It wasn’t that he’d hoped Catriona remained or that she’d gone. What he didn’t want to face was knowing either way. Over time, he’d gone from hurt to anger and, finally, to accepting that it was best for him not to ever allow his heart free rein again.
Whether the woman remained or had gone, at this point, mattered little. He was prepared to see Catriona again and he was equally ready not to ever do so.
Now he had to not only face the current situation, but also to return to Uist where he would once again have to be ready to see Una.
Thankfully, no one except him knew the reason why he’d left Uist. And if he had his way, no one ever would.
Ewan flopped onto his bed, not bothering to remove his boots. Upon closing his eyes, the memory of the last time he’d seen his father immediately appeared.
“Go to Una, Son. Tell her the marriage will be dissolved. Ask that she consider returning to her own clan,” his mother advised. “If she refuses, then set some ground rules. If she is to take a lover, it must be discreetly.”
“What of the child?” He paced in front of the fireplace. “Everyone will think it is mine.”
“There is naught we can do about it,” Lady Ross said with a sigh. “The only thing I can suggest is that ye go away. Create a life away from here.”
“Yer son will be seen as a bad father who deserts his own child,” her mother’s companion interjected. “Perhaps what should be done is for her to be sent away. If we find out who the father is, he can be bribed to take her.”
Moments later, Ewan returned to his wife’s chambers, not at all looking forward to the argument that would no doubt ensue.
Familiar noises made him stop from knocking. Grunting and moaning came from behind the door. Immediately, his hand went to his broadsword. Before drawing it, Ewan considered this was a good thing. He was about to find out who his wife’s lover was. He would barge in and demand the man take her away or face death.
The swishing of his sword slipping out of its holdings somehow permeated through the thundering blood rushing past his ears.
Stepping through the doorway, he allowed his eyes to become accustomed to the dimness. The couple was so enthralled that they did not notice his presence until he was beside the bed.
It was then the male turned and met his gaze.
For a moment, Ewan was sure he’d made a mistake, walked into the wrong bedchamber. But Una’s gasp brought him to realize he had not.
His father pushed away from her slowly, withdrawing from her body in a way to ensure Ewan saw it clearly. All the while, Una remained frozen, her legs spread.
“I thought ye said he would not return tonight,” his father said to Una, who other than to swallow visibly had yet to move. “I suppose it is best for it to be known. I tire of hiding,” the laird said in a bored voice.
When Ewan’s fist crushed his father’s nose, the sounds of bones crunching seemed to hang in the air. It was not a fair fight. Ewan was over a head taller than the laird and outweighed him, all muscle.
The second punch to the midsection slammed his father into a table that toppled over, spilling the contents and breaking the furnishing with loud crashes and cracks.
Ewan punched him a third and fourth time, each hit harder.
When the older man fell to the floor, Ewan fell upon him like a wild beast, pummeling and pounding him until strong arms dragged him away.
And still he continued fighting, landing punches to both his brothers and a guard who’d come when hearing Una scream.
The door was slammed shut to keep others out, but not before some of the servants, who’d also rushed there, saw what was happening.
“Stop, Ewan!” Darach shouted, shoving Ewan against the opposite wall while Duncan lowered to the floor next to their father.
“To the dungeon,” his father sputtered. “Lock him in the dungeon for daring to strike me.”
Neither brother replied. Instead, Darach motioned to the guard to help him carry the bloody man out of the room. “Take him to his bedchamber then find the healer.”
“The dungeon!” their father screamed. “Ewan! Ye are dead to me!”
The room became eerily silent. Ewan shoved Darach aside and went to the bed, his face twisted in fury. “Ye are a whore. Ye are my father’s whore.”
Una, who’d yanked blankets up to cover herself, seemed not to hear him. Instead, she looked straight ahead to the door.
When Ewan turned, his mother stood there, her gaze riveted on Una.
Knocks woke Ewan and he called whoever it was to enter. Two servants carried in a wooden tub and another two, each with pair of buckets filled with water.
A woman walked in last with a fifth bucket, this one steaming.
“I can assist with yer bathing if ye’d like, sir,” she said with a light smile.
Once the water was poured into the tub, he sent all the servants away but the woman.
“Ye look refreshed,” Ruari said, looking Ewan up and down. “I have been told the news of yer lairdship. I am glad for ye.” They hugged, his cousin patting his back a bit hard. “Do not let it mean ye think yerself better than us commoners.”
Ewan laughed. “Only when it comes to the last bits left at the bottom of a bottle. Then I will demand that what is left is mine.”
They walked into the great room and Malcolm motioned for him to join those at the high board.
As was customary, the McLeod and his wife were seated on Malcolm’s left, first the visiting laird, then Lady McLeod and, lastly, Lady Ross.
As per usual at Dun Airgid, conversation and music filled the air. Food a plenty was brought out and Ewan’s mouth watered. Of all the things he’d missed the most since leaving, it was the food. The cook there had no compare.
Movement caught his attention. Three women entered the room. One was Gisela, Kieran’s wife, the second was Merida. Upon noticing the third, he waited for the familiar pang to fill him. Instead, he managed to taper it down.
