Not Mine to Give (22 page)

The incredulous look on
Morgana’s face told of her confusion. “They are na dead, milord. And neither is my Hugh or my brother Ambrose or your sisters Meara and Elissa. They are only waiting for me to rid their keep of your English wife.”

Duncan held
Morgana to him and lifted his watery gaze to the ceiling. She was so young. Barely older than Kate, and already she had lost a husband she had loved dearly, and her father, brothers, and everyone close to her. She had lost them to the English. Maybe in her mind she had to kill Kate to make up for so many deaths.

Morgana
looked up at him and Duncan saw the worshipful adoration in her eyes. “You should have seen the look on the English lady’s face when she saw that I had come to kill her.” The laughter that came from Morgana’s mouth was harsh and unnatural. “She thought I had come to help her. From the day you brought her here, she thought I had accepted her. She thought the Fergusons could come to care for her. Now she knows that’s impossible.”

Morgana
turned in Duncan’s arms and stared at Katherine’s still body lying on the bed. “Now she knows we do na want her here. She knows there is only hatred hidden behind our smiles.”

Icy fingers wrapped around Duncan’s heart and twisted. When Angus took
Morgana from his arms, Duncan let her go.

“Come, lass,” Angus said. “I will give you something to make you sleep. You need to rest.”

“Aye, Angus. I am very tired.” Morgana laid her head on Angus’ shoulder and let the old man lead her from the room. “Have I done well?”

“There is
na more you can do, Morgana. Na more.”

The door closed behind Angus and
Gregor, and Duncan turned to his wife, still sleeping on the bed. She had not moved since they’d come back. It was as if she’d willed herself to stay away.

Duncan sat down beside her and lifted her head, then held the cup to her mouth. Katherine took a small swallow of the
liquid then turned her head to his chest. He felt the first slight movement and looked down on her just as her eyes fluttered halfway open.

“You came after me.”

“Aye, lass. I came.”

“She was wrong. She said you would not.”

“Aye, lass. She was wrong.”

…

Katherine opened her eyes, then closed them again. She did not want to be awake.
She wanted to sleep forever, and when she had slept enough here on earth, she wanted God to take her to heaven. But she was awake now, and judging from the furnishings around her she had not gone to heaven.

She was still in Scotland.

She moved her head to the side and looked at Duncan sleeping at her bedside. She remembered him holding her in his arms and forcing her to drink Angus’s potions.

The brilliant rays of the sun streamed through the crosslet slits on either side of the bed and through a larger window that overlooked the inner bailey. Light cast the room in a bright glow. She was tired, but at least she was warm. She’d been so cold and so scared. She’d been sure she was going to die. Sure that
Morgana would succeed in killing her.

Morgana
. The first person she’d met when Duncan had brought her to his home. Morgana, with the friendly smile on her face and honest acceptance in her gaze — and bitter hatred in her heart.

If Regan had stuck a blade into her side and left her to die, it would not have surprised her. She knew the hatred Regan
had for her. Regan had not hidden or disguised it. Morgana’s hatred had come without warning.

And if
Morgana harbored such deep hatred, how many more of Duncan’s Fergusons felt the same?

“Will you stay awake this time, Kate?”

Katherine turned her head and looked at her husband. No wonder Regan loved him. He was everything a woman could want. He was strong, and kind, and caring, and proud. So very noble and proud. And deserving of a Scottish wife.

“How long have I slept?”

“Two whole days and into the third. The great hall is filled with people waiting to hear how you are. They are even waiting outside in the bailey until they know.”

Katherine turned away from him. Lies. The people of clan Ferguson had probably gathered in the great hall and the bailey to hear if
Morgana’s attempt had been successful, so they could celebrate around the grave of their English mistress.

“Are you hungry?”

Katherine shook her head. “How is Malcolm?”

“Your cloak kept him warm. He’s fine. He would like to see you when you awaken to thank you. He said you saved his life.”

“Tell him he is welcome, but I do not care to see him.”

“Kate, I—”

“I’m tired now, Duncan. I would like to sleep.” Katherine closed her eyes and turned away from him.

“No, Kate.”

