Highland Troth (Highland Talents Book 3) (8 page)

“I’d rather talk to ye.” She tossed aside the woolen wraps and stood, pulling her tattered cloak around her then joined him on the fallen log, a proper arms-length away. “I find it hard to sleep when there’s trouble between me and an old friend.”

Jamie tossed some kindling into the low fire and watched sparks dance skyward. Anything to avoid looking at the woman beside him.

“Ye’re upset because of what I told Will.”

Jamie huffed out a breath. “Shouldna I be?”

“Would ye rather fight him?” Her voice was barely louder than a whisper. “Or have him convey his suspicions to my da?”

“Ye ken I wouldna.”

“Then ye ken why I spoke as I did.” Caitrin kept her voice low, but it grew in volume along with her intensity. “Ye did nothing wrong, Jamie. Ye scared the cat away and saved me from injury. Ye were carrying me back to camp to be tended.”

He faced her, concern drawing down his brow. “Ye never were...tended. Did the claws break yer skin?”

“Nay. The thick layers of tightly woven fabric protected my back. I am unhurt.” Caitrin lifted a hand to her neck and shuddered. “A few minutes more and she might have found my throat.”

Jamie understood she had been shaken up by the encounter, despite her protests to the contrary. Will’s accusations surely had not helped.

He studied her as she stared into the firelight, lost in her own imaginings. She’d grown from a gawky girl to a woman of uncommon beauty, one Jamie could scarce resist. Had her adventurous spirit from childhood become recklessness? Was all this a misguided attempt to have some say over her fate? She could not know what awaited her, when she had yet to meet her intended betrothed. Nay, her father had prepared her, he supposed. She would know his mind on this matter as well as her own.

She dropped her hand back to her lap, and then met his gaze, pulling him out of his musings and back to the memory of the cat’s attack. “But she didna, thanks to ye.”

“Twas fortunate I happened to be nearby.”

The lift Catrin gave to her lips made less a smile and more a sheepish acknowledgment she had been searching for him. “Aye.”

“Ye wished to speak to me.”

“Aye.” Her voice dropped to a whisper as she gestured toward the opposite side of the fire, where Will slept. “Away from others’ ears.”

“Ask me now.”

She sat still for a moment, staring into the embers as if deciding whether to risk the question she really wanted an answer to. “I never heard what happened. After I left Lathan.”

Jamie’s belly clenched. “What do ye mean?”

She stayed silent a moment longer then shook her head. “Remember the day Toran and ye found the carvings?”

His breath froze in his chest at the word. Then he realized she’d changed her mind—and the subject. Jamie let out a slow sigh of relief. The last thing he wanted to relive was the time when Caitrin left. The less she knew, the better. Instead, he chuckled. “Searching for the troll under the stone bridge, aye?”

“Ye told me they were ancient druidic markings. Secret signs marking a place of ceremony and sacrifice. That wasna true, was it?”

Jamie thought back to that day. Caitrin had tagged along with him and Toran, as usual. Toran had done his best to ignore her, but Jamie had started telling stories and by the time they reached the old bridge, he had primed Caitrin for the biggest story of all. “Toran and I had spent weeks chipping away at the stone along the banks of the burn, scratching in signs and symbols.” Rumor had it Caitrin was good, perhaps too good, at telling when someone lied to her. So Toran had concocted a test—elaborate, to be sure, but preparing it had entertained them for weeks. Finally, they were ready. Jamie spun his tale, full of history and superstition, druidic sacrifice and magic.

“Ye thought I believed it all, to the point of refusing to cross that bridge ever again.”

“Aye, from that point on, Toran greatly enjoyed leading ye in that direction, only to watch ye splash through the burn rather than cross the bridge to reach the meadow beyond.” As Toran and he laughed. It was not Jamie’s proudest memory of their time together. In fact, he was still irritated with Toran for putting him up to it. Especially after the way the summer ended.

“I kent ye lied.”

“Ye didna.” Jamie snorted. “Why drench yerself in the burn if ye thought the bridge was nothing special?”

She remained silent for a long time, to the point Jamie thought she’d refuse to answer. Then she opened her mouth to speak, and Jamie noticed her eyes were sheened with tears. “’Twas the only way Toran would let me come with ye.”

“So ye were sweet on him.”

