Rebel Warrior (Medieval Warriors #3) (31 page)

His voice boomed in command. “Leave me, woman, I am nearly well!”

Audra’s soft voice drifted to the corridor. “I will not leave you, my lord.”

Catrìona peered through the small opening to see Audra handing the captain a wooden cup. “ ’Tis something that will ease the pain.”

To Catrìona’s surprise, the gruff warrior took it and drank, but afterward said, “I would rather have the king’s wine or even the ale we are sometimes served. This has a bitter taste and does little to improve a man’s spirits.”

Catrìona silently chuckled.
The bear growls
.

Audra’s words in response were murmured. “I will see you have all you desire, my lord.”

Colbán’s dark eyes searched Audra’s face. “You are very kind, putting up with my many grumblings. Do you forget from whence I come, madam?”

Catrìona could not see Audra’s face, but she heard the sincerity in the lady’s voice as she gently protested. “Oh, no, my lord. I am well aware you are from Moray. But if you knew how high is my regard for you, you would not doubt my desire to see you hale once again. Why, I think you are the most courageous, honorable and true of all who serve the king.”

Colbán drew his head back and studied Audra for a moment, his brows drawn together. “Would your father think the same, my lady?”

“Aye, my lord. I know he does.”

Catrìona smiled to herself and turned to tiptoe away. After that, she no longer worried for the king’s captain and came not again to see how he fared.

*     *     *

A few days after Deidre’s rescue, to Catrìona’s delight, her uncle, Fia’s father, arrived at the tower. He was glad to see his daughter and niece, but they had only begun to speak with him when the king swept the mormaer away, calling for wine and telling the steward they must not be disturbed.

Catrìona and Fia looked at each other and shrugged. They would see Matad at the evening meal.

That same day, Domnall returned to Dunfermline with the news that Isla of Blackwell’s father had consented to his suit. Catrìona had hoped he and Isla would already be gone before she returned from St. Andrews, but she had not been so fortunate and now all the ladies were forced to listen to Isla’s wedding plans.

It was early afternoon when Catrìona finished the blue tunic she had been stitching for Steinar. She held it up to the light from the window in her chamber, admiring the silver and gold stitching that had taken her many hours of laborious effort. Behind her, Fia and Deidre happily sorted through gowns the queen’s sister thought might fit the handmaiden.

Carefully folding the tunic and placing it in her chest, Catrìona told the two women she would return shortly. ’Twas August and Kessog should be coming out of his molt. She would find Giric and they could pay the falcon a visit.

She entered the hall to see Steinar standing near the hearth fire.

He waved and she went to join him, but before she could speak, the king summoned him. “Scribe, I would have you read this missive the Irishman has brought me from the Mormaer of Blackwell.”

She waited by the hearth fire as the two men spoke, hoping to learn of the message’s contents. Steinar must have realized her intent. When he finished with the king, he came to her.

“ ’Tis done,” he said. “Blackwell comes in two days’ time and they will marry in the chapel. Then presumably, both will leave Dunfermline, hopefully not to be seen again.”

Catrìona sighed in relief and not just for herself. All of the queen’s ladies would be glad to see Isla go. She thanked Steinar and told him she was off to find Giric. As she was about to invite him to come with her, the king called Steinar back for a word.

“I will find you later,” he said and returned to the king.

Slipping through the tower door, Catrìona considered where she might find the boy. He sometimes watched Angus at sword practice, or he might be at the archery field where Rhodri put the archers through their paces. But more often, she could find Giric and his dog, Shadow, in the village at this time of day. She decided to go to the village since she wanted to see the changes that had been made to the orphans’ cottage. Then she would find the boy, wherever he was, and they could visit Kessog together.

She walked past the stables with only pleasant thoughts in her mind. She had received justice for the death of her parents, Colbán had finally seen Audra’s true affection and, soon, the man who betrayed her for another would be gone.

As she strolled along, she did not pay much attention to the few people coming and going, except to return a smile of greeting. Suddenly, a hand reached out and grabbed her, pulling her into the shadows.

“Domnall!” she cried out when she recognized who it was. “What can you mean by this?” She yanked back her arm, but he held it fast. “Unhand me!”

