Dangerous Pride (43 page)

Catriona had little time to gain her composure, but she did her best to dry her eyes and clear the trail of tears from her face as they entered the inner bailey.  All around her the keep thrummed with activity and excitement, and for a moment she felt a wave of homesickness almost overtake her sense of fear and dread.

It had been many years since she had left Boyne, but things were very much as she remembered them.  Catriona sat stiffly in the saddle as Lachlan made their way through the busy crowds.  It was difficult for her to smile pleasantly at the curious faces that stared up at her with an endearing eagerness, but she did not want to have the people of her own clan see her shame and fear.

Indeed, it would have been difficult enough to face the people of Clan Ogilvy had she returned dressed in a fine gown, on her husband’s arm.  Instead, she was dressed as a serving lad, riding astride a huge destrier with a bloodstained and battle weary husband she imagined was glowering at her back.  It was difficult for her to imagine a more humiliating situation, but she dared not show her embarrassment.

When they finally reached the courtyard, Lachlan wasted no time in sliding from Laeg’s back.  Catriona saw the brief flicker of pain that crossed his taut features before he threw the reins to a nearby stable lad who was anxious to be of assistance to the powerful, mysterious laird.  Without a word to his wife, he reached up, encircling her waist with his strong hands and setting her to her feet with a minimum of physical contact.  Though his face gave no indication of his angry state of mind, Catriona could see that he had lost enough blood to make him look quite pale and unsteady.

She took a step closer to her husband, her expression pleading as she reached out to touch his arm.  “Please, Lachlan, yer wounds need attention before they cause any further damage.  Will you come with me so that I might tend to you?”

Staring down at her, Lachlan’s gaze was filled with contempt.  “You need no’ worry about me,
wife
,” he said in a quiet voice, so that none might overhear.  “I am sure they will send a healer to me soon enough.  There is no need for you to make a pretense of caring for my well-being.  You made it clear enough today that you care for no one but yerself.”  With a curt nod to Catriona, he turned on his heel, making his way up the steps to the castle’s entrance.

Left by herself in the inner bailey, Catriona felt desperately alone and confused.  Though many questioning eyes settled upon her, no one stepped forward to offer her any assistance or welcome.  She felt new tears stinging at the back of her eyes when finally the crowd in front of her parted and a familiar face came into her line of vision.  “Cook!” she cried with genuine relief, running forward to meet the woman with outstretched arms.  Soon she was encircled in a warm, loving embrace, and for a moment her problems faded into the background.

“I did no’ ken if ye would be comin’ with yer husband, but I prayed ye would,” Cook said, taking a half step back to get a better look at the young woman.  “Of course, I did no’ expect tae see ye dressed like a lad who just mucked out the stables, but ye are a sight for sore eyes.”

Despite her warm welcome, Cook was taken aback by the lass’ appearance.  Her face was streaked with tears, and her long curly hair fell down her back in a tangled, filthy mess.  Clearly, the young lady’s return to Boyne had not been an easy one.  “Enough of this sad excuse for a reunion then,” she said, raising her voice so that her words carried to those gathered around.  “It warms my heart tae see ye again.”

“You would no’ believe how happy I am to see you,” Catriona replied softly, pulling the woman closer for another hug.  The two women clung to each other for several long moments, each savoring the bittersweet reunion.

“Let’s get ye inside, lass,” Cook said finally.  “While we soak away that dirt, ye can tell me what brings ye here.”  Cook quietly charged of the lads with finding the small bundle of clothes Catriona had brought with her.  “We have no’ had much time tae prepare for yer arrival,” Cook said kindly as she guided Catriona into the castle.  “Yer husband has been given quarters in the east wing.  Will ye be comfortable there, or would ye like me to find ye another chamber?”

Sniffing back her tears, Catriona squared her shoulders as she met Cook’s concerned gaze.  “If there is a chamber that adjourns the laird’s, that will do nicely.  Otherwise, I would be quite content to stay in my old chambers.”

“I’m afraid yer mother wasted little time clearing yer old room of any trace that ye’d ever lived there,” Cook said, her tone conspiratorial as she smiled sheepishly.  “Yer mother was ne’er sentimental, God rest her soul.  It matters no’, for there is a chamber that adjoins yer laird’s.  I’ll see it readied while ye have yer bath.”

