Six

“I would have thought ye’d be talking to Katherine.”

Marcus MacPherson offered Rolfe a menacing grin. “Ye can be very sure I will be having words with me sister later.”

“She is no’ yer sister,” Rolfe responded. “At the moment, ye are acting far more like her father.”

“At the risk of agreeing with ye, when all I want to do is choke the life from ye, aye,” Marcus replied. “That’s a fine, healthy way for ye to think of me. Because I swear I’ll twist yer cock off if ye harmed that lass.”

Duncan let out a snort, gaining him a glare from Marcus. “Perhaps I’ll start with ye, Duncan Lindsey, for allowing this wedding on yer land when ye knew the lass was under MacPherson protection.”

Duncan sobered. “The lass agreed, or I would no’ have let it happen. And I do nae care for yer tone. A bit of ransom is one thing; rape under the guise of marriage is another. One I do nae hold with.”

Marcus nodded.

“She did agree,” Rolfe insisted. “So do nae insult me by suggesting I took her against her will.”

“Ye’re saying she went to McTavish land of her own accord?” Marcus questioned.

Rolfe drew in a stiff breath. “Nae.”

Marcus’s expression tightened.

“Colum Gordon had a mind to burn her at the stake,” Rolfe said. “Ye should nae have allowed her to run wild.”

Marcus bristled. “I made sure she could defend herself. Can ye tell me truthfully that the fact that she is English has no’ caused trouble for ye? I’m no’ so arrogant to think that, short of locking her abovestairs, there won’t be times she’ll have to rely on herself.”

Rolfe nodded reluctantly. “I am no’ debating the need for her to learn to defend herself. Did ye truly no’ see the harm in her riding out at night? Christ, man, me own men caught her once, thinking her a lad.”

“So,” Marcus growled softly, “ye were on me land?”

Rolfe grunted. “Ye enjoy a good raid as well as I do. Kat learned a lot from ye, and it’s me guess that she saw ye leaving on a raid she was no’ invited to.”

Marcus slowly cocked his head to one side. “Aye,” he rasped out. “That much is true. I know what I’m guilty of, McTavish. That does nae mean ye should have taken her home to yer land and no’ sent me a ransom demand.” Marcus pointed at Rolfe. “Taking her to Morton is something I can nae forgive.”

“Me father is the one who would nae allow me to send a ransom demand. It’s true enough that I failed to think that part of me plan through. Me father craves a title and sees Katherine as the means to getting it from Morton. I can nae refuse me sire any more than ye can,” Rolfe argued. “But I wed her to make certain Morton can no’ harm her.”

“And she will be staying on Lindsey land under my protection,” Duncan added.

Marcus looked from one to the other before he nodded. “It’s a decent plan, I’ll admit. However, neither of ye have ever faced Morton. I promise ye, the man will nae bend easily. He’s dangerous. Very much so. Wedding vows will nae keep the man from taking her.”

“This keep will,” Duncan declared.

“Do nae be too certain of yer plan,” Marcus warned. “Ye have kin the earl may strike at. I’ve seen him do it. The man has no honor. He’ll find a weak spot and force ye to give her up. The man annulled me own vows without so much as a Hail Mary said in penitence. Go down there, and he’ll slap ye in chains rather than ennoble ye if ye arrive without the payment yer father promised him.”

“I am no’ afraid of a few months in prison,” Rolfe answered tightly.

“Morton will no’ hesitate to chop yer head off and set it on a pike as a warning to the other Highland clans,” Marcus continued. “He sent Robert Gunn into me own castle to make it clear that he can reach into every one of our keeps. He is determined to destroy our way of life, man. Taking yer head, when ye’ve wed without the permission of yer laird and father, will be the perfect opportunity.”

“I will do what I’ve promised me father I would,” Rolfe declared firmly. “Ye’re right to be angry with me for taking her home without thinking about what me father might do with her. I took her there because she needed a lesson, one ye could no’ teach her after letting her have her way so long.”

Marcus let out a grunt. “Aye, true enough. It’s me failing, one I admit.”

“And I will do what me father ordered me to do,” Rolfe continued. “Just as ye would. To do less is to be unworthy of leading me clan. Ye know that is true. It’s the reason ye went to see Morton yerself.”

Marcus slowly nodded. “In that case, ye’d best get on with being grateful that I managed to catch up with ye, because ye will need all the friends ye can muster. Even so, ye stand a fine chance of losing yer head.”

