learned the truth, thus the old woman decided to make up a story.
Hugh sighed hard and ran his hands through his hair.
Alaric was staring at him. "Your wife told me much has happened in my absence."
Hugh glowered. "Och, that is putting it mildly. Catriona has more enemies than we thought."
Alaric's brows lifted and then he smiled. "'Tis no so surprising."
Hugh glowered again. "'Tis serious."
"Tell me," Alaric said, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest.
"After you left, Catriona was tending her garden." Hugh went on to relay the tale of the arrow incident and his speculations, then proceeded to fill Alaric in on the king's visit, the removal of the threat from the Saxons, and the new enemy in place.
When he was done, Alaric gave a low whistle. "An uncle, you say. Surely the king is doing something aboot a mon trying to usurp him. Once dealt with by the king, this uncle can be removed from the list of Catriona's problems as weel, aye?" He drank heavily then, until his alehorn was empty.
Hugh shook his head. "The king is looking for his brother, but has no located him. I fear by the time he does, the worse may have already happened. Jamie has been attacked in the last se’nnight, I suppose since Barnaby sees him as a stronger threat than Catriona. He is a closer blood tie, even if some argue that there is no blood between Jamie and the king.
"To begin with, there is the matter of Catriona and Jamie's father receiving the king's best lands, and Jamie inheriting. Barnaby must have some pent-up anger over that. The ounce of favoritism the king showed Catriona by offering her hand to the Saxon prince was simply the last straw. MacAlpin did say his brother had daughters. Surely they expected to have the king's consideration before Catriona."
Alaric ran a hand over his face. "Of all the lasses in Scotland, why did that one have to pick you?"
Hugh snorted. He wasn’t sure, but despite all the trouble and vexing, he was glad she had. This reminded him that she was waiting in his bed.
Hugh stood to retire.
"Oh, and by the bye—" Alaric looked up to Hugh standing over him. "The lass told me to tell you where you could find her, but failed to tell me where that might be." His brow furrowed in confusion.
Hugh's eyes narrowed. "Then that tells me she is precisely no where I told her to be." So, she wanted him to hunt her down, did she? Well, his little wife would be finding out how well that went for her.
A smile curved his lips.
Though he desired her in every way, his energy was spent after this grueling day.
"Go, rest," he told his second. "Let me think on this matter. Surely, between the two of us we can come up with a course of action to locate Tamsin. Our troubles can no begin to end withoot the lass being located."
Alaric yawned again and then stretched in his seat. "Aye. We shall figure this ordeal oot, I am sure of it. Even if the missing lass is the least of all our problems."
Chapter Nineteen
"Milady." A gentle voice broke into Catriona's dream and pulled her into the hazy present. "Milady." A shaking of her shoulder accompanied the voice this time, rousing her thoroughly with a shock, and Catriona opened her eyes to a brightly lit chamber.
After a bleary moment, she stretched, then edged up to prop herself on the pillow under her neck as she rubbed sleep from her eyes. "Och, Bess. Have I overslept again?" she asked.
She looked around at her chamber, dearly hoping this morning would not mirror the morning of the king's arrival. The shutters were open, and sunlight spilled into the room making her smile.
Then she realized she was still in her own bed. She frowned. She had thought Hugh would have come for her, toted her to his bed as recompense for her having directly disobeyed. She had thought he would enjoy her little game with him.
But he hadn’t.
She felt a pinch of hurt in her breast.
Where had he spent the night, then? In his chambers? Alone?
"I would say, milady," Bess said glumly, bringing her out of her thoughts. Her usually cheery maid brought her tray to the edge of the bed and waited.
"Thank you, Bess." Catriona mumbled, struggling to sit up. When she did, Bess positioned the tray across her lap. "Do you ken where my husband is this morn?" she tried to sound casual.
When Bess didn't answer straightaway, but instead went to fluff at the gown tossed over the foot of the bed, Catriona tried to summon a modicum of patience as she poked around at the contents of the tray.
Warm bread and poached quail eggs, a fat sausage—
"He stayed in the village," Bess blurted too inarticulately to be ignored.
Catriona nearly choked on the warm milk. "Excuse me?"
Bess rolled her eyes and balled the gown under her arm. She seemed upset of a sudden. "Oh, milady, I didn’t wish to be the one to tell you, but Rowena came crowing into the kitchens as loud as the yard cock announcing the sun's rise this morn. She went on and on aboot how Hugh spent the evening in the village … with other women."
Shocked, and hurt, her happiness extinguished, Catriona set the cup down and pushed the tray away from her. She felt sick of a sudden. "Tell me exactly what she said."
"Weel, she came in flouncing all around—" Bess flounced exactly so, "and lorded over Gertie, sayin' she would soon have back her place in Hugh's bed. Then Rowena went on to say she saw him in the village yesterday cavorting with some of his other women, and she said she offered herself to him and he—" Bess blushed furiously "he … you ken."
