Not Mine to Give

by Laura Landon

  “Are you looking for something?”

  Katherine took a step backwards, stopping when her back collided with the wall. “I… I came to say my prayers.”

  “Have you finished?” he asked, the look on his face unreadable.

  “Yes.” Katherine focused on the stones on the floor.

  “Come here.”

  “It’s late, my lord. I would like to—”

  “Come here.”

  Katherine lifted her gaze to meet his. “I’m tired. I don’t want to argue more about the crown.”

  His eyes grew darker. The little softness she prayed she would recognize in his features wasn’t there. He breathed a sigh before he spoke. “I will na speak of the crown. I would only like to talk to you.”

  Katherine hesitated a moment, then walked to a bench and took a seat. He sat down beside her, so close his leg pressed against hers.

  His nearness caused a strange heat to warm her flesh, then creep to the pit of her stomach. No matter how hard she fought to keep him from affecting her, she failed. His muscled strength caused every nerve in her body to tingle in response. His dominating power made her want to turn to him for comfort. His commanding presence made her want to give herself to him for protection. Except she knew he didn’t want her. She knew it was Regan he wished to talk to like this, and hold in his arms, and take to his bed. Regan he would rather have taken as his wife.

  Katherine clasped her hands in her lap and waited.

  “Are you ill, Kate?”

  Katherine concentrated on the stone pattern on the floor. “No. I’m not ill.”

  “Then why could you na eat your meal again tonight?”

  “I wasn’t hungry. Nothing more.”

  She heard him take a breath, releasing the air with a heavy sigh. She wondered what his reaction would be if she told him about the torn clothes she’d found by the stream. Would he even portray a pretense of concern? She wasn’t certain, and that bothered her more than knowing one way or the other.

  “You have na been hungry for many of the meals our cooks have prepared of late. Did you na like their food?”

  “The food is fine, Duncan. It’s just me.”

  “Your clothes are beginning to hang on your body, wife. I do na want to see them become any looser.”

  Katherine turned her face away from him. She knew she was becoming thin in the extreme. Perhaps when he compared her to Regan’s full, curving body, he found her less than appealing. Perhaps that was why he had yet to take her again since he had healed. Her cheeks burned like they were on fire.

  “Why did you come to Scotland, Kate?”

  She looked at him, unable to hide her surprise. “I came to be with Elizabeth for the birth of her first child. I was supposed to have wed Bolton, but persuaded father to postpone the wedding until after Elizabeth’s babe was born.”

  “How was it our priest mistook you for your sister?”

  Katherine closed her eyes and thought back to the night when the Ferguson priest had come. A cold shiver raced down her spine. “It was the middle of the night when one of the servants came to tell Elizabeth your priest was downstairs. Elizabeth was sleeping soundly. She was still recovering from the birth of the babe and I didn’t want to awaken her. When I saw how anxious the servant was, I feared the worst. I was afraid the priest had come to tell us Ian was dead. I didn’t want Elizabeth to hear the news like that, so I went in her place.”

  “And the priest did not ask your identity?”

  “No. He only asked if my father was the English Earl of Wentworth.”

  Katherine thought back to the dried blood staining the priest’s robe and shuddered. As if he could feel the terror she’d felt that night, Duncan placed his arm around her shoulder and drew her close to him. A sudden warmth surged to every part of her body. A strange and comforting peace. Dear God, she wished he would not hold her so. She wished he would not remind her of what she would miss when he could no longer stand to touch her.

  “And then what, lass?”

  He nestled her close against his side, and Katherine couldn’t keep from resting her head against his chest. Couldn’t help but breathe in his raw, masculine scent, mixed with leather, and horses, and the smell of the outdoors. Katherine breathed deeply, letting each of her senses have its fill.

  “I knew it was only a matter of time until Bolton came in search of the crown. That’s what the priest warned me. I hid Elizabeth and the babe, then went back to the keep and passed myself off as the mistress of Kilgern Castle. If any of the servants knew I wasn’t Elizabeth, they didn’t give me away. They would have gone to their graves to protect their mistress and the MacIntyre heir from Bolton. The MacIntyre Scots had come to love Elizabeth.”

