by Sherry Ewing
The pair left Catherine alone with Douglas. Her attention was once more drawn to him. “You can let go of me now,” she said softly, not wanting to appear ungrateful for his help. His arms dropped to his sides, and she swore she felt a loss she had never experienced before.
“Aye, of course,” he said a little too gruffly. “Mayhap we should introduce ourselves since I all but caused ye tae fall.”
“’Twas hardly your fault,” Catherine said with a small smile. “I must apologize for my clumsiness.”
“No harm was done as long as ye were not injured.”
“Nay… I am well, as you can see for yourself.”
“Ye appear very well.” A grin split his lips. He gave a short bow. “I am Douglas of Clan MacLaren and laird of Berwyck Castle. And ye are…”
She curtsied. “Lady Catherine de Wolfe.”
His brow lifted, giving evidence of his surprise. “de Wolfe?”
Catherine raised her chin. “Aye. You have perchance heard of us?” she asked. Although proud of her heritage, ’twas sometimes an inconvenience when it came to men, their ambitions, and her dowry. Dowry? When had Lord Douglas become a possibility for her husband?
He chuckled. “I would have tae be living in a hole in the ground tae have not heard of the de Wolfe family. Are ye mayhap related tae Lord Padraig?”
Catherine nodded. “Aye, he is my brother.” Silence passed between them while Laird Douglas mulled over her relationship with Padraig.
“We briefly met this morn. No doubt he will compete in the tourney,” Douglas said.
“’Tis why we are here, along with paying our respects to the Duke of Normandy and his new bride.”
“I shall look forward tae besting yer brother,” Douglas boasted before crossing his arms over his chest.
Catherine’s couldn’t keep from laughing. “Your arrogance will be your undoing, Douglas of Clan MacLaren. Not many would welcome the opportunity to fight my brother. ’Tis usually their downfall.”
Douglas leaned down as if he wished to whisper something in her ear, and like a fool, she moved closer. A pleasant scent reminiscent of spiced, mulled wine caused her to close her eyes and take a deep breath. He reminded her of the forest just after a rain with a roaring fire keeping her warm at home.
“I came here tae win, lass,” he murmured against her ear.
Catherine shivered at the sound of his baritone voice. She knew nothing of this man. Still…a mischievous impulse overcame her. She stood on her toes and beckoned him closer this time. He lowered his ear to her mouth, her palms resting on his broad shoulders.
“So did my brother,” she whispered before stepping back from him.
They were standing so close together that Catherine wondered what he would do if she pulled him down so she might receive her very first kiss.
“Lady Catherine!” Winifred and Charles’s voices rang out in unison, causing her to retreat even further from Douglas. She dared to look at him again, finding a cocky grin on his face. The man remained calm while her heart was about to burst from her chest!
Douglas reached for her hand and kissed her knuckles. “I shall look forward tae seeing ye at the games, my lady.” Though he seemed amused, she saw something flash in his eyes, mayhap he felt the spark between them.
Before she could give him any sort of a response, he winked and left her standing with Winifred while Charles still rushed across the field.
“How much did you hear of our conversation?” Catherine asked her maid.
“We are currently living in a tent, my lady,” Winifred stated the obvious. Catherine raised a brow before Winifred continued. “I only hear that which you wish me to hear, my lady.”
Catherine sighed, knowing Winifred had apparently listened in on the whole conversation. “You should have made your presence known and saved me from—”
“From what I heard, my lady, you were not in need of any rescuing…at least from me.” Winifred chuckled.
Catherine’s cheeks heated as she recalled how it felt to have Douglas’s arms wrapped securely around her. Charles came to her, concern etched across his features. Catherine held up her hand to halt his questions. “I am fine. Let us go and break our fast.”
Charles offered his arm, and she took it gratefully as they began making their way to the dwelling housing the duke and his entourage. Her grip tightened knowing she would need Charles’s strength to support her. She was painfully aware a certain Scotsman had just taken off with her heart, and she had no idea if she wanted to even try to get it back.
