Highland Master (12 page)

Her reaction told Fin that his silence had somehow sparked her temper. But her flashing eyes and glowing cheeks stirred only a strong urge to kiss her, despite certain rules that applied to knights who escorted young noblewomen. The first and foremost rule forbade the knight to take unfair advantage of the lady.

And, too, a wise man would first consider her grandfather… and Rothesay. Alienating the Mackintosh or infuriating the prince would be imprudent at best.

There was also the fact of his being one of the “wretched Camerons.”

Her lips parted, and Fin felt his cock leap in response.

Anger stirred then, at himself. How could he even be thinking of her in a sensual way when he had sworn to seek vengeance against… nay, to
kill
her father?

“Is aught amiss, sir?” she said. “You were smiling and now you frown, but I don’t think that you are angry with me. Does your head ache again?”

Her concern awoke a long dormant sense of warmth inside him. He tried to recall the last time someone had made him feel so. Wishing that he deserved her disquiet, he said gently, “My head is fine. I was wondering if your love of wandering or your quick temper had led you to think of yourself as a wild creature.”

Looking relieved, then rueful, she said, “As you have just noted for yourself a second time, sir, my temper does inflame quickly. My brothers tease me about it. Ivor says I spit like a fierce kitten. But in troth, I just say what I am thinking.”

He nodded. “I have seen that, but a lass’s temper rarely troubles me. It troubles me more when she risks her life or her safety foolishly. I trust that you will heed your grandfather’s command to end your solitary roaming until we can be sure that your woods are clear of Comyns and any other such vermin.”

“Aye, sure,” she said. Then she grinned. “Granddad has a temper, too. He is the embodiment of our clan motto: ‘Touch not the cat but with a glove.’ ”

Satisfied that he had made his point, he said, “I will try to avoid stirring coals with either of you. Shall we walk down to yon burn now?”

Nodding, she led the way again.

As they walked, he added, “I doubt that I will be giving away any great secret if I tell you that your grandfather seems unlikely to support Comyn’s suit.”

She glanced back at him. “God-a-mercy, I know he has little use for Comyns in general, and he will not allow any Comyn—even one married to me—to live at Castle Raitt, which is what they really want. Also, Rory’s behavior today will irk him. But Granddad does favor peace, so how can you be sure of what you say?”

“Because yestereve, when he and I talked, I recalled that you had mentioned troubles here and asked him about them. In describing the Comyns, he called Rory a lackwit. I’d wager that the notion of uniting you with any lackwit displeases him.”

“I hope you are right, for whatever you may have thought earlier, I loathe Rory Comyn. Granddad will not shove his oar into what is more properly my father’s business, but my father is bound to ask for his opinion.”

“Lass,” he said, “I never thought you were in those woods to meet Comyn.”

“That’s good, too. Here is the outflow. Shall we follow it for a time?”

He agreed, and they started downhill beside the rushing burn in silence. The pebble-strewn path was steep and narrow, requiring close attention.

Fin saw that the swift, roaring water had carved a deep cleft between two of the steep hills that formed the loch basin. Although the spewing outflow did not produce the sort of waterfall he admired most, the burn leaped noisily over boulders and was soothing and beautiful to watch. “Do you get salmon up here?” he asked.

“Nay, we are too far from the sea. They swim up the Spey only to Aviemore. But brown sea trout do sometimes reach Loch an Eilein. The osprey catch them before the men can, though—or so Ivor tells me. Are you ready to go back?”

“I want a drink first, and an apple, don’t you?”

“Aye, sure,” she said, kilting up her skirt and making her way to the water’s edge. Kneeling with a hand on a boulder to balance herself, she bent low and used her other hand as a cup to scoop water to her mouth and drink it.

When she stood and wiped her wet hand on a skirt already damp from the splashing water, drops beaded on her lips and cheeks. Brushing a hand across one cheek, she grinned, looking like a merry child although she was not childlike in any other way. She was utterly
un
childlike, a woman grown, a woman who could stir…

Fin looked away, strode to the water, and knelt to get his drink. He splashed icy water on his face, although it was
not
the part of him that most needed cooling.

She handed him his apple when he rejoined her. But, as they headed back up the hill, munching their apples, he saw her pause to hitch her skirt higher under her linked girdle to leave both hands free as she trod the rocky, uneven path. He marveled at her ability to walk barefoot on such a path but remembered when he could do so, too.

