Dangerous Pride (25 page)

Noting the promise of another warm day, Catriona had dressed in an old, grey house dress she had brought with her from the abbey.  It was lightweight, and perfect for riding.  Once Sorcha returned to tell her the horse was being readied, she grabbed a plaid from the cupboard, draping it over her head so that she would not be instantly recognizable.

Slipping quietly through the castle, she avoided the great hall, making her way to the servant’s entrance.  Peering into the bailey from the doorway, she saw no sign of her husband, or any other familiar faces.  Pulling her plaid closer around her, she quickly made her way past the well, careful not to meet anyone’s eyes as she neared the stable.  Hearing her approach, the groom stepped out, looking at her curiously until she pulled the plaid back a few inches to show her face.  His surprise at her appearance was obvious, but he helped her mount the horse without comment.  “What is yer name?” she asked softly, leaning over the neck of the horse so no one could overhear them.

“Gavin, my lady,” the boy replied, his voice breaking.  Catriona barely contained her first grin of the day.  The lad was young, indeed.

“Well, Gavin, I would ask you no’ to tell anyone you saw me this morning. I really do no’ want to be interrupted on my ride.”  His brow furrowing, the boy struggled to reconcile the lady’s request with the orders the laird had given about seeing her accompanied during her rides.  Catriona sighed under her breath.  “I’m not asking you to lie to anyone, just do no’ be volunteering I was here unless someone asks.”  The boy’s features brightened, and he nodded.  With the reins in one hand, Catriona reached back to gently tap the mare on its flank, anxious to make her way out of the keep before someone recognized her.

It was still early enough in the day that no one paid any attention when she made her way through the yard.  There was a steady stream of kinsmen coming to the castle to break their fast, and begin their tasks for the day.  The gate had been opened to allow for the normal business of the castle, and Catriona did nothing to pique any of the guards’ interests as she made her way through the arched gateway.  She kept her pace slow and steady until she was out of sight of the castle.  Sending a silent prayer of thanks heavenward, Catriona pulled the plaid off her head, and tied it in a loose knot between her breasts.  The feel of the wind streaming through her hair was liberating, and she revealed in the opportunity to be free of prying eyes.

And bothersome husbands, to be sure.

###

It wasn’t fair to his people, he decided, and dammit to hell, it wasn’t fair to him, either.  As Lachlan sat in his high-backed oak chair, listening to petty complaint after petty complaint, he had to curse his bad luck.  Not to mention his poor timing.

The date had long been scheduled as the day he would hear the complaints of his tenants, and issue decisions about how various grievances and punishments were to be handled.  If he hadn’t had so many people counting on him, he would have rescheduled the hearings without a moment’s hesitation.  He had far weightier issues of his own that needed resolution.  But he could hardly inconvenience the clansmen, many of whom had traveled a day or longer to have their cases heard and settled by their laird.  He owed them this opportunity, even if he was unable to give them his full attention.

As Scot after Scot told stories of missing cattle, stolen sheep, damaged crops and improperly settled bills, Lachlan struggled to give them their due consideration.  Instead, thoughts of his innocent, untouched wife slipped unbidden into his consciousness.  He could almost taste the wine on her lips, feel the heat from her bosom as it was pressed enticingly against his chest, feel the silken strands of her auburn locks as they slipped through his fingers.  Every time a woman spoke, laughed or even walked near his table in the great hall he automatically sought her out with his eyes, anxious to see if it was his wife.  He could only hope his men hadn’t noticed how distracted he was.  The last thing he needed was for them to realize how preoccupied he was with his own wife.

It was not as if he had enjoyed a restful night.  Catriona had filled his dreams then, as she filled his thoughts now.  He had awoken more than once, drenched in sweat, aroused almost to the point of madness, only to find himself alone in his chamber, his arms empty, the passion that had seemed so real only a memory.

He’d long since decided that as soon as he heard the last case, he would go straight to her chamber.  There were serious issues that needed to be settled, and he couldn’t allow duty to stand between them any longer.  He realized his earlier plan to give her some space and time to sort things out for herself had to be discarded in favor of a more aggressive approach.

