Seven

A thrill of accomplishment burst through Caitlin as she looked at the supplies she’d gathered over the last week and laid out on her bed: neatly folded clothes that had belonged to Darach’s mother, including several arisaids, chemises, a warm cloak, hose, and sturdy shoes; a worn pack to go over Cloud that Ronald the stable master had found and Caitlin had mended; oats, apples, and some cheese Ness had pressed on her for helping Fergus; a cup, knife, and other necessities from Edina; and a map Oslow had dug out of a cupboard before showing her the route she would take through the mountains to Inverness. And Cloud, of course, down in the stables.

She even had a quill, paper, and ink Darach had given her two nights past—his face stony, that muscle jumping wildly in his jaw—after she said she needed to make a list to help her decide on her best course of action and to prepare for her trip, just in case. She’d felt very responsible and mature, and had beamed up at him despite his dour expression.

And for the first time in a long time, she’d felt in control of her own destiny.

Even if she didn’t go to France, it was good to know she was prepared for any outcome.

The only thing she didn’t have was money—a few coins she could use in a pinch. But money was hard to find in the Highlands. People tended to barter goods and services, not pay for them.

Besides, she wasn’t comfortable taking hard-earned coin from any of the MacKenzies. She needed to get it from someone who had coin to spare—like Darach or Lachlan, although she doubted Darach would be so inclined.

That left Lachlan, but what on earth could she do for him that he’d pay for?

After carefully fitting everything into her pack, including the hairbrush Darach had gifted her, which she laid on top, she propped the bag in the corner, ready to go if the need arose.

Heading into the hallway, she was just in time to hear the door bang open below as Lachlan and Darach entered the keep. She hurried to the top of the stairs, and a smile broke free when she saw them walking toward the small hearth, their plaids swaying and swords banging against their legs. Both so big and brawny.

“Caitlin!” Lachlan hailed when he saw her. “Come join us for a cup of mead.”

“Aye, I should like that. Thank you.”

She ran down the stairs toward them. Darach pulled out a chair for her, then sat down with little more than a grunt.

“Is something bothering you, Darach?” she asked.

“Nay. I’m just…lost in thought.”

“About what? Maybe I can help.”

He grunted again, and when she opened her mouth to question him further, he said, “Leave off, Caitlin. I doona want to talk about it.”

The sting of his rejection bit sharply, but she let it go with a silent sigh. He was preparing for war, for sending his warriors off to die. No doubt he had a lot on his mind.

She couldn’t stop the guilt from rising, however, or the feeling that she was responsible. It made her shudder to think of all the MacKenzie lives that might be lost.

Darach read the emotions on her face and reached out his hand to give hers a squeeze. “’Tis not the coming war that bothers me, Caitlin. I relish the fight with the Frasers. I canna wait for it. The clan canna wait. My worry is for you and your ill-conceived plan to leave us.”

“I’m not planning to leave you, Darach. Not yet. But you told me I must think clearly. ’Tis smart to be ready, aye? Like you are with Fraser.”

He nodded reluctantly and leaned back. “Aye.”

Edina bustled in with some cups and a pitcher of mead on a tray. “Shall I pour for you, Laird?” she asked.

On Darach’s nod, she served them and retreated back to the kitchen.

Caitlin took several sips to ease the tightness in her throat. She liked working toward her goal and gathering her belongings, liked the feeling of being in control of her life after she’d been controlled for so long, but when she thought about leaving, she ended up with a knot in her chest and an ache in her stomach.

The longer she stayed, the harder it would be to leave. And if she left it too late, Fraser would be upon her. Unless she decided to do as Darach asked and stand with them against the Frasers instead of running. ’Twas a problem that left her head spinning and her heart in a tangled mess.

“Do you have everything you need then, lass?” Lachlan asked.

“Aye, other than money. ’Twould be good to have some coin just in case.”

“There’s no need for it here, but it would be useful in the larger towns.”

“’Twas what I thought. But how do women who live there earn coins? Is it hard?” For the life of her, she couldn’t remember her mother ever handling money.

Lachlan huffed out a laugh. “It can be—verra hard, depending how good the woman is.”

When Darach snorted, she looked over at him. He would not meet her gaze.

Feeling like she was missing something, she asked Lachlan, “Well, how do you make money?”

“The last coin I earned was for besting my foster brother Kerr, which is difficult. He’s built like a great, bloody rock, and he’s fast. But he was certain of his success, and I had precut the wooden sword I tossed him.”

Caitlin’s eyes stretched so wide they felt like they might fall from her face. “You gambled and you cheated—oh, how wonderful! ’Twas all in fun, aye?”

“Nay. He should have been vigilant enough to discover my deceit, understand?”

She looked at Darach for clarification, but he was smiling and nodding too.

“So, ’tis all right to cheat, then?” she asked.

“Nay!” they said together.

“But, you just said—”

“’Twas all right for me to cheat with Kerr because ’twas a test, to see if he was paying attention. So the wager was that I could beat him in a fight, but the test was of his vigilance—and he failed.”

Caitlin pursed her lips and thought on what the men had said. “So are you always testing someone’s vigilance when you gamble?”

“Nay, just Gregor and our foster brothers. Otherwise, you make a wager believing in your skill,” Darach said.

She sat up. “I have skills. I’m verra good with animals. I’ll wager that I can bring your dogs to heel.”