He moved closer, his face inches from hers. “Nay, not until you hear me out.”

He smelled of some scent and the shoulders of his tunic were richly embroidered with flowers. It was as he had always been but now she found his flowery scent and his embellished tunic disgusted her.

Heart pounding in her chest, she spit out, “Say it then and be gone!”

He lifted his finger to her jaw and slowly slid it to her chin. She stiffened at the unwanted touch. “I have always found you a seductive woman, Catrìona. It was not for lack of interest I gave you up for Isla, you know.”

“That is no concern of mine now, Domnall. You have your betrothed. See to her and leave me alone.”

“Nay, I would still have you in my bed. You could not be my wife, but you could be my mistress. What say you?”

She huffed out a laugh. “Surely you jest!”

He looked at her, affronted. “I am most serious. You have no dowry to speak of and no rich trade to offer as you once did.”

“If I did not come to your bed when I was your intended, do you think I would do so now when you have spurned me? You are beyond contemptible!”

Without warning, he dropped her hand and drove his chest into her, forcing her against the side of the stable, the rough boards bruising the tender flesh of her back. “I will have you, as I always wanted.” Without pretense of gentleness, his mouth came down hard upon hers, forcing his tongue into her mouth.

She pushed against his chest with her hands but she could not move him. With one foot, she kicked at his shin as hard as her shoe allowed in the tight space.

Raising his mouth from her abused lips, he said, “I always did like your fire.”

A hiss of steel was followed by the flash of metal as a sword tip slid before her eyes to hover next to Domnall’s cheek. “Take your hands from her or I shall scar you for life, you dishonorable cur.”

Steinar!
Her chest heaving, she turned to look into his beautiful eyes, relief washing over her.

“Has he harmed you, little one?”

She pressed her lips together trying to hold back the tears filling her eyes. “I am fine.”

Domnall backed away from the sword but the blade followed to remain close to his face. “What business is this of yours, Scribe?”

“You, a man betrothed, would force yourself on one of the queen’s ladies? Get you gone, Domnall. See to your own lady!” In a tone of disgust, Steinar added, “I wish you well of her.”

Domnall glanced again at the blade, barely a breath from his eye, and fled.

Steinar sheathed his sword and pulled Catrìona into his arms. “ ’Tis over, little one. He is gone.”

For a moment she was content to be held. Wiping the tears of relief from her eyes, she tilted her head up to look at him. “You saved me.”

“Aye, lass, and I always will.”

*     *     *

Steinar did not speak the words to Domnall that had been in his heart. “She belongs to me!” he had wanted to shout. But how could he claim a lady the king intended for another?

When the king had called him back for a word, it was to tell Steinar that he was still considering what lady he might give him for a wife and expected to make his choice soon. The conversation that followed left Steinar despairing of hope.

“It will not be the redhead you asked for,” said Malcolm. “Still, I’ve a fine lady in mind.”

“But Sir, ’tis Catrìona I love.”

His face stern, the king shot back, “Love has little to do with raising sons to serve your king, but I will think on it.”

Steinar believed it more likely the king would quickly dismiss Steinar’s plea from his mind. Thus, he had not claimed her before the despicable Domnall. But he could protect her and vow to always do so. And as long as a glimmer of hope remained, as long as she had yet to be betrothed, he would seek her company.

“Do you go in search of Giric?” he asked her when she had calmed.

“Yea,” she said. “I had thought to find him in the village and was on my way there.”

“If it pleases you, I would accompany you.” He was not about to leave her alone to be found again by the loathsome Irishman.

She tossed him a smile. “Aye, it would please me.”

They continued down the path that led to the village and she told him of all she had done with Margaret’s permission to improve the cottage where the orphans lived. As she talked, she seemed to shake off the incident at the stables.

“The queen sent some of the Saxons who are skilled in building to repair the cottage so it will be warm for winter. And I have enlisted some of the women to make it more of a home. Margaret gave me the services of a dear woman, Aeleva, who now cares for the orphans. She cooks and keeps house for them. They seem to love her.”

Catrìona’s green eyes sparkled as she spoke. He was glad to see Domnall’s attack did not affect her enthusiasm for what she had done for the orphans. “I expect the queen is delighted,” he said, trying to encourage her.

