Twenty-one

“Pray forgive me. Darach ne’er told me you were here.”

Darach looked down at his wife and his heart swelled. She was so lovely, all flushed and bright-eyed from their lovemaking, hair a little mussed even though she’d brushed it. His brothers and Gregor stood in front of the hearth in the great hall, staring at her with grins on their faces. They knew what had taken place upstairs and took no offense at being left to amuse themselves for a few hours. A man had his priorities—making love to his bride was at the top of the list.

She’d protested when he’d first told her about their visitors, but he’d quickly brought her attention back to the task at hand. Afterward, she’d scolded him the entire time she washed and dressed, saying, “They’ll think I’m wanton.” By the time they were ready to meet their guests, she was like a flustered hen. Darach braced for anything to spew out of her mouth.

“We were praying,” she said. “As you know, my husband is a verra pious man.”

His brothers and Gregor raised their eyebrows, except Lachlan, who coughed into his hand. Darach gave him a stern look, which Lachlan ignored. He moved forward to greet Caitlin with a kiss. “Aye, lass, for sure we heard him exclaiming to the Lord a few times.”

She nodded earnestly. “He was lost to the pleasure of prayer.”

Gregor took her hands in his. “I’m Gregor, lass. I too believe ’tis important to pray. My Kellie led me to the altar every night before bed and sometimes again in the morning before she died.”

Darach sighed silently and rolled his eyes. The bastards were going to play this for all it was worth. Thank God Caitlin was oblivious, and his brothers knew not to laugh. If they did, he would have to kill them. He would not have her feelings hurt.

Kerr came forward next, shoving Gregor out of the way. “Congratulations on your nuptials, Caitlin. I’m Kerr. It would please me to introduce you to my Isobel. Maybe you can instruct her on the need to pray with her man.”

“Oh, aye. I would be happy to,” she said, looking a wee bit guilty.

Darach squeezed her fingers to let her know she had his support, even though she’d lied yet again. He supposed it was all right as long as no one was hurt. It wasn’t as if anyone believed her—you just had to look at her face to know the truth.

Callum pushed between Gregor and Kerr. “I’m Callum, lass. My Maggie is more likely to wield a dagger than the holy book. Maybe you could give me some advice on how to instruct her?”

Caitlin looked at him seriously. “Well, ’tis always best to get on your knees. Maybe with another person, in a church or a bedchamber. And you can use candles or beads to enhance your prayer. Some of the best prayer I’ve had was with Darach when we used a candle. Of course, he was sick at the time—’tis important to know how to pray by oneself as well.”

His brothers and Gregor looked at Caitlin with varying expressions of amusement and disbelief on their faces. Silence reigned a moment before Gavin turned to Darach and said, “You’re one fortunate bastard. A bonny woman who has nary a bone of deceit in her body and likes to pray. Unbelievable.” He walked forward and kneeled in front of Caitlin. “You are sister to us all now, Caitlin. I’m Gavin, and it fills me with joy to make your acquaintance.”

She blushed prettily, and Darach wrapped his arm around her. He kissed the top of her head. Aye, he was fortunate, married to the sweetest, purest, most amusing woman in all the Highlands. He prayed—a real prayer this time—that she would retain her innocence for all their years together.

Apparently God wasn’t listening, for she bit her lip and looked at each one of them. “We’re not talking about prayer, are we?”

The men burst into laughter, but they swamped Caitlin with so much love and affection she forgave them, saying it was her fault for telling a falsehood. In truth, she and Darach had been napping.

The day progressed amid much rolling of eyes and backslapping. Caitlin cried with Gregor over the loss of his wife, Kellie, and with Gavin over the loss of his son. She gave advice to Kerr on how to woo Isobel and to Callum on why he should marry Maggie immediately, despite the problems in his clan. Lastly, she reprimanded them all numerous times about their language.

It was a wonderful day.

When supper finished, they all indulged in a wee shot of Gregor’s uisge-beatha. Caitlin tried some too, and made such a face while saying it was wonderful the men almost fell off their chairs. She tried valiantly to take another sip, but Darach took pity on her and finished it himself.

He was lost in his own thoughts, Caitlin curled up in his lap, when he heard her ask the men the dates of their birth. It made him smile, knowing she would remember each one and send them good wishes on their special day. She was asked the question in return, and Darach brought his attention back to the group. He would write the date down and spend months planning a celebration for her.