Catriona closed her eyes tight.
The swell of hurt nearly doubled her over.
How could he?
Her heart constricted painfully as her head swam with confusion. He had sworn to her his affairs were over. And to think, he had told her he was going to search out Malcolm! Bah!
She balled her small hand into a fist.
No wonder he had not come to her bed.
She had been so consumed with thoughts of the arrow attack and the king's arrival she had almost forgotten Hugh's other women. Not to mention the way he had been behaving toward her since they first made love. Heat seared her cheeks and burned in her chest, unshed tears stung her eyes.
How could he treat her as though… She shook her head in agony as tears seeped into her eyes. As though he loved her, then go out and have passion for other women? And why bed them when he had her? Was he truly dissatisfied? Had he not enjoyed their loving as she had? He had surely seemed to.
How dare Rowena crow about such things for others to hear! She hated that Bess had heard such lewd stories, or that anyone had for that matter. And what the servants must think of her. They surely would think her a fool for allowing Hugh back into her bed if ever at all.
"Hurry," Catriona said, lifting the tray back toward Bess. The maid rushed to take it, and Catriona threw
the bed covers from her, ready at once to be out of this damned keep. She thought back to the other morning and could only wonder who he had shared his bed with besides her. The thought made her skin crawl.
"But your breakfast, milady," Bess said, indicating the full tray in her hands.
"I no longer have an appetite. I want to go to the kitchens so I might hear these stories for myself."
Bess deposited the tray on a table by the brazier and hurried to see to her mistress, dressing her in the fresh clothing and helping with Catriona's hair.
"Milady, your hair is much better this morn." She let out a sound of gratitude as she ran the comb through to the ends.
"So it would seem," Catriona said through clenched teeth, her stare locked on the open window and the sunlight that had so recently brought her happiness.
Nothing else was better though.
No, everything else was far worse now.
****
"We wouldn’t disparage the laird a'purpose," Gertie said with a shake of her head, rolling out thick dough on the worktable. "Gor, but they tyrannized the lot of us because of their relationship with the laird. Even in his absence." Her voice rose an octave in imitation, "I am his bedmate. I have the run of the keep." She snorted and held up the long rolling instrument, her voice returning to an irritated-but-normal pitch. "I'll tell you this, milady, no too many of us are rather pleased with our laird. Mayhap you can set him straight." Gertie went back to her work. "We servants hear things. Heard he plans to at last stay here and run the keep himself." She snorted again. "I'd like to see the day we have a real laird, I would."
This shocked Catriona. "You seem to be upset over more than his whoring, which has upset me."
Gertie glanced up sharply, her brown hair wildly sticking out from her face. She ran the back of her hand over her forehead to wipe the hairs back into place but smeared a white streak of flour there in its place. "Aye, milady. Truth to tell, I am. The lot of us are."
"What are you so upset aboot? Tell me and mayhap I can help."
The older woman looked around her for listening ears and with one quelling look shamed a kitchen girl in to turning her attention in the other direction. She lowered her voice. "Weel, he's no been a laird, that’s for sure. Grievances aplenty remain unsettled. Things we've been left to settle ourselves. Fixing those would be a start. Some of our homes have leaks because no new thatch has been provided. We're no asking a lot, but simply for him to 'old up his end of things. You see, when he came here and took over after the eld laird died, we thought he would be better." She started rolling out the dough again. "But 'tisn't been better."
"All right. I shall speak with my husband on your behalf if you will tell me the names of the women in the village he goes to see." At Gertie's hesitant look, Catriona reached out to touch her sleeve. "You do'na have to be afraid. I'll tell no one 'twas you who told me. Working alongside Rowena, surely you have heard."
"I've heard the same as Bess this morning, but I do'na ken the others' names, milady." She shook her head fervently. "Truly I do'na. I only ken of the rumors floating aboot for all ears to hear. They say he still beds others since bringing you home." She bowed then. "I'm afraid that is all I can tell you besides that the laird's sinning ways be a true shame."
True shame indeed.
Chapter Twenty
Catriona wiped her hands on the front of her gown and then started toward the large double doors. She wound through men leaving after breaking their fast in hopes she wouldn’t be spotted.
She stepped forward to exit the hall, but swiftly two solid chests blocked her path.
Catriona stiffened immediately.
Her hands went straight to her hips as she lifted her stare and looked each man in the eye. "What's this?" she asked. "I can'na go oot of doors?"
"Nay and weel you ken it. The laird says you are no to leave."
Her eyes flared. "And where might I find my husband to ask permission?"
"He is no here at present," one man said.
"He left early to scour the forest," said the other.
She furrowed her brow. "And what in heaven’s name does he expect to find there? Is he leading an army against a lone archer? What if the poor fellow does'na even ken what he had done? Have any of you no thought of that?"
The men seemed taken aback by her testiness and stiffened up abruptly.
