Twenty-three

“Caitlin!”

Caitlin’s head whipped up from the wound she’d rebandaged on one of Darach’s men, and she scanned the MacKenzie bailey, her heart racing. People chatted, rested, or were busy doing chores. She couldn’t see her husband, even though she was sure he’d been the one to call her name. Then the crowd cleared.

There he was, by the stables, looking so big and bonny atop Loki, a wide smile creasing his face and touching her heart.

“Darach!”

It had been four days since she’d last seen him in Fraser’s castle, since he’d pulled her back through the window and into his arms. She’d known by the second day he was alive and well, and the Frasers had been defeated with only a few losses to the MacKenzies. They’d taken time to help the innocent victims of war as best they could—releasing prisoners from Fraser’s dungeon and freeing the animals from the stables as the keep went up in flames, helping the peaceful members of Clan Fraser who were in need, burning the dead to prevent disease. Then it had been a slow journey back home to accommodate the injured.

She lifted her skirts and ran toward her husband, joy bursting through her body, the pain in her ankle forgotten. After just a few steps, however, she was scooped up from behind and caught in Lachlan’s arms. She struggled to free herself, but he tightened his hold.

“You’ll damn well sprain it all over again, you daft bat,” he said.

“Let me go. It’s Darach!”

“I know who it is, but until I pass you over, you’re still in my care, and I willna let you run around the bailey like a headless loon.”

Caitlin glared at him. He glared back and carried her down the hill toward her husband. She looked over at him, his beloved faced crinkled in amusement as he watched them.

“Trouble, Lachlan?” he asked.

“Hah! Is water wet? She’s bloody impossible. And to think you wanted to saddle me with her for good. She willna sleep. She willna rest her foot, so I made her a crutch, and she let your hounds chew it. I made her another one, and it floated away in the loch. The loch! What in bloody hell was she doing in the loch?”

Caitlin was sure Lachlan had deliberately slowed his pace just to torture her. Or maybe so he could draw out the telling of her misdeeds. Not that she’d done anything wrong. She didn’t give the stupid crutch to the dogs; they’d taken it when her back was turned and ended up enjoying it far more than she ever had. Going to the loch had been Oslow’s idea, although afterward he’d denied it, saying she’d misinterpreted his words. How could “cool water will help with the swelling” be misunderstood? And it had helped her ankle, even though she’d lost the other crutch when she’d tried to nudge a duckling in the water back toward its mother.

Lachlan stopped about six feet away from Darach and continued berating her. “To top it off, she rode Cloud whene’er my back was turned. What if that bloody, moody nag had thrown her? She could barely even hold the reins with her sore arm.”

Caitlin snorted derisively. Her arm may have been sore, but Cloud had been particularly gentle with her because of her injuries. No other horse would have done that. She struggled again to get free. When Lachlan wouldn’t put her down, she found bare skin and pinched.

“Ow! Christ Almighty!” he said.

Caitlin glowered at him, but inside she wore a smug smile. “Language! Do you want the devil to come-a-knocking?”

Darach nudged Loki forward and closed the distance between them. She reached up, and he lifted her onto his lap. Her body cleaved to his, arms squeezing his neck, face pressed to his skin, inhaling his familiar scent. He did the same, chest expanding against her cheek.

“By God, you smell good,” he said.

His voice was thick with love, and Caitlin sighed with relief that he was here, safe. She pressed kisses all over his face until he dug his hand into her hair and captured her lips. The noise of the bailey and Lachlan’s tirade faded as Caitlin lost herself to the bliss of being kissed by her husband and held in his strong arms.

After what could have been either seconds or days, something tickled her hand and she opened her eyes. A pair of blue ones, surrounded by the softest white fur she’d ever seen, stared back at her.

She gasped, breaking the kiss. “Darach, there’s a kitten on your shoulder.”

“Aye.” He continued to nuzzle down her neck to her ear. “That’s Caitlin.”

“Who?”

“I named her after you. She has your eyes, and she saved me.”

Caitlin stared at the kitten. Caitlin stared back, purring loudly.

“You canna name her Caitlin.”

“I already did.” He straightened and nudged Loki toward the keep, then grabbed the white fur ball and held her to his chest. “She rode with me the entire way, crawled all over me. ’Tis you in kitten form. Most likely she’ll drive the male cats mad with her antics.”

Caitlin caressed the kitten’s wee head. “They’ll love her anyway.”

“More than life itself.”

They reached the keep, and he placed the kitten back on his wide shoulder. When he slid off the stallion and lifted Caitlin into his arms again, she was amazed to see the little angel keep her balance. Darach took the stairs two at a time.

“I thought you didn’t like cats?” she asked, as he pushed through the door into the great hall. The afternoon sun streamed through the open windows that let in the warm, summer air.

“Caitlin, like you, is impossible to resist. She also doesn’t understand the meaning of the word no.”

Caitlin didn’t know whether to be pleased or irked by his comment, so she sniffed and said again, “You canna call her Caitlin.”

A holler sounded from the upper level, and they looked up to see Fergus bounding down the stairs, shouting, “Laird, Laird!” He threw himself against Darach’s legs. “What took you so long? You missed the fighting, aye? They came at night, but Oslow said we were safe inside the castle. Everyone was here from the village too, and the warriors were running around. Gare was hit with an arrow, but he’s all right now, and Ness’s son was sick for a few days too, but he’s—”

Fergus stopped abruptly as he noticed the white kitten on Darach’s shoulder. His jaw dropped and his eyes widened.

“Her name is Angel,” Caitlin said, “and you may only touch her if your hands are clean.”

The lad stared at the kitten, then at Caitlin, then back to the kitten. Suddenly, he turned and dashed up the stairs. Darach laughed and followed at a slower pace. By the time they reached the top, Fergus was back with clean hands. Darach crouched down and the lad gently took hold of the kitten, who purred and climbed up his arm to his shoulder.

“Introduce her to the other kits and show her where the food and box is located,” Darach said.

Fergus nodded and walked carefully down the corridor so Angel wouldn’t fall off, talking to her the whole time.

Reaching their bedchamber, Darach pushed inside and leaned against the door to lock it behind them. He stared down at her, that dark look in his eyes that Caitlin loved.

“I thought ’tis time for a wee prayer, Wife.”

She smiled as all those interesting places in her body began to tingle. “Nay, not so wee. Surely you have many sins to confess. It may take a while.”

Grinning, he walked across the room and lay with her on the bed, undoing her brooch and loosening her chemise. “I promise to worship at your altar for as long as ’tis necessary.”

Caitlin giggled, then pulled his head up so she could look into his eyes. “Darach?”

“Aye?”

The adoration in his tone filled her to bursting. She traced her fingers along his face and remembered how she’d done the same thing the first time she’d opened her eyes and seen him looking down at her. “I love you so much.”

He kissed her. Gently, reverently. “I love you too, lass. More and more every day.”

“Even though I’m trouble?”

He laughed quietly and nuzzled her ear. “You’re not trouble, Caitlin. You’re a joy—my everlasting joy.”

She tangled her fingers in his hair. “I’ll remember you said that.”

“I’m sure you will. Just promise me one thing.”

“Whatever you wish.” Anything he asked, anything he desired, she would do it.

He caressed his fingers over her cheeks, shaped her lips. Kissed each eyelid and the tip of her nose. Then he leaned down and brushed his mouth across hers with a sigh. She could feel his smile.

“Doona give me daughters, Caitlin MacKenzie. My heart canna take it.”

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Highland Conquest

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