The harsh tone of his voice forced her to open her eyes and face him. She’d heard that tone before, and knew he would grant no quarter.

“You will
na turn from me, Kate. We will talk about what is wrong.”

Katherine stared into the flames of the hearth. The room was warm. On the outside she would heal. On the inside she would never stop hurting. She would never be able to look at one of Duncan’s clansmen and not wonder if their smiles were as false as
Morgana’s and if secretly they too wished she had died.

“Angus said when you opened your eyes, you were to stay awake. He said you were to drink every drop of ale with the potion in it, and that you were to eat the food Margaret had prepared for you.”

“I am not hungry.”

“When will you be hungry, wife?”

Katherine looked at him and a shudder raced up her spine. If he would just hold her in his arms for a little while, maybe everything would seem better. If he would just tell her that he cared, maybe everything would not hurt so much. If he would just tell her that it didn’t matter that she was English, maybe she could believe him.

Maybe she could not.

“What day will you be hungry, Kate? Tomorrow? The next? Or when food will na longer do you any good?”

“Leave me be, Duncan. I am tired.”

“I will na leave you be, Kate.”

The breath caught in her throat and she swallowed past the lump it left. “What do you want of me?”

“I want to see the light back in your eyes. I do na want you to wish you had na lived. I want you to be glad that you are mistress of Lochmore Castle. I do na want you to wish you had gone back to England. I want you to wish your laird would hold you in his arms until this nightmare goes away. That is what I want.”

Katherine stared up at the high beams in the ceiling. She wanted to say the words but she could not. They would not all be true. Only that she wished her laird would hold her in his arms until this nightmare went away. Those words would be true.

“I know how you feel, Kate. You said it in your sleep. I know it was Morgana who took you into the hills and left you to die. I know what she said to you and why, but it’s na true, Kate. None of clan Ferguson feels as she does. They do na hate you or wish you gone.”

“Really, Duncan? Should I ask Regan to come here and tell me how she feels?”

“Regan does na matter. She feels as she does because…”

“Because she loves you and knows she would be a better wife for you than your English wife. She feels as all your people feel, but she at least is open with her opinion. She does not keep her silence as you and
Morgana and the rest of the Fergusons do.” Katherine closed her eyes and turned her face to the wall.

“Do
na turn away from me, Kate.”

“Can I turn to you, Duncan? Are your words any less false than
Morgana’s? Do you smile and hold me only because you don’t have the crown yet? Do you withhold your lovemaking each night so that I crave the passion we once shared more than the soul I could lose?”

“My smiles and our lovemaking have nothing to do with
the crown.”

“They have
everything
to do with the crown, Duncan. They have since the day you took me as your wife.”

“You do
na think I’ve come to care for you?”

“It would not be wise to care for me, husband. It will bring only pain in the end. On the day I give the crown back to England, I will see how you truly feel. Just as I now see how your people truly feel.”

Katherine fisted her hands at her side. Before she realized his intent, Duncan lifted her out of the bed. “What are you doing?”

“I’m taking you to hear how my people feel about you.”

He wrapped her in so many covers she could hardly see over the top and walked across the room with her in his arms. He held her securely against him as he descended the stairs.

“I’m not dressed, Duncan. I cannot go where people will see me.”

“You are mistress of Lochmore. You will go where your people have gathered in the cold to await word that you are all right.”

“Please, Duncan, no. I don’t want to face them. I don’t want to see their false smiles and hear their false greetings. I’m not strong enough to face
Morgana again.”

Duncan stopped midway down the stairs. “
Morgana is na longer here. You will never have to face her again.

“
Morgana was not the only one who felt as she did. There are others.”

He held her close for a long second then continued his way down the stairs. “Give them time, Kate. In time they will learn to love you.”

Katherine breathed a heavy sigh, then leaned her cheek against his chest. The medallion rested there. The Ferguson crest that had meant so much to Duncan that he’d risked his life to get it back. The crest she’d taken to him in exchange for his help. To put it in his hands had been the reason she’d kissed him that first time. She put her fingers to the metal and traced the eagle in flight. It had come to mean as much to her as it did to Duncan and she cursed herself because she didn’t want it to.