“’Tis the day after tomorrow,” she said.

“What?”

“Aye, the fifth of June. I’ll be twenty. The same age as you when you first saved the MacKenzies from the Frasers.” She lowered her voice so only he could hear. “My great laird and master.”

He smiled and kissed her, but his head whirled. Two days. What could he give her in two days that would even begin to match what she’d given him? He tried to think of anything she’d asked for over the last few weeks. She wanted a chapel, aye, but that couldn’t be built in two days. She wanted to cook, but it didn’t seem right that she do so on her own birthday. She wanted to clean his solar, but…well…no one cleaned his solar but him.

What else did she want?

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the noise around him, and instead heard Gregor, who had a love of horses, say, “Tell me, Caitlin, did you really ride the wild stallion?”

* * *

Darach crooned to Cloud in the sweetest, singsong voice he could muster, suppressing his aggravation and frustration in order to entice the bloody stallion. “Come here, Cloud, you good-for-naught, goddamn donkey, before I cut your stones off and feed them to my hounds. Then you willna be so proud.” He held out a handful of apple slices and tried to tempt the skittish horse toward him from across the sunlit glen. Darach was into his third hour of persuasion, and the unnatural groveling was taking its toll.

He’d dragged himself out of bed at the crack of dawn, after giving his wife her too-brief morning kiss, and roused his brothers and Gregor for a day spent in the hot sun pleading with a moody, overgrown mule. All so he could give Caitlin the best present possible on her birthday.

If only Cloud would cooperate.

The latest sighting that morning had placed the stallion an hour’s ride from the castle. It took another two to find him higher up the mountain, before beginning the fruitless endeavor of catching him. The others had helped at first, but that had only pushed Cloud farther away, so they decided it would be best if Gregor, who prided himself on being an expert on horses, helped Darach while his brothers lounged in the shade, drinking ale. But soon Gregor gave up too, and it was left to Darach to reason with the bloody stallion. He wanted to charge over there and force Cloud to submit, but that would only destroy whatever headway Darach had made.

He tossed an apple slice toward Cloud, who came forward cautiously to eat it, then retreated. Darach sighed. He was hot, tired, and fed up. He leaned forward, hands on his knees, muttering to himself. After a moment, he looked up to see Cloud standing only four feet away. Darach caught his breath. He wanted to lunge for the horse but knew it would only send the stallion running. Instead, he held out a piece of apple in one hand and the bridle in the other. “Come to me now, lad, and I’ll take you to see Caitlin. It’s her birthday tomorrow, and the thing she wants most in the world is to see you. It’s my job as her husband to give her everything she wants, to make her happy. That’s what you want too, aye?” Cloud came forward a step, then another. He huffed and tossed his head, then came even closer.

Darach turned his back on the horse and waited. Before long, Cloud snuffled over his shoulder in search of treats. It was easy to slip the bridle over the stallion’s head.

“You daft bastard,” Darach crooned. “Our sweet lass will be so pleased to see you.”

* * *

“Lady MacKenzie.”

Caitlin looked up from the wee lass she bounced on her knee in the middle of the village square to see an attractive redheaded woman standing in front of her. The same woman who earlier had been talking to the men safeguarding Caitlin and passing out ale to quench their thirst. They’d enjoyed the refreshing drink almost as much as looking down the poor woman’s dress. She was well endowed and maybe hadn’t realized the men took advantage.

“I’m Wynda McIntyre, cousin of Firth MacKenzie. I have a message for you about the wild stallion.”

Caitlin rose excitedly, lifting the lass and perching her on her hip. Maybe the men had found Cloud. “Aye, Wynda. ’Tis a pleasure to make your acquaintance. What have you heard?”

“Laird MacKenzie has spotted the horse but canna get near him. He needs your help.”

Caitlin squealed with delight and jumped in the air. The little girl laughed. “Naught would make me happier. Did you see Cloud?”

Wynda frowned in confusion, bringing to light the lines on her aging face. She was still a bonny woman, although her mouth was hard and her eyes dissatisfied. Maybe she’d had a disappointing life.

“Cloud?” Wynda asked.

