Three

She found the kittens the next morning.

The first anguished meow reached her ears when she was picking wild berries for breakfast in the valley where they’d slept. Four kittens, about five weeks old, hungry and scared, crawled over their mother’s dead body beneath a crumbling log.

’Twas a pitiful state that Caitlin well knew. The MacKenzie castle was but a half-day’s ride. It’d be no trouble to take them, no trouble at all.

Hovering on the edge of camp with the full cape of her arisaid bunched together in the front and the kittens inside, she searched for Darach. She couldn’t see him or Lachlan anywhere.

A purr vibrated through her chest, and unable to resist, she peeked inside. The kittens roused, mewing and tumbling over one another. Her heart swelled as their wee tongues and soft paws tickled her face, their fur soft as velvet. She’d longed for a pet all those lonely nights at her uncle’s home.

“Caitlin.”

She jumped and turned to find Darach and Lachlan standing behind her, looking big and brawny in the sun. The kittens batted against her arisaid.

Lachlan cocked an eyebrow at the commotion.

Darach’s brows slanted inward. “Nay.”

“What do you mean, nay?” she asked with growing alarm.

“I willna have cats in my home. I doona like them.”

“I doona have any cats.”

He stared at her a moment, then reached forward and tugged open the folds of her arisaid. The kittens blinked in the bright sunlight.

“Nor will I abide deceit.”

“’Tis not a falsehood. They’re kittens, not cats.”

“Kittens need their mother. You will return them to their den.”

He turned and strode into the clearing toward the horses.

Caitlin ran after him, dogging his heels. “Their mother is dead, and the kits are too young to survive. I’m taking them with me, Darach. ’Tis the godly thing to do.”

“The godly thing to do is to leave them to their fate—survive if they can, provide sustenance for other animals if they cannot.”

She stopped, aghast. “I’ll not abandon the babies to die. If you leave them, you’ll leave me too.”

He turned. That muscle jumped in his cheek. “They’re not babies, Caitlin. They’re kittens. They smell and skulk around. I doona like animals that skulk.”

“Have you ne’er had a cat? They’re loving and playful. And verra useful in a keep.”

“Nay.”

“But—”

“My dogs will eat them.”

Relief flooded through her. He was just worried lest they be hurt. “Doona fash, Darach. I willna allow your beasties to hurt my babies.”

He made a disbelieving sound she’d come to know quite well. “How do you plan to stop them?”

“With training and discipline. Same as all animals.”

“You think you can train my devils? They’re bigger than you.”

“Size doesn’t matter. They will want to please me and therefore do as I ask.”

“That sounds familiar,” Lachlan said from behind her.

She ignored him, but Darach did not. His shoulders tensed further. He glared at her another moment then mounted his horse. The others did the same.

He looked down at her. “Choose, Caitlin.”

“What?”

“I said, choose.”

Her heart beat like the wings of a tiny bird caught in her chest. How could Darach do such a thing? “I canna.”

His hands fisted on the reins, then he wheeled away from her. “We ride!”

* * *

Darach kneed Loki, and the stallion cantered across the green meadow. She would call him back. Any minute now, Caitlin would cry out his name. He would even be charitable and allow her to take the kittens. Maybe give them to the miller or house them in the grain stores to catch the mice. Truly, he did not like cats and would not abide them underfoot. A demon of a cat had dwelled in his home when he was a child. The beast would stalk him around the dark passageways. It was a happy day when the fiend finally passed over to its devil father.

His arms were empty without Caitlin riding with him, his body cold. He wanted to turn back, reassure himself she was all right, but he gritted his teeth and kept forward. She would call him back. She had to. Slowing, he gave her more time, let her see them leaving the glen.

The lass could not be allowed to ignore his wishes. He was laird, a warrior, not some lowly kitchen boy. To ask him about the kits was one thing. To tell him, another. He would not be led by the cockstrings ever again.

When they reached the edge of the glen, his stomach twisted. He sweated with the strain of continuing to move forward. She would call him back.

“Lachlan?” he asked through clenched teeth.

“She’s all right,” he responded. “Right where you left her, still holding the kits. More than likely crying her eyes out.”

His chest squeezed. Damnation. He would not be led by the heartstrings either.

Oslow moved up beside him. “Darach, lad, ’tis all right to yield to the lass. She’s not Moire. She will cause you trouble, all right, but not the same kind. There isna a bad bone in her body. I think she’s learned her lesson.”

“I saw wolf tracks,” Gare said. “The crying will draw them to her.”

“Or the Frasers,” added Brodie. “And she doesn’t have a horse to get away. If you’d at least left her Cloud, she might have a chance.”

Still Darach rode, leading the party into the woods.

“Och, for Christ’s sake, go get her,” Lachlan exploded, no longer amused. “You’ve lasted longer than any of us would have. Didn’t I tell you women were contrary? She’s going to win no matter what. It’s the curse of men. We’re bigger and stronger, yet one wee lass can topple us all.”