Into that amiable silence, a less amiable memory intruded of the day he had flung himself into the Tay. His dilemma remained unresolved, and at any such quiet moment it could step into his mind as if it had a mind of its own. He had discussed it only with a priest, who had told him to pray for guidance and assured him that God would answer him or that he would, in time, find the answer in his own thoughts.

God had not answered him yet, and as for his thoughts—

“If you came here from the Borders,” she said, “what were you doing there?”

“Fighting much of the time,” he said, tossing his apple core up the hill where birds would make quick work of it. “King Henry of England invaded again and tried to take Edinburgh, as you must ken fine.”

“Aye, sure I do. ’Tis why our men are still in the lowlands, because although the English left when their
supplies failed, they may return. You are gey quick and deft with a sword, as I saw for myself. Do you enjoy fighting?”

“I do enjoy the challenge, I expect, but no one likes…” Remembering what she had said about the imaginary chap she had thought she might marry, he said, “Do you really think that any man who hates war is a coward?”

“Not for hating it,” she said. “All sensible people hate war, as I hope you were about to say. A man who refuses to defend what he loves
must
be a coward, though. Sakes, I’d think the same of any woman who did not at least
try
to protect her own.”

“Sometimes, though, people say or do things hastily without knowing why.”

“Sakes, people
often
behave so, all of us. It is called acting without thinking first and is generally not to be encouraged.”

“Sometimes one has no time to think.”

“One always has time to think,” she said. “Sometimes one just has to think faster than other times.”

“But if a person thinks
too
fast, his thinking gets muddled or he neglects to consider all the likely consequences of his actions or his words.”

She had reached the top of the hill where the path widened, and as she moved aside to make way so they could walk abreast, she gave him a shrewd look. “This is an interesting subject for discussion, sir. But I’m beginning to wonder if it might have aught to do with why you came here.”

Fin searched his thoughts for a reply that would be true without revealing more than he yet wanted to share with her.

Into that silence, she said, “Did some such thing happen to
you
, something that troubles you now?”

Fin’s silence told Catriona much about his thoughts. Doubtless, he thought his face was inscrutable, a warrior’s face. But her brothers, father, and grandfather were all warriors, and she had learned from childhood to read certain signs.

She could tell when they had secrets, when they were preparing for war, when they were angry, and when they simply did not want to talk.

He seemed to show consternation now, as if he had not realized that she might draw such a conclusion from his comments.

Casually, she said, “If you go to Lochaber from here, remind me to tell you where to find that splendid waterfall along the way.”

“I don’t recall suggesting that I might go to Lochaber.”

“Perhaps not, but it was your childhood home, so I assumed you must have family there and would visit them whilst you are in the Highlands. And we did talk of waterfalls yesterday,” she reminded him. “Sithee, I just thought, from your reaction to my question, that you might prefer a change of subject.”

“Sakes, lass, we were just making conversation,” he said. “I like to discuss matters on which people have differing views and was but seeking to learn some of yours. I cannot think why you might think me troubled. I just wanted to know if you agree that certain events might occur so fast that one does not have time to consider all that one should before acting… or speaking.”

“I see.”

“Then what would you say?”

“Without a specific event to consider, it is hard to imagine how one could lack time to consider at least the
likely
consequences of any act.”

“Aye, well, you live a more peaceful life than most men do,” he said. “I can tell you that in the pitch of battle, a man has
no
time to think. Merely to survive, he must act quickly, relying only on instinct and his training.”

“Is one’s training not what creates those instincts?”

“Not always. In troth, sometimes one’s training, even one’s loyalties and sense of duty, can obstruct rational thought. For example, men often obey blindly, without thinking, when a superior gives an order. Or one agrees to something simply because one respects and trusts the one demanding agreement.”

He reached to cup her left elbow as the trail plunged into a declivity. The warmth of his touch through the thin camlet sleeve sent a tremor up her arm and a warmer sensation through her body that reached places never touched so before.

She turned to him. “Did you fear that I might trip over my feet?”

He did not answer but continued to support her elbow as he put his left hand gently on her right shoulder and continued to hold her gaze. The sensations roaring through her body now were disturbing, and so was the look in his eyes.

She knew exactly what he would do next.

Fool!
The word exploded in Fin’s mind but had no effect on his body’s response to her. She was too close to him,
too desirable, and too enticing. Moreover, she was too quick to read the truths in his words and
much
too easy for him to talk to.