But there was no way that he could bring himself to leave her--not for any reason. The fear of losing her again--fear based on his lack of knowledge regarding where she had disappeared to and how she’d gotten back--put him quite on the edge.
Catherine’s soft spoken dismissal of her serving woman gave him the sign to turn around. He kept his mouth shut and his temper in check until Jean had shut the chamber door on her way out. Then there was no holding him back.
“Catherine Percy Stewart! From now on, I will have a guard accompany you between the rooms of this keep. After what you did tonight, under no condition will I trust you to be left alone for even an instant. After the pain you caused me in finding you missing...after what my people had to go through...” He went on, pacing back and forth, venting his anger, scolding her energetically...at first. But soon, the words began to lose their vigor, fading gradually. Trying to retain his glare, he found his throat tightening with emotion. He couldn’t stop himself from admiring his tough, little angel.
Now dressed in a white, long sleeved nightshirt, with her hair uncoiled and spread like a silky blanket around her shoulders, her misty eyes shining in her scratched face, John Stewart lost all desire to scold. He stopped and took a step toward her. Immediately, she rose from the bed and threw herself into his arms.
He gathered her tightly against him, pressing his lips against her hair, her brow, lingering on the long, deep scratches on her face. “Catherine! I thought I would go mad. Where did you disappear to?”
She didn’t immediately answer, and he once again felt a stab of pain in his heart. He took a fistful of her hair and pulled it back gently so he could look into her face.
“Do not, Catherine! Do not think of a lie.”
“I thought I would be able to,” she said softly. “But I cannot.”
“Then tell me where you went! And why is it that no matter how hard we searched, we could not find you?”
She used the tip of her fingers to trace the line of his jaw. “I discovered a secret tunnel.”
“The one at the bottom of stairwell in this section of the keep?” It was the only one he had not yet checked.
“Aye.” She nodded. “I went through it to the end.”
“That tunnel is blocked. You couldn’t have gone out that way!”
“But I did! There is a small opening high in the wall blocking the passage. I was able to slide through it. But when I reached the end, there were briar bushes blocking the opening into the cave. I didn’t see them, and before I knew it, I was tangled in them.”
He knew she was speaking the truth. This much of it, anyway.
“That’s how I got the scratches on my face. And the dirt on my dress.”
“But why, lass?” he said exasperatedly. “Why did you decide to do something so absurd in the middle of the night? And how did you learn of the tunnels beneath the castle?”
She averted her eyes and pressed her cheek tightly against his chest. “Please, John. Please do not ask me questions that I cannot answer. I did have a reason for this madness, and I will tell you the truth...as soon as I can.”
“And this is the trust of husband and wife?” John pulled her back so that he could look into her face. “Do you expect me simply to forget about this and be happy with such a cryptic answer?”
“I simply ask you to trust me.”
“As you trust me?” His hands tightened on her shoulders. “Catherine, from the first moment we met, you have never once done as I’ve told you. You have never obeyed any direction I’ve given. When have you, even once, trusted my judgment? And now you just expect me to remain silent and trust you regarding something that may jeopardize the safety of people who depend on me?”
She reached up and took hold of his hand, pressing it to her shoulder. “I know I’ve been a difficult wife. I admit I’ve been persistent and stubborn. And I accept the fact that I am nothing like what you would desire in a woman.”
She leaned her face against his arm. The simple gesture, added to her softly spoken words, had an effect on him. Athol’s anger melted away, and in its place he could feel the rippling tide of affection and love.
“But despite of all my flaws,” she continued, “I want you to trust me when I tell you that I’ll never do anything to bring harm to you or your people. Though you believe I have no regard for the value of your judgment, I have opened up my heart to you, husband. I have given you a place with the things I value most. I...”
He was too affected by her words to be able to say anything himself. Lifting his hands and framing her delicate face, he stared into the depths of her misty blue eyes.
“I love you, John Stewart,” she whispered as sparkling tears escaped, running down and scorching his fingers with their heat. “As much as you may think me unworthy of your trust, I...”
He kissed her with all the passion that was burning in his heart. He sipped her lips, trying to quench the insatiable thirst of his soul.
“What am I going to do with you?” he said a moment later, pulling back slightly and combing his fingers through her hair. He pressed soft kisses against the injured skin of her face.
“Keep me! Trust me! Swear to me that you will remain my husband!”
She hadn’t said love me. And he understood. Considering the base knave he’d been, ordering her never to confuse the purpose for their marriage with love, he understood perfectly her words. She did not want that rejection again.
He was indeed undeserving of her affection.
I love you, Catherine! I do! He could think the words--scream them in his thoughts--but she would never be able to read his mind.
But to say the words now would serve no purpose. She would not believe him. She would think them simply meaningless sounds. Nay, he would wait for the right moment. The perfect moment. The moment when he would sweep her off her feet with his declaration...as she had done to him.
His voice was husky and raw with emotion when he spoke again. “I am your husband and, though I did not know you then as I know you now, I have always had every intention of honoring my vows to you.”
“You are and always will be the only man in my life.”
