Dangerous Pride (57 page)

Lachlan sat close to the fire, idly tossing small branches into the flames as he struggled to come to terms with all that had happened in the span of a few short hours.  He’d gone from elation to seeing his wife safe from Calum Leslie’s clutches to grief at the sight of his father-in-law’s lifeless body.  The Earl had died saving his daughter’s life, and for that fact alone Lachlan would be forever grateful.  Though this last act of courage did not undo the damage of recent years, it reminded Lachlan of the brave, strong man he had admired in his youth.

When Lachlan had seen Calum coming at Catriona again after killing her father, he had reacted from sheer instinct.  Grabbing his dirk from his belt, he had aimed for Leslie, mindful of the fact he could cost his wife her life if his aim wasn’t true.  The fates had smiled upon him, thankfully.  The sight of Leslie’s lifeless body had given him more satisfaction than he cared to admit.

At first, Catriona had been overcome with shock at her father’s death.  She’d had a vague, distant look in her eyes until she realized that her brother was missing.  Until they discovered Iain, knocked unconscious but otherwise unharmed a short distance outside the Kilchurn keep, she had been inconsolable.  All of Lachlan’s efforts to comfort her had been brushed aside, and he had been stung by her rejection.  Rory had suggested she needed time to adjust to her father’s death, but Lachlan realized that something was seriously amiss between them.

Once Iain had been found, Catriona had refused to leave his side, tending to his injuries while studiously avoiding her husband.  The fact that her brother suffered from little more than a lump on his head and a bruised ego did little to dissuade her attentions.  It had been late in the day by the time the other injured men had been tended to, and the prisoners had been gathered.  Leslie’s body had been buried unceremoniously, and Seafield’s body had been prepared for the journey to Boyne, where he would be laid to rest.  Lachlan had planned to pass the evening at Kilchurn before departing for home the next morning, but Catriona had steadfastly refused to spend any more time in the keep.  He had finally given into her demands, knowing full well that she would leave without him if he refused.

They’d traveled only a short distance before night had fallen, and they’d been forced to make camp.  Several of Lachlan’s men had tracked pheasant and rabbit, which provided a sparse meal.  Still, the men’s spirits were high, for despite the loss of the Earl, they had emerged as victors in the day’s battle.  The men of both clans celebrated the end to the struggles between them as several skins of ale were passed freely around the campsite.

Lachlan had watched his wife and her brother for some time, seeing her serve him the evening meal, and then cry in her brother’s arms when her grief became too much for her to bear. 
I should be the one to comfort her
, Lachlan thought, clenching his hands at his side in frustration.

If the men around the campfire had any idea of the strain between the laird and his wife, they gave no indication.  Mumbling an excuse, Lachlan pushed himself to his feet, making his way across the camp toward his wife.  Catriona, he noted, was seemingly unaware of his existence, instead choosing to pass the time deep in conversation with her brother.  Even from a distance, he could see that the discussion was not a pleasant one, and that Iain was saying things that were angering his wife greatly.

Deciding he had been patient long enough, Lachlan drew up beside the siblings, anxious to clear the air once and for all.  “You are feeling better, Iain?” he asked politely when they finally turned to acknowledge his presence.

“Och, Lachlan,” Iain replied, a broad smile on his face as he leaned back on his makeshift bed.  “I was hoping you would come and rescue me again.”  Lachlan’s eyes shifted from Iain to his wife, who sat with her hands folded primly in her lap, avoiding his gaze.  “I am much better, thanks to you, though I fear my sister is in need of yer time.”

“My time?” Lachlan repeated, as Catriona shot her brother a furious glare.

“Aye,” Iain replied, making no effort to conceal his amusement.  “I think you would do well to have a private chat with yer wife.”

“What say you, wife?” Lachlan asked, settling down on his haunches in front of Catriona.  When she still refused to meet his gaze, he reached out to gently raise her chin so she could no longer ignore him.  “It would seem we need to speak away from these curious ears.”  Though he could tell she was trying to be indifferent to him, the tears welling in her eyes betrayed her pain.  He refused to look away until at last she nodded.

Gently pulling his wife to her feet, Lachlan turned to face Iain.  “You ken I am sorry for the loss of yer father, Iain.  When I was younger, he taught me much about strength and courage.  Today, I saw that man again.  I shall miss him, too.”