Lachlan had just taken a drink of mead and almost blew it through his nose at her statement. “Those bloody hounds are monsters, Caitlin. You havnae seen them. At least wait until they come back from the hunt before you commit.”

“Nay, there’s no need. I’ll bet that I can train Darach’s hounds without meeting them first.”

He laughed again. “And what coin do you have to gamble?”

“I doona have any. But if I lose, I’ll…mend some of your clothes.”

“Accepted. What else do you want to wager?”

“Lachlan, I doona think—” Darach started to say.

“Nay, I want to wager,” she told him. “I like winning.”

A reluctant smile tilted Darach’s lips, and she smiled back at him, warmth spreading outward from her chest like melting butter.

Lachlan snapped his fingers between them. “Pay attention. I like winning too. What else do you want to gamble?”

She thought on what else she was good at. “Well, I’ve read much of the Bible. ’Twas the only book at my uncle’s keep. I’ll wager I can recite a verse word for word.”

“Nay, that’s too easy.”

“Well…how about that I can teach you to recite a verse word for word.”

“Nay, that’s too hard,” Darach said. “He’d just refuse to learn and you would lose the wager.”

Caitlin tapped her finger against her lips. Surely God would want her to teach Lachlan a story from the Bible, and He’d provide a moment when Lachlan would have to listen to her.

“I wager that God will make you sit still and listen as I read to you from the scripture.”

“Divine intervention?”

“Aye.”

Darach groaned as Lachlan shot out his hand. “I accept.”

They shook on it, giving her an idea. She grabbed his hands and turned them over, palms facing down. “Hold your hands here.” Then she sat opposite him and placed her hands beneath his with their palms touching. “I wager I can slap the top of your hands before you pull them away. Like this.” Then she slowly moved her hands out to the side from beneath his and touched the tops of his hands. It was a game she’d played endlessly with her father, and then with some of the warriors and maids in her uncle’s keep, although that never lasted long.

“That’s it?” Lachlan asked.

“Aye. One coin that I can best you one time.”

“You doona have any coins.”

“I do. You just havnae given them to me yet.”

Darach puffed out a laugh as Lachlan took a coin from his pouch and tossed it to her with a cocky grin. “Here’s a free one, sweetling. Keep it out, though. I’ll be winning it back shortly.”

She smiled sweetly and tucked the coin into a fold in her arisaid, then held her hands out palms up, in front of Lachlan. Darach pulled his chair closer.

When Lachlan laid his palms over hers, she said, “Ready?”

He’d barely finished saying “Aye,” when Caitlin whipped her palms out to the side and slapped the tops of his hands.

“I wasn’t ready,” he protested, a frown darkening his face.

“Then you shouldnae have said ‘aye.’”

He looked at Darach to back him up, but Darach just shrugged, his eyes sparkling. Lachlan held his hands out. “Again.”

Catlin placed her hands beneath his and waited. And waited. As soon as he looked up from his hands to her, she whipped her hands out and slapped him.

Lachlan pulled his hands back with a loud curse.

“Language, Laird McKay. ’Tis not the Lord’s fault you failed to remain vigilant.”

Darach practically hooted this time, and a puff of pride filled her. Aye, she was good at this game.

Lachlan dug in his sporran and tossed her another coin, which she slipped into her arisaid. “Maybe you would like to try again?”

He laid his hands out one at a time, arms tense, brow furrowed. This time she pretended to strike, but just jerked her hands, causing him to yank his hands back both times. As soon as he placed his palms against hers the third time, she struck for real and slapped him.

“Again!” he yelled as he tossed her another coin. They played the best of three next, and she won every game.

Finally he slumped back in his chair. “I’m done. I may as well just hand you my purse.”

“’Tis difficult to lose, I’m sure,” she soothed. “Perhaps you would like to change positions? Maybe you’ll be better on the bottom than the top.”

Lachlan muttered something about a bishop and a nun as he carefully held out his hands, palms up this time. She placed her palms slowly over his, then looked him in the eye. “Please, doona hurt me, Laird McKay. I bruise easily.”

After that it was easy, and she received two more coins for a total of six. “The other bets still stand, aye?” she asked. “Half the amount wagered that I can train Darach’s hounds; the other half wagered that you will stay still and listen as I teach you a passage from the Good Book.”

“Nay. Half the amount wagered on Darach’s hounds, the full amount wagered on reading to me from the Bible. But I have to be a captive audience—no tying me in place or telling it to me when I’m sleeping.”

“Agreed. And, Laird MacKay, I would ne’er be in your room while you were sleeping!” Then she spun around, coins clinking together, skirts swishing, and swept toward the stairs.

* * *

Darach watched her go, liking the fire in her eyes and the sparkle of her smile, the way her long hair swayed as she walked away from him and how she practically leaped up the stairs.

To count her money, no doubt.

When she disappeared, he glanced over at a bemused-looking Lachlan.

“What were you thinking?” he asked his brother irritably. “Now she’s one step closer to leaving.”

“Nay, she willna be able to train your dogs, and if by chance she does, no way in hell will I sit still for one of her lectures—and that wager is all or naught.”

“Aye, you will. She’ll figure something out.”

Lachlan sighed. “Maybe, but by then she’ll have been here long enough she’ll not want to leave. You willna lose her, Darach.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “’Tis not for me I worry. ’Tis for her.”

“Then doona be an idiot. Give the lass a reason to stay.”