Catriona was still there.
She and the women commanded the room’s attention as they walked in and forward to the high board where he sat.
It was interesting that despite the passing of time, he could sense that she knew he was there. Purposely, she kept her head turned just enough so that he could not make eye contact. When it was impossible for her not to acknowledge Malcolm as was customary, she managed to only look to the laird.
He kept his gaze on her until she slid a glance toward him. When she did, he did not break eye contact. Instead, he pinned her with a dismissive arched brow before looking away, effectively dismissing her.
If possible, Catriona was more beautiful than before. She seemed to have blossomed there in the new environment. Despite everything, he hoped for her full recovery and a future like that of most women.
So far, he’d not seen Broden about. Surely he and Catriona had to be married by now. He’d been gone half a year and, in that time, many things must have occurred.
The room went silent as Malcolm Ross stood to his full height. The young laird scanned the room, his direct gaze landing on several people.
“Our sincerest welcome to Laird and Lady McLeod, who grace us with their presence.” The people present murmured their welcomes.
Malcolm waited for the room to quiet and spoke again. “It is with great pride that I present to ye a new laird. My cousin, Ewan, will be laird over the region that borders Clan Macdonell lands. I present Laird Ewan Gerard Ross, Laird of Tuath Avon.”
“North River.” His new keep was named after the direction of it from Ross Keep.
Ewan stood and held up his tankard. If he was to be laird, it was time for a change of how he acted. From now on, the easy-going man who sought comradery with every man he came in contact with was gone.
“I am grateful to my cousin for this honor. He has agreed to allow fifty warriors to go with me. Upon my return from Uist, I will begin construction of Tuath Avon.”
The room erupted with applause and shouts fr
om the guardsmen. Ewan had never felt so much pride. Thankfully, before any emotions crept up, Malcolm once again spoke.
“Those of ye that wish to go with the new laird, come to me with yer requests.”
As per usual, the feast was beyond reproach. Every platter overspilled with flavorful herb-encrusted meats, organs in broth and plump bright colored vegetables.
A band of traveling bards entered through the doors and began walking between tables, singing and strumming on string instruments.
Ewan lifted his tankard along with his cousins, each of them toasting to his good fortune and wishing him well. None showed any sign of ill-will, which boded well. He’d wondered about Kieran, the third born, who would have benefitted from his own lairdship.
“Did ye not consider asking for the land?” Ewan asked his cousin whose brows joined as he considered how to reply.
“My brothers and I each have huge responsibilities here. Tristan is in charge of making sure that our army is always trained and ready to defend our lands and keep. I not only help Naill lead the hundreds of archers, but I’m also responsible for seeing to the security of our northern borders. I considered building a keep there, but my wife, Elspeth and Merida threatened to kill me in my sleep.” A twitch at the corners of his lips was the closest Kieran ever came to smiling.
Ewan looked to the right where their cousin, Ruari, and other warriors sat. “What about Ruari?”
“He has no desire to be a laird. He is content with horse breeding and such.”
There was no one else. As much as he suspected any of the men would have accepted the lairdship and been thankful for it, it was he who was in the best position to accept.
“I will forever be grateful,” he finally said. “Yer brother has treated me much better than my own in Uist.”
“We are all family,” Kieran replied and straightened as a young man, escorted by two guards, approached.
“A scout, Laird,” one of the guards said.
Malcolm met the young man’s gaze. “What is it?”
“Laird and Lady Munro will arrive one day hence.”
“Of course,” Malcolm replied without inflection. He then motioned the guard closer. “See that he is fed and given a place to sleep. Inform Lady Gisela of who comes to visit.”
“Yes, Laird.”
“The keep will be quite full,” Kieran said with a displeased expression. “Perhaps it is time that I go to the north post for a spell.”
“I leave that decision up to ye, Brother,” Malcolm replied.
There were so many things that Malcolm had to handle on a daily basis. This just showed how understandable it was to keep his brothers close. The young laird was lucky to have two men he could trust without question.
Once the meal was over, Ewan had no desire to be around people, so he went to the stables to check on Ban, his horse.
Finding the horse was easy, it’s silver tone visible in the darkness. He’d often been kidded by others that with the horse, he was a riding target. Most of the time, Ban wore a dark covering, mostly at night when traveling near enemy lands.
Despite knowing it was unwise to ride a steed of light coloring, he’d raised the animal since its birth and was attached to it. Ban was a warhorse through and through. Ban rarely showed fear and was eager to rush forth at the first sounds of battle.
“Is there anything ye require?” A lad appeared and looked up at Ewan. “I brushed him down and fed him well.”
“No, I come just to be with him for a moment. Go on and find yer bed.”
Ewan led Ban out of the stall and began to check the horse’s legs. They’d ridden through a patch of thorny bushes and the horse’s legs had been cut in several places.
Poultice had been administered and one of the legs was wrapped. Thankfully, the stable master, under Ruari’s tutelage, was proficient in tending wounds.
Satisfied that Ban was well taken care of, he led the animal back to its stall, produced a carrot and fed it to the horse.
