Nearly an hour later Catrina faced off against blinding snow and raging winds. She slowed Sprite, whose breath was visible in the cold, to a trot as there was no point in going forward. “I think it’s time to head back, good friend.”
Spot offered a low nicker in response.
As Cat prepared to turn around, a horse’s neigh echoed in the distance. She looked ahead, a galloping rider coming her way.
A white horse. Dare she hope she’d found her highwayman?
With caution, Cat dismounted and then patted Sprite with a soft touch. “Keep steady, boy.” She held onto the horse’s reins, wind battering her from every direction now.
Even if the oncoming rider was The Christmas Rebel, a fight was not going to be easy in this storm. With her free hand, she reached for her pistol and withdrew it.
The approaching rider slowed until he reined his horse to a full stop just feet from where Catrina stood. In silence, he stared down at her, though with a thick gray scarf covering the bulk of his face, and his black, tricorne hat lowered to the point his eyes were shadowed, deciphering the man’s features were impossible.
Cat pointed the flintlock, aimed the gun at the man’s leg. “Move and I will blow your bloody foot off.” If only she could see his face better. Not that she knew everyone who lived in Dundaire, but she disliked facing a foe who was hiding as much of himself as was she.
“If yer hoping for a large booty,” the man said in a muffled voice thanks to his thick scarf, “I fear I must inform ye I have nothing on my person.”
“Everyone says that.” Releasing Sprite’s reins, Cat stepped nearer to the stranger staring down at her.
“Ye are nae from here, are ye?” he asked.
“No. I’m not.” She inspected his horse, took in the fact the stallion appeared to be in fine form, with a coat as white as the falling snow. She also noted it had one blue eye and one brown.
Her heartbeat quickened.
Calm yourself, Cat. Losing the best chance she’d ever gotten at catching the man responsible for Moira’s death, over something as trivial as her getting overwhelmed, would haunt her for eternity.
She took a deep breath.
“Dismount.” She needed to see the man’s face.
“Verra well. But I assure ye, stopping me in this storm will nae benefit ye or me. Or our poor horses. I dunnae abuse my animals and I will not stand for it from someone else, either.” He stayed close to his horse.
So he appeared to have a conscience with that reference to their poor horses. Though it could very well be a ploy. Highwaymen were notorious for lying, for saying whatever the bloody hell they needed to say to get the best of their victims.
Although, in this case, the stranger was the one with a gun pointed at him and she was the one with the advantage.
Bloody hell.
Cat inched closer to the man, her boot-covered feet trampling through the snow. “I fear it is you, my good sir, who has put our horses at risk as I was about to turn around when you appeared, changing my mind to do so.”
“That’s mighty unfair, lass, blaming me for yer misjudgment of the weather. Ye shouldnae have been out in a storm in the first place.”
How dare this brute lecture her. “You know nothing about the reason for me being on the road today. And how dare you take the liberty of thinking you do.” The man had gall; she’d give him that much.
Walking forward, she stumbled.
The stranger reached out and steadied her, his strong arms grasping her waist.
A hint of sandalwood teased her nose. As did the hint of citrus soap and sun-dried linen.
What highwayman wore clean clothes? Well, maybe some did. She was wearing a freshly washed shift under her woolen jacket.
Oh, but what was she thinking? Now was not the time to be musing about the better aspects of a man who just might be the bastard she wanted to beat to a bloody pulp.
Spinning around, Catrina worked her way out of the stranger’s grasp and glared at him. For the first time since spotting the man, she had a good view of the upper most part of his face.
Those eyes.
There was no mistaking that familiar hazel-eyed gaze that was so intense, it made her feel naked despite the abundance of clothes she wore.
She swallowed.
Though refrained from chastising herself as Niall MacHendrie was a master of sinful manipulation. He’d never failed to get the best of her. Between his scorching hot kisses and his whispered words detailing every inch of her body and what he’d done to it and had planned to still do to it, there had never been a single moment where she’d been in his presence that she had not been fevered and bothered.
