Dangerous Pride (19 page)

Catriona slowed her pace, drawing a questioning look from Lachlan.  Still, she couldn’t help herself, forgetting for a moment the tongue-lashing Iain had given her earlier that night.  Everything was moving too fast.  She had to slow things down; to make them understand how she felt.

The couple had passed many rows of benches, but had not yet reached the high table, where they would dine above the others on a raised platform at the back of the hall.  “I…I fear I must beg a favor of you, my lord,” Catriona stammered.  “Might we have a word before we sit down to eat?”

Lachlan continued to study her, searching for a clue as to what she was about.  Seeing only fear and panic, he sighed his frustration before curtly nodding his assent.  He’d quickly decided it would be far wiser to accommodate her request than to run the risk of an unpleasant scene before his kinsmen.

With less than gentle pressure on her arm, he turned her around so they could face those assembled in the hall, waiting and watching with expectant expressions.  Lachlan held up his hand, and the hushed conversation quickly halted.  Catriona drew a deep breathe, at once terrified by what Lachlan might do.  Had she pushed him too far this time?  Surely he wouldn’t embarrass her in front of the entire clan.  Or would he?

“It is a special night for us, for we are joined by guests from the Ogilvies of Boyne,” Lachlan began, his strong, deep voice carrying across the hall.  The atmosphere was quiet and tense as the clan gave the young laird their undivided attention.  “Mistress Catriona Ogilvy and her brother Iain,” he continued, gesturing to where Iain stood at the back of the hall, “will be joining us for the evening meal.  Please extend them every courtesy. To yer dinners, then,” he concluded abruptly, and grabbing Catriona’s arm with a firm grip, steered her towards the withdrawing room.  Lachlan could see the questioning looks that passed between many, but he knew his abrupt explanation would have to do for for the moment.

Though the expression on Lachlan’s face was good-natured, Catriona could tell by the pressure on her arm that she had displeased him greatly.  Half walking, half running to keep up with him, they reached the withdrawing room in seconds.  With the sounds of laughter and teasing in their wake, Lachlan threw back the door, escorted her within, and then banged the heavy door shut.

Catriona slowly made her way across the rich Turkish carpets, pausing before the huge oak desk to catch her breath, and collect her thoughts.  The room was richly furnished, with heavy, elaborate tapestries covering the walls.  What space remained was lined with shelf upon shelf of books, and Catriona had to still the urge to peruse the titles.  Leaning forward, palms splayed on the desk top, she concentrated on slowing her racing heartbeat before she turned to face her adversary.

Dressed immaculately in a formal plaid and saffron shirt, Lachlan’s proximity sent a shiver down her spine.  He was an arresting site, his dark locks loose about his shoulders, the linen shirt straining at the seams, bearing testament to his muscular build.  She could see wisps of curly black hair teasing over the open collar of his shirt, and she had to force herself to look away as she felt the heat of a fiery blush spreading across her face.

Years spent training for battle had hardened both his body and his spirit, she thought.  His broad shoulders were obvious enough, as were the muscled, tanned legs that were displayed by his kilt.  Though Catriona was considered tall for a woman, he practically towered over her.  It was far better to keep her distance from him, so that he couldn’t use his height and size to intimidate her.

Given his body language, and his actions, there was no doubt he was angry.  Restlessly, he tapped his booted foot on the carpeted floor, impatiently waiting for her to speak.

She knew she couldn’t afford to antagonize him further.

“Thank you for giving us a chance to speak in private,” Catriona said carefully, concentrating on gauging his reaction.  He merely met her gaze indifferently, making no effort to acknowledge her words.

This was not going the way she had planned.  Steeling herself, Catriona pressed on.  “I ken we started out badly, and for that, I do apologize.”  The sight of Lachlan’s raised eyebrows startled her for a moment, but she forced herself to continue.  “I need to ask for yer patience in…implementing…this alliance between our clans.  I must remind you I have been away from the area for several years now, and, well, I am now more accustomed to life in an abbey than life in a castle.” Catriona stumbled on, ignoring his disinterested reaction to her heartfelt speech.  “I will need some time to adjust to living here at Tolquhon…and…I…I also think you and I would do well with some time to adjust to one another.”