Darach stopped but didn’t turn around. His stomach was a mass of knots and his heart thundered in his chest. If she had just called him back.

Lachlan suddenly tilted up his chin and howled like a wolf.

The sound gutted Darach, and he glared at his foster brother. He lasted one more second, then spun his mount toward the glen and Caitlin. Relief at seeing her standing in the field flooded through him, and he calculated how long it would take to reach her, if he could get there before any blasted wolf or wild boar or Fraser appeared. He urged Loki faster.

She ran toward him through the grass, the kittens still wrapped in her arisaid. Her silky hair streamed behind her, and her cheeks shone wetly. “You left me! You promised ne’er to leave me!”

He circled and leaned down. “Hold the kittens tight.” Then he scooped her into his arms. Never had a woman felt so good against him.

He felt her body heave as she sucked in a shaky breath. Guilt for leaving her and making her cry made his skin tighten. “I’ll ne’er leave again. I promise. The kits will have a good home, as will you. Doona fash, sweetling. ’Tis all right.”

Her breathing calmed with his soothing words, and her shudders reduced to the odd hiccup. They moved slowly toward the others, grouped at the edge of the glen. She waved, and they waved back.

“Darach.”

“Aye.”

“You ne’er really left, did you?”

“No. I ne’er really left.”

She turned her head to the side and leaned her cheek against his chest. Her face tilted toward him and the need to kiss her lips beat like a winter storm within him.

“Verily, I’m glad. ’Twas something my father would do when I was a bairn. Leave me in hopes I would follow. Or maybe to teach me a lesson. In truth, I am a trial, I know it well.”

Darach grunted. He tried to look away from her mouth, still wet from her tears, and failed.

“I knew you would come.”

“Did you, now?”

“Oh, aye. You’re my angel.”

The kittens mewed, and she cooed to them, kissing their faces and letting them suck her fingers. Darach closed his eyes and listened. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t see the faces of all the dead MacKenzies in his mind’s eye—killed by Moire and Fraser, by him for being too blind to see their black hearts.

Maybe it would work out with Caitlin. She would be safe with him, and he would enjoy having a woman around to see to his comforts, to calm him at the end of the day.

He rested his chin atop her head.

“Darach?”

“Aye.”

“I will name each kitten after one of the four cardinal virtues: Prudence, Justice, Fortitude, and Temperance. That way, whene’er you hear their names called, you’ll be reminded on how to get into Heaven.”

The peace inside him evaporated. The blasted cats were not welcome in his home.

“Darach?” she asked again.

“Aye.” Wariness tinged the word.

“Have you mice in your keep? The kits are fair good at catching vermin.”

* * *

“Just be thankful there weren’t seven of them,” Lachlan said, tossing a stone into the loch. “Elsewise she’d have named them after the seven deadly sins, and you’d be calling for Gluttony, Greed, Envy, and Sloth.”

“Och, doona forget Pride and Wrath,” said Oslow.

“Or Lust,” Darach added roughly.

They were almost home and had stopped to water the horses. Darach had immediately entered the loch to cool his privates. It was a humiliating experience that, again, had Lachlan bowled over with laughter. Darach had no doubt his other foster brothers would soon hear of his ordeal.

Oslow had joined them afterward, and they were enjoying a peaceful rest on MacKenzie land in the late-afternoon sun. Caitlin, Brodie, and Gare were in a field a short distance away, playing with the kittens. Caitlin was trying to decide which kitten exhibited which virtue, to be so named. Darach had yet to tell her the kits were going to the miller.

“She’s a bonny lass,” Oslow said, picking up on Darach’s previous statement, “but she’s not for tupping, no matter the state of your loins. Unless you marry her, of course, then you can bed her whene’er you want. She’d give you fine sons, no doubt.”

Darach did not want to think about tupping Caitlin. He’d just cooled his privates—although talk of marriage should keep his cock soft.

“I’ll not be marrying the lass, Oslow, but if I did, she’d more than likely give me daughters. All of them looking like her, causing trouble. I’d be an old man in my grave before I was forty.”

“Nay. She’d give you sons. Braw lads as strong-minded and fearless as her. But if you’re not interested in the lass, I’ll introduce her to my Angus. He needs a wife, and I’m sure he’d be as smitten with her as Gare and Brodie.”

The blood heated in Darach’s veins, flushing his face. He looked toward the field, trying to make out what Caitlin and the two younger men were doing. Naught of consequence. Just playing with the kittens.

Playing with the kittens—like hell. Brodie was a right rogue with the lasses, and Gare was such a pitiful lad, caught betwixt man and boy, she’d want to save him just like she’d saved the baby bird. Most likely he’d try to make himself look as pathetic as possible with the hopes of ensnaring her, the devil.

Darach stood abruptly and made his way across the rocky shore to the field. Lachlan’s snort followed him. Sure enough, Gare and Brodie sat beside her, hanging on to every word. Scoundrels, both of them. He frowned, and they jumped to their feet. Let Caitlin see who was master and laird here—the most dominant MacKenzie male.