His starving body wouldn’t settle for anything less.

Lachlan had enough experience with women to realize Catriona had been scared – nay, terrified – by the passion they had stirred in each other, and that she needed to be set at ease.  He was confident all would be well once they had cleared the air between them.  Obviously, the lass was no cold-hearted wench, but an untouched woman struggling to reconcile her healthy appetites and desires.  He considered himself lucky to be the man to awaken these feelings in her, and felt a uncomfortable surge of desire as he imagined the passion they would share.

A bairn at the back of the hall let out of a feisty cry, drawing Lachlan’s attention before its mother could quiet the child.  If the Lord was willing, that might well be his lad making such a racket within the year, he realized.

His self-satisfied smile was quickly replaced by a grimace as he reflected on his bad timing.  He would have gone to the lass the previous night – would have straightened out the mess between them right then and there – had it not been for his clan obligations.  Many of his kinsmen had arrived in the afternoon, in anticipation of the court that would be held early the next day.  He’d had little choice but to spend the remainder of the day visiting with his kinsmen, greeting his guests and socializing in the great hall.  By the time he was able to take his leave of his guests, it was far too late to visit Catriona.

It would all have to keep until the evening meal, Lachlan realized with reluctance.  As soon as he’d heard the last case, he would make for Catriona’s chambers, and clear the air between them.  Once all was settled, he would proudly introduce her to those clansmen who had not been at Tolquhon for their wedding.  And after those obligations were finished with…well, that was when he would finally be free to set about calming her fears and making her his wife in truth.

Lachlan was leaning over in his chair, his hand in his chin, a smug smile etched on his handsome features, when he heard a cough, and the hard rattle of a throat being cleared very deliberately.  “Are you ready, my lord?” Quinton asked quietly, his look one of amusement at having caught his laird in a daydream.

Straightening, Lachlan willed himself to wipe the smile from his face, but despite his best efforts, it was impossible.  “Aye, Quinton, I’m ready.  More ready than you’ll ever ken.”

###

The cooling breeze, rich with the scent of heather, had done much to drive away the dark fog that burdened Catriona’s soul.  She had spent much of the clear, bright summer morning riding distractedly through the Forbes lands, eventually stopping to rest by the burn, where she ate her meager breakfast.  It had taken great determination to finish the meal, but she had forced herself to do so, and felt better for the effort.

In her mind, she had gone over the situation with her husband again and again, forcing herself to put aside past resentments and look at the man for who he truly was.  As difficult as it had been to examine her feelings, she knew she had to do so, for her current circumstances – fraught with tension, mistrust and assumptions – were not to be borne.

Regardless of the reasons for their marriage, Lachlan had been respectful of her wishes since they’d wed, accepting her desire to maintain her distance from him.  Just like in their youth, he’d continued to be kind and gentle with her, protective, compassionate and supportive.  When others had believed the worst of her, he had not.

She knew he’d married her for the alliance, and the security it afforded his people.  In truth, she’d spoken her vows for the same reasons.  Yet she had to acknowledge many successful marriages had been built on much less.  Regardless of the circumstances that had brought them together, she was not too naïve to recognize the potential for a deeper relationship.

There was no denying the connection she felt to him.  No matter how hard she tried to deny her feelings, her body responded honestly to him, even if her mind would not.  Every time they touched – every time they shared a glance, or rarer yet, a kiss – she had felt a wave of heat pass through her body that was unsettling in its intensity.  She had never felt this kind of emotion or connection with another man, and she doubted she ever would again.  Lachlan moved her in a way no one else could; he touched her in a way that filled her with fear and hope in equal measure, with devastating intensity.

She hoped that in some small way she affected him, too.  In those few, rare moments of closeness, he had seemed to respond to her.  But the question was whether his reaction was one of simple masculine lust, or perhaps something deeper.

As she idly tossed small stones into the rolling burn before her, Catriona realized there was only one option open to her.  She owed it to Lachlan – to them both – to put aside her pride and stubbornness, and give the marriage the chance it deserved.  She didn’t know what the outcome would be, but she knew continuing with a wall between them would serve no purpose.

