Five

They descended past tumbling rocks, peat bogs, and rolling wooded hills into a valley that come summer would ripen with barley. When malted and combined with the peaty water from the burns that flowed down from the surrounding mountains and hills, it would capture the unique flavor and aroma of her beloved home, becoming uisge beatha, the potent whiskey that served as medicine, comfort, and the currency upon which her family’s fortune had been made. Crossing the River Spey, she felt a bittersweet ache, remembering sunny afternoons fishing for salmon with her father. There’d been no talk of marriage, succession, or duty… only golden days, swift moving waters, and her father’s rumbling laugh.

The castle village was a fishing harbor, nestled against a heather-covered hillside along the sandy shores of the North Sea. They were greeted with excitement, then tears, as Jerrod informed Robbie McIntyre’s wife he wasn’t coming home. Catherine took note to see her well cared for, Perry and William’s families, too.

The castle was perched on the summit, giving it a commanding view. It backed on a forest of oak and beech and looked across the sea to Norway. She looked up as she climbed the steep path, pretending she was seeing it for the first time, and wondering if it might be her last. Standing six stories high, with soaring turrets, steep gables, and tall chimneystacks, it had always reminded her of something from a fairy tale. When she was a child, she used to pretend she was a warrior princess, sworn to defend it. Well… that dream had fallen flat.

Right now, it hummed with a palpable air of excitement. The courtyard was bustling with activity, the servants were scurrying to and fro, and both her brother and Donald were waiting, frowning their disapproval. She glanced back at Jerrod, fairly certain the welcome wasn’t for them. He shrugged his shoulders. Turning back, she caught Alistair’s glare as he motioned rudely for her to join them. It seemed her prodigal brother and the cousin who’d counseled leaving him to die were already reconciled. Over her, no doubt. This farce was rapidly losing its appeal, and she was rapidly losing her patience.

Weary, grimy, stiff, and sore, she slid from her horse and passed the groomsman the reins, pausing to look at the family motto etched in stone above the entrance. Virtutem coronat honos. Honor crowns virtue. She’d spent years puzzling over what it meant. When she’d asked her father, he’d only laughed and ruffled her hair, saying “Cat, my girl, that’s for you to decide.” She knew how her brother would interpret it. She ambled over to him now, curious to know what the fuss was about, and smiling with approval at the lump still visible on his forehead.

“Brother… cousin,” she said, looking at them both in turn, “what’s all this fuss?”

“You look disgraceful, Catherine!” Donald snapped. “Go to your rooms and get cleaned up at once.”

“But of course, cousin,” she said in a pleasant tone, “just as soon as I’ve seen to my horse, seen to my men, and seen to my stomach.”

“See to your manners first, woman, and do as your chieftain tells you!” Alistair barked.

“Are you speaking to me, pup?” she asked, rounding on him as her men snickered in the courtyard. “Because I don’t think you can be. Because I know if you were, you’d be saying thank you to me and my men for risking our lives to save you from your folly. I know you’d be telling us how sorry you are that Robbie and Matthew and Perry lie cold and dead, their wives weeping in the village, while you strut and preen and play the little lord! I know you aren’t talking to me, but I am talking to you. You deserve a sound thrashing, little brother, and if you ever… dare… to raise your voice to me that way again, I’ll take a whip to you myself!”

Alistair stumbled back, white-faced with shock and anger.

“That’s enough, Catherine! The boy’s been through an ordeal.”

“He needs to be told, Donald! If you cared about him you’d do so yourself. He’s sixteen years old! He needs discipline and good counsel. You’re his chieftain, you’re his elder, and you’re his family. You should act as his father, as my father did for you.”

Alistair clenched his fists and stalked away, calling over his shoulder, “Tell her, Donald!”

“Had your father raised you properly, Catherine, you’d not be standing in this courtyard screeching like a scold! Your brother is too young to correct you, but Cormac O’Connor is not. He arrived here yesterday, and you’ll be married to him tomorrow. You’ll not shame us by going to your husband dressed like that. Go and get ready… Now!”

Her lips quirked. Husband? She already had one. The dark-haired English Lucifer with the twisted sense of humor. He hadn’t appeared to mind the way she dressed, and it seemed he wasn’t done aiding her yet. In fact, he was proving to be very helpful, indeed.

“Well, cousin,” she said softy, “there’s a slight problem with that, you see. Unless the laws have changed, and I’m allowed to have two.”

