Dangerous Pride (44 page)

“Annie has sent me only the odd letter since she’s been in yer home.  That lass of mine is no letter writer, and do no’ let her forget I said so.  I ken a little of what happened with ye and the Forbes, but I would hear the tale from yer own lips, if ye feel up tae the tellin’.”

As the older woman worked a wooden comb through her damp curls, Catriona told her the story of her life at the abbey in Edinburgh, and how she had established a life there that was purposeful and fulfilling.  Her emerald eyes darkened with her temper as she told her of how she had been torn from that life and taken to Tolquhon, though they lightened as she explained how her marriage to Lachlan had grown richer with every passing day.

“Do ye love him then, lass?” Cook asked, a sparkle of amusement shining in her eyes.  “He’s a fine looking lad, no doubt aboot that.”

Catriona felt a blush creep across her cheeks as she shook her head from side to side.  But even as she automatically registered her disagreement, she felt a surge of awareness.  Was it possible that she had grown to love her husband, in spite of all the obstacles they had faced?  Nay, she thought, what had grown between them was more likely a simple, comfortable companionship.  Besides, it was impossible to imagine that a man like Lachlan could ever love her.  She could hardly allow herself to experience feelings that would never be returned, not if she had learned anything from past experiences.

“There has been much that has passed between us, and for the most part, we have settled into a routine where we suit each other well enough.”  Cook’s eyebrows raised at Catriona’s response, but she continued before the older woman had a chance to interrupt.  “Neither of us chose this marriage, but I think we both have come to accept that we must make the most of it.  For a time, we were at each other’s throats almost every day, but since then we seem to have made our peace.  Until I disobeyed his orders and traveled with his men to Boyne, that is,” she ended guiltily, no longer able to meet Cook’s piercing gaze.

“Ye love him,” Cook said flatly, seeing through Catriona’s false protests with a practiced eye.

“Do no’ be silly,” Catriona replied, anxious to divert the conversation to a subject that was less threatening.  “My mind is on more important things at the moment – like what I might wear to meet my father this evening.  I brought only a small satchel with me, and I certainly have nothing suitable to wear to dinner.  I had planned to spend my time here in disguise, but you can see well enough how that turned out.”

Though she clearly wanted to say more, Cook gave the young woman an assessing gaze before she decided to let the matter rest.  “I’m having one of the girls bring ye a gown that should suit well enough.  It was one of Elizabeth’s,” she added gently, searching the young woman’s face for any sign of discomfort. Catriona’s only response was a curt nod, and a mumbled thank you.  “Fine, then.  Ye have some time before ye will be needed downstairs.  Would ye like tae rest, or did ye want tae explore the keep for a wee bit?”

“I think I best stay here, thank you.  Mayhap I’ll have a nap or do a little reading,” she added, gesturing to the books that sat atop a desk in the corner. “I do no’ plan to venture far from this room.”

“That would likely be wise,” Cook conceded, watching Catriona’s reactions carefully. “Ye would no’ want to draw too much attention to yerself.”  Pushing herself to her feet with a loud sigh, the older woman made for the door, pausing briefly before reaching for the handle.  “Yer husband sent word that he wants a bath in his room straight away.  I best send one of the serving lasses tae help him, since yer anxious tae steer clear of him.”

Cook had barely begun to open the door when Catriona jumped to her feet, calling the older woman back into the room.  The flush in her cheeks betrayed the nonchalant demeanor she was trying so desperately to maintain.  “I think…it won’t…that is, you needn’t send any of the lasses up, Cook.  I’ll see to my husband’s bath,” she sputtered, still unable to meet Cook’s gaze.

Struggling to contain her smile, Cook merely mumbled her agreement before leaving the room.  As she looked back at the closed door, she reflected on how different Catriona was from the scared, lonely lass who had left Boyne Castle so many years before.  Though she still had a lot to learn about how to handle her husband – and how to accept the affection they clearly felt for each other – for the first time in a long while Cook had hope that all would be well for the daughter of her heart.

###

Catriona paced the room from one end to the other, cursing her stubbornness – and recklessness – under her breath as she crossed over the cold stone floor.  With the benefit of time, she had quickly realized Cook had deliberately baited her into helping with Lachlan’s bath.  Her refusal to allow another woman to help him with such an intimate task had been automatic.  The words had flown from her mouth before she had been able to give any conscious thought to the matter.