Unless she let down her guard and lived fully – completely – as Lachlan’s wife, she would never know what might exist between them.  There was a good chance she would be hurt, but she could no longer live with the knowledge she might be throwing away everything she’d ever wanted for the sake of her pride.

Brushing her hands off on her skirts, Catriona rose to her feet, walking a short distance to the tree where she had tethered her horse. Much to her chagrin, she felt an enormous sense of relief at having reached a decision about what lay before her.  For good or ill, she had made her choice.  The rest was left to fate.

As she untied the mare’s reins, her eyes were drawn to a flash of color at the top of the hill.  The sun shone brightly, obliterating the detail of what lay before her, and she had to shade her eyes with her hand to see.

A small group of men rode down the hill at a casual pace.  The rider at the head of the group – a man Catriona recognized as someone she had seen in the yard at Tolquhon – held up his hand in greeting.  She let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding as she returned the man’s wave.  Lachlan must have figured out she’d left the keep unattended, and sent his men to fetch her.  His concern for her boded well for the conversation she hoped they would have later that night, provided, of course, he wasn’t too angry that she had left the keep in secrecy.

“Let me guess – my husband sent you to fetch me?” Catriona asked good naturedly as the man reined in his horse directly in front of her.

The rider shot a quick glance at the man beside him, then turned to face Catriona.  “Aye, my lady, you have the right of it. Are ye ready tae return?”

Catriona saw the man’s dark eyes scanning the horizon, looking for any sign of danger, she assumed.  “That will be fine,” she replied, her thoughts already drifting as she stared off into the distance.

The slight man shifted nervously in his saddle as he assessed her dreamy expression.  “We best be getting back now.  Yer husband will be fashed if we do no’ get ye back soon.”

One of the men had brought Catriona’s mare around, and he quickly helped her into the saddle.  She quietly fell in place beside the leader, whose name she’d learned was Fergus.  Though at first she tried to engage the man in conversation, she soon gave up after receiving only grunts and nods in response.

Impervious to his sour disposition, she instead found herself distracted with thoughts of the night before her.  Her mood had been buoyed by the fact her husband had missed her – had in fact sent someone to retrieve her – and she had no intention of letting anything dampen her spirits.

###

Lachlan had looked everywhere, but still he couldn’t find her.

As soon as he’d heard the last case – impatiently, and with little compassion, he admitted ruefully – he’d dashed from the great hall, taking the stairs up to Catriona’s bedchamber two at a time.  When he’d received no response to his knock, he’d flung back the door, only to find the room empty.

Next he’d searched the withdrawing room, the kitchens, the parapet and even the buttery, but he’d found no sign of her.  He could feel the familiar tension in his shoulders, reaching like malicious tendrils along the base of his skull.  Catriona was going to give him yet another headache, he thought angrily, absently reaching back to massage the tension from his neck.  Though he didn’t have time to play nursemaid to his errant wife, some deeper instinct told him all was not well.

He was about to search the tiny garden surrounding the keep when he was joined in his study by one of his men, a pale Sorcha trailing in his wake.  Impatient and inexplicably disconcerted, he wasted no time with pleasantries.  “Where is she?” he demanded, forcing himself to ignore the look of fear on the girl’s youthful features.

Unable to meet her laird’s angry gaze, Sorcha instead directed her comments to the man who had brought her to the study.  “I do no’ ken where she is now.  This morning, she left her chambers early, barely after sunrise, sayin’ she was goin’ ridin’.  I have no’ seen her since.”

“And you did no’ think to tell me this before now?” Lachlan thundered, his deep voice resonating with anger.

Finding a surprising reserve of courage, Sorcha turned and looked at her laird directly.  “Ye ne’er seemed interested afore.  I did no’ realize ye would choose today to trouble yerself with my lady’s whereabouts.”  Startled by the girl’s directness, and the aptness of the insult, Lachlan chose to forgive her impertinent tone.