And to think, had it not been for that damn highwayman, she would be married to Niall right now. But none of that mattered at the moment, as the only question on her mind was what the bloody hell was her former fiancé doing riding around on The Christmas Rebel’s horse?
She gathered her senses and pointed her pistol once more. “In less than an hour it will be dark. And with the storm being what it is, the only riders daft enough to be out now would be either a fool or a man desiring to risk his life.” She prayed he did not recognize her voice. “Which of the two are you?”
Niall offered her a sly grin. “Well, I certainly dunnae care to risk my life, though I am aware that I am doing exactly that. I suppose then that also makes me a fool. Though I assure ye, I have good reason to be out in the storm. And it does nae include harming ye.”
She wished he was lying, as it would make her life so much easier. But Cat knew Niall spoke the truth. At six-feet-three, with a well-muscled body, and large, strong hands capable of knocking down even the best of brutes, he was not a man known for doing so without good cause. Of course she did not care to have him know she knew he wouldn’t harm her, not yet at least as she still needed to know why he was in possession of a highwayman’s horse. “I have no way to believe you.” She hoped her ruse worked.
“True, but if ye stop to think, I am the one at a disadvantage as I am not only cold, but unarmed.”
If only he hadn’t realized the fact.
“And,” Niall said, leaning slightly toward Cat, “I dunnae have a voice that can tempt a man to do anything its mistress desires.”
“Flattery will not win me over, sir.” Her lies were getting far worse.
“Are ye certain about that, lass?”
“Yes.”
“Then me saying ye have eyes as beautiful as the clear blue sky will nae cause ye to put yer pistol down?”
“Absolutely not.”
Niall took a step forward. “What if I say ye smell of fresh cut roses and have curves meant to be draped in the finest silks?”
She shook her head as she did not trust what words would come out of her mouth at this point.
Niall closed in on her. “And if I do this…” In what seemed like only one move as he’d acted too fast for her to even attempt to escape him, Niall had his scarf down, her neckerchief and mask off, and his lips on hers.
She dropped her flintlock. All sense evaded Cat’s mind, the last fragments of sanity slipping from her head like water through a sieve.
Heat fanned through her body.
She moaned.
Aw, bloody hell. One damn kiss and she was done. So much for thinking like a highwayman. Now she was acting more like Moira, God bless her soul.
Niall pulled back, breaking their kiss. He brought his hand to her chin and ran his thumb over her bottom lip. “So, ‘tis nae a highwaywoman I am facing, but ‘tis ye.”
“Of course it’s me.” She wriggled out of his grasp. “What are you doing out here?” Dropping to her knees, she searched through the snow for her missing pistol. Her lips burned and it had nothing to do with the cold wind whipping about her face.
“I think the better question,” Niall said, “is what in blazes are ye doing in Dundaire?” He knelt and joined her in her hunt for the flintlock, which he found the second he dug his hands into the snow.
Lucky bastard.
Returning to his feet, Niall offered her the gun. “Ye didnae answer my question.”
Cat stood and snatched the pistol from Niall’s gloved-covered fingers, then jabbed the firearm into her pocket. “Because that, your lairdship, is none of your business.”
“Dundaire, and all that happens within it, is my business.”
“Then you mustn’t be very good at managing your estate, as I am no longer your concern. Nor are my personal affairs.”
Niall huffed. “Ye didnae object to sharing yer personal affairs with me when I visited London.”
She did not need to be reminded of what they once had. “The misadventures of a naive young woman are hardly anything that her sophisticated, grown self, would care to repeat.”
“So ye think me nothing more than a misadventure?”
She didn’t need to think it, he’d proven it by his own actions, by not even once asking why she’d walked away from him. “You didn’t even care to ask me why I broke it off.”
“I had my reasons.”
“Well, then, they must have been quite remarkable reasons since you stayed silent for two whole years. Even if you did not know I was in Dundaire, which you should have known if you are the laird you say you are, you could have written to me in London. Eventually, I would have received the post. But you didn’t. You did not even come calling on me the next day. You simply accepted me saying I was leaving. Did you not even care to think where I was going or why?”