Though in truth, she admitted to herself, her response would likely have been the same regardless of how long she had taken to consider the issue.  The thought of another woman touching Lachlan in that way was beyond considering.  As much as she didn’t relish the prospect of facing him, knowing how angry he was with her, she would be damned if she would expose the problems in her marriage to the staff at Boyne.  What problems went on between them were private – and she intended to keep it that way.

Frustrated by her weakness, Catriona gathered her determination as best she could.  Opening the door to the small dressing room that joined the two chambers, she quietly made her way to the door to Lachlan’s chamber.  When she pressed her ear firmly to the door, she could make out the sounds of the serving lads carrying water into the room.  In her mind’s eye she could imagine the heavy tub being placed before the fire as the servants filled it with steaming water.

When Lachlan’s deep voice broke the silence as he thanked the lads, her heart nearly leapt from her chest.  Startled, she jumped back from the door, banging into the heavy wooden cupboards that lined the dressing room.  “God’s teeth,” she blurted as the back of her head struck the heavy furniture.  Catriona was rubbing the knot at the back of her skull when the connecting door flew open, and her husband’s tall, intimidating body filled the doorway.  As embarrassed as she was, she couldn’t help but admire her husband as he stood there, clad only in his riding breeches.  His strong, muscular chest was bared, and she couldn’t keep her eyes from trailing down the coarse mat of hair that covered his chest, until it gradually thickened and darkened at the waist of his breeches.

“I had no’ expected to see you lurking around my chamber after yer ridiculous display today,” he said coldly as he stared straight through her.  Catriona could see the exhaustion that was etched on his face, and for a moment she almost forgot the threatening tone he was using with her.

Almost.

Pulling herself up to her full height, Catriona looked him squarely in the eye, refusing to be bullied by his menacing tone.  “I have hardly been lurking, ” she replied curtly, her emerald eyes flashing with anger.  For a moment, she thought she saw a flicker of amusement in his dark grey eyes, but it passed quickly, replaced by the reserved mask he wore so often.  Gathering what little dignity she had left, she pushed past him, sauntering into his room with what she hoped would be perceived as smug self confidence.

Lachlan quickly stepped back to allow his wife to pass into his chamber. His eyes strayed to the tight fighting breeches she must have borrowed from one of the lads in his keep.  They hugged every curve of her body, and left precious little to the imagination.  As he felt his body stirring at the sight of her delicately curved bottom, he had to force himself to stifle the jealousy he felt knowing that his men had seen her in this indecent garment.  As much as he longed to rip the breeches from her body, and toss her into his bed, he realized he couldn’t afford to become distracted by the desire he felt for his wife.  Giving in would be a sign of weakness, and he was determined to teach Catriona a lesson about obedience.  And to prove to her that he was a leader – a husband – she could be proud of.

“What is it you want then, lass?” he asked brusquely, forcing himself to keep his gaze from straying to the damnably distracting breeches.  He could hardly chastise her for her outrageous clothing on one hand, then ogle her on the other.  “As you can see, yer keeping me from my bath,” he said, gesturing to the wooden tub.

Catriona bit back the caustic retort that threatened to spring from her lips.  Obviously he had no intention of making this easy for her.  Regardless, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of showing that she was intimidated.  To capitulate would be to show weakness, and she was determined to maintain an equal footing with her husband.  “I am here for that very reason,” she replied evenly, walking across the room to grab the toweling that had been left on the edge of the bed.  Casually, she dragged a chair over beside the tub, seating herself in front of the fire.  “Cook decided that you might need assistance with yer bath, and so here I am.”

“yer here to help me…bathe?” he asked, struggling to keep the humor from his voice.  He had to admire the lass’ courage, for it must have cost her a great deal to come to his room on these terms.  Silently, she nodded, her eyes now fixed on the wall behind his left shoulder.  Her hands twisted nervously in her lap, and the too-tight shirt betrayed the rapid rise and fall of her chest as she struggled to stay calm.  It appeared the lass was losing her courage.  This would do nicely after all, he decided, silently grateful for the opportunity to humble his headstrong bride.