“I think she is. Margaret had always believed the village women cared for the orphans and they did, after a fashion. But not like Aeleva does now. She is more a mother to them and the young ones especially need that.”

At the cottage, he and Catrìona stopped to admire the changes. The stones were whitewashed, the shutters new and flowers formed a pretty border on either side of the door. A fair-haired Saxon woman, rosy-cheeked and plump, came out to greet them. “Good day to you, sir, mistress.”

“Good day to you, Aeleva,” said Catrìona. “This is Steinar, one of the king’s men.”

Aeleva curtsied and Steinar wished the woman a good day and then asked her, “Is Giric about?”

“Just around the side,” Aeleva said, pointing, “working on the pen for the chickens.”

They found Giric building a reed fence on the far side of the cottage where fat chickens were pecking at seed tossed on the ground by a small girl, younger than Giric. The boy looked up at their appearance and beamed. “Is it not grand?”

“Aye,” said Steinar. “And now you would be a builder besides a warrior?”

“I shall be both!” he announced, puffing out his small chest. The girl giggled, her fawn-colored curls falling onto her round cheeks.

Steinar laughed at the boy’s audacity but when he thought of all that would be required to make a home in the Vale of Leven, he reconsidered. “Indeed you shall be.”

“If you have the time, oh master builder,” said Catrìona in feigned sarcasm, “I would invite you to go with us to see Kessog. With all that has happened, I have not looked in on him since I returned from St. Andrews. He will be feeling slighted.”

Pounding in a last branch, Giric said, “Aye, I will go! And might there be food in the hall? Mayhap Duncan is there.”

Steinar said, “I’ve no doubt there will be food and”—he winked at Catrìona—“if the lady agrees, mayhap we might fly the falcon.”

Giric beamed and waved goodbye to the girl as he rushed to join them.

*     *     *

Catrìona was glad neither Domnall nor Isla was in the hall as they crossed the large space to the kitchen. Sickened by what he had attempted, she did not want to see either of them.

Sitting on a stool in the kitchen, they found Duncan nibbling on cheese.

“You and the king’s son,” the round-faced cook said to Giric, “are drawing down our reserves of cheese.” With a smile for Catrìona and Steinar, she added, “ ’Tis regrettable the lads’ stomachs need constant refilling, but ’tis always the way of it.”

“Ye will not tell the king, will ye?” asked Giric.

“Nay,” the cook assured the boy, “but ’tis not the king you need worry about, ’tis the queen. She is the one with strict rules about eating before the evening meal.”

“Oh,” said the two lads in unison, looking very worried.

Catrìona laughed and reached to where she knew they kept bits of raw meat and put some in her pouch for Kessog.

“We are on our way to the mews,” she told Duncan. “Would you like to come with us to visit my tiercel and see the king’s hawks?”

The youth jumped up from his seat. He was twice Giric’s age, but the two could have been brothers. “I would!”

It was late in the afternoon when they entered the dim light of the mews. Machar was feeding the falcons and seemed happy to see the visitors. “Your tiercel has been pining for you, my lady, but I have kept him fat to hasten his molt. See,” he said, taking Kessog from his perch, “his tail feathers are all in now.”

“But he does not look ready to hunt,” she said with disappointment as she cast a glance over his still ruffled plumage.

“ ’Twill not be long now. Mayhap another sennight,” said the falconer.

Duncan and Giric spent some time looking at all the hawks. Catrìona stood next to Kessog’s perch stroking his feathers as she marveled at Steinar’s patience with the boys. He listened attentively to their questions, answering them when he could. Machar, with his greater knowledge of the hawks, answered some.

Finally, Steinar looked up at her with raised brows as if he had read her mind.

“Aye,” she said, “we had best be off. The evening meal will soon be upon us and the king will be asking for his son.”

She waved goodbye to Giric, who ran off toward the village, and headed toward the tower, Steinar and Duncan talking of the changes Margaret had made since coming to Dunfermline. Catrìona marveled at the friendship between the golden warrior, once a scribe, and the dark-haired youth who was destined to one day be king. Would Steinar serve Duncan as he had his father? Would she be by his side if he did?