Chapter Six
Pushing his trencher away, Douglas stared at the woman who had taken his attention away from anything else going on around him. Aye, he was no doubt drawn to her, but who the devil was the man sitting next to her? A husband, given the whispering between the two? She wore no veil, so mayhap this was not the case. He cared little for what a woman wore, because he was more interested in getting them out of their clothes. The thought of seeing Lady Catherine in his bed naked left a smile on his face.
Yet, if there was an understanding between her and the man, ’twould be best if Douglas forgot all about the fair Catherine. He didn’t want a woman who would so easily dally with another.
He supposed what had happened between them, before they were interrupted, had been on the verge of turning into something more. She was a beauty, and Douglas could only imagine what her silken, black hair would feel like running between his fingers as he unbraided its length. And those hazel eyes… By St. Michael! Her eyes had held him in some kind of trance, as if he would do the unthinkable and run away with her. He had watched in fascination as her pupils dilated and flecks of gold were revealed in the sunlight.
As his nether region stirred to life, he shifted on the bench to ease his unexpected discomfort. That delectable mouth of hers needed to be kissed. For the briefest instant, Douglas had been tempted to do so.
Their eyes met. Her serene expression turned into a smile before she gave him the briefest nod of acknowledgement. He returned her gesture, but scowled when the blond-haired knight next to her drew her attention back to their conversation.
The noise in the room allowed Douglas to clear his mind of Lady Catherine’s hold on him. A curse left his lips even when Killian rested his forearms on the table to stare across the hall.
“She is lovely,” Killian said as though he had heard Douglas’s thoughts. “I wonder if her brother would consider me for her husband.”
A low growl had Douglas reaching for his dirk before his senses returned and he could see that Killian only jested.
“Ye should know better than tae toy with me,” Douglas warned as he reached for his cup. He went to take a drink only to notice it was empty.
Killian slapped him on the back. “’Tis finally happened!”
Douglas frowned. “What the devil are ye talking about, fool?”
Killian leaned forward. “Ye have finally met someone who stirs yer heart. But a de Wolfe? God’s bones! I do not envy ye trying tae convince her brother that ye are worthy of her.”
Douglas held his vessel out to a passing servant, who refilled it with wine. “I never said I was interested in the woman.”
“Ye did not have tae, my laird. I have eyes tae see for myself ye are smitten with her.”
“Smitten?” Douglas snorted while he watched the object of their conversation scoot closer to the knight to hear what he had whispered. Her sweet laughter rang out, causing his groin to throb again. “What if I did want tae know her better? It hardly matters, for it appears the lady is already spoken for.”
Killian tore off a chunk of bread and waved it in the air. “Not everything is what it seems. Mayhap ye should find out what the situation is before ye pass judgment. She is a bonny lass and would do ye proud if ye took her tae wife.”
Douglas erupted in laughter. “Ye barely know her any better than I do,” he said. “Ye speak as though ye are a matchmaker. Considering ye are not wed, and from what I have witnesse
d, ye have no intention of going down such a path. What makes ye so knowledgeable on finding me a wife?”
“I have no desire tae wed as yet, but as laird, ye have a duty to do so. I am simply yer humble servant.”
“Ye are more than a servant, and ye know it, Killian.” Douglas gave his friend’s shoulder a push. “Search for yer own wife at the tournament, not mine.”
“I am a simple man with simple desires,” Killian said. “I fear the ladies present might have loftier ambitions than tae wed a savage Scotsman.”
Douglas rolled his eyes. The man knew how to talk his way around any situation. “Who dared tae call ye such?”
Killian gave a cocky grin. “These English knights consider us barbarians. But their women…” He rubbed his chin and grinned. “I look forward to taking my frustration out on the English knights during the tournament. We’ll show them what a true barbarian is like.”