Lachlan continued to meet her gaze steadily, but he stubbornly refused to give any response.  She could feel her small reserve of courage melting as she struggled to babble her way through the awkward silence.  “I ken you and Iain believe this…alliance…will be the best thing for our clans, but I have no’ been given much consideration in the matter,” she blurted out, her words becoming more clipped as she felt her confidence unraveling.  “The favor I would ask of you, sir, is that you give me a few months to adjust to life here afore we make any permanent decisions about the…situation.”

Though Lachlan’s expression was serious, his eyes twinkled with amusement.  Catriona was not the first lass to suffer cold feet at the thought of marriage.  It was time he put his finely honed skills for female persuasion to the test.  “It’s a situation, then is it, Miss Ogilvy?” he quipped, his index finger poised at his lips as if he were deep in thought.  “What else did you call it?  Oh yes – an alliance.  I had no idea you had such a burgeoning interest in business negotiations, Catriona.”

Lachlan calmly walked a few paces closer to the lass, but halted when he saw her back up against the desk, threatened by his nearness.  This really was too easy, he decided as he slowed his progress.  “You make it sound very businesslike, lass, when in fact what we are really discussing here is a marriage.  Between you.  And me.  Does that fact cause you undue discomfort?”  Though Lachlan’s words were gentle, Catriona felt herself trembling at his intense gaze.  It was concentrated, thorough, and it made her feel incredibly vulnerable.

Catriona drew in a deep breath, determined to hold her ground even if it was the last thing she ever did.  “Laird Forbes,” she began, but was interrupted by his raised brows. “Lachlan,” she quickly revised, “I may be young, but I assure you I fully understand what is expected of me in this relationship. Need I remind you that the sum of my education about such matters consists of what I learned from you?”

A red flush rose in Lachlan’s cheeks as he remembered the kiss they had once shared.  Aye, he remembered well – and inexplicably, his heart soared to hear that he had been the only man to offer her such a lesson.

“I am only asking for a little time, my lord, for us to be sure this is the right decision.  Surely, that is no’ too much to ask?”

Lachlan mulled over her request as he slowly walked toward her.  He had to give the lass credit – she had the intelligence and the courage to stand up for herself.  Still, she needed to realize the situation was far beyond either of them now.  Their happiness – their ability to suit each other – mattered naught when one considered the well-being of both clans.

“It really is no’ that simple,” he said as gently as he could.  “If I could give you time, I would, but it is no’ within my power.”  Her bright eyes were so stricken he almost lost his resolve, but he knew he had to do what was best for them all.  The longer they delayed the marriage, the more she would fear it, and the greater the chance she would refuse.

He decided to try another approach.  “Have you given no thought to yer reputation, Catriona?  The fact yer alone in this room with me will be enough to set tongues in the keep wagging for days.  What do you think yer da will do when he hears you are here with me?”  When Catriona started to protest, he gently settled his finger across her lips, enforcing her silence.  “And what of the fact you will be living at Tolquhon, with no proper chaperone?  Do you not think that might raise a few eyebrows?”

Catriona tried unsuccessfully to still the dizzying current that raced through her as her body reacted to his touch.  Unable to meet his gaze, she pulled away from him, making her way back to the desk.  He was right – she had not given the situation enough thought, hadn’t formulated an appropriate plan.  But by the Saints’ teeth, she had only just learned she was to be wed to the man.  She’d had no chance at all to consider her options.

“I ken you have no’ had much time to adjust to this, lass, but I’m afraid there is no help for it,” he added kindly, as if reading her thoughts.  “Our clans have been at odds in recent years.  It is no’ just reiving.  Men have been lost, good men with families who depended on them.  I may no’ have been laird here for long, but I ken my duty.  If I am to protect my people, and if yer father is to protect his, we must have an alliance.”

He could see the doubt in her eyes, as her intelligence warred with her fear and sense of entrapment, but he knew he needed to press his advantage while he had the chance.  “There is no better way to protect them than through a marriage alliance.  And while I am verra fond of yer brother, I do no’ fancy marrying him.”  Despite herself, Catriona smiled at his attempt at humor.  “So, it’s up to you and me to set things right.  I promise you, I will go as slow as I can with this, but we canna wait long.  Too much damage can happen too quickly here, lass.”