His thumb gently wiped away the tracks of tears on her cheeks. “I will cherish you, Catherine, and protect you...if you will allow me. And I promise I will be worthy of your trust.”
Catherine’s chin lifted, her eyes moving until they entrapped him in their misty depths. “And you! Will you keep me as the only woman in your life?”
“My sweet Catherine.” He smiled as the warmth spread through him. “I do not think another woman exists who could take me from anger to desire in the span of a heartbeat. You are my weakness. You are a habit that I can no longer do without. You will be the only woman in my life.”
She looked down and then smiled shyly. The same enchanting smile that always seduced him.
“John, will you take me? Make love to me?”
Athol cocked an eyebrow at her, and when she looked up, she had mischief in her eyes.
“I have a bit more to reveal to you, but ‘tis something I could only divulge when I am certain that you are feeling completely agreeable.”
John couldn’t hold back his laughter as he drew her roughly into his embrace. He devoured her smiling lips and let her push him down on the narrow bed. He lay still as she started undressing him.
“Considering what you did to me this past night, it might take a very long time before I’ll ever again be ‘completely agreeable.’”
“We have time,” she whispered, placing kisses on his bare chest. Unfastening his kilt, she lifted the nightshirt to her waist and nestled against his rising manhood. She nipped at his jaw, encouraging him to start. “I’ll do whatever you say, husband...follow your lead...do what must be done to prepare you for the news.”
“I like the sound of this. Your learned methods of persuasion. Your argument from a position of strength!”
“And trust me,” she gasped as he entered her body. “Y
ou’ll appreciate the rest, as well!”
CHAPTER 19
Lady Anne Stewart dismissed all but Auld Mab. Motioning for the door to be barred, the dowager pulled herself to a sitting position as the ancient servant placed the lighted taper in a carved wooden holder on the bedside table.
“Did she tell him where she went?”
“Not while the others were there. But from the looks of her, she must have done battle with a dragon.”
“I’ll wager the dragon lost.” The dowager pointed to the large chest sitting against the opposite wall. “Bring it to me!”
The serving woman moved briskly to the chest and, after opening it, started taking out and putting on the floor pieces of folded linens and clothing one layer at a time.
While watching her, the dowager sat straighter in the bed. “Is my son still with her?”
“Aye, Jean said he is, m’lady. And from the looks of things he might stay there for some time.”
A pleased smile broke out on the dowager’s face. “That Catherine Percy has more control over her husband than she knows herself! That’s good! Very good! This is exactly what John needs. A woman as smart as he is, himself.”
Smoothing the quilted bedclothes across her lap, Lady Anne nodded approvingly when her maid removed a small, ornate box from the bottom of the large chest and brought it to her.
“Was everything on top of it left untouched as you arranged it before?”
“Aye, ‘twas, m’lady. The same as ye directed.”
The dowager reached inside of the neckline of her bedgown and started pulling out a long chain. Auld Mab helped her to pull it over her head and produce the key.
“When the sun is up, I want you to go and bring Catherine to me.”
“What happens if the earl is still abed? I know he is customarily an early riser, but...”
The two women exchanged a knowing look. “In that case, I want you to wait.” The dowager smiled. “If she is woman enough to keep him in bed when the sun is in the sky, then we can be patient enough to wait before giving this token of her mother’s to her.”
The dowager put the key into the lock of the chest and turned it. Once the lid was lifted, she patted the sealed parchment that Nichola Erskine had sent her to give to Catherine.
“After having it so long, why have ye decided to give it to her now? Ye might have given it to her earlier.”
The dowager looked up and met the sharp blue eyes of Auld Mab. Of all of the servants she’d had for years, this woman was the only true confidante she’d ever had.
“Nichola asked me to hold on to this until I was certain that the lass was safe. That she was set to stay for good.”
“A very wise woman, to know beforehand, about the earl and her daughter.”
The dowager met the older woman’s knowing smile with one of her own before closing the lid. “You might say we both...guessed. We both hoped. And we both planned for them as far as we could. The rest one can only leave to the hand of fate.”
“Has Nichola been told of the marriage?”
“Aye, she has.” The dowager placed the small chest next to her hip on the bedclothes and lifted a bony finger to her lips. “Her daughters think there is no way for them to get hold of their mother. But have no fear, Mab. Nichola Erskine has an eye on all of them.”
******
The noise of the household stirring in the corridors. The smells of and shouts wafting up from the kitchens. The clang of swords as the men trained in the courtyard.
Nay, none of the everyday routines of the Highland castle were going to move John Stewart.
He gazed down at the woman tucked in his embrace. He didn’t want to tear his eyes from her angelic face as she slept. He sure as hell wasn’t going to disturb her. Whatever her ordeal had been last night, it had exhausted her so much that she’d fallen asleep the moment they’d finished their lovemaking.
Now it appeared that the rain had stopped, for the sky outside the window was brightening. Casting his gaze about the small bedchamber, his eyes lit on the cloak, and he looked back at the thin scratches on her face. There was no reason for him to doubt what she’d told him regarding where she’d been. But still, her motive for going puzzled him. He still intended to ask her the questions he’d meant to ask this morning...before they both had been overcome by the moment’s desires.