* * *

Katherine felt the world spinning.

It was fortunate she was leaning against a wall, because her knees felt weak.

Morton will no’ hesitate to chop yer head off…

Rolfe was noble to his core, something she admired about him. There was no doubt in her mind that he would face Morton, because his father had ordered him to.

But Marcus never spoke in jest when it came to matters of life and death.

And then there were her own dealings with Morton.

Oh yes, she recalled the way the man had looked at her.

Rolfe was a Highlander. A man who lived his life by the code of facing his enemies. She didn’t think him simple enough to discount the fact that some men didn’t hold themselves to a code of honor, but he would still maintain his own, even at the risk of placing himself in Morton’s power.

And for what?

Marcus was correct about Morton being very good at finding people’s weaknesses. Duncan might try to protect her, even send her north again with Marcus, but that help would not come for free. No, she’d always know that her freedom cost something. Maybe they would keep the details from her, but she knew Morton would not be bested without extracting his vengeance.

It made her sick to think of the MacPhersons suffering for her. They had given her so much.

Damn her need to defy the world! If she had not been so childish and had minded Marcus, none of this ever would have happened.

You never would have met Rolfe…

Tears stung her eyes as she contemplated that. It tormented her, deep in her heart. Her feelings stirred, roiling as if they were about to boil over.

She would not let Rolfe lose his head.

No, the solution was simple, and Marcus had made certain she had the skills to see her decision made into reality. She pressed closer to the door, listening as the men planned.

Because she would be riding out with them.

* * *

“Ye do nae have to remain wed.”

Marcus spoke to her from beneath lowered brows. He was displeased with her as much as with the situation he was attempting to remedy.

“I apologize for riding out,” she began. “It was childish of me not to think about who would come after me.”

Marcus contemplated her for a long moment before he drew in a deep breath and let it out. “Rolfe has had a good effect on ye.”

Katherine shrugged, feeling suddenly shy as heat teased her cheeks. She shifted, causing Marcus to narrow his eyes at her. His expression darkened slightly as he tightened his hold on his sleeves.

“Damn him.” Marcus spoke at last in a tight voice. “Part of me wants to thrash him for putting that look on yer face.”

“You must not.” Once again her English accent was more pronounced as she became agitated.

“And the other part of me wants to shake his hand.”

Katherine smiled, feeling as if everything was suddenly right with the world. There was a storm on the horizon, but for that moment, seeing Marcus nodding with approval, everything that mattered was in its place.

She ran toward him, jumping up to wrap her arms around his neck. He caught her and hugged her tight before setting her back on her feet.

“I mean it, though.” His eyes were glittering with happiness now. “Just say the word, and I’ll have ye on yer way back to MacPherson land. Being foolish does nae mean ye should have to live with a marriage ye do nae care for.”

“More than one foolish action has resulted in dire consequences.”

Marcus’s lips curled a tiny amount. “Let others call ye hellion as an insult. For meself, I enjoy the frank way ye speak.”

He beamed at her for a long moment before his expression went serious. “Ye’ll tell me, Kat, if ye change yer heart? For all that I did nae want ye for me own wife, I would no’ see ye unhappy.”

“I was a child when Morton tried to force that match,” she said, defending Marcus. “He’s a monster, Morton is. You must convince Rolfe not to go to court.”

Marcus stiffened.

“He’s given his word to his father and laird,” Marcus responded. “I agree with ye. Morton is blackhearted, but honor is no’ something a man chooses when to uphold. I’d take ye home to MacPherson land, sheet or no soiled sheet, if Rolfe struck me as the sort of man who did nae keep his word.”

He nodded, making it clear he considered the matter closed.

She knew he would not change his mind.

Why was it that all of the traits she loved about Scottish men were also the ones that threatened to take them away from her?

Fate was still intent on toying with her.

Marcus reached out and patted her on the shoulder. “I see ye care for him, lass. Go now, for he’s leaving at first light.”

It was a test of whether or not she’d left childhood behind. Women straightened their backs and bid their men farewell with dry eyes and confidence in their safe return, when they knew very well the risks.

Katherine sent Marcus a steady look before she lowered herself formally. It earned her a glint of approval in his eyes before he nodded.

“I’m off to find some sleep.”

She watched him go and felt an urgency to seek out Rolfe.

Would he welcome her?

She discovered herself needled by the possibility that having had her once, he might be content. Was their marriage really a service to his honor? A means of righting the wrong he felt he’d done her by taking her to his father’s land?

