Dangerous Pride (50 page)

“You’ll be fine, lass,” Lachlan said, his voice catching as he took in her obvious pain.  For a moment he considered seeking Bertie out to tell her the rest.  The last thing he wanted was to be the person to give her the news about the child.  Fear for her welfare warred with his confusion and hurt at being excluded from the news of their babe.  He found it impossible to meet her gaze as he spoke.  “The healer said that if you awoke, and still had yer wits about you, there was no reason you should no’ recover.”

“You could debate whether or no’ I have my wits, but I do no’ feel like I’m on death’s door,” she replied, trying to lighten the somber mood.  For several long moments her gaze remained fixed on the small window at the opposite side of the bedchamber.  “What more is there that yer no’ telling me, Lachlan?”

Pushing his hand through his hair, Lachlan knew he could delay no longer.  He shifted his weight in the bed so that he faced her, and was almost undone by the silent stream of tears that poured down her cheeks.  Gently he wiped away the evidence of her grief with the back of his fingers.  “Ye lost the babe, Catriona,” he said finally.  The look of anguish that flashed in her eyes wounded him deeply.  With a quiet moan, she turned on her side, her back to him as her body was racked with sobs.  Lachlan gently stroked her back, comforting her as best he could.

Catriona fought through the clouds that slowed her thoughts, struggling to make sense of what Lachlan had said.  She had kept her hope for a bairn close to her heart…it was something she hadn’t been ready to share with anyone.  And now her dream had been extinguished before it ever had a chance to flourish.

It was some time before Catriona gained control of her emotions. Eventually the crying stopped, and Lachlan heard her draw in a deep, unsteady breath.  Her back was still turned to him as she struggled to regain her composure.  “I was no’ sure, you ken, and I did no’ want to say aught until I was.  I thought mayhap I was imagining things…I could no’ ask yer mother or Mairi, because I was afraid they would let word slip before I could tell you myself.”

Lachlan felt his devastation being tempered with a sense of relief that she hadn’t mislead him as she continued, her voice breaking with her pain.  “I wanted a bairn so badly, but I was afraid that I might be wrong.  I meant to see Bertie this week, just to make sure, but then I got so busy with the school…If only I had taken more care, mayhap none of this would have happened.”

The pain and guilt he heard in her voice was almost his undoing.  Lachlan reached down to his wife, drawing her into his warm, comforting embrace.  “It is no’ yer fault, lass,” he whispered as he rocked her in his arms.  “There will be other bairns.  Right now all you have to do is rest and regain yer strength.”

And I will concentrate on killing the bastard who did this to you,
he thought.  If it was the last thing he ever did, Lachlan promised himself that he would see the person responsible pay for these crimes.

With their very lives, preferably.

More often than not, the days were dark and dreary as winter prepared to work unleash its fury through northern Scotland.  The weather suited the mood of the inhabitants of Castle Tolquhon, where a heavy, dark cloud had settled over the Forbes clan.  Though they had not yet had the first killing frost, the evenings were cold and damp, casting a further pall over the clan as they struggled to overcome the losses they had suffered.

Catriona’s recovery had been painstakingly slow.  It had taken the better part of a fortnight before she left her bed for even short walks around the garden.  Lachlan had rarely strayed far from her side, having gone so far as to set up a desk in their bedchamber so he could work while she rested.

When Lachlan did leave Tolquhon, it was never for very long, and it was always with the purpose of finding whoever might have threatened Catriona’s life.  So far, the leads his men had found had led to naught.  The frustration Lachlan felt made him even more determined to find whoever was responsible.  Though he considered Calum Leslie most likely to be responsible for Catriona’s poisoning, he couldn’t help but worry that one of his own clan had helped Leslie in putting his plans into motion.

Security around the castle remained strict.  Though Lachlan had relented to Catriona’s requests to dismiss the guards at the door to their chamber, every new person who ventured into the keep was questioned thoroughly before they were allowed entrance.

Catriona’s physical convalescence was completed considerably more quickly than her emotional recovery.  Despite Lachlan’s best efforts to raise her spirits, she preferred to grieve in solitude and silence, spending most of her time alone in their private chambers.  No matter how hard Lachlan tried to dissuade her of the notion that she was responsible for the loss of their child, she stubbornly continued to blame herself.