Together the two women made their way up the staircase that led to the quarters Catriona would use during her visit.  Though the young woman’s distress was plain enough to Cook’s loving eyes, no one else seemed aware of her pale, wan features, or the stooped, beaten posture she had assumed, as if she carried the weight of the world on her thin shoulders.  Wrapping a strong arm around Catriona’s tense frame, the older woman pulled her closer, offering a supportive squeeze before whispering in her ear.  “It must be quite the tale ye have tae tell, lass, though I suspect it can keep for a wee bit.  Whatever trouble brews between ye and yer husband will right itself soon enough.”

Catriona’s eyes scanned her friend’s cheery expression, searching for reassurance.  “Men like Lachlan are quick to simmer, ‘tis true enough, but he’ll cool down every bit as quickly,” she predicted as she took her leave, promising to return after Catriona had finished her bath.

For a moment, buoyed by her friend’s optimism, Catriona felt she might survive, after all.

###

For the first time, Lachlan was grateful that his father by marriage was notoriously ill-mannered.  The Earl had not seen fit to greet his visitors, despite the fact he had been given ample notice of their arrival.  As much as he was relieved at the delay in having to deal with Catriona’s father, Lachlan had to admit to a pang of sadness.  Seafield had yet again shown his disapproval of his daughter, and in front of her own people, no less.

Lachlan had demanded to be shown to his chambers as soon as he had slid from Laeg’s back, and within a few minutes a healer had been sent to his room to tend to his wounds.  She’d lacked Catriona’s gentle, calm touch, and more than once Lachlan had cursed the pride that kept him from calling for his wife’s assistance.

He was still too angry with the lass to allow her anywhere near him, so little did he trust his own temper.  It seemed that whenever they were beginning to forge a bond between them, to bridge the distance and the lack of trust that separated them, she managed to do something so foolish, so reckless that he found himself enraged beyond reason.  In his calmer moments, he reasoned that Catriona had spent most of her life alone, with no one to care for her, to protect and cherish her, and that it was only natural that she recoil from any attempts to rein in her spirited nature.  But that recognition did little to squelch the anger he felt at her blatant disregard for his instructions.  At a time when most men treated their wives as possessions, he had given her far more latitude than she deserved.  And how had she repaid his lenience?  By disobeying him and disregarding his word at every turn.  The fact that she put herself – and the people of his clan – in danger at every turn seemed to do little to dissuade her from keeping to her headstrong ways.

It was almost as if she were unable to accept his role as leader of his own people – to accept that when she became his wife, she had agreed to obey his word.  With a sigh, Lachlan ran a hand through the unruly, sweat-dampened hair that fell into his eyes.  Did his wife have so little faith in his abilities, his skills and his strength that she would never accept his decisions?  Did she not trust him to protect her and the clan with every ounce of strength in his body?  Pushing himself to his feet, Lachlan strode across the room, leaning heavily on the window ledge as he stared out at the keep below him.  It would take time, and probably more patience than he possessed, but he would bend Catriona to his will.  He had no other option – not if he wanted to protect his clan, and keep their respect.

And not if he wanted to ensure that the Forbes’ claim on Tolquhon and its lands didn’t die with him, in the absence of an heir.

A heavy knock at the door pulled Lachlan’s mind away from thoughts of his errant wife.  Rory strode cautiously into the room, quickly scanning the chamber to ensure they were alone.  “The lass?” he asked, folding his arms across his chest as he leaned his weight against the cold stone wall.

“Yer guess is as good as mine,” Lachlan replied, dismissing his friend’s question with an absent wave of his hand.  “If she’s smart, she’ll not seek me out for some goodly time.  I am so furious with her at this moment that I would like naught better than to throw her over my lap and give her a thorough spanking.”

“I’d have tae say the same thought crossed most everyone’s mind after we saw yer wife in those breeches.  They leave little tae the imagination, ye ken?”  The dangerous glint in his laird’s eyes warned Rory that he was on shaky ground.  Quickly, his tone turned serious.  “I met a page on my way up tae yer chambers.  He sent word from Seafield that he will receive ye in the great hall tonight.  But no’ before then.”