"You will have to discuss this matter with the laird later when he returns. For now, busy yourself indoors." The slightly taller fellow flicked a hand at her, as though to shoo her on to some womanly indoor errand.
Catriona was aghast. The devil she would busy herself inside!
She wanted to speak with Hugh. Now.
Indignant, she stomped away in search of her men. The men Jamie had lent her, the ones entirely at her disposal. All twelve of them. They could see her to the village, the forest, or wherever he was, to collect her husband.
It took a good hour to find even one of her men, and that one disabused her of the notion that all twelve were within the keep.
"Hamash, Erick, Garin, and Gregor went with your husband to search for the mon who tried to shoot you," Gillie told her.
Catriona fumed. It seemed Hugh was not where she suspected, and she had thought to catch him in the act.
That left her eight men. Still, they made up an adequate number to get her out of doors, she surmised. She regarded him with a mix of frustration and contrite sympathy, for she was surely to get him and the rest of Jamie's men into trouble.
"Weel, where are the others left here?" she asked.
Gillie looked around and then shrugged. "I do'na ken."
Her lips pinched together. "Find them at once." She flounced into the chair beside the small gaming table he sat at alone. "I shall await you here."
He frowned at her, thought about it hard, but then seemed to remember that he was under her charge. "Aye, milady." He stood with a roll of his eyes, but then paused. "You ken this is no a good idea. You will be safer indoors. It would no hurt for you to mind this once and stay in when your laird has said to do so." Gillie shrugged. "On the chance that real harm is oot there waitin' on you."
Catriona pinched her lips together. She half thought he was right and half felt she shouldn’t be ordered, no, detained indoors. If it were not for the unsettling news she’d woken to, she would obey and oblige her husband.
"I spent too long a prisoner of Hugh's en route to Caithness. I desire my freedom. If he can frolic around the village, then I should be free to at least venture into the courtyard."
"Och," Gillie groaned and left her to search for the others, returning another half hour later.
By the time her eight men at last stood before her, the hall was nigh deserted. Catriona felt a sweep of power. She felt small and breakable and as though if one of these giants were of a mind to, he could smash her under his thumb.
That if they were absolutely of a mind to, they would tell her no as Gillie had tried to, and she would have no say in it.
Their brutish size was unfair, but she put those thoughts behind her and started her march for the doors once again.
She watched the faces of the two guards as she approached them, leading the brood of her brother's men. The McCross guards cast a look of uncertainty between themselves at the sight of her approach.
"Milady," one started.
Catriona stiffened her spine and held up a hand. "You may either let me pass, seeing as I have adequate protection to accompany me ootdoors. I am sure you would agree that my husband would see the sensibility in this." She swept a hand gesturing to her armed guards. "Or, you may say we manhandled you and forced our way oot. Either way, I am going ootside."
The two men looked askance at one another again. The one who had spoken shook his head. "He will'na like this," he beseeched her.
"I do'na care."
The man's eyes widened, and he shook his head.
"'Tis foolishness," the other one said, but he took a step to the side anyway
.
As Catriona pushed herself through with her warriors at her back, she felt the weight of her foolishness resting squarely on her shoulders and in her heart.
She took hold of the giant metal rings attached to the doors.
What was wrong with her today? Was it that she had spent half the night pacing, waiting for Hugh to come to her that made her feel so caged inside? Or perhaps Hugh's absence this morning had sparked her ire a little too much? The rumors? No matter what it was, when Catriona stepped out into the fading daylight she almost turned on her heel and went back inside.
The day had taken a turn, and now only cold greeted her. A wet, seeping cold. Where had the warm sun gone? she fumed.
She would have been better off staying in her chambers and enjoying the warmth at her window. Instead, she had spent nigh the entire day trying to get out only to not be able to enjoy any of it. This made her angrier.
However, her anger was not enough to warm her as a cold gust broadsided her.
The cold that hit her was a cold that seeped in and didn’t let go. Her stubbornness pushed her onward toward her garden right up until she caught sight of the mounted men riding through the gates.
Her stare stuck on the animal as dark as pitch, its rider bearing down on the courtyard.
Her eyes widened, and her mouth fell open to steal a quick breath before she quickly turned away from her husband and his men. Her resolve disintegrated, and the fire inside turned to ash. Catriona tried to hurry into the garden, out of Hugh's notice, but failed miserably.
She chanced a look over her shoulder at the sound of hooves approaching. Hugh had turned his great, monstrously sized horse in her direction. Its black mane tossed in the cold wind.
Catriona froze where she stood, hypnotized in her husband's gaze. At her back, Jamie's warriors began to murmur and shuffle under Hugh's censure. A few snickers could be heard, but Catriona did not look back to silence the men.
Hidden by her gown, she stomped her slipper to the cold earth. Her fists balled at her sides.
Belonging to a Highlander Page 17