  He reached over and nestled her hand in his strong grasp. His thumb made slow, lazy circles atop her hand, sending warm pulses deep within her.

  “You do na think your Ferguson Scots would be as loyal?”

  She said nothing. She knew Duncan wouldn’t want to hear her answer.

  Duncan’s thumb halted its movements atop her hand. “Why did you come to me in the dungeon?”

  “I came to ask for your help. I didn’t know Bolton had you until he came from the dungeon with your medallion hanging from his neck. He was laughing because you’d become so violent when you saw him wearing it. When he threw it to the rushes on the floor, I waited until he left, then found it. I hoped returning it would gain your help to fight Bolton.”

  Duncan lifted his hand and clutched his fingers around the medallion that still hung around his neck. “I will always be grateful to you for giving this back to me. I will forever owe you for your bravery.”

  “You’ve already sacrificed enough, my lord. I expect nothing more.”

  He looked down at her, and Katherine lifted her head to meet his gaze. A hand tightened around her heart. All she saw was the pain he couldn’t keep from his eyes.

  “Oh, lass. How did we come to this?”

  “Neither of us had a choice in what we were to do, my lord. You want nothing from me except what I cannot give, and I am willing to give you anything except what you want.”

  His hand lifted to her face, then he rubbed the back of his fingers against her cheek. The look in his eyes said there was nothing more for which to hope.

  “What I have left to give you isn’t enough. Is it, my lord?”

  He didn’t answer.

  Katherine separated herself from him and rose to her feet. On legs that threatened to fold beneath her, she walked down the hallway, and into her chambers. He wouldn’t come to her again tonight. The look in his eyes told her so.

  …

  Katherine set her second full basket of berries on the ground and lifted her shoulders to stretch her muscles. She and Malcolm had picked berries for what seemed hours and all the baskets were finally full. “Are you ready to go home, Malcolm?”

  “Aye, milady. Do you think we’ve picked enough to satisfy our laird’s taste through the winter?”

  “I’m sure our laird will be pleased with what we have.” Katherine looked at the four baskets of berries on the ground and smiled. “We’ll both remind him all winter of how pleased he must be with our labors.”

  Malcolm picked up the two pouches that hung over the horses’ saddles and held the first one open while Katherine poured in her basket of berries. There were so many they would be lucky if they all fit.

  “Which way is it to Kilgern Castle?” Katherine asked.

  Malcolm turned to the right and pointed. “It’s over those hills, milady. It’s na too far. You just have to follow the stream and you canna miss it.”

  Katherine looked where Malcolm had pointed and began to formulate her plan. She only had to follow the stream and she would be there.

  “Our laird said just this morning that he intends to take you there soon. He said you were anxious to see your sister.”

  Katherine forced a smile and set the empty basket on the ground. “Yes, I’ve missed her and c
annot wait to see how much the babe has grown.”

  “It will na be long,” he said, picking up a second pouch. “We’d best hurry back to the keep. The wind has changed and it’s getting cooler.” Malcolm held the other pouch open for the second basket.

  “Does it always turn so cold this early, Malcolm?” Katherine threw the extra shawl she’d brought with her over her shoulders while Malcolm got the second set of saddle pouches from her horse.

  “Would it distress you, mistress, if I told you the weather has been mild so far?”

  “Oh, Malcolm. If this is mild, I fear I will never survive your Scottish winters.”

  Malcolm laughed a hearty laugh and handed her the vessel of ale that had been hanging by a rope on her saddle. “Here. This will help to warm you.” There was another vessel hanging on Malcolm’s saddle, and he took a deep swallow of his ale, then held the pouch while she poured the rest of the berries into it.

  Katherine put the vessel to her mouth and drank. She felt the warmth from the ale travel down to the pit of her stomach and rubbed her arms to ward off a shiver. “I don’t know who sent the ale to warm us, but I will make sure to thank them when we get back. They must have known it would turn colder before we returned and that we would welcome its warmth.”

