Highland Master (21 page)

“Aye, well…” He paused. “Sithee, the Bishop of St. Andrews—”

“Bishop Traill.”

“Aye. He taught us more than our numbers and letters.”

“You told me that. He and his minions also taught you weaponry.”

“Aye, and tactics of war from Roman times onward. But more than any of that, he taught us the great and lasting value of strong friendships.”

“Such as the friendship that you have with Ivor?”

“Aye,” he said and saw her relax as he said it. “Now sit, lass, do. I’ll tell you what you want to know, but I can tell it more easily—aye, and more clearly, too—if you do not quiz me or eye me like a wildcat about to seize its prey.”

She chuckled then and moved to sit at the far end of the log, where she could lean against an upturned limb. As she did, she said, “I’m thinking this may have to do with the talk we had about blind obedience the first day we came here. Does it?”

Having expected her to question him more about what
he had said that day, Fin had decided that since she did not understand about honor, she had dismissed all he had said then as just another knight’s tale. Doubtless she had heard many such from the men in her family, because tales of combat were common at tables and feasts throughout the Highlands and had been since their earliest days.

To learn that she remembered what he had said about blind obedience gave him pause, because he’d forgotten exactly what he had said then. They had talked both while walking to the outflow and later there in the woods. Remembering, he said, “It does relate to that talk, but there is much that I did not tell you.”

“One thing in particular that you did say has remained with me.”

“What is it?” he asked with a sinking feeling.

“You said that sometimes one agrees to something just because one respects and trusts the person asking him to agree. Did you mean that a man might, in such a case, agree to do something that otherwise he would
not
do?”

Certain now that she had put blind obedience together with the dilemma he had described to her that day, Fin looked skyward. But he saw no answer there.

Meeting her calm gaze, he said, “This conversation is not going as I had hoped. Nay, do not speak yet,” he added hastily when her mouth opened. “Sithee, I can imagine what will happen if I try to answer your questions as they occur to you. So I would ask a boon of you, one that I am not sure you are even able to grant me.”

She cocked her head. “What boon?”

“That you will let me explain the matter in my own way first, without interrupting, and then—”

“But—” When he held up a hand, she broke off, smil
ing ruefully. “I am not good at holding my tongue when I want to know something,” she said.

“Doubtless, nearly anything I tell you now will stir questions in your mind,” he said. “So, prithee, let me have my say first. By the time I’ve finished, I’ll likely have told you most of what you want to know.”

“What if I don’t understand something that you say?”

“If I truly confuse you, tell me. But if you keep stopping me with questions, I’ll be unable to explain the thing clearly and we’ll just fratch over one thing or another. Then, I’ll get angry, or you will get angry with me.”

Her mouth twisted wryly before she said with a sigh, “I will try, sir. But that is all I can promise.”

“ ’Tis enough, lass. I know that I can trust you to hold your tongue unless you simply cannot bear to do so any longer.”

Her eyebrows shot upward. “Some people would call that statement no more than a sop to ensure that I keep silent.”

“Would they?”

“I think you know gey well that
I
think so, aye.”

“Shall we see if it works?”

Chuckling again in a way that both relieved his mind and made him want to snatch her off her log and hug her, she settled back and was silent.

Still on his feet, he said, “Since you deduced that Ivor and I met during battle, I will begin with that, although our meeting did not redound to my credit. Sithee, we were still standing but few others were. I was the only one, in fact, on my side.”

Her lips moved as if she would speak, but she pressed them hard together.

Drawing breath, he said, “Ivor left his people and came
toward me. He told me last night that he was unsure then of my identity but suspected it and recognized me before he got close. I expected to have to fight him… sakes, to fight all of them who were still able to wield a sword or a dirk. Instead, he told me to leave.”

Her mouth opened, but she clapped a hand across it.

Amusement stirred at such determination but quickly died. He had come to the point where he must face her reaction to what he had done.

“I dove into the river and swam away.” He made the admission, forcing himself to meet her gaze, trying to prepare himself for the scorn he would see.

She continued to gaze steadily at him over the hand at her mouth.

He waited. His stomach clenched. He shifted his feet.

The silence lengthened beyond bearing.

At last, she lowered the hand that had covered her mouth. “Is that all?” she said. When he nodded, she said, “But where did you go?”

“To St. Andrews.”

“Why?”

Not so easy, that question. The truth was that he had gone to Bishop Traill, hoping that Traill would tell him what he must do to find an honorable answer to his dilemma. But Traill had failed him.

He knew that he could not explain all that to her, just as he knew that he had already—albeit without knowing as much—decided that he could
not
kill her father.

Shaw was not only the Clan Chattan war leader. He was also her father and Hawk’s. All that Fin had heard about Shaw, and what he had seen of him so far, he respected. He respected the Mackintosh, too. Moreover, both men
had trusted him with something very precious to them, Catriona herself.

Since he was explaining any of it, part of him insisted that he ought to tell her everything. As he tried to imagine how he could best describe the dilemma he had faced, another, perhaps wiser voice suggested that he would simply be sharing a burden with her that was his alone to carry. The voice was so strong that he decided to heed its counsel long enough to consider longer before he told her.