After sending them to Oslow, he sat on the grass beside her. She looked pleased to see him. Maybe now would be the time to tell her the kittens were going to the miller. He willed himself to begin, but one of the cats tumbled into his lap and mewed up at him. Bloody fiend.

“Och, would you look at that. He loves you, Darach. Maybe he will be called Justice, for he is drawn to you, and you are the most just man I know.”

He puffed up and deflated at the same time. ’Twas a good decision to send the cats to the miller. Not only did it show Justice, but also Prudence, Fortitude, and Temperance. Surely she would see the right of it.

The kit ran up his body and batted his hair. Darach started in surprise. Grabbing it, he held the wee thing in front of him. The cat reached out and swatted his chin.

Caitlin fell sideways onto the grass, laughing. “You’ve ne’er had a cat before, have you?”

Darach grunted and brought the kitten closer. He had to admit it was sweet—big eyes and downy, soft fur. It suckled the stubble of his beard, and his heart turned over.

“They’re starved, poor babies,” she said. “He’s trying to nurse. All we had was water. It helped, but their bellies are empty.”

There would be lots of milk at the miller’s.

“Caitlin, I doona think…”

She gazed at him, her eyes wide, trusting. A happy glow surrounded her, and the words stuck in his throat. Maybe she could keep the kits until they were old enough to be on their own. House them in the kitchens and out of his sight and the sight of his dogs for a week or two. Then they could go to the miller.

“Aye, Darach?”

“’Tis naught, lass. We’ll be home soon and they can have their meal.”

Picking up a kitten, she held it close. “I think this little lass will be Temperance, for she’s the only female and needs to have much restraint to live with three brothers. It must be a trial, doona you think?”

“I lived with four brothers, and aye, ’twas a trial.”

A wistful look crossed her face. “I did so wish for a brother. Or a sister. But my parents were not blessed with bairns after me. Instead, I had lots of pets—cats, dogs, horses, and pigs.”

“Pigs?”

“Aye, pigs are wonderful pets. Although I caused such a fankle when my father wanted to butcher the dear thing, I was ne’er allowed to bond with a pig again.”

“And what happened to it?”

“I doona know. I lost more than just my parents the night of the fire. Verily, ’twas a torment. I longed for pets after that, but I feared to show favor to any creature, lest my uncle hurt the animal. I was verra careful when I fed Cloud apples. The guards who followed me knew, I’m sure, but one older guard in particular didn’t mind.” She turned to smile at the stallion tethered with the other horses. “I’m thankful you saved him too.”

His stomach soured at the insight into her life after her parents’ death, at how afraid, alone, and sad she must have been. Yet she’d shown none of that to him or his men. And he knew she must have felt it—her heart was as big as the loch.

“I want you to have Cloud,” he said suddenly. It was the least he could do.

Her eyes grew round. “Truly?”

“Aye. But wait to ride him until we return to the keep. I doona want him to spook and throw you out here. Let him get used to you in the stables first, aye?” Where he could have a healer on hand and spread out some hay to soften her fall.

With an excited holler, she threw her arms around his neck and almost knocked him backward. One arm settled around her waist, the other hovered just above her hair. The devil take him, he wanted to touch her, to hold her still for his kiss.

She pulled back, eyes alight, cheeks creased into identical dimples. “Oh, thank you, Darach. I’ll take such good care of him, I promise.”

“I know you will.”

“He isna a mean horse. Just fearful. He had as bad a time of it as I did.”

He reached for her hand. Held it gently. “Lass, we need to talk about that. Who took you from the fire? Was it your uncle?”

“Aye, he was there. He saved me, but he wouldnae let me go back to help my parents. I knew if he would just let me go, I could pull them free. ’Twas not true, of course, but at the time it seemed most cruel.”

“How did you get from there to the keep? Was your uncle the stable master? I’ve met one or two grooms who treated their animals harshly.” Maybe that was when the laird had seen her.

She looked away, intent on the kittens playing in the grass.

“Caitlin?”

With a sigh, she looked up. “I doona want to tell you.”

“Why?”

“Well…what if I cause so much trouble you want to send me back?”

She still didn’t trust him, and it sliced through him like a knife to his gut. Though to be fair, after he’d left her in the glen with the kittens, who could blame her?

“I’ll not send you back, love. I promise. Just tell me who your uncle is.”

“Och, you say that now, but you havnae seen the mischief I cause. I doona mean it, of course, but it happens all the same.” She pulled her hand away, picked up the kitten that slept in her lap, and whispered, “Maybe you can be Prudence and teach me well, for I am sorely lacking in that virtue.”

Darach leaned over and pet the last kitten to be named. “If he’s Prudence, then this final one is Fortitude, and you have more of that than all my warriors combined.” He placed his fingers beneath her chin. Her blue gaze, frightened and worried, locked with his. It hurt his heart to see her so distressed. What was she hiding?

“Please, lass, will you speak on your uncle? Is he the cruel stable master at the castle where you were housed?”

“Nay, Darach, he’s not the stable master. My uncle is the cruel laird.”