“Do you think she is better today, Annella?” the dowager asked quietly one afternoon, her attention focused on the shirt she held in her lap.  It was a particularly cold afternoon, and the dowager had ordered the lads to build a blazing fire in the lady’s solar before she and Annella sat down to their tasks.  Both women were perched on a settee near the west window, taking advantage of the meager light that streamed in through the windows.  “I believe yesterday she went to visit Mairi in the kitchen for a spell.  Surely that is for the good.”

“There is no’ much difference, though she has left the chamber a time or two in recent days.  My lady needs time, is all, before she is back to rights.”

The dowager held the shirt up to the light, inspecting the seam she had repaired, and testing its strength.  “At least some good has come of it all, even though it has been a sore trial for everyone.  My son is leaving no doubt that he is quite taken with the lass.  Even this morning I heard him talking to Quinton about setting Catriona’s school to rights.  I venture it will do her good to be back amongst the living.”

“Aye, that it will,” Annella agreed as she set her mending aside.  “But if ye do no’ mind my saying so, my lady, these wounds will take longer tae heal than most.  Ye do no’ ken the way she was raised.  The lass has ne’er kent praise, love, or acceptance.  She will see the loss of the babe as just another failure.”

The dowager fixed her dark brown eyes on Annella, her features alight with pride – and hope.  “But she did no’ have my son before, did she?” the dowager asked happily.  “And heed my words, lass – that alone will make all the difference.”

###

“When are you going to let me see?” Catriona demanded, her hands reaching out to steady herself against the cold stone wall of the hallway.  Despite Lachlan’s firm hand at her waist, she could not bring herself to let go of the wall as she slowly picked her way down the staircase.  The scarf that was tied around her eyes had been a silly idea, but Catriona didn’t want to spoil Lachlan’s surprise by complaining about it.

“You’ll be there soon enough, lass – just trust me to get you there safely,” Lachlan replied as he guided her down the final steps.  “It’s only a wee bit further.”

Catriona could smell the enticing fragrance of fresh baking, so she knew they weren’t far from the kitchens.  Still, she dutifully followed her husband, biting down the questions she was impatient to have answered.  She could only hope none of the staff were in the hallway to see their progress, for Catriona knew that if witnessed, their antics would be the subject of conversation for days to come.

“Here we are, love.  You can stop now and wait a spell while I get everything ready.”  When Catriona raised her hand to remove the scarf, Lachlan playfully batted her hand down, warning her to behave.

As she waited, Catriona could hear the sound of a door opening, and then the noise of heavy objects being dragged about the stone floor.  Her curiosity was well engaged when she again felt her husband’s hands around her waist, drawing her closer.  “Just a few more steps,” he guided.  After they had gone several paces he turned her around, and then carefully untied the scarf that had blindfolded her.

It took Catriona’s eyes a moment to adjust to the light, and then to register what stood before her.  A delighted cry flew from her lips as she gazed around the chamber.  Lachlan had turned one of the storage rooms into a tiny school house.  The old furniture, paintings and other items previously stored in the room had been cleared away, and in their place several tables and chairs had been arranged.  A large oak desk sat at the front of the room, with paper, quills and ink at the ready.  The room was spotless, smelling of beeswax and soap, and all the furniture gleamed evidence of a thorough cleaning and polishing.  Clearly, a lot of work – and a lot of love – had gone into preparing this room to serve as her schoolhouse.

“What do you think, lass?” Lachlan asked finally.

“I canna believe it,” she whispered under her breath as she peered round the room.  Lachlan had lit several candles that were perched in the wall sconces, but there was also a great deal of natural light coming through the large window in the corner.  It would be perfect for the school she had been hoping to create since she’d first arrived at Tolquhon.  “How did you ever manage this?” she asked, her expression awed and gratified.

Lachlan laughed under his breath, drawing her close to his side.  “It was no’ that much work, lass.  Mrs. Bannerman helped me find another room for the items we had stored here, and she set about making sure that it was cleaned properly.  It was a bit of a challenge finding the furniture I kent you would need, but it all came together quick enough.”

