“These emotions exist whether or not ye are willing to accept them,” Katherine said forcefully. “And I swear that someday ye shall not only embrace them, but return them.”
Then grasping his tunic with both hands, she pulled him toward her and covered her mouth with his. The iron bars were just wide enough for their lips to meet. Katherine poured all the intense emotion of the past few days into that kiss, leaving them both breathless and dazed.
Hope flooded Katherine’s heart. Taking the risk and declaring her love had freed her spirit. She knew that she was strong enough to survive if Lachlan hurt or disappointed her, yet she would do all within her power—and beyond—to make certain that never happened.
“Hear me well, Lachlan. I shall hold my tongue and not yet speak to my father, as that is yer wish, but I willnae be an idle, docile female, a weak simpering maiden and do nothing while the man I love is in discomfort and danger.”
* * *
Lachlan watched her storm away, momentarily mesmerized by her fire. His chest swelled with pride knowing this brazen, passionate woman loved him. Her declaration had been a shock, though not an unpleasant one. ’Twas an honor to be loved by Katherine McKenna; an honor he hoped he would do proud.
And what of his feelings for her?
’Twas difficult to decipher them. He could not ignore the intimate connection nor deny the passion between them. Fie, there were times when she tilted her head and gazed at him, it felt as though a fist of emotion had slammed into his chest.
She stirred a storm inside him that at times made him feel restless and insatiable. She made him laugh, made him think, made him consider his actions before he took them. His good opinion of her had continued to increase every time he learned something new about her.
He wanted to protect her from the evils and hardships of the world. Yet he was astute enough to see that she didn’t always need it; Katherine McKenna—nay MacTavish now—had the spirit and courage to defend herself.
Was that love? The kind that she wanted, the kind that she deserved? Perhaps.
She had a generous nature and good heart. She was witty, intelligent, caring, and considerate of others. She had both strength of character and strength of conviction. She was the most determined woman he had ever known—the kind of woman he wanted to have by his side—hell, she was the only woman he wanted by his side.
Many would say he had gotten far more than he deserved. ’Twas certainly how Katherine’s father viewed the marriage. And, aye, there was a part of Lachlan that feared he would fail her, especially after seeing the comfort and luxury of the castle where she had been raised. He could not offer her even half as fine a life—though if his petition to the crown was granted, some of his clan’s financial burdens would be eased.
He wanted to please her, to make her happy. He looked forward to spending every day with her—even the days when there were struggles and challenges to overcome.
Bloody hell! The realization hit him like a physical blow. Aye, that was love.
He sprung to his feet, fidgeting restlessly. The need to see Katherine, to hold her in his arms, coursed through him. But he resisted the pull. He would not reveal his heart to her while he was a helpless prisoner. Nay, he would wait until he was freed from this filthy dungeon.
Pray God that would be soon.
* * *
Lachlan’s stomach rumbled and he wished he had partaken of some of the food and drink offered when they first arrived. He had been confined to this filthy cell for hours and there was no telling how much longer he would remain. Days? Weeks? His mouth turned bitter at the thought.
With a sigh, he looked for a section of the cell free from vermin droppings and sat, leaning his back against the wall. Eyes closed, his mind drifted, searching for the peace that was just beyond his reach.
A bustling noise broke through the quiet. Katherine had left the torch and he was able to clearly see his wife marching toward him. Three servants trailed dutifully behind her, their arms laden with all manner of goods.
“Are ye well?” she asked, her brow furrowing with concern.
“Ye’ve only been gone a few hours.”
“I worry the dampness will give ye a chill.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her that he had slept in far worse places—under more trying conditions—than this, but Lachlan shifted the conversation.
“Did ye speak with yer father?”
“Nay, I heeded yer command and said nothing to him. But I did tell my mother what he’s done. She had some rather choice words to share with him, yet he refused to relent. Mother said he’ll likely stew in his anger all night. I swear his head is as thick as the stone walls that surround the castle.”
“Give him some time,” Lachlan replied with a slight smile. So this is how it feels to have a champion.