Duncan stopped at the entrance to the great hall and stood with her in his arms so all the warriors of clan Ferguson could see that their mistress fared well. The room was so crowded there was not a place to sit or even to stand. When Duncan stood in the doorway, everyone in the room rose and gave a loud cheer, shouting Katherine’s name as they raised their swords or tankards high in the air.

Next, Duncan carried her to the door to the keep and stepped outside. A crowd so huge Katherine could not even see them all had gathered in the cold to await word of their mistress. When Duncan stepped out on the top step of the keep, a deafening roar echoed against the curtain walls.

“Your mistress wants you to know she is well and accepts your prayers and good wishes.”

Another tremendous roar echoed in the crisp air and Katherine raised a bandaged hand as the people cried her name. Tears of confusion streamed down her cheeks.

Duncan turned back into the keep and carried her up
the stairs. “Those are the voices I want you to remember, Kate. I want their shouts of concern to drown out Morgana’s words of hatred.”

Katherine looked up and saw the determined look on Duncan’s face. “I was so frightened, Duncan.”

“So was I, Kate. I was afraid I had lost you.”

“And you would have lost the crown.”

“No, Kate. I want both you and the crown.”

“You cannot have both, Duncan.”

Duncan lay her on the bed and stood back until he could meet her gaze evenly. “I will have both or I will have neither. It’s the way it must be, Kate.”

Katherine leaned her shoulder against the cool stones near the window and let her gaze travel to the scene below. One group of Ferguson warriors practiced their skills with heavy metal swords, another with bows and arrows, and a third were engaged in hand-to-hand combat. They prepared long hours each day for their battle with the English.

Spiny fingers of fear clenched her heart and refused to let go. She’d known it would come to this.

Duncan was prepared to defend a crown that did not belong to him. His warriors were prepared to die for a crown they did not even possess. And every Ferguson was prepared to forfeit his life for an English mistress some of them still found it difficult to accept. All because she had not been brave enough to follow her king’s edict and marry the man chosen for her. All because in her weakness she had married their laird, and now she did not want to lose him.

Katherine closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It would not be long before Bolton arrived. He would want both the crown and his betrothed. She did not doubt that her father would be with him.

Her father.

Since Bolton had taken the whip to her back in the dungeon, she’d refused to think of her father and what a great disappointment she would be to him. Again.

She turned back to the scene in the courtyard and her gaze automatically searched out the spot where Duncan trained with Malcolm and Gregor and Balfour.

Katherine watched as all three warriors took turns battling
their laird. The look on Angus’ face as he watched from the side did not show his usual sense of pride or satisfaction. The old man harbored a look of concern. Just as she did, Angus realized his laird fought his warriors as if they were the very devil. He battled in his fight to conquer his wife and her unwillingness to surrender her heart and mind. And the crown.

The breath caught in her throat when Balfour lunged at Duncan, but in the blink of an eye Balfour’s huge body flew through the air as if he weighed nothing and landed in a heap at the side.
Gregor attacked next, raising his sword, preparing to strike. Duncan spun around and with one deadly swipe, the sound of metal clanged and Gregor’s sword flew out of his hands and landed beyond his reach. Duncan made a low growl and threw his friend to the ground, then stood over him with his sword at his throat, looking for the one who would come next. There was a hunger in his eyes that burned with a desire to cause pain — to feel pain — and Katherine knew she was to blame.

Sweat and mud streaked the bare flesh of all four warriors, giving them a serious, more warlike appearance. Strained muscles and tested tempers created more tension in their struggle. The battle they waged against each other was fierce.

Malcolm rubbed his shoulder as if Duncan’s punishing attacks may have already caused an injury, then took a determined leap, knocking Duncan to the ground. Malcolm and Duncan were the most evenly matched, and the two warriors struggled in the dirt, neither giving an advantage. Then Duncan made a decisive move that pinned Malcolm beneath him.

Chests heaved and muscles bunched in a clash of iron wills and brute strength. Without warning Duncan raised his arm and thrust his fist forward. The blow was an unfair assault, a breach of Duncan’s practice rules, and the sound of Duncan’s fist making contact with Malcolm’s flesh brought
Gregor and Balfour to attention. They leaped between the pair before Duncan struck again and pulled their laird away.