“’Tis the stallion’s name—for his white coat.”

Wynda shook her head. “Nay, I did not see him. A warrior approached me, asked me to give you the message. The horse is to the west. He said to follow the deer track to the summer fields.” She pointed toward the mountain. “Shouldnae take long. Maybe I could go with you. I would love to see the stallion.”

“Aye. It will give us time to get to know one another. You weren’t at the wedding.”

Wynda’s mouth flattened. “Nay, Lady MacKenzie. I only arrived yesterday.”

Spotting the lass’s mother on her way back from her errand, Caitlin put the child down so she could run to meet her ma. The girl’s hair and dress flew out behind her. Caitlin smiled. Maybe she and Darach would have a bairn of their own soon. They were certainly trying hard enough. Last night she’d woken in the middle of the night, gasping, with Darach pressed tight against her bottom, hands stroking the front of her body. By the time he’d entered her from behind, she’d been desperate for his possession. It still amazed her there were so many ways to make love.

She walked with Wynda toward the four guards. Caitlin grinned at them. All except one, who looked a little peaked, grinned back.

“Are you well, Comyn?” she asked.

The young warrior rubbed his stomach. “I drank too much, too quickly, I think.”

Frowning with concern, she said, “Maybe you should go home and lie down. Surely three of you are enough to protect me from mishap?”

Comyn shook his head. “Doona worry, Lady MacKenzie. The malady eases already.”

Caitlin bit her lip. He still looked pale, but she suspected he would carry on no matter what she said. Best to find her husband and Cloud, so the young man could be relieved of duty as soon as possible.

“We’re going on a ride to the summer field. Laird MacKenzie has asked me to come. He’s found Cloud and needs my help. Maybe the exercise will ease your pain.”

Comyn nodded, but the oldest guard, Dearg, ran his hand through his grizzled beard. “Who told you this? I was not informed of such a journey.”

“Wynda did. She heard it from another warrior. ’Tis all right. The summer field isna far. Just to the west, up the deer trail.”

“I know where it is, lass, but I wasn’t told to take you there.”

Caitlin’s eyes widened. “Has my husband restricted my wandering? I thought I could go anywhere on MacKenzie land as long as you were with me? ’Tis a lovely day for a ride.”

Dearg nodded slowly. “You’re not restricted as such, but—”

“Gare told me this morning the lairds were going to look for the white stallion. I thought they’d headed north, but they could have turned west,” Eilig, the second-oldest of the guards, told him.

Ross, the last guard nodded his head. “Aye, ’tis what I heard as well.”

Dearg tapped his finger to his lips. He turned to Wynda. “Who was the warrior?”

She shrugged. “Some skinny lad with a face full of pimples. I doona know his name. I was out for a walk toward the west, getting my bearings, and he came down the game trail. When I told him I was heading back to the village, he asked me if I might pass the message to Lady MacKenzie. He wanted to return. The men were wagering how long it would take the laird to capture the stallion—or concede defeat.”

The guards laughed, and Dearg said, “All right. But if the laird isna in the summer field, we’ll come home. I doona want to go on a pointless chase through the woods.”

Wynda lowered her eyes. “I would ne’er subject Lady MacKenzie to such an ordeal.”

“Please, call me Caitlin. I’ve only been married a few days. Lady MacKenzie is such a mouthful.” She’d made the request of all the clan, but they’d simply patted her hand or pinched her cheek and continued to call her Lady MacKenzie.

So when Wynda shrugged and said, “As you wish,” Caitlin was surprised.

’Twas a sign of things to come.

Pine needles crunched beneath the horses’ hooves as they rode through the forest. She tried to make conversation, but after nearly an hour of Wynda’s sly comments and hidden insults, Caitlin lost her smile. God’s truth, the woman was a trial.

Catching her frown, a smug expression flashed through Wynda’s eyes. She adjusted her dress, pulling it taut across her ample breasts. “’Twas a shock to discover the laird was married. When last I saw him, he was not betrothed. Or maybe he just didn’t tell me during his visit.”

During his visit? How well did her husband know this…this…viper?

Wynda reached out and patted Caitlin’s arm. Her hand felt like a claw. “Doona fash, lassie. You’re verra young. You doona know the ways of men. You havnae even grown into your woman’s body.”