Both men laughed, raised their vessels in a toast, and then downed the rest of their drink. Banging their cups on the table, they both halted when the Duke of Normandy stood up from his seat at the high table with his duchess.
“Welcome to Caen and for accepting my invitation to celebrate my marriage,” the duke began. “The tournament shall begin tomorrow. Today we shall wait for the rest of my guests to arrive. In the meantime, we shall take a ride along the coast. All are welcome to join us.”
The duke stepped down from the dais, and as he neared where Douglas was seated, he was privy to the conversation the duke had with his new wife. “One day I will build a keep near the White Cliffs of Dover, mayhap six-floors high with our rooms on the top so we may see all around us,” the duke boasted.
Douglas was surprised when the duke stopped in front of the table. “You are Douglas of Berwyck, are you not?” the duke asked.
“Aye, Yer Grace.” Douglas stood and bowed.
“You will ride with us today and also join me for the evening meal.”
Before Douglas could answer, the duke and duchess moved on, leaving him wondering why he was being given such an honor. Douglas knew he was on a peace-keeping mission for the day Henry would be crowned King of England. Yet, he was unprepared for the undue attention. What plans did the duke have in store for him?
“What do ye suppose that was all about?” Douglas asked Killian with a frown.
“It hardly matters, so ye best get tae yer horse. Apparently, ye shall ride with royalty today,” Killian mused.
Chapter Seven
Night Star raced across the beach at Luc Sur Mere. Catherine reveled in the brief feeling of freedom, enjoying her reprieve of no longer being under the watchful eyes of her brother or the duke… At least for now. She saw Padraig riding ahead of her. ’Twas hardly unusual for her brother to spend time with the duke and other landholders to discuss urgent matters, but surely the duchess had her own maids and could do without her company.
Catherine knew a request to join their party was an honor, but she could not help feeling she was being manipulated in some unforeseen way. She would be on guard until the truth revealed itself.
She was on edge, and mayhap such a sensation was because a certain Scotsman rode alongside her. If she had thought Douglas was an impressive figure when he was standing on solid ground or even across a crowded hall, then ’twas nothing that could compare to seeing him atop his warhorse.
Aye, Lord Douglas was indeed a sight to behold. He sat in his saddle as though he and his steed were one. She could not hide her attraction for him. It didn’t matter that they hardly knew each other. And he didn’t hide the fact that he knew she watched him, for he did the same to her. And his wicked grin made her heart thunder with excitement.
“Ye stare at me most earnestly, my lady,” Douglas said. “Is there something amiss?”
His Scottish brogue was almost her undoing. The sound of his voice wrapped around her heart. Dear God…she was in trouble. “Nay. I but wondered why you are here?”
A chuckle escaped him. “I am here just as any other who ye see. The Duke of Normandy requested my presence. I would be a fool tae not accept his invitation.”
Catherine slowed her mount, and Douglas did the same. “You are a long way from home.” She dared to look him in the eyes. By Saint Michael! Clearly, that was a mistake. How could she think rationally with him this close?
“Aye. Berwyck is situated right above England’s border.”
Her brow rose in surprise. “’Tis not in England?” she asked.
He nodded. “It used to be, several years ago. The castle has changed hands between kings many times. I will do all in my power tae keep Berwyck from the English, no offense.”
“None taken,” she said. “But why bring attention to yourself or your people by accepting the duke’s invitation?”
Douglas stopped riding, and Catherine did the same, bringing her horse to a complete halt.
His brows furrowed as he studied her again. She fidgeted under his scrutiny, uncomfortable in the saddle. What was he after, or mayhap he was just as curious as she was when it came to whatever was building between them.
He finally continued after several moments of silence. “There will no doubt come a time when the English shall once more attempt tae claim Berwyck Castle. I am here tae ensure peace with a man who shall one day be king. If I am in his favor, he will let Berwyck remain with the Scots. ’Tis where it belongs.”