As if Duncan realized he’d carried his sparring too far, he stood tall with his legs braced and waited for his friend to meet out his revenge. Malcolm would retaliate. All around them expected no less a reaction.

Malcolm sprang from the ground, the look of unleashed fury evident on his face. He doubled his fist and leveled it with all his might until it connected with Duncan’s flesh just beneath his right eye. Duncan did not back away but accepted the blow without question.

Katherine turned away from the window. This was the first time she’d seen Duncan lose control of his well harnessed emotions. The first time his frustration and disappointment had affected those around him. Even though Malcolm had received the brunt of his anger, Katherine knew she was the intended victim. Duncan was desperate to get the crown away from her and didn’t know how to get it without using force. He was strung as tight as a loaded crossbow and his frustration almost painful to watch. The longer this continued the more dangerous he would become both to himself and those around him.

She had to find the secret passageway that would lead her out of the castle. She had to get the crown and find a way to get it to England. She had to stop waiting for the miracle that would place the crown back in England’s hands and still allow her to keep her Scot.

Katherine scanned the stone walls of their chamber one more time and rubbed her hands over her eyes. There was not one inch of the room she hadn’t touched or pushed against or moved, and she still hadn’t found the opening that would take her outside.

The secret door must be here. According to Ian, Lochmore Castle had a secret escape route just as Kilgern, and it was hidden in the laird’s chamber. So why couldn’t she find it?

Katherine walked across the room and stared at the beautifully designed tapestries that covered the walls. Every one of them depicted a battle scene or the outdoor picture of a hunt. She walked from one wall hanging to the other, lifting it away from the wall to check the stones beneath. Nothing.

“Is something wrong, mistress?”

Katherine spun around to see her new maid, Mary, watching her. “Oh, no, Mary. I was just looking at these tapestries.”

“They’re beautiful, are they not?”

“Yes, beautiful.”

“The mistress took great pride in her tapestries and has a great many covering the walls of Lochmore Castle.”

“Duncan’s mother must have been especially fond of animals and the hunt.”

“Oh, no, milady. The laird’s mother did not fancy these in the least. That’s why they hang here. Her favorite tapestries hang in her chamber.”

Katherine’s arm stopped in mid motion as she was about to touch one of the tapestries that showed a large male deer
staring wide-eyed at the Scot who was about to slay him with his drawn bow. “This is not Duncan’s parents’ chamber?”

“Oh, no, milady. The laird did
na want to move into his parents’ chamber and chose to keep this one as his own. It was always his chamber.”

Katherine’s heart pounded in her chest. She’d been looking for the passageway in the wrong room. “Could I see the other tapestries?”

A bright smile lit up the younger maid’s face. “Of course, mistress. I’m surprised you have na seen them before. I thought Morgana would have… I’m sorry. I did na mean…”

“It’s all right, Mary.
Morgana didn’t show me her mistress’ room. I should have been thoughtful enough to ask.”

Katherine breathed a deep sigh. She had been thoughtful enough to ask, but
Morgana had told her it was an empty room where the laird had stored his parents’ personal possessions. Items he didn’t want disturbed. Katherine should have been inquisitive enough to insist that she see them.

Mary led the way to Duncan’s parents’ chamber and opened the door. Bright sunlight streamed through the two windows, and although this room was no larger than the room she shared with Duncan, the warmth and openness she felt gave this chamber a friendlier feel.

Katherine walked to the nearest tapestry and stared at it in awe. “Oh, how beautiful.”

“Yes, milady,” Mary answered. “The mistress had a true gift.”

“Yes, she did.”

Katherine couldn’t take her gaze from the rich colors and
excellent workmanship. Each design represented a wealth of Scottish folklore combined with the harmony of nature and a love of beauty. There were no battles. No pictures of a hunt. Every scene held her spellbound.

“You may leave me, Mary. I would like to stay here a while.” She whispered her orders. To speak louder would have been sacrilege.

“Very well, milady. I’ll be near if you need anything. You have just to call.”

“Thank you.”

Katherine sat on the soft bed and stared at the hangings on the wall and let the tranquillity in the room engulf her. Duncan’s mother dwelled here. Her presence filled the room as if she were still alive; as if she still inhabited the room.

Katherine knew she should use this time to look for the secret passageway, but she couldn’t move. Her body did not want to lose the closeness she felt to Duncan’s mother. For a long time she stared at the hangings and let the contentment she felt here blanket her.

“What are you doing, Kate?”

Katherine did not need Duncan to speak to know he stood behind her in the doorway. She could feel him there. Just as she could feel his mother within the room.

“I didn’t know this was your mother’s room. Morgana said it was a storeroom.”

“I’m sorry. I did
na know you had na been in here or I would have shown you myself.”

Katherine sighed. “Your mother must have been a remarkable woman.”

“Yes, she was. I wish you could have met her.”

“I can feel her. She left her calmness and her love for peace in this room. Did your father share her gentleness or was he like you?”

“You do na think I am gentle? You do na think I yearn for peace?”

Katherine looked up at him. He had washed in the stream and mud and grime no longer streaked his skin, but the place on his face where Malcolm had struck him was already discolored and swollen. “I think you have not lived in peace for such a long time you don’t realize it’s within your grasp.”

Duncan stepped into the room and shut the door behind him. The soft thud as it closed echoed in the chamber and Katherine’s heart pounded in her chest. She was not afraid of him, she was afraid for him. She was afraid for herself.

“Can you feel my father in this room too?”

Katherine thought, then shook her head. “I don’t know. I think only your mother.”

“That’s because the two were so united they seemed as one. They thought as one, and talked as one, and acted as one. Their marriage was perfect.”

“As ours will never be?”

“That is to be seen. There was a trust between them we do
na have. A oneness.”

Duncan walked to the tapestry on the wall between the two windows and brushed his fingers over the fabric. “My father was one of the most revered, respected lairds in all of Scotland. His opinion was sought by all, including our own king.”

“Is that what drives you so, husband? Are you afraid that your fellow Scots don’t respect you as they did your father?”

Duncan shook his head and walked to another tapestry. “Nay, wife. Respect is earned, not given lightly. In time I will earn the respect I am due, just as my father did.”

“Then what, Duncan? What drives you to want a crown you know doesn’t belong to you?”

Duncan turned around and locked gazes with her. The look in his eyes was hard, uncompromising. “Never in my father’s lifetime did he fail at anything. Not in his quest for honesty and truth, nor in the vow he took before God as laird of clan Ferguson to protect all that was entrusted to him. The Bishop’s Crown was given to him for safekeeping and he lost it. It was the only vow he made he could
na keep.”

Katherine closed her eyes and breathed a deep breath. “So you will keep the vow for him?”

“It’s my duty. On my father’s honor.”

“If your father’s honor were not at stake, Duncan, could you let me give the crown back to England?”

“Nay, lass. My own vow is as sacred as my father’s. As laird of clan Ferguson, I also promised to protect all that was entrusted to me. What was entrusted to my father is the same as if it had been entrusted to me.”

Katherine clenched her hands together. “Did you marry me only because you thought I had possession of the crown, and through me you could redeem your father’s honor?”

“I owed you a debt, Kate. You gave me back the medallion. It was my duty to protect you from Bolton.” Duncan lifted the medal from his chest and wrapped his fingers around it.

Katherine felt as if his admission were a knife plunged into her heart. She’d known the reasons he’d married her
from the start, but had hoped that time and what they’d shared would have changed the facts. They hadn’t. “Is there any hope for us, Duncan?”

“Our future lies in your hands, wife.”

“I must be the one who yields?”

“You must give me the crown.”

“Or you will take it from me?”

“Nay, wife. I will
na have to take it. If you care for me at all, you will give it to me.”

“And if I do not?”

“Then we have na marriage. You will have taken from me all that is important.”

“The English will always fight to get back their crown and no Scot will be safe until they do.”

“No Scot is safe now, nor have they been since the beginning of time.”

“But do you not want to see this change? Do you not want to be the Scot responsible for the beginning of peace?”

“I do na want to be the Scot responsible for my father’s tarnished name. I do na want my father to have died for naught. I do na want to give back the crown, knowing my mother and sisters gave their lives to protect it.”