“Thank you, Lachlan,” Iain replied, his voice steady but colored with emotion.  “I shall call upon those same lessons when I assume his responsibilities.”

“Ye ken I have sent word ahead to Boyne, so they can see to his burial.”

“Aye, and I thank you for that, brother.”

Lachlan reached out to clasp Iain’s shoulder before turning to Catriona. She seemed determined to ignore his presence, studying her shoes to avoid meeting his gaze.  “Come now, lass.  I think we have things that we best seek privacy to discuss.”  With a helpless, frustrated look at her brother, Catriona turned to follow her husband, struggling to keep up with his long strides.

As they walked past the campsite, Lachlan paused to pick up some thick blankets to ward off the cool evening air.  He also gathered his sword, careful to have it at the ready.  Though there was no sign that any men remained loyal to Leslie’s cause, Lachlan was not willing to gamble with either of their lives.

As Catriona watched her husband gathering the blankets and his weapon, she battled to quell her growing sense of dread.  She needed time alone to sort through her feelings, and to develop a plan for how she would lead the rest of her life.  She’d had no opportunity to do that yet, between caring for her brother, and seeing to the wounds of the other men.  If only she could get through the next day, she would be able to rest in Boyne.  There she could recover from her emotional wounds with the support of her brother, and her friends at the castle.

As she silently followed her husband, she felt a sense of sadness that she would not be able to say goodbye to the friends she had made at Tolquhon.  Though most of the clan had been supportive, she knew now the pity they must have felt for her.  When she was stronger, she would write to Lachlan’s mother to explain her decision, and to thank the woman for her kindness.

It was not yet dark, but the sun hung low in the sky as Lachlan led her through the forest.  At any other time, Catriona would have paused to admire the pink tones that colored the sky, but on this evening, they were of little interest to her.  The sounds of laughter and voices from the camp behind them gradually faded as they pressed on.  Catriona felt even more alone as they left the others behind, and she was increasingly aware of the cold, silent night closing in around them.  Drawing her cloak tight to ward off the cold, she silently prayed that she would be able to contain her emotions long enough to explain her decisions to Lachlan.  Telling Lachlan him knew of his betrayals would be the most difficult thing she had ever done, but she knew there was no other option.  As hard as it would be to live without him, it would be harder still to live with the contempt and pity that would follow her if she remained by his side.

Lachlan walked quickly through the trees, so quickly that Catriona had to rush to keep up with him.  When he suddenly came to a stop, she almost ran into his back.  “I think this will do,” he said, stepping aside so she could walk into the tiny clearing.  Large beech and fir trees ringed a small patch of grass, providing shelter from the wind, and a measure of privacy.

Nodding her agreement, Catriona stood aside as Lachlan laid one of the blankets on the ground, motioning for her to sit beside him.  Nervously, she eased herself down to the ground, anxious to keep as much distance as possible between herself and her husband.  “I will no’ bite, lass,” Lachlan said finally, his attempt at humor doing little to diffuse the tension between them.  “I had expected a slightly warmer welcome, to be truthful.”

“I suspect you did, Lachlan, but I’m afraid that is no’ possible.” Forcing herself to meet his steady gaze, Catriona drew a deep, calming breath before she continued. “A lot has happened since I was taken from Tolquhon, Lachlan.  I’m afraid I have learned some things that make it impossible for me to stay in this marriage.  Like as no’ you’ll be relieved to hear I’ve decided to remain at Boyne after we deliver my father’s body for burial.  You can have our marriage annulled, if you wish, or you can divorce me.  It makes little difference to me.  I want only to be free of this marriage.  And free of you.”

Lachlan stared at her for several long moments, confused about why Catriona would want to end their marriage.  Silently, he chastised himself for not realizing sooner that Calum Leslie would have used every opportunity to fill her head with lies. Or was it possible that the bastard had dishonored her, and she didn’t know how to tell him?  Lachlan ran his fingers through his long, dark hair as he grappled with his wife’s demands.  That she needed his support was clear enough.  He only hoped he would find the right words with which to offer it.

Lachlan reached out to cover her hand with his own, only to feel the sting of rejection as she pulled back from his touch.  “Did Leslie hurt you, lass?” he asked finally, afraid to voice the concern that threatened to tear him apart.  “I hope he did no’ touch you, but if he did, it is no’ cause for shame.”