Music and laughter wafted from the house out to the courtyard and Ewan diverted toward the side gardens. There could be some people milling about there, but at least it would not be as loud. He was not ready to retire to his room, much too excited still at what had transpired. There was so much to consider: the building, selecting men, purchasing of livestock, not to mention hiring staff.
“Oh.”
The word brought Ewan out of his musings. He reached for the person he’d bumped into.
“I apologize...” He stopped midsentence at seeing who it was.
Catriona’s rounded eyes matched her open mouth. “I-I came for fresh air. I thought ye were inside.”
“Obviously, I am not.” He turned away.
“Wait.”
Ewan didn’t fully turn, just his head. “What is it?”
“I am sorry for the loss of yer father.”
Instead of a reply, he gave her a curt nod.
“And...”
He let out a breath and waited for her to continue, not bothering to face her.
“Ye will make an excellent laird.”
He turned. Stalking toward her, like an animal of prey, he expected the only way to stop his progress would be her asking. Instead, she met his gaze, tilting her face up, her lips parting.
When his mouth crashed over hers, Catriona grabbed his tunic, her hands clenching the fabric as if it were the only way she could keep from falling.
In his arms, she felt perfect, soft and yielding, just like he’d remembered every single day since leaving. And exactly what he’d fought hard to forget.
She was not to be his. Ewan took her shoulders and pushed her backward gently.
“This must never happen again.”
Catriona’s chest heaved, her lips enticingly swollen by his kiss. “We were friends once.”
“Were we? Enjoy the fresh air.” Ewan walked away, needing space between them. Upon his return, he would have to hurry the building of his new home so he could move away.
Without looking, he knew she was watching him walk away. For whatever reason, it felt good that he did not give her the satisfaction knowing how much she’d hurt him. Yes, it was immature of him, but self-preservation was much more important than whether or not he hurt Catriona’s feelings.
Chapter Fourteen
Fraser Keep
“Flora.” Lady Fraser stood by the fence waiting for her to respond.
“Lady Fraser.” Flora straightened from the row of plantings she’d been tending to and lowered her head. “What can I do for ye?”
The woman was kind and a good mistress of the house. Every day, she would appear at the kitchen to speak with the cook and maids and give instructions for the day’s meals. She would visit the launderess to ensure all was well. She also met with the chambermaids and lads regularly to do the same.
After Catriona left, Flora had requested and gotten a position there at the keep, without a clear capacity as yet. Her mother had taken ill as of late and could not remain back at the village caring not only for Flora’s son, but the small cottage as well.
Nearing the woman, Flora did her best not to get her hopes up. With Catriona gone, her duties as companion had ended and she did what she could to help around the keep.
“Ye have been working hard,” Lady Fraser began. “It has not gone unnoticed how much ye do here.”
“I do what I can to be helpful. It falls on me to provide for my mother and son.”
The clouds parted, allowing the sun to shine down, warming her back as she waited for whatever Lady Fraser had decided. Flora chose, in that moment, to see it as a good sign.
Lady Fraser motioned for Flora to come out of the garden. “Walk with me.”
The request surprised her, but it boded well, perhaps. So, wiping her hands as clean as she could with a cloth, Flora hurried to do as told.
They walked in the unhurried pace that most nobles seemed to prefer. Lady Fraser looked toward where the guards were practicing.
&n
bsp; “I need ye to consider something,” Lady Fraser began. “Are ye averse to marrying again?”
The question caught Flora by surprise. Marriage was not something she’d thought about much. Sure, every once in a while, a handsome guard caught her eye. Some nights, her body craved a man’s touch. But she’d been much too busy to think about marriage.
“I suppose I am not.”
Lady Fraser’s face brightened. “It would alleviate some of yer burden. Ye are young and pretty. There is no reason for ye to remain alone.”
Flora looked to the field where the men continued to practice. “Who do ye have in mind, Lady Fraser?”
The woman followed her line of sight. “Keithen’s friend. He needs a wife and I feel that he and ye would be a good match.”
“Who?” Flora turned once again to the field.
“Broden McRainy. Ye must know him.”
Immediately, the warrior came into focus. He was sparring against another man, his arms and face glistening with perspiration. In the sun, his hair was almost blond, the tresses pulled back into a queue with a leather strap. Flora had noticed him many times, but had never spoken to him.
A few times, he’d come to visit Catriona during the recovery time, and it was only then that Flora had observed him up close. He and Catriona had known each other for most of their lives and had a relationship like that of siblings.
“Why do ye think he needs to marry?” Flora finally asked.
“He has stated it himself. But then he does little to move forward. Before he makes a mistake and marries am unsuitable woman, I have decided to intervene.”
“Ye must care deeply for him that ye wish to find him a suitable wife,” Flora stated.
Lady Fraser smiled in the warrior’s direction. “Aye. He has been close to our family. He was practically raised here at the keep.”
“He seems highborn. I am but a mere village girl.”
With a quick flick of her wrist, Lady Fraser waved her concerns away. “Firstly, Broden is third...no, fourth born son of a local landowner. He has nothing more than the McRainy last name.”
A Fierce Archer (Clan Ross Book 6) Page 13