Both possibilities burned in her mind like coals in a fire. Of course, there was only one way to know, so she turned and set her shoulders before leaving the chamber.

* * *

Rolfe was waiting for her.

She enjoyed the sight, but not because she found pleasure in knowing she somehow controlled him. No, she was simply happy to see him. He was pacing back and forth across the passageway while she finished talking with Marcus.

He turned and braced himself as she emerged, his jaw tight as he waited to see what she would say to him.

“I wish you would not go to see the earl.”

Perhaps she was wasting her breath, yet she could not have stopped the words if she’d known he’d cut out her tongue.

“Morton will not deal justly with you.”

“And what of ye?” Rolfe asked softly. “Will ye keep the vows ye made with me yesterday?”

He’d moved nearer to her, closing the distance and stealing her breath with the same motion. It was so abrupt, the way she responded to him, as though her will was not involved.

No, it had always been thus since she’d first encountered him. She responded with yearnings she’d never had for another.

“I told them to take the sheet.”

Her answer earned her a softening of his lips. He nodded. “It’s hanging in the hall.”

Rolfe watched her to see her honest reaction.

Katherine stared straight back at him. “If I wanted to be free of you, Rolfe, would it not be best for me to send you off to see Morton? You forget that I know the man. You have only heard about him. I have faced him, and I ask you not to go.”

Now he smiled. It was a tender expression that warmed her heart with the way it spread into his eyes. Those green eyes were as rare as he was.

“Come.” He reached down and captured her wrist. His fingers closed all the way around it as he tugged her behind him.

He was taking her abovestairs to have her.

What would have scandalized her just two days ago was now permissible. She discovered herself delighted by the vows that made it so.

At last, Fate was delivering some treasures into her life.

Ones she was eager to touch.

* * *

“Ye should thank me,” Duncan Lindsey remarked before he took another bite off a chicken leg. He chewed it as he turned and looked at Marcus sitting next to him at the high table while supper was served.

He couldn’t help but notice Rolfe and Katherine were not in attendance.

“A blind man wouldn’t have failed to see the way they wanted to tumble each other,” Duncan continued.

Marcus sent him a narrow-eyed look. “Ye are speaking of someone I consider to be under me protection.”

“So I should act as though they are no’ healthy and passionate?” Duncan replied. “See…” He shook the chicken leg at Marcus. “That is why I have no’ wed. Where is the woman who can be frank with me? I have no understanding of the need to hold conversations about everything except what I crave from a lass.”

Marcus slowly grinned. “I see exactly why ye have no wife, man, if yer idea of courting is to walk straight up to a lass and tell her ye’d like to see her tits.”

Duncan stretched his arms out wide. “Is that no’ honest?” He looked at his captains. “Is that no’ what is on all of yer minds when ye encounter a comely lass for the first time?”

There was a round of chuckles in response. With no females at the head table, they indulged themselves in frank conversation.

Duncan wasn’t finished yet. He leaned on his elbow toward Marcus. “Tell the truth, man. Would it no’ be a lot simpler if yer wife told ye exactly where she likes ye to finger her?”

Marcus sent him an arrogant look. “When ye do it right, the moans tell a man so.”

Two of the captains slapped the table as they laughed.

“Unless yer wife is coddling yer ego, as husbands like their wives to do.”

They all frowned because it was the Head of House who had spoken. She delivered her words in a clear, unabashed tone while filling Duncan’s goblet.

“Which brings me back to saying send me a female who will be blunt!”

Marcus grunted and took a swig of ale from his goblet. He wanted to drain it, that much was fact, but he set the goblet back on the tabletop. His brother had two daughters to look forward to seeing grow into women.

Marcus was going to enjoy telling Bhaic how much he wasn’t going to like what men would say about his daughters.

And then he recalled that Helen had told him she would have a daughter.

His wife did tend to get her way.

Marcus reached for his goblet.

* * *

“That was too fast.”

Rolfe was still struggling to breathe.

Well, it was fair to say that they both were.

“I’m sorry, Kat,” he rasped out.

“Do I sound…displeased?”

Her new husband rolled over with a soft groan and peered at her from where he braced his chin on his hand as he leaned his elbows into the bed. He looked at her, his green eyes shimmering with satisfaction as he searched her features.

“Women crave more than just the ride.”

She felt her heart settling into a more normal rhythm, but her temper heated in response to his words. “And how many women have you enjoyed to know that?”