Catriona met his look of concern with a cold, empty stare.  “Leslie ne’er touched me.  And this is no’ about him.  It is about things you should have told me before we were married, and things you have done since.”

Lachlan’s head whirled as he struggled to recall anything he might have said or done to create this wall between them.  “I do no’ ken what you mean, lass, so you best tell me straight out so we can settle this.”

Catriona’s contempt was almost palpable as she glared back at him, meeting his look of concern and hope with a chilling stare.  “Did you no’ ken that yer mistress was working with  Leslie?  It would appear that we were both betrayed.”

“My mistress?” Lachlan replied blankly, unable to follow her train of thought.

“I ken all about Fiona, Lachlan.  She joined Leslie’s men on the journey to Kilchurn.  She told me all about how she shared yer bed.  She told me everything.”

“Everything?” he repeated blankly.  Surely the lass was simply confused.  “There is naught to tell.  I ken Fiona left Tolquhon to join Leslie.  I have men looking for her now.  How the bitch could be so thoughtless as to leave her son behind is beyond me, but as for the rest…”

Lachlan was unable to finish his sentence as Catriona jumped on his words.  “She left her son, did she?  How can that be any worse than you denying that the lad is yer own flesh and blood?  You fault her for deserting her own child, which is exactly what you have done since Niall’s birth.  Or did everyone but me ken you were the lad’s father?”

“Catriona, please, calm down and let me explain.”

“I do no’ want to hear yer explanations!  You will no’ confuse the issue with more lies.  I ken the truth, and you would do well to save yer breath.  There is naught more to be said.  When you find Fiona, you can return her to yer bed, and you can be a happy family with yer son.”

Lachlan was torn between compassion for Catriona’s pain, and anger that she would insult his honor with such absurd accusations.  “He is no’ my son, Catriona.  You have to believe that.  And as for Fiona being my mistress, I promise you that is no’ true, either.  Fiona has ne’er warmed my bed.  And she ne’er will.  I want to find her so she can be punished for trying to poison you.”

“How can you deny what is so obvious?” Catriona cried furiously, pushing aside his hand when he reached out to comfort her.  “I may have been naive and stupid enough for your lies before, but no longer.  The lad is yer verra image, Lachlan, and you ken that as well as I.  Do no’ waste yer breath denying what we both know is true.”

Lachlan stared at Catriona for a long moment before rising to his feet, pacing slowly through the small glen.  “You do no’ understand, Catriona, even though you think you do,” he said wearily as he wore a path into the fragile grass.  “I have no’ lied to you afore, and I do no’ intend to start now.  Fiona has ne’er been my mistress – and she ne’er will be.  She told you these things merely to make you angry, and like as naught to drive a wedge between us.  I love you, Catriona.  More than I ever thought possible.  How could you have forgotten that so quickly?”

Catriona struggled to keep her emotions in check as she studied the man who paced before her.  “I have no’ forgotten, Lachlan.  I was so grateful for what we shared…I believed we would be together, happy, for the rest of our lives.  But it seems you had different ideas.  How can you tell me you ne’er slept with Fiona when it is clear Niall is your get?”

“He is no’ my son, lass.  I swear it.”

“If he is no’ yer son, then how do you explain the fact that he has yer eyes?  That his hair is dark as midnight, like yers?  That he has the same smile as you, and that he worships the verra ground you walk on?”

With an exhausted sigh, Lachlan dropped to the blanket, drawing Catriona’s hand in his own as he shifted to face her.  “There are things that happened in the past that have been difficult for me to share with you, lass, and Niall’s birth is one of them.  I did no’ want to say or do aught that would push you away from me, not after we worked so hard to build what we had together….”

Catriona ignored the compassion in his eyes, and lashed out in an effort to wound him as he had wounded her.  “It’s a verra pretty speech, my lord, but you have no’ answered any of my questions.”

Lachlan took a deep breath, squeezing Catriona’s hand as he met her unflinching stare.  “Niall is no’ my son, lass.  He is my half brother.  Only a few kinsmen ken the truth of it, for we all wanted my mother to avoid the shame of knowing her husband took a bitch like Fiona to his bed.  It was easier to let people think  Niall was my son than to tell the truth.”