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Niall let out a deep breath. He then dropped his hand from his face and looked up. “Of course, I cared. Still do, if ye care to ken. But at the time, my brother Robbie went missing. I had no choice but to go after the lad.”
So he’d been in a similar situation as had she. “And what am I to make of you being in possession of a highwayman’s horse? Can you explain yourself out of that, too?”
Niall quirked one, brown eyebrow. “How do ye ken Mischief is a highwayman’s horse?”
Cat clammed up. Discussing Moira’s fate was not her right.
With a deep breath, Niall huffed, then gave in. “I can explain everything, though I insist ye explain a few things yerself as I dunnae recall any mention of Mischief in the newsheets. Or in gossip.”
Bargaining was probably her best option as Niall was the closest she’d gotten to The Christmas Rebel since arriving in Dundaire. And taking the chance he’d flee if angered, was not something she cared to do. “Agreed.”
A howling wind blew across the road.
Niall cursed under his breath, but his stare softened. “I believe we will need to continue this somewhere else, or we both might freeze to death. There is a pub down the road. I ken we can get there before the sun fully sets.”
She knew she was going to regret this but did not see a way out of making the offer. “Rose Cottage is closer.”
Niall’s hazel eyes grew wide. “What did ye say?”
“Rose Cottage, my maternal grandfather’s house, the house I inherited after my mother died. It’s closer than going into town.”
“I see,” Niall said, his voice suddenly taking on a more serious tone.
The mention of Rose Cottage obviously troubled Niall, though she couldn’t think of one reason why it should have. He certainly was not Fergus’s father. Moira may have kept the man’s identity a secret from her, but she knew damn well her sister’s lover was not Niall MacHendrie. Her sister would never have courted the same man as she had, and especially not at the same time as she was.
Which left only one possibility for Niall’s sudden change of demeaner. The Christmas Rebel could have very well had an accomplice. The notion forced Cat’s gut to drop. Could she and her sister both have been so wrong about the men in their lives? Bloody, freakin’ hell.
The day was not turning out how she would have liked it to with this unexpected possibility. “I think we better start back now, or the roads may become unpassable.” She returned to Sprite and mounted the horse.
Niall nodded, just a small tilt of his head, then mounted his horse.
Of all the things she had prayed for this Christmas, learning Niall MacHendrie had a connection to Moira’s blasted highwayman, was not one of them.
Chapter 3
Never in all his four-and-twenty years would he have ever thought Robbie had fled London because of Catrina Lennox. He kent he should never have taken the lad to England, but dealing with his English grandmother’s estate, was vital. And leaving Robbie behind for any amount of time would have been far worse with how he’d been acting up after their parents’ deaths.
Anger, along with a cauldron of boiling emotions, stoked Niall’s nerves. He wanted to run, escape his own body. But alas, that was nae possible.
He motioned for Mischief to pick up speed.
Despite riding in the snow, there was nae an inch of Niall that was cold at the moment, those blasted memories of Catrina and what he’d once shared with her, hammering his brain.
His time in London was life changing. The fact he’d met and became involved with Cat while there, was merely an extra bonus. At least, that is how he’d seen it at the time. Once Robbie took off, everything in his world came crashing down. But this…
He merely cursed to himself. How could he have been such a fool?
Niall glared ahead, his gaze following Cat and her galloping horse, which was now turning off the road.
He steered Mischief onto the same narrow lane.
Snow continued to fall, though it was coming down at a much heavier and faster pace at the moment, ensuring he was not going to get that slice of Grace’s pear tart. Not that that was the most important thing to him with what he’d just learned about Robbie and Cat, but the fact did add to his already heated emotions.
Arriving at the end of the lane, Cat reined her horse to a full stop in front of the cottage’s weathered stables. “There is room a plenty for your horse in here.” She nudged her head toward the barn as she dismounted.