“It is more than I’d ever dreamed!” Catriona cried, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him enthusiastically.  Quickly she stood back again, anxious to take in the details of the room.  It was large enough to house up to ten students, she decided, which would be more than enough space for the foreseeable future.

Lachlan smiled at her enthusiasm, delighted to see his wife regaining her normal optimism.  “You have no’ seen the best part of all,” he said, reaching out to grab her hand as he led her to the side of the room.  In addition to the main entrance from the hallway, there was a connecting door to the adjoining room.  Lachlan opened the door, then stepped back so that Catriona could see through.  “Your school room adjoins my study.  This way, I can keep an eye on you, and make sure that all yer lessons are appropriate for young minds.  Plus, in the cold months the room will be kept warm and comfortable by the fireplace on the opposite side of this wall.”

Catriona’s laughter was genuine, and Lachlan felt himself slowly shedding the gloom and sadness that had permeated their lives for too long.  “Whatever makes you think that I would do anything improper with these young minds, my lord?” she asked playfully, pulling him close.

“Experience, lass,” he mumbled as his lips claimed hers.  “But do no’ think I’m complaining.”

###

Lachlan reread the note he held in his hands for the third time, a sense of frustration threatening to send his temper boiling.  A rider had just brought word from Queen Anne, calling upon Lachlan and several other Scottish chiefs for their aid.  Damn it, he thought as he crumpled the paper in his fist, tossing it into the fire that blazed in his study.  Anne was looking for men to help her quell a small group of Jacobites who had laid siege to Dunnotar, a castle outside Edinburgh.  Though there was no love lost between the clan chiefs and their Queen, Lachlan knew most would answer the call to arms out of fear for the consequences if they did not.

The summons could not have come at a worse time.  Nothing had been heard from Calum Leslie for some time, and this fact alone was enough to heighten Lachlan’s sense of danger.  Leslie was not the sort of man to turn tail and run when he was facing a difficult battle.  No, Calum and his ilk were more apt to dig in their heels and bide their time until their opponent showed a sign of weakness. Hell, Lachlan grudgingly admitted, it would be what he himself would do if he were in Leslie’s shoes.

Dunnotar was a huge castle, overlooking the ocean on three sides.  Anyone trying to break through the castle’s defenses faced many challenges, not the least of which were the huge defensive walls that surrounded the holding.  The castle had been built at the top of a peak, and used every natural defense to make it virtually impenetrable.  The Duke of Marlborough and the conscripted Highland chiefs would have their work cut out for them.

The letter Lachlan had received had been accompanied by another, this one written by his uncle.  John Forbes had chosen his words carefully, clearly mindful of the fact the letter might fall into unfriendly hands.  Even without direct confirmation, Lachlan knew his uncle would be even less enthusiastic about the siege than he was himself.  The Baron had been forced to accompany the Duke during his journey through the Highlands, and when he had paid the obligatory visit to Tolquhon he had hinted to Lachlan how tedious he had found his duty with the Duke.  He would not be pleased that the responsibilities which had kept him from his clan for almost half the year would extend to encompass a siege that could stretch on for months.

The inhabitants of Dunnotar – like residents of most castles all across Scotland – would undoubtedly be well prepared to meet the challenges of the siege.  Provisions for the winter would have been stored inside the keep, and it would be quite possible for the clan to live comfortably for several months while their would-be captors sat cold, hungry and without shelter outside the walls of their fortress.  Surely, the Scots lairds who were providing the Duke with his escort would have advised him of the futility of the siege, but it was unlikely the stubborn Englishman would be likely to listen.

“Damned Sassenach,” Lachlan cursed under his breath as he stormed from his study.  He found Rory in the yard, training some of the younger lads in swordplay, and quickly ordered his man-at-arms to see that supplies were readied for their journey to Dunnotar.  Given the urgency of the Baron’s letter, Lachlan knew they would have to leave in a day or two at the most.  Any delay would only risk raising the ire of the Duke, and by extension Queen Anne – a luxury they could ill afford.