Tracing with the tip of his fingers a long scratch that crossed her brow, Athol leaned down and placed a soft kiss on the wound. There were no words to describe the ache he’d felt in his heart, imagining her hurt or in pain. Before meeting her, he’d known many women. He’d experienced passion, the physical power of desire. But Catherine had managed to awaken so much more in him. His continuous hunger for her, his need to be with her, his desire to have her by him in all things, all of this was new to him. All of this--he was certain--meant that the love that he had for her was like no other.
And somehow he had to make her hear this. He had to make her believe it. He wanted her to believe it the same way that he had believed her own profession of love.
He watched her eyelids flutter and open. The midnight blue orbs gradually focused on his face. She immediately lifted her head off his arm.
“Tis morning! I forgot to leave your bed.”
He smiled and rolled onto his back, pulling her body on top of him and reveling in the feel of her skin against his. He brushed her lips with his own.
“Your secrets are spilling out, lass.” He ran his hands over the smooth curves of her back as she nestled her body against him. “As you can see, this is your bed and your chamber. But you might as well get used to the idea that if you leave my bed in the middle of the night, from now on I’ll follow you...wherever you go.”
She feigned an angry frown and then glanced around the room, inspecting the burned out embers in the hearth, the cast-off clothing on the floor. Her eyes narrowed though at seeing the pile.
“I fell asleep, I take it.”
“Not so very quickly.” He slowly pushed the blanket off her shoulders and gazed appreciatively at her shoulders, at her full breasts pressed seductively against his chest. “But aye, you fell asleep. In fact, our bodies were still as one when you drifted off to the fairy lands.”
“And--bold thing that you are--you removed my shift?”
“I did.” He loved the way she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her body closer to his. “I thought having you in my arms, in the condition God made you, would give me the advantage I sought.”
“Advantage?” she smiled, nipping at his chin.
“Aye! I thought, considering the draftiness of this wee hole you call a bedchamber, you’d stay with me at least for the warmth of my body.”
Catherine now gave him one of her magical smiles. When she did that, he thought contentedly, she made him feel like a lovestruck abbey school lad.
“Shouldn’t you be up and about?” She slowly slid against his body, placing kisses on his throat, his chin, his chest.
“Can you not feel it, woman? I am up.”
“That I can, husband. But don’t you have warriors that need you to oversee their work? Crofters with disputes that have to be heard? Pheasant and deer that need to be hunted?”
“Aye! There are all those things and more. But first, there is a wife that needs to be made love to.” He rolled both of them around until she lay pinned beneath him. He lowered his head and flicked at her breasts with his tongue. The nipples hardened under his attentions, and he took a moment to suckle them both.
Catherine arched her back, moaning softly into his ear, writhing under his weight.
Athol raised his head. “I’d say this is the most important part of my day. To pleasure my wife.” He ran a hand down over a quivering belly and slipped a finger into her wet folds. She gasped, moving against his hand as he stroked the source of pleasure.
“You mustn’t forget that as a peer to the realm, I am expected to make every effort to supply my people...and my king...with the fifth ea
rl of Athol. Making an heir is a difficult task, but a noble one that, as a loyal subject, I must attempt. ‘Tis a duty we mustn’t shirk, lass. In fact, ‘tis a duty that we must spend more time working at.”
A moment passed before his teasing words sunk in, and then she suddenly became very still. Lifting his head, he looked down at her misty eyes, her flushed face.
“What’s wrong, Catherine?” Concerned that he might have hurt her somehow, he quickly rolled a little and took her face in one hand. “Are you well?”
She paused and gnawed for a moment at her lip.
“There was something I meant to tell you last night.”
“Is that all,” he said, relieved. “Well, ‘tis not too late, my sweet. You can tell me now.”
Catherine drew a deep breath and gazed into his eyes.
“Your king would be proud, m’lord, for I already carry your bairn!”
*****
Torture is not an occupation for the squeamish, but neither the king’s Deputy Lieutenant nor those he employed for that purpose could ever be accused of having weak stomachs.
In fact, the sounds coming from a nearby chamber brought a satisfied smirk to Arthur Courtenay’s face. That sounds like progress, he thought. Progress, indeed.
As he paused to allow the Abbot of Jervaulx to pass before him into the small cell, a monk who was being questioned in the room next door suddenly appeared. Bloody, naked, and crawling on his hands and knees, the cleric dragged himself out of the cell and collapsed on the stone floor of the narrow corridor as a sweating brute stepped out, a whip shiny with blood in his hand.
“Yer not thinkin’ o’ leaving us already--” the torturer spat before seeing the small group behind him. Upon seeing them, he bowed apologetically. “Beggin’ yer pardon, m’lord.” The abbot took a step toward the injured man, but the Deputy Lieutenant blocked his way. The priest stared at him uncomprehendingly, for a moment, then lowered his head, murmuring in Latin as he made the sign of the cross in the direction of his fallen charge.
Dreamer (Highland Treasure Trilogy) Page 21