Lachlan nodded curtly, pacing across the room to take the chair opposite his friend.  “I see their manners have no’ improved, which is no great surprise.  I have seen wolves treat their young with greater kindness and respect than Seafield does.  Any other news?”

“The last of the men rode into Boyne while ye were being tended tae by the healer.  They managed tae capture five of the men who attacked us, and they are enjoying Seafield’s hospitality in his prison pit as we speak.”

“I only wish we had the bastards in the prison at Tolquhon, where we could roast them to within an inch of their lives.  Have you had a chance to speak with any of them?”

“Only briefly,” Rory replied.  “Most of them were reluctant tae talk at first, though I am sure their tongues will loosen with a little time and encouragement.  One of those we captured was a young lad, and he did confirm they were ridin’ for Leslie.”

A heaviness settled over Lachlan, though in truth Rory’s words came as no real surprise.  “See what you can get out of the other men.  Go easy on the lad, though.  I plan to speak with the Earl tonight, and may need to use him to convince the old fool that his heir apparent is responsible for all these troubles.”

“Aye,” Rory replied.  “Will there be aught else?”

“No’ at the moment.  But make sure yer close at hand during the evening meal.  I may need yer help to convince Seafield of the task before us.  For now, I would like naught better than to rid myself of the stench of blood and sweat, and have a few hours sleep before I confront the Earl.”

“Enjoy yer rest while ye can,” Rory said as he turned and made to leave the room.  At the door, he paused and turned to face his laird, his expression softening.  “Go easy on the lass, Lachlan.  Ye need tae give her time tae realize her place in yer life.  She did no’ come here tae deliberately disobey ye.  She just did no’ ken what else tae do.  Catriona cares for ye – it’s obvious enough, if ye’ll only look.”

Rory left the room before Lachlan had a chance to reply.  It was just as well, he supposed.  He would save that particular argument for a time when he was well-rested and able to defend his actions.  Forgoing his much-needed bath in favor of sleep, Lachlan slipped off his boots and blood-soaked shirt and stretched his weary body out on the large, comfortable bed that dominated the room.  Slowly, he felt his muscles relaxing as the feather-filled mattress settled around him like a warm nest.  What was it about Catriona that led everyone he knew – even a battle-hardened warrior like Rory – to leap to her defense?  It was almost as if she had cast a spell around all of them, he decided, as he gave into the welcoming respite of sleep.

No matter how hard she tried, Catriona could not shake the feeling of dread that lay heavy in her heart.  As she sat before the fire in her room, drying her freshly washed hair with linen toweling, she knew she would need to gather all her wits and strength if she was to survive the night before her.  Facing her father would undoubtedly be one of the most difficult things she had ever done.  And she would do it alone – without the comfort and support of her husband at her side.

Not that she deserved his support, she decided with some bitterness.  Since her presence had caused their party no real danger, she knew that Lachlan’s anger stemmed more from the fact that she had deliberately disobeyed him.  Now, with the benefit of hindsight, she had to admit to herself – and ultimately to him – that her decision to accompany them had been more one of stubbornness than logic.  That realization did little to calm her fluttering stomach.

As Catriona dried her hair with renewed vigor, born of frustration, Cook stole quietly into the room.  Without a word, she took the toweling from Catriona’s hands and took up the task herself.  Catriona closed her eyes, relaxing at the feel of her friend’s warm, strong hands on her scalp.  She could almost imagine she had never even left Boyne; that things were as they had been years before and the intervening events had never happened.  She was surprised to realize that this filled her more with emptiness than relief.  “Does it feel good tae be home again?” Cook asked gently. “It has been many years since ye have been in this keep.  I  ne’er thought to see ye again, truth be told.”

Until then, Catriona hadn’t realized how much Tolquhon meant to her – nor that it was the only home she could imagine having for the rest of her life.  Forcing herself out of her thoughts, Catriona gently squeezed the older woman’s arm in a gesture of reassurance.  “It is wonderful to see you again.  I have missed you sorely.  But so much has changed…it seems verra strange to be back here, and more than a little frightening,” she replied honestly.