A whiff of rose filtered through the air.
Damn me. Cat’s captivating perfume was going to make it very hard for him tonight. And there was not one bloody thing he could do about it, especially not since learning Catrina was the woman Robbie wanted his inheritance left to. What the bloody hell had gone on between the two of them? Was that why the lad had been angry with him for two years? To say he was confused…and shocked…was definitely not a stretch when it came to describing the emotions riling through him tonight.
Without commenting on Catrina’s offer to house his horse, Niall led Mischief into the stables. He dismounted, then proceeded with removing the saddle from Mischief’s back. “Ye never mentioned a Rose Cottage when we were courting.”
Cat looked over to him from the opposite stall. “To be honest, I never thought about this place much. It’s where my mother was born, but other than that, it meant nothing to me at the time.”
“And it does now?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
She gave him a concerned stare. “It’s where I live. Does your home not matter to you?”
His home mattered verra much to him. In fact, Dundaire Abbey was everything to him. “I just find it odd that all of a sudden ye would pick up and leave London to go live in a place ye dunnae care for.”
“Some things in life are not planned. Me coming to Rose Cottage was one of those things.”
He definitely could agree with the statement, as unexpected love was never something he’d planned on. Catrina Lennox, the subject of that love, was entirely unexpected with her flawless face, light blue eyes and hair the color of deepest copper. God, but how he had loved entwining those strands between his fingers while he whispered verses of erotic poetry at Cat’s ear. While he’d kissed that swan-like neck of hers, the notes of her unique perfume forever burning itself into his scent memory.
And now he had to dismiss those memories, those feelings. Cat was no longer his. Maybe she was never hi
s, if she was Robbie’s.
With a huff, Niall finished settling Mischief in the stall, then headed out of the stables.
Catrina walked barely a step ahead of him, an air of confidence in her stride. Even meeting up with him by chance didnae rattle her. She was amazing in too many ways for him to count.
“Why did ye never think to seek me out after arriving in Dundaire?” Maybe she’d shed some light on Robbie’s secret life if he kept hounding her. Even the most steadfast person was bound to slip up at some point.
Cat shrugged. “Why should I have? It’s not like I came back here for you.”
No. She wouldn’t have come back for a man she’d agreed to marry but didnae love. What woman would? “I admit I shouldnae have left to go look for Robbie, without at least sending ye a note. But I wasnae certain ye’d care to hear from me after ye broke off our engagement. Plus, Robert was my brother. He was also at a verra vulnerable place in his life at that time.”
“I can understand your concern for Robert,” Catrina said. “I gave up a lot for my sister Moira, God rest her soul.”
“I’m sorry for ye loss.” It seemed they’d both suffered much these past two years.
He followed Cat into the quaint the cottage. The aroma of fresh baked bread, coupled with the salty essence of celery, pleased his nose.
“There is an empty peg on the rack for your coat.” Cat nudged her chin toward the row of wood pegs lined up on the wall opposite the door.
The house wasnae large, but the small side hall was free of dust and dirt, and it gave off a verra comfortable feeling thanks in part to the food currently cooking. The sudden urge to forget all his troubles, overwhelmed Niall. Catrina lived vastly different than he did at Dundaire Abbey, but there was something about Rose Cottage that took the edge off his worries.
In silence, Niall removed his snow-washed coat, then hung it on the peg rack on the opposite wall.
He couldnae help but keep his gaze on Cat. The grace with which she moved took his breath away, made him want to watch her for hours, days, years. Losing his heart to her, and then having it broken, was the most traumatic thing ever to happen to him outside of losing his family. Maybe even worse, in some ways, if he were to be honest with himself. Not even the agony of restoring his fortune and good name was as brutal as dealing with Cat and the loss that came with her walking out on him. Surviving one night under her roof would be a miracle.
Have Yourself a Merry Little Secret : a Christmas collection of historical romance (Have Yourself a Merry Little... Book 2) Page 70