She nearly snorted at him and his smile widened. Lord, she was magnificent!
Katherine turned and spoke to those who stood behind her, “Where is Dougall?”
The servants looked nervously about, then pressed themselves against the wall, clearing a path. Katherine motioned, and a stout, heavily muscled man worked his way forward. She pinned him with an icy stare and demanded that he open the cell.
The man shuffled his feet, looking uneasy. “The laird dinnae give me permission to open it, Lady Katherine.”
“Even a lowly prisoner deserves to be fed,” Katherine replied. “What do ye propose that I do, push the meal through these bars?”
The guard’s expression remained uncertain, yet he eventually wilted under Katherine’s glare and unlocked the cell. Katherine sailed inside, the trio of servants following closely on her heels. There was hardly room for all of them in the crowded, small space, yet somehow they managed.
Fascinated, Lachlan watched as Katherine stood with her hands on her hips, taking stock of the grim surroundings. Finally, she reached for the thick pallet one of the servants held and laid it close to the bars. The servant then knelt and covered it with fresh linen and a thick fur, and finally placed a pillow upon it. A pillow!
Katherine instructed the second servant to set a low wooden table beside it. The third servant placed a tray of hot food upon it, along with a pitcher of wine and a goblet. Lastly, Katherine placed a brace of candles on the small table.
In the blink of an eye, Lachlan had a comfortable bed, a warm fur to ward off the chill, good food, wine, and light. Miraculous!
Katherine shooed the servants and they scrambled out of the cell. One soon returned, carrying a large tabby, who meowed in protest.
“I hope that I shall not be in here long enough to require the companionship of a pet,” Lachlan joked.
“The cat is here to keep the rats away,” Katherine explained, gathering the struggling feline in her arms. “The stable master assures me that she is a master hunter.”
The cat continued squirming until she succeeded in releasing herself from Katherine’s arms. Once on the ground, the animal sauntered over to Lachlan’s pallet, sniffed it, and switched her tail. Then after turning in a circle several times, the tabby settled herself comfortably in the center of his pillow.
He raised a brow and smiled at Katherine. “I guess she needs time to settle in before beginning her duties as a rat catcher.”
Katherine looked at the cat dubiously and Lachlan’s smile broadened. He half expected his wife to begin lecturing the animal on her duties, but then Dougall stepped forward.
“’Tis time fer me to secure the bars, Lady Katherine,” Dougall announced, staring at her expectantly.
“Then do so,” Katherine replied boldly, snaking her arm around Lachlan’s waist.
The soldier scratched his head in puzzlement. “Ye must come out. I cannae allow ye to stay inside with him, Lady Katherine.”
“I willnae leave my husband’s side,” Katherine declared, tightening her grip. “If my father sees fit to imprison him, then he shall imprison me also.”
“If ye dinnae come quietly, I’ll
have to remove ye by force,” Dougall threatened.
“Ye can try.” Katherine’s lethal look of anger was so intense Lachlan almost felt sorry for the man.
’Twas obvious he didn’t want to manhandle the laird’s daughter—yet she clearly had no intention of cooperating.
“I think it best if ye do as Dougall asks,” Lachlan interjected. “I feel certain that one of yer father’s aims of putting me in here is to keep us separated.”
“I’m only following the laird’s orders, milady,” the guard replied with a pleading look.
There was a long, tense moment. Then with her brow furrowing, Katherine stomped out of the cell. “Bring another pallet,” she ordered one of the servants.
“Katherine, no,” Lachlan protested, realizing it was for her. “I’ll not condone having my wife sleeping in such filth.”
“My place is at yer side,” she insisted. “Fer better or fer worse, remember? And as long as ye are confined to this hellhole, I shall stay with ye.”
She nodded her head for emphasis and he knew it would be useless to argue. Emotion gripped Lachlan’s chest and he smiled. Aye, he did indeed love her. Very much.