She was frowning, waiting for him to explain why he had gone to St. Andrews. But that only made it more difficult, because he did not want to lie.

Suddenly, her brow cleared. “God-a-mercy!” she exclaimed. “
That
is why you asked if I thought a man who hated war must be a coward.
You
acted without thinking, and now you think that the act was cowardly! But you fled because Ivor told you to, so
that
is what you meant about agreeing to an act simply because you trusted the one who had told you to do it!”

Fin could not speak. He had not meant that at all. He had been trying to admit that the dilemma he’d once described to her was his own and explain that he had sworn to the second oath because his dying father had demanded it. But he realized as emotions surged through him that he could not tell her she was wrong. She wasn’t. He
had
left when Ivor had said to go because he had trusted Ivor.

But that did not alter the fact of his having left the field as he had.

He looked so shocked that Catriona could not bear it. “Ah, poor laddie,” she said then, softly. “You do believe that
your leaving in such a way was cowardly. That is why you wanted to discuss war and cowardice.”

“You don’t understand, lass,” he said. “Leaving in such a way
was—
”

His voice cracked, revealing the emotion he felt over what he had so clearly feared was an issue she believed that only a man could think was important.

Still speaking softly, because she knew how important the subject was to him, she said, “Men often say that women don’t understand them. But I do understand about men and cowardice, and even about their sometimes strange notions of honor. You should think instead about what the outcome would have been had you not done as Ivor told you to do.”

“I would have died, but I would have died honorably.”

“Don’t be stupid; dying is dying,” she said, wishing she could hug him. “Had you died, you would not be here. Had you died, Rory Comyn would have found me alone on the trail that day.” She nearly added that Boreas would have killed Rory, but that would not aid her argument. Standing, she moved closer to Fin. “Did I not say that life is always the right choice? Had you stayed, Ivor would have felt obliged to kill you. How honorable would it have been to put your good friend in
that
position?”

His mouth twitched as if he would protest, but he did not.

“What?” she demanded, confronting him toe-to-toe. “Are you now afraid to tell me what you are thinking?”

“Nay, but you won’t like it. Honor would have demanded that I kill Ivor.”

“You could not. He is a
very
fine swordsman. Moreover,” she added as a clincher, “if you had killed him, the
others would have killed you. Aye, and it has just occurred to me that this battle of which you speak is likely the clan battle at Perth, and Clan Chattan ended that battle with eleven men still living, did we not?”

“Eleven
living
, aye, but not—” He broke off when she put a finger to his lips.

“Hush now, for you will not persuade me,” she said. “You could not have killed so many, nor must you forget that had
you
died that day, Rothesay would not be having his so-important meeting here now, and I would never have met you. To think that for years I believed I hated
all
Camerons. But I find now that I do not.”

He caught hold of her hand, but he did not speak. He just gazed down into her eyes as if he might read more of her thoughts there.

“Just what the
devil
do you two think you are doing?”

Catriona whirled to see her brother James standing on the trail that they had followed from the castle. He stood with arms akimbo, looking very angry.

F
in took one look at James and stepped away from Catriona. As he did, he said quietly, “There is nowt occurring here to trouble you, sir.”

“Faith, but you have drawn a conclusion that insults us both, James,” Catriona said. “Did you come seeking us for any other purpose?”

Seeing fury leap to James’s face, Fin set himself to intervene if necessary. But Catriona remained calm, clearly awaiting an answer to her question.

At last, after a measuring look at each of them, James visibly relaxed. “The lad at the gate said that you had come this way. I just wondered… that is, I thought you might have walked out with Morag, Cat. It surprised me to see you with him.”

“The guard at the gate did
not
tell you that I was with Morag.”

“Nay, nay,” James protested. “I didn’t say that. I never asked him about Morag. Sithee, I awoke and she was gone, but I did not want the lad thinking that summat was amiss with her, so—”

“Amiss betwixt the two of you is what you mean, I think,” she said gently.

Fin nearly uttered a protest. That subject was not one that she should initiate in his presence.

James shot her a dour look, then turned to Fin and said frankly, “I do owe you an apology. I ought to have thought a bit before speaking so sharply.”

Extending his hand, Fin said, “ ’Tis generous of you to apologize, sir. Had I come upon my sister in such a pose, I’d likely have reacted as you did. You have my word, though, that nowt was amiss.”

Gripping his hand, James said, “I’ll willingly accept it. My grandfather told me who you are, so I expect that you do understand my reaction.”

Catriona said, “You say that as if you did not know his identity before, James. But I told you and Ivor about him soon after you arrived here yesterday.”

“Ye did, aye,” James said, his gaze locked now with Fin’s. “But you told us his name was Sir Finlagh MacGill, lass. So clearly, you did not know everything.”

Fin’s glance flicked to Catriona, but she was still watching James.

She said, “I know all I need to know. He schooled with Ivor at St. Andrews and he fought on the Cameron side at Perth. He has not kept secrets from me, sir. I did used to think that being a Cameron must be a dreadful thing, but only until I came to know him. The truce between our two confederations still holds, does it not?”