“You would think such is the case being Scottish,” Catherine stated the obvious, and heard him grunt at her response. “Surely you can understand the duke’s reasoning for keeping your lands in his realm, especially once he is crowned king?”
“Spoken like a true Englishwoman defending her country.” He tossed her a look that could only be described as half arrogance and half humorous, for he clearly thought his opinion the correct one. The judgmental fool!
“I am a loyal servant to the crown,” she replied with a lift of her chin. She was certain she should be insulted by the way he said Englishwoman. If he had not been smiling at the same time, she would have thought he’d spoken a curse.
“Would ye not expect the same response from any laird responsible for his people?” he asked.
Aye, she understood loyalty. “Sometimes the ambitions of men are twofold,” she replied quietly. She gave him a sideways glance, still unsure of his allure and why she couldn’t get enough of him.
“Those who keep company with the future king have their own selfish ambitions, I agree.”
“And are you selfish enough to advance your position with the duke, Lord Douglas?”
He did not answer her question, and instead, slid to the ground. Pulling his gloves off, he placed them in his belt. “Let us walk for a wee bit,” he said before offering to help her down from the saddle.
Her palms rested on his broad shoulders while her body gently slid down his. A fire began in the pit of her belly from their intimate contact. Taking the reins of their horses, they began leading them down the beach, some distance from the rest of their party. The thought of a few private words with this man was most appealing.
What was it about him that drew her in? He was not the first man to be thrust into her company. Most thought her far too independent or unmanageable and ’twas one of the main reasons she remained unwed. Catherine wondered how he would deal with this side of her nature. Their matched wits had only heightened her need to know more about him. ’Twas clear he enjoyed her company, for if he didn’t, he could have ridden off with the duke.
Douglas pointed across the sea. “Ye sailed from Dover?” he asked casually. “We did, too. The cliffs are impressive. They remind me of home.”
“You have similar cliffs at Berwyck?”
“My keep sits high on one, far above the ocean.”
“I must admit, I have not been so far north.”
“Given yer family, I would have thought a de Wolfe would have seen much of the world,” Douglas said, turning those piercing blue eyes on her.
“I did not say I have n
ot traveled, my lord, only that I have not been so far north.”
“Are ye wed?” Douglas blurted.
Why would he ask such a question now? “Nay, I am not.”
“Betrothed?”
“Nay. What business is it of yours on whether I am spoken for or not?
He chuckled before giving her a half bow. “My apologies, my lady. My only unease was the need tae defend myself against the blond knight who seems smitten with ye. He is even now looking at me as if he would like nothing better than to slit my throat.”
Catherine gazed up the beach to see her captain glaring at them. “Charles is the captain of my guard, nothing more.”
“If ye say so, my lady.”
“I do.”
“If such is the case, then mayhap ye should put the man out of his misery,” Douglas said as he tipped her chin up. Her breath hitched. “Even I can tell he cares for ye. If ye were mine, I would never let ye leave my side.”
A gasp left her lips when Douglas slid his finger down her cheek in a soft caress. Given no other man had ever touched her in such a way, it made Catherine’s heart flutter like the wings of a bird in flight.
Remembering where she was, she stepped back as if he had burned her with his touch. Aye…mayhap she should just admit he had already taken possession of her heart.
“And what of you?” she asked in an attempt to dismiss her feelings. “The lady you were with earlier, is she is your wife?”
His laugher rang out, and was most pleasing to her ears. His eyes crinkled at the corners in amusement. “Hardly. The lady is my sister, Freya. The other knight ye saw is Killian, a kinsman.”
“I see.” A rush of relief swept over her, and Catherine could feel embarrassment heat her cheeks at asking such an intimate question. Douglas reached out again, and this time, took her hand, bringing it to his lips.
“Ye are pleased I am not spoken for—” he started.
“I said no such thing!” Obviously, she was unable to hide her thoughts from this all too-knowing Scotsman!