“Fine then, wife,” he offered, feigning disinterest.  His agreement had been the last thing she’d expected, obviously.  Out of the corner of his eye, he watched her flustered expression as he walked to the edge of the bed.  Reaching down, he pulled off his stockings, then slowly peeled the breeches down his long, muscular legs.  Though Catriona maintained a steady gaze across the room, her cheeks paled, then turned bright red, betraying her futile efforts to appear disinterested.  It was gratifying to know that he affected his wife thusly, he realized, as he slowly walked across the room, deliberately taking his time as he tested the temperature of the water with his toe.

Stubbornly, Catriona kept her eyes averted as Lachlan settled into the bath, anxious to maintain as much distance as possible in spite of the highly personal nature of her responsibilities.  It took every ounce of her courage to keep from bolting from the room to the relative safety of her own chambers.

Once he had understood the full extent of his wife’s discomfort, Lachlan decided to use the situation to full advantage.  First he bid Catriona to cool the bath with cold water that had been left in a bucket, set to the side.  Once she had completed that task, he asked her to bring soap, and then requested that she scrub his back and wash his hair.  Throughout these tasks, she struggled to appear indifferent, refusing to meet his gaze, and touching him only when absolutely necessary.  Her discomfort was obvious, though, from the blush that covered her face to the way she stammered when she answered his questions.

When Lachlan finally stepped from the tub, water running down his naked body, he heard her sigh heavily before she turned away, leaving him with little doubt that he was the victor in this particular battle.  He only wished that they could celebrate the victory in his bed, but he knew that was not to be.  Not that evening, at least.

“Will that be all then, my lord?” she asked finally, as he toweled the moisture from his body.  As much as he wanted to find comfort and solace in the welcoming warmth of her body, Lachlan stubbornly ignored his growing need.  Instead, he simply thanked her for her assistance as he wrapped the toweling around his waist.

With a relieved expression on her face, Catriona quickly turned toward the door without a backward glance, promising to see him in the great hall for dinner.  As she crossed through the dressing room, into her own chamber, Catriona almost collapsed with relief.  She’d managed to emerge from the ordeal with her pride – and her dignity – intact.  Despite the way he’d baited her, she hadn’t succumbed to her temper, and hadn’t given him the satisfaction of seeing how he had affected her.

She couldn’t say the same for him, she acknowledged with a smile, in spite of his best efforts to appear cool and detached.  A fresh brush of color flooded her cheeks as she recalled the glaring evidence of Lachlan’s desire, all too apparent when he had wrapped the towel around his body a little too slowly.

At least there was no doubt that he was as affected by her presence as she was by his.  It provided her a small measure of satisfaction, and hope – both of which she needed.

Desperately.

###

Catriona listened at Lachlan’s door for several long minutes before she resigned herself to the fact that he had left without her.  Disappointed, but unwilling to show it, she made her own way down to the great hall.  Her hopes that her husband would escort her to the evening meal had been ill-founded, and it took all her determination to force herself to leave her chambers instead of hiding in shame.

Carefully lifting the skirt of her borrowed gown, Catriona made her way slowly down the stairs.  The hallways were deserted, which told her that all the available serving staff had been called to the Hall to help with the evening meal.  As she rounded the corner to the darkened hallway, she could see Lachlan facing her as he stood outside the entrance to the great hall, deep in conversation with a dark-haired man who stood with his back to her.  As Catriona drew closer, she recognized the voice of the man, who was no stranger after all.  “Iain!” she cried delightedly as she raced toward her brother, launching herself into his strong arms the moment he turned to greet her.  “I am so happy to see you!” she whispered as he hugged her close.

With a throaty chuckle, Iain set her before him as he paused to inspect his beloved sibling.  For a brief moment, Catriona was relieved she had let the young maid fuss over her appearance, though her first response had been to decline the offers of assistance.  Her hair had been swept atop her head, with a few tendrils of auburn curls loosened to frame her delicate features.  The gown they had found for her was a rich velvet brocade in a deep shade of blue, and it suited Catriona’s pale skin beautifully.  Despite the nerves she felt at facing her family, she at least took a small measure of comfort in knowing that she looked her best.