Chapter Eighteen
The sounds of the household awakening to begin a new day pulled Katherine from a restless slumber. The torches and candles in Lachlan’s cell had burnt out hours ago and the darkness of their confined space made it difficult to discern night from day. Yet the familiar sounds were unmistakable.
It tugged at her memory and heart. Who would have ever believed that her first night back home would be spent in the bowels of the castle?
She heard the cat pounce, then hiss and meow with pleasure, and was grateful that the lack of light hid the prize that it no doubt held in its mouth. At least the feline had not failed her.
Katherine sighed. Her sleep had been fitful, and filled with pressing fears over Lachlan’s fate. How long would it take until her father saw reason and released her husband? A day? Two? Longer? Try as she might, Katherine could not understand what her father hoped to accomplish with this action beyond exerting his power and authority.
Perhaps that would be enough. Perhaps he would quickly grow tired of punishing them both.
Aye, perhaps pigs would fly, too.
She heard another noise—this time from the top of the stairwell. Footsteps approached and then a dim circle of light appeared.
Lachlan stirred. She reached through the bars and grasped his hand.
“So, ’tis true that ye spent the night down here,” Graham muttered, his voice tinged with awe. “I thought Mother might have said it merely to anger Father.”
Katherine lifted her chin. “My place is with my husband.”
“Try as I might, I could not persuade her to leave,” Lachlan said with a shrug.
“We need food, Graham. Hot water and clean towels, too.” Katherine stretched, then rubbed her arms vigorously. “And tell the servants to bring wood fer a fire. ’Tis cold as ice down here.”
Lachlan threaded his fingers through his hair and frowned at her. “There’s no place to build a fire. Katherine, please, go abovestairs, so that you may have a proper bath and partake of a nourishing meal.”
As lovely as that sounded, Katherine shook her head. “Nay. My father has proved himself to be unpredictable and unreasonable. I must stay to make certain no further harm befalls ye.”
“Yer father might be angry, but he’ll not act rashly and do something drastic. I am a laird. If he demands justice fer our marriage, he’ll allow me to fight with my sword,” Lachlan reasoned. “Do ye not agree, Graham?”
“Aye.” Her brother nodded.
Katherine shuddered. “If yer aim is to steady my nerves, ye have both failed miserably.”
Lachlan looked at Graham and shook his head. “Katherine, please go with yer brother. Ye can return once ye’ve eaten and changed yer clothing. It will bring me no small measure of delight to see ye dressed in yer best finery.”
Katherine glanced down at her disheveled appearance. Her gown was crushed and wrinkled, the hem streaked with mud and dirt. Her mouth felt dry, no doubt her breath was sour. She noticed several hairpins scattered on the sleeping pallet and realized her unconfined hair must look a fright.
Katherine wavered. A bath sounded like the most luxurious thing in the world right now. “If ye are certain . . .”
“Aye!” Lachlan immediately answered. “I’ll be right here when ye return.”
His attempt at a joke brought a tender smile to her lips. Wearily, she followed Graham as he lit the way out of the dungeon, shielding her eyes from the sunlight that painfully attacked her when she entered the great hall.
The family dais was empty, but many who were already in the hall turned from breaking their fast to look at her. She saw sympathy in some of those gazes, surprise and uncertainty in others. As usual, people were taking sides—some agreeing with the McKenna’s treatment of Lachlan and others believing that Katherine was in the right.
Deciding she really needed the comforting soak of a hot bath, she crossed the great hall. She was nearly at the staircase when a loud commotion erupted in the bailey, diverting her attention.
Curious, Katherine looked out a nearby window and saw a contingent of mounted men riding into the courtyard. She immediately recognized the Drummond standard one of the men carried fluttering in the breeze.
Damnation! Why are they here now? Though she had assumed they would appear at some point, Katherine had hoped to have her marriage to Lachlan acknowledged and accepted by her father when she next faced her former betrothed and his sire.
Laird Drummond was gesturing wildly at the lad who was trying to grab the bridle of his horse. The animal reared in protest, its lethal hooves pawing at the air, nearly striking the lad. Fortunately, one of the soldiers was close at hand. He was able to control the mount before the child—or anyone else—was injured.