  Malcolm took another swallow of his ale then held the reins to Katherine’s horse while she mounted. “Margaret or Morgana probably saw to it. They are thoughtful that way.”

  Malcolm walked to his horse and put his hands on the saddle. He looked as if he was ready to pull himself up, but his knees buckled beneath him and his forehead fell forward, resting at an awkward angle against the side of his horse.

  “Is something wrong, Malcolm?”

  “Leave, milady. Get yourself to…Duncan. Ride…fast.”

  Malcolm’s ashen face had a drawn look to it and his slurred words had an unnatural sound to them. “What is the matter, Malcolm?”

  “Go… mistress. Now.”

  “I will not leave you. Are you ill?” Katherine jumped from her horse and ran to his side.

  “Get… Duncan.”

  Malcolm’s weak voice came out as soft as a whisper. His feet gave out beneath him and he sank to the ground.

  “Malcolm! Malcolm!”

  Katherine’s heart pounded in her chest and she placed her hand to the warrior’s forehead, searching for a cause to his malady. His skin was not fevered but cool to the touch. When she pulled his shirt open at the neck and placed her ear to his chest, she heard the steady pounding of his heart. Even though it seemed to beat slowly, it was still the strong beat of a healthy man. It was as if he wasn’t ill at all, but had simply fallen asleep.

  “Malcolm, can you hear me?” He didn’t move, but lay on the ground in a heap.

  “He can na hear you, English.”

  Katherine jerked her head toward the voice behind her. She breathed a heavy sigh of relief when she looked into the familiar face. She clutched her hand to her breast to calm her breathing. “Oh, thank God it’s you. Something has happened to Malcolm.”

  Katherine touched her hand to Malcolm’s forehead and brushed the strand of blond hair from his face. She didn’t know what to do for him. “He all of a sudden fell to the ground and closed his eyes.” She ran her fingers over his face and the back of his head searching for any wound that could have caused him to fall, but could find nothing.

  “You can na help him, English. Malcolm will na wake up for a while. A verra long while.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I have given him a bit of the potion Angus gives to the ailing. It will na hurt him, if I did na put too much in his ale. If I did, he may never wake up, but that will be a pleasant way to die. Will it not?” She glared at Katherine and the look in her eyes was murderous. “Not like some of the Scots your English have slaughtered.”

  Katherine looked again into Malcolm’s face, unable to believe this was happening. He did not seem to be in pain, but to be sleeping peacefully. “Why? Why would you want to harm Malcolm?”

  Her shrill laughter raised the level of Katherine’s fear. “Oh, English. I do na want to harm Malcolm. It’s you I’ve come for.”

  Katherine looked up at the woman, expecting to see concern on her face, but there was none. Instead, an evil countenance covered her dark features and she took another step closer until she stood right beside them. It was then that Katherine saw the knife in the woman’s hand.

  She kept her gaze focused on the knife while she moved her hand down Malcolm’s side. If he were like Duncan, she would find his dirk somewhere around his waist. “But I’m not ill,” she said, trying to distract her assailant. “You didn’t put the potion in my ale to make me sleep.” Katherine found Malcom’s knife and wrapped her fingers around it.

  “I did na want to make you sleep, English. I want you to know you are going to die. I want you to see death and know it’s coming to take you.”

  A cold chill ran down Katherine’s spine and she pulled the knife ever so slowly out of its sheath. She didn’t stop until she had it gripped in her hands.

  In a movement so swift Katherine didn’t see it coming, the girl kicked out her foot. She knocked the knife from Katherine’s grasp, then swung out with her own knife and made a slash on Katherine’s forearm that cut through the material of her gown and left a crimson streak.

  “You canna surprise me, English. I’ve come to know you too well to expect you to die willingly.”

  “You cannot do this. Duncan will find you.”

  Her inhuman laughter made the hairs rise on the back of Katherine’s neck.