“What? Nay, never. He only let me come along when he could get a good laugh out of me, whether that meant slogging through the burn or something else. I didna want to be left out. Left behind.”

Jamie’s heart plummeted at the same time shame raised heat in his face. “Nay.”

“’Tis true. I kent Toran had put ye up to it. Ye tried to set me straight a time or two—do ye remember that?”

Jamie shook his head. Honestly, he didn’t. But if she hadn’t been interested in Toran’s attention, did that mean she’d tagged along because she cared for him?

“But if I admitted it, that would have been the end of my time with the two of ye. So I played the fool instead.”

“I am sorry.”

“Ye should be, aye. But yer laird has more to answer for.”

Jamie had to chuckle at that. “More than ye can imagine. But I thought ye always liked him, the way ye chased after him.”

“Nay. Ye were my friend, Jamie. Toran never was. No’ really.” She paused, staring off into the darkness for a moment. “I owe ye both a lot.”

Her tone made it clear she didn’t mean in retribution.

“Nay, lass.”

“Aye. Ye made me stronger than I wouldha been. I learned woodcraft, how to fight, to be a good marksman with a bow, skills most girls, most women, never imagine making their own. It made me more confident. I was ripped away from my home after my ma died. Alone and afraid. Without the two of ye, I wouldna survived the grief.”

A tear slipped down her cheek. Jamie clenched his fist against the urge to reach out and wipe it away with his thumb. He must not touch her. Not tenderly. Never with the hunger that filled him and stole his breath. He could barely speak around the lump that had formed in his throat. “I kent it must be hard for a lass, but ye never seemed distraught. Ye were always game to get involved in anything. Ye nearly drove Toran daft.”

“But no’ ye.”

“Nay.” Jamie hesitated. Should he say it? Aye, the wee lass within her needed to hear it. “I always liked ye. Ye werena like the other lasses.”

She choked back a laugh. “I wasna that, for sure.” Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks, but she wiped them away. “If this is what reminiscing does to ye, I dinna recommend it.”

“Ye need sleep, Caitrin. Ye are worn out. We’ll talk again when ye’re rested. Between us, I’m sure we can skewer Toran well and thoroughly.”

She stood and rested a hand on Jamie’s shoulder. “Ye should rest, too, my old friend.”

He nodded, but his pulse kicked up at her touch. Caitrin left him and settled herself on her pallet. Jamie sat by the fire until her eyes closed and her breathing evened out in sleep. It was going to be a long night.

****

They rose with the sun. Despite Caitrin’s growing reluctance to face the future her father intended to arrange for her, she was glad when they got back on the trail shortly afterward. The sooner they reached MacGregor, the sooner she’d have answers.

The conversation she’d had with Jamie the previous evening left her questioning how she felt about him, about the idea of the marriage her father wanted for her, even her memories of the time she’d spent at the Aerie. Had Toran teased her as much as she remembered? Had Jamie been so kind? In her mind, she’d painted them as two sides of the same coin—dark and light, bad and good. Now she was mature enough to recognize that nothing was ever so clear cut. Toran had teased her, but he’d included her in their outings. Jamie had been her friend and protector, but he’d gone along with Toran, too.

Two nights ago in the Fletcher’s solar, Jamie’s reaction to her demand that he tell her about Alasdair MacGregor had bemused her, despite the sense he made in refusing. But the more she thought about it, the more it worried her. The sooner they got to MacGregor, the sooner she would see what had caused Jamie’s disquiet. His insistence that she be allowed to make up her own mind, uninfluenced by his opinions, hadn’t been a lie, exactly, but he’d certainly evaded giving her an answer.

When they arrived at MacGregor, along with her intended betrothed, she expected her father would be there to receive them, and he would give her the first clue. She could read him like a book, and might know, simply by the way he greeted her, how the negotiations had gone before her arrival. If he was tense and anxious, she’d know that things weren’t going his way. Fletcher was always happiest when he got what he wanted. But too much joviality would not be a good sign, either. If things were bad enough for him to hide his fears behind false laughter, she could expect they’d be back on the trail to Fletcher in no time. And that might be for the best, if it meant spending more time with Jamie without the confusion that the impending betrothal caused both of them.