“Don’t play with me, woman. Two what?”

“Why, two husbands, cousin.”

“Are you mad, girl?

“I don’t believe so, Donald… but I am married.”

“Damnation! How? When? I’ve made arrangements. You had no right!” Enraged, he gripped her by the arm and shook her, stopping suddenly when he felt cold steel pressed against his throat.

“Now that’s no way to be handling the old chief’s daughter, Donny boy,” Rory said softly in his ear, as Jerrod moved to stand beside her.

“There’s no need for that, Rory.” Catherine shrugged loose from Donald’s grasp and stepped away. “Donald is merely surprised and a little overwrought. He’ll settle down in a moment. Won’t you, Donald.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Well, I’m bloody well surprised and overwrought, too!” Jerrod said, almost shouting. “Just when did this happen, Cat?”

“Perhaps you should explain it to the council,” Donald said. “Let them see you for the shameless hoyden you really are.”

“Enough ya rank bastard! I’ll not have you—”

“No, Rory. It’s a good idea. Let’s speak to the council, shall we?”

* * *

It felt strange to be in the great hall and watch Donald take her father’s place. Power ill becomes him. It was an instrument he hadn’t the skill to use, so he used it like a bludgeon.

“Well? What are you waiting for, girl? Tell us about this so-called marriage, or will you name the father only when you’re thick with child?”

“I am the daughter of Ian Drummond, who was Earl of Moray, Baron Vichy, laird of this castle, and chieftain of this clan for over forty years. You’re my kin, Donald, so I’ll not require you to use my titles when you address me, but you will speak with respect!”

There was a drumming of hands on the table and a chorus of “aye” and “well said.” Donald turned a bright red but said nothing more, motioning her to continue.

“Very well, as most of you know by now, in our attempt to rescue my brother, three men were lost and I was captured. One of their number, an English officer, heard the cry of Drummond and decided to snatch a bride. He assumed I was one of the lowland Drummonds and hoped to acquire some lands, I suppose,” she added nonchalantly.

“Cat! You said no one had touched you!”

“No, Uncle, I said I was unharmed.”

“Then… ?”

“I’m bedded and wedded, and by a priest, no less. I am married in the eyes of God.” She wasn’t lying. He had bedded her, though not in the way they assumed. Her words were met by shocked faces, shouts of anger, and murmurs of horror and dismay.

Donald jumped to his feet. “It will be undone! You’re to marry Cormac O’Connor, not some… Sassenach! I’ve given my oath!”

“Well, I’ve given mine too, Donald, and to a higher power than you have! What would you have me do? Would you have me live in sin, married to two men?”

“And just who is he, this new husband?” Jerrod asked. “What’s his name? How is he known?”

“I don’t know, Uncle.”

“You don’t know? How can you not know?”

“Surely to God there’s one or two of you who’ve stolen a bride before! My own father did. Did you stop and make polite introductions first? They were speaking Spanish most of the time, and frankly, Uncle, I wasn’t really paying attention. I had other things on my mind and I was rescued before I could ask.”

“Well then,” Rory said. “It seems simple enough. We find out who he is, track him down, and make you a widow, Cat. You’ve no objections to that, I take it?”

“Other than the fact that he’s in the center of an armed encampment amongst a host three times our size, the snow will be upon us soon, and we’ve already lost three good men? No, gentlemen, I have none, but might I suggest we use common sense. The poor weather’s with us already, and it’s not a good time for campaigning. Let’s tend to our business, make some enquiries, and deal with it come spring.”

Donald regarded her coldly. “Why didn’t you tell your men when they might have done something?”

“Because they might have done something, Donald. It would have been suicidal. Now I beg you gentlemen, give me leave to rest. I’m feeling poorly and I’ve been through a great ordeal!”

She made to rise and stumbled, clutching at the table. They hurried to help her to her feet, filled with solicitude and concern—all but Donald, who regarded her with anger, and Jerrod, who watched perplexed. She hurried to her solar, gleeful and giddy and filled with relief, barely able to contain her smile. She’d always disdained feminine tricks such as fainting and weeping, but she may have been wrong. They appeared to work remarkably well. She supposed she owed him a great deal, this sharp-tongued, sarcastic Englishman. He’d saved her from Gervaise’s men and an unhappy fate, and now he’d saved her from an unwanted marriage and set her free!