Caitlin’s jaw sagged, confounded and embarrassed all at once. “I’m twenty. My birthday’s tomorrow.”

She couldn’t help herself and glanced at her modest-sized breasts, then over to Wynda, who barely kept hers contained. Had Darach tupped this woman? Did he like her big bosom?

The question must have shown on her face, for Wynda smirked.

She breathed deeply, eyes closed. Maybe Darach had known the woman before, but he certainly wouldn’t have been intimate with her since he’d married. He was a good man. An honorable man. And it did not matter what the woman thought of Caitlin’s breasts; her husband hadn’t complained. He could barely keep his hands off them.

She lifted her chin. “I doona believe what you’re suggesting. In no way would Darach sully our vows. He loves me, and I love him.” Her brow creased with anger. “And from now on, you will call me Lady MacKenzie.”

Caitlin rode ahead, lost in fury. The gall of the woman, coming into Caitlin’s clan and suggesting such a thing about her husband. Honor was important to the MacKenzies, and Darach led by example.

Her guard must have been just as upset to hear Wynda’s lies. She glanced up to see how they were taking it. Dearg was ahead of her, hunched awkwardly in his saddle. For the first time she noticed their speed had slowed.

“Dearg?” she called out.

He turned slowly and she gasped, urging her horse toward him. His face was as white as Cloud and sweat poured down his brow. “Sorry, Lady MacKenzie. Maybe one of the others should take the lead. ’Tis my bowel acting up.”

Looking past her shoulder, he cursed and reached for his sword, barely able to pull it from its sheath. Caitlin followed his gaze and a horrified gasp escaped her lips upon seeing Ross laying on the trail farther back, his horse standing beside him with the reins down. Eilig was off to the side, looking ready to vomit into the trees. Comyn was nowhere to be seen. Caitlin assumed he was somewhere around the last bend.

How could she not have noticed? She’d been so busy trying to please Wynda she’d not even known the men were sick, possibly dying.

“You,” Dearg said, pointing weakly at the redhead. “’Twas poison in the drink. I’ll run you through before you do more harm.” He lifted his sword but the weight of it tipped him over the side of his horse, and he crashed to the ground, shouting, “Ride, Lady MacKenzie. To the castle.”

Caitlin screamed. She tried to dismount and help him, but Wynda grabbed her arm and smacked the horses to get them moving. Caitlin pulled on the reins only to have them torn from her grasp.

“I’ll slaughter them all if you doona come with me.” Wynda’s face had transformed into a hate-filled grimace. She kicked her horse into a gallop and pulled Caitlin’s horse behind her.

Before she could get her wits about her, the summer field came into view. With horrified certainty, she knew men waited there—Fraser’s men.

Caitlin grabbed for the reins but couldn’t reach them. Every second brought the field closer. She would have to jump; it was her only hope. The ground rushed up at her as she leaped from the back of her horse. Pain exploded in her body upon landing.

When she stopped rolling, she lay facedown in the dirt for a second before spitting out leaves and pine needles and crawling for the trees. Everything hurt, especially her ankle when she pushed down on her foot.

She’d just reached the edge when someone yelled. Caitlin dove into the bush. She peeked back through the leaves and saw Wynda at the end of the trail pointing in Caitlin’s direction. A man came into view, then another. Big, mean-looking men. One whom she recognized as Fraser’s man.

She turned and ran as fast as possible, limping on her injured leg. Branches whipped her face and tore at her hair and clothing. Behind her, she could hear the men crashing through the woods, shouting directions to each other.

They seemed to be all around her, almost on top of her. The breath tore through her lungs as panic and fear raced through her body. She fell, tried to get up, and fell again, so she crawled through the muck on hands and knees.

A large tree loomed ahead with a hole in its trunk. If she could make it inside, she’d cover the opening with a branch. Hide ’til they’d gone. Wait for Darach to find her. Then he’d take his revenge, and the Frasers would be slaughtered like the devils they were.

She was almost there when she was grabbed from behind. Caitlin screamed and kicked out with her good foot, making contact. The man grunted, and she was released, only to be caught a second time and pinned to the ground.

“Shut up, bitch. You’ll have more than enough to scream about later.” A rag was stuffed in her mouth and a hood thrown over her head. “Laird Fraser has plans for you.”