Grimacing, Katherine watched the men dismount. Slithering like a snake through the tall grass, Hamish moved to his father’s side. Reminding herself that she needed to keep her emotions under control, Katherine took a deep breath. Her first instinct was to flee, but she quelled it.
This was not going to be a pleasant exchange. Though her presence could incite further anger from Laird Drummond—and perhaps her father—she needed to be aware of what was being said so that she could defend herself.
Melting into the shadows, Katherine brushed away the worst of the dirt from her clothing and tucked a knotted section of hair behind her ear, knowing she must look a fright. Oh well, ’twas too late to do anything about her dirty and disheveled appearance. What mattered now was that she kept her wits about her.
Clearly disgruntled, Laird Drummond and Hamish strode into the hall, with over a dozen of their burly soldiers, hands noticeable on their sword hilts, trailing on their heels. Drummond’s disrespectful show of strength in another laird’s hall was a clear proclamation of his belief that he had been wronged and solid indication of his confidence that he would receive a satisfactory resolution to his grievance.
His attitude soured Katherine’s already agitated mood.
“Where is the famous McKenna hospitality? Are ye not going to offer me a drink and invite me to sit by the fire and warm my bones?” Laird Drummond bellowed when he reached the middle of the great hall.
The iron chandeliers rattled noisily. Her parents had entered the chamber from the opposite side just as the Drummond party arrived. Lady Aileen raised a brow, advanced, then extended her hand regally. Still blustering, Laird Drummond had no choice but to grasp it and bow. Looking sheepish, the soldiers surrounding him also bowed.
“Our friends are always welcome in our hall,” Lady Aileen said, her eyes gleaming with censure. “Had we known that ye were coming, I can assure ye that we would have prepared a more fitting greeting.”
Laird Drummond’s hands balled into fists so tight his knuckles turned white. Yet even he had the good sense to rein in his temper and present a
more controlled façade.
Lady Aileen graciously indicated a chair in front of the large hearth, next to her husband, who had said naught since the arrival of their uninvited guests. Somewhat mollified, Laird Drummond sat while his son stood at his shoulder.
The rest of his soldiers gathered a few steps away, their eyes trained upon their laird. Katherine noted the McKenna retainers also had their eyes solidly trained on the Drummond soldiers. It seemed as though one false step would bring about a full-on battle in the middle of the great hall. Katherine held her breath and stepped from the shadows, barely able to comprehend the result of such a melee.
Nervous servants laid food and drink on the low table between the two lairds, and Katherine gazed about the suddenly crowded chamber. It appeared that every servant and retainer with a possible excuse to be in the great hall was lingering here, their curiosity obviously piqued.
Laird Drummond took a long swallow of his wine. When he finished, his shrew eyes scanned the occupants of the hall, coming to rest upon Katherine. He ran a measured gaze over her. She inhaled deeply and fought to keep from squirming.
“What the hell has happened to ye?” Laird Drummond asked, his nostrils flaring with disgust.
“I have spent the night beside my husband’s cell in the dungeon,” Katherine replied proudly, undisturbed by Laird Drummond’s rudeness.
The older man’s animosity visibly cooled as he shifted in his chair, turning to the McKenna. “Does this mean ye willnae allow the marriage to stand?”
The McKenna shrugged. “I’ve yet to decide what I am going to do with the upstart MacTavish laird.”
“I have several suggestions,” Hamish retorted tartly.
There was a ripple of laughter from the Drummond soldiers. Fists on her hips, Katherine glared at the men and they soon quieted. Logic told her ’twas folly to try to reason with Laird Drummond—and mayhap her own father—yet Katherine would have her say.
“Hamish knows full well why I made the decision to end our betrothal,” Katherine said, barely restraining her annoyance. “I would hope that you also see the merit of my decision and would respect my honesty in this important matter. Barring that, I expect ye to abide by it. I am married to Lachlan MacTavish and shall remain his wife through this life and the next.”
The Bride Chooses a Highlander Page 22