His lips parted in a smirk. She let out a snort and grabbed a pillow that she swung toward his head. Rolfe blocked it far too easily for her pride. She rolled over and right off the bed.

“I hope you enjoyed them,” was her tart reply.

“Ye’re lying.” He sat up and contemplated her.

Katherine suddenly felt exposed. There was a certain knowledge in his expression as he looked at her bare frame that told her he knew exactly what a naked woman looked like.

And she didn’t care for how jealous it made her feel.

So she found her chemise and put it on, earning a frown from her husband. He sat all the way up before standing and walking toward the small table in the outer chamber. He opened a bottle of honey mead supplied by Duncan and poured two glasses of it.

“Her name was Gret.”

“I don’t wish to hear about it.”

Rolfe only offered her a glass. She glared at him, but he was unrepentant, so she took it and drew a sip of the sweet beverage.

Rolfe was still bare as the day he’d been born.

She really wished she didn’t enjoy the sight so much. It was undermining her efforts to be cross with him.

“She was the widow of one of me father’s captains,” Rolfe continued. “A woman who had position, and therefore no reason to wed again and risk losing her freedom.”

“Are you deaf?” Kat asked. “Or simply indifferent to my pride?”

Rolfe grinned at her. “I’m trying to tell ye I am no’ the sort of man who keeps a mistress.”

She hadn’t expected that. In fact, Kat realized she knew very little about him. She felt a teasing of heat on her cheeks as she sat down on a chair and waited for him to continue. They did need to learn about each other.

“Gret caught me kissing a kitchen maid, when the girl had slapped me for following her.”

“I hope she added a slap of her own.”

He raised his glass to her in agreement before he emptied it.

“She hit me with a pastry roller, and it left a bruise that didn’t fade for a month.” He grinned at the memory. “Warned me that she’d crack me skull if I ever failed to respect a lass’s wishes again.”

“And still, she became your…lover?”

“In a manner of speaking.” Rolfe held up his finger when she started to ask another question. “I learned from her that fucking and making love are two very different things. I was a very fortunate man to have a woman who took the time to instruct me.”

He was moving toward her, plucking the glass from her distracted fingers and setting it aside before he gently raised her to her feet by cupping her elbows. It was such a tender touch, one he followed with a soft stroke of his fingers across her cheek.

“A woman is more sensual than a man,” he leaned down and whispered against her ear. She felt his warm breath teasing her neck a moment before he pressed a gentle kiss against her nape.

She shuddered.

Rolfe lifted his head, watching her response. What made her catch her breath was the way his eyes flickered with enjoyment, as though he found her delight pleasing.

“And if a man is wise”—he caught the soft fabric of her chemise between his fingertips and started to draw it up her body—“he learns to awaken her passion.” The garment came between them, blocking him from sight as he pulled it up and over her head.

“Strength has its place, too.” He caught her wrists while her arms were still raised high and held them prisoner in his large hands. “But tempered by an iron will.”

He pulled her arms straight above her head as he came close enough for his body hair to touch her breasts. She shivered, gooseflesh rising on her skin as he held her gaze just as securely as her wrists. Her belly twisted with awareness. Of him, of his strength, of how much she wanted to feel it.

“Any man can claim a woman,” he rasped in a voice edged with promise. “Only a lover can earn her passion.”

He leaned down and scooped her up, cradling her against his chest as she settled into the embrace. It felt so very right.

Secure.

As though he was everything she might ever need.

He moved slowly toward the bed, his bare feet making soft sounds against the floor. When he laid her among the rumpled bedding, the ropes groaned as they took her weight and then his.

Her senses were heightened, feeding her all of the tiny details she had heard before when climbing into bed. Now, with Rolfe there, it all seemed much richer. As though she’d been swallowing her food without tasting it before.

Rolfe leaned down and kissed her, lingering over the press of his lips against hers. He didn’t rush to part her lips, but took a long moment to taste her. It made her twist up toward him, slipping her hands along his wide shoulders and into his hair. The need to bind him to her was growing, like a newly lit fire. The flames began to lick at the wood before it popped and caught.

Her skin was heating, making being nude feel so very perfect.

“Do nae be jealous of Gret,” he whispered against her ear. “She taught me to respect a woman’s need to be aroused.”

“That is…a puzzle…” Katherine rasped out as he stroked her sides.

He’d touched the parts of her she considered intimate, yet now he drew his fingers and hands along her sides in long strokes like he might with a horse. She stretched, the sensation a rush of delight that awakened her senses.