  “My laird will thank me. I’m doing him a favor. He does na want you. Surely even you can see it?” Her malicious smile broadened. “I thought perhaps he’d killed you that night he put his hands around your throat. I watched from the doorway and prayed he would end your life, but Malcolm and the old man came back to save you.”

  Katherine shook her head in confusion. “You hate me that much?”

  “You can na imagine how much I hate you, English. How much I hate watching you take the mistress’ place in the castle and giving orders to the servants as if you belonged, as if you were one of us. You can na imagine how much I hate knowing you lie in the master’s arms each night and that even now he may have planted his seed in your womb.”

  She reached out and grabbed the reins to Katherine’s horse then pointed her knife. “Get up, English. We have far to go.”

  “What about Malcolm? You cannot leave him here. He’ll freeze.”

  The woman shrugged her shoulders as if she didn’t care, then poked the sharp point of her knife into Katherine’s back, giving her no choice but to move. Katherine lowered Malcolm’s head to the ground and stood, but before she walked to her horse, she took the extra shawl from around her shoulders and placed it over his body.

  “That will na help him once it gets cold, English. But it’s one more thing you’ll wish you would have kept for yourself once the snow falls.”

  Katherine lifted herself atop the horse. When she was seated, the woman grabbed her hands and tied them to the saddle. Katherine struggled to free herself, but before she could gain an advantage, the woman jabbed the knife into the flesh at her waist. She smiled when a spot of blood soaked through Katherine’s gown.

  “Fight me if you want, English. I would just as soon kill you here.”

  “Then why don’t you?” Katherine gasped through the pain.

  “Because there would be na doubt that you had been murdered if they find you here with a knife in your chest. I think my laird will sleep better if he thinks your death was an accident.”

  “Duncan will not let you get away with this.”

  She cackled a bitter laugh. “He will not care that you’re dead. He will only care that he did na get the crown before you died.”

  The woman gave another shrill laugh then pulled on the reins and the pretty gray mare followed through the trees into the hills.

  Katherine turned to look a
t Malcolm’s sleeping body lying on the ground and prayed her shawl would be enough to keep him alive until he awoke or Duncan found him. Even now it was hard to make out his features. All she saw were the first big flakes of snow swirling to the ground, covering his body.

  …

  “I’ll be back after the snow settles.”

  That was all the woman had said before she disappeared into the swirling white.

  Katherine struggled to loosen the rope that bound her to the tree where the woman had left her. She’d lost the feeling in her hands and feet long ago. Huge flakes of wet snow pelted her in the face as she worked with the knot.

  When the cord finally fell away, she pulled her hands in front of her and stared at the drops of blood that dripped to the snow from her raw fingers. She waited for the pain, but there was none. She felt nothing.

  She tucked her numb fingers into the folds of her skirt and took the first step away from the tree, only to realize she didn’t know which direction would take her home. When she looked up to the sky, she realized there was not much daylight left for her to find shelter.

  A wall of rocks to her right provided the only hope of protection from the howling wind, and Katherine lifted one foot then another as she plodded through snow that went above her ankles. She leaned against the craggy stones and let the tears she’d kept at bay for the last hour or more spill over her lashes. Tiny ice crystals froze to her cheeks, but her fingers didn’t have the feeling to wipe them away. Her heart didn’t have enough hope for it to matter.

  She curled into a tight ball beside the tiny opening in the rocks, but she couldn’t force herself to go deeper into the small, dark space. She no longer cared. All she wanted was to lie down and rest. Perhaps if she slept for just a little while she would be strong enough to find her way home.

  She hugged her arms around her middle and closed her eyes, wondering if Duncan would ever find her. The woman’s hateful words came back to haunt her and she wondered if her enemy was right. She wondered if Duncan might not even bother to look.

  Chapter 14

  Duncan sat at his place in the great hall listening with one ear to the complaints of two of his warriors concerning a dispute over a horse. He should not have let Kate go to pick berries this afternoon. His nerves had been unsettled since she and Malcolm had ridden across the drawbridge. And with good cause.