The MacGregor keep came into sight just after midday. Caitrin could only compare it to Fletcher and to the Lathan’s Aerie. It appeared to be about the same size as the Aerie, larger than Fletcher, though less imposing than her girlish imaginings had led her to picture in her mind. It commanded the top of a wide, gently sloped hill. A burn ran at its base before it, bridged by a wooden structure the width of three horses. A village sprawled across the burn off to one side. All in all, it was impressive, and that made her blood run cold.

Will, riding beside her, caught Caitrin’s gaze and grinned.

She doubted he shared her father’s ambitions, but she could almost hear him thinking,
This could be yers
. She fought back a nervous grimace and looked away. She had to be strong. Her father’s hopes rested on her shoulders.

Jamie rode in his usual place at the head of their group. She could not see his face, and she wanted to. What did he think of their destination? Imposing, or just another in a long list of keeps and castles he had visited?

Would Jamie think her worthy of such a place?
Did she? Now they’d arrived, doubts she’d ignored since her father had announced his plans caused her skin to prickle.

As expected, Fletcher met them at the inner gate. He looked well and strong as he helped her alight from her horse. His appearance relieved her mind, though she could not say why she would have expected him to look any differently. She knew he had earned MacGregor’s displeasure, which was one reason Fletcher proposed this marriage. Had she feared seeing her father’s head on a pike at the gate, or thought he’d be awaiting her arrival in the dungeon? Nay, nerves made her imagination run rampant.

But a frisson of unease disrupted her pleasure at seeing her father. What would Will tell him about their trip?

“’Tis good to see ye, lass. How was the journey?”

“As well as could be, Father.” She glanced around at the bustle of activity in the bailey. “But where is the MacGregor?”

“He will see ye before dinner. He wished to allow ye to refresh yerself from the journey before meeting ye.”

Did he? Or had her father insisted? First impressions carried weight, and the Fletcher knew that. He didn’t seem overly concerned, which made Caitrin think nothing had been decided, but negotiations continued. Which meant she still had an opportunity to influence the outcome.

Will greeted her father, but a stablehand interrupted them before he could say anything to cause trouble for Caitrin.

Then Jamie approached and Will stepped away. “Fletcher, I presume?”

“Aye, and ye are the new Lathan? ’Tis good to finally meet.”

“Nay, I regret Toran, Laird Lathan, couldna make the trip. I’m Jamie Lathan, cousin and envoy for Clan Lathan, and an old friend of Caitrin’s.”

His smile was pleasant enough, but Caitrin detected a hint of tension in his shoulders as he handed Fletcher a letter. So she was not the only one who harbored concerns about her father’s plans.

“I appreciate Lathan’s assistance in this matter,” Fletcher answered, glancing at the seal and nodding politely. “We’ll talk later, but for now, let’s get the lass to her chambers. There’s much to do before the evening meal.”

“Of course.”

Caitrin gave Jamie a brief smile before taking her father’s arm. The MacGregor steward led them into the keep and escorted them to their chambers. Jamie and the other Lathans were diverted to the floor below hers, along with Will. Her last glimpse of Jamie revealed his frown as Fletcher directed her up another flight of stairs. Will seemed unconcerned, but Jamie clearly didn’t like her being isolated from her escort.

Or from him?

At her suite of rooms, Fletcher took his leave, promising to return later to collect her. Caitrin looked around her new surroundings, amazed to have a sitting room, a bed chamber, and even a permanent bathing area. MacGregor servants filled the large stone tub in it with steaming water. The furnishings were well cared for and reflected the clan’s wealth—greater than what she was used to at Fletcher. A lass near Catrin’s age stayed behind to help her undress and to unpack her belongings. She seemed surprised when Caitrin asked her name, which was Nan, and thanked her for helping. Nan didn’t chatter, which suited Caitrin’s mood at the moment.

Caitrin relished this time to prepare. If she wasn’t neck deep in a warm tub, she’d be shaking with nerves, but the warm water soothed her. Before she knew it, her head nodded and her bath took on a decided chill.

She rose from the tub and dried off then pulled on a warm robe and settled by the small blaze in the hearth. Nan laid out the dress she’d chosen to wear for her first meeting with the man her father intended her to marry, and despite the warmth of the fire, that thought chilled her. What kind of man would he be? What kind of husband? Kind or cruel or indifferent? Caitrin was in no hurry to don the dress. Instead, she watched the flames dance and distracted herself by asking Nan questions while the lass brushed her hair to gleaming.