“It is,” he agreed.

Her heart was speeding up again. But it was also thumping in hard, deep beats. She could hear the blood rushing in her ears as Rolfe drew his hands up to her shoulders and down to rest on her breasts.

She craved having him cup those tender globes long before he did so. She hungered for it, feeling as though every moment was a tiny torment she must endure before he would deliver satisfaction.

“Hmmm…” It was bliss when he finally put his hands to her.

“Such perfect handfuls.” He leaned down, teasing one with a kiss.

It wasn’t enough. She arched up, offering the puckered nipple. “Strength.” She ground out the word as she tried to pull him toward her. “Let me feel yours.”

He lay down on her, holding her wrists pressed against the bedding above her head and letting enough of his body weight rest on her to ensure she was pinned beneath him.

“I want to do that as well,” he told her, watching her while she absorbed how much stronger he was than her. “Part of me longs to ride ye hard and hold ye so tight that there is no way for ye to break free.”

Something deep inside her responded to his words. She felt a leap of excitement and a wave of heat washing through her. Her lips curled, just a bit, baring her teeth.

He grinned in response, but it wasn’t a kind expression. No, it was menacing and bright with promise. Somehow driving home just how male he was while leaving her with certain knowledge that she was his counterpart, made to fit him.

Apart, they would always yearn for each other.

“Tonight, though”—he pulled away from her, stroking her once again—“I am going to prove I can be a man as well as beast in our bed.”

He made good on his words, stroking her and then following his large hands with a hundred tiny kisses that felt like butterflies. She’d never realized her skin might be so sensitive. With only his delicate touches, she seemed to be focused more on waiting for the next kiss to land and, therefore, more aware of it when it did.

She writhed against the sheet, unable to remain still, reaching for him, needing to share the bliss between them. She heard his breathing deepen, roughen, as he fought for control. She was already wet and aching for his possession, but he resisted the invitation she tried to make by parting her thighs beneath him.

Instead, he slipped down her length, rubbing her as he went and driving her nearly insane with need.

At least, she thought she was that far gone until he settled over her spread sex.

“Rolfe William Brian McTavish.”

He sent her a satisfied smirk in response, but flattened his hands on her inner thighs to keep them spread. “Did ye know the older women say a woman will nae conceive sons if she is no’ satisfied?”

Katherine felt her cheeks burning with what must have been the hottest blush of her entire life. He was hovering right over her open slit, teasing the mound of her curls with his fingertips.

Why had she never noticed how it felt to have those hairs touched?

“That’s…preposterous.”

He grinned at her and drove a little deeper into her curls, so that he was touching skin.

“I like the way ye sound more English when ye are agitated.”

She scoffed at him. “You don’t care for anything English.”

One of his eyebrows rose. “No’ true, lass.” He drew his fingers lower until he was touching the little bud at the top of her sex. “I find I enjoy ye…quite a bit.”

She wanted to take issue with him, but her thoughts scattered like a broken strand of pearls as he teased her clitoris. The pleasure was so intense that she cried out, and then didn’t stop because there was no way to keep it all contained inside herself.

Rolfe wasn’t content with merely fingering her. He leaned down and licked the same spot, pushing her into a new realm of twisting need. She was poised on the pinnacle, suspended there between a hunger so intense she thought it might drive her insane and the pleasure that would break her in two. She was straining toward him, desperate for release, one he denied her.

“Damn you…” she hissed when he held her in place for more torment.

“A damnation we will share, Kat.”

He was suddenly rising up, giving her a glance of his hard body, his member stiff and jutting out from it. She shuddered at the sight, reminded of how much she craved his strength. He came over her, granting her that wish at last, settling between her thighs as he thrust into her body.

It was a smooth motion but a hard one. One of them grunted, or perhaps it was both. In that moment, they seemed to unite in a common goal. She craved him; he hungered for her. The bed rocked as he thrust into her, riding her as hard as she’d demanded.

But it wasn’t enough. She sank her nails into his shoulders and then drew them down his arms. He growled and caught her wrists, pinning them once more to the surface of the bed. They were both rushing toward completion, the hunger building, growing hotter, and driving them past thinking. There were only the cravings left when pleasure tore through her. She arched up, grinding herself against him as he came down in a thrust that buried his member to the hilt.

That moment seemed to last forever. She couldn’t draw breath, couldn’t do anything but feel the pleasure blossoming inside her body. His seed was pumping into her, adding