As much as she tried to deny it, she knew in her heart he was right.  Though he had kindly avoided the subject, she knew her reputation was already in tatters; that most would consider her wanton, or worse, after her time in Edinburgh and the scandal at Boyne.  She couldn’t hurt her family further by remaining at Tolquhon without the benefit of marriage.

Turning slowly, she raised her eyes to meet his steady, compassionate gaze.  “You are right, my lord.  Please forgive me for being so stubborn and childish about this.  It’s just that it has all been rather…sudden for me.”  Lachlan reached out, brushing the tears that spilled down her cheeks with his thumb.  He could hear her sharp intake of breath at his gentle caress, but she quickly gathered her resolve.

“Iain said it was yer intent to announce the betrothal at dinner tonight, and I will no’ object,” she said finally, her voice so low he had to strain to hear her.  Stepping back, Catriona straightened her skirts, wiped away the last of her tears, and made her way to the door.  Turning, she flashed Lachlan a bright smile, determined to prove she was strong enough to accept the  reality before her.  “Thank you for yer patience,” she added shyly as she reached the door.  “It means a great deal to me.”

Lachlan’s expression was bemused as he followed her into the hallway.  They walked slowly in companionable silence back to the table, her hand resting gently on his arm.  Her smile was shy but warm as she met the eyes of the clansmen dining in the hall, he noted approvingly.  Lachlan felt almost smug as they made their way to the table.  This was going so much better than he had expected.

Once they had taken their seats, Lachlan motioned for the servants to begin serving their meal.  He was still marveling at his good fortune when Catriona leaned over toward him. “I feel so much better knowing you will no’ rush the…um…details of the alliance,” she said, still smiling shyly at the clansman who watched them with interest.  “Once we have the marriage behind us, we can go on with our own lives, with no one the wiser.  It will matter naught to them that it is a marriage in name only.  Only you and I will ken the truth, and you can trust me to be discrete.”  With a self-satisfied nod, Catriona turned her attention to the platter of steaming salmon the serving lass had placed before her, surprised at her renewed appetite.

For once, Lachlan was at a lose for words.  He didn’t know whether to laugh, or scream in frustration.  He could only nod curtly at Iain’s questioning expression, since for the moment he was unable to speak of the matter further.

He didn’t know how, but he’d been out maneuvered by a slip of a lass.  His expression was murderous as he attacked the salmon on his own plate.  It pained him to admit to himself the lass had clearly won this round.

But she wouldn’t win the next, he vowed.  No matter what he had to do to ensure a victory, it would be his.

She would be his.

The morning of the wedding dawned bright and clear.  Catriona awoke to brilliant, warming sunlight streaming in the small window in her room, and the sounds of birds singing in the beech that stood tall in the garden below.  The hills surrounding the keep were dotted with colorful wildflowers, and the sun was a welcome reprieve from the heavy rains of late.

Lachlan had seen that Catriona was given a room on the third floor of Tolquhon castle, where she supposed other guests were usually housed.  Her quarters were far removed from his, no doubt to avoid any hint of scandal or impropriety. After the wedding, she had been informed her things would be moved to the bedchamber adjoining his.  That would suit well enough, she’d decided, as long as there was a good, thick door between them.

Her first week at Tolquhon Castle had passed in a flurry of activity.  Much to her surprise, Lachlan’s kinsmen had responded to the news of the forthcoming nuptials with great enthusiasm.

Iain had stayed on for a few days after their arrived to help Catriona get settled, and to finalize the details of the betrothal agreement.  A local seamstress had been engaged by the dowager in short order, tasked with the responsibility of creating a wardrobe for the new lady.  Most of the simple house dresses she’d worn at the abbey were too worn and plain to suit the older woman’s tastes.

As soon as the necessary details were seen to, and the banns were read announcing the forthcoming union, Iain had made his way back to Boyne to face their father with the news he was not only regaining a daughter, but a son-by-marriage as well.

After much debate, the siblings had agreed Iain would not bring the Earl with him when he returned for the wedding, a decision that relieved Catriona greatly.  Not only did she not yet feel ready to face her father, she also did not want to endure another reminder of how he mourned his favorite daughter.  The wedding would be difficult enough without having to accommodate Seafield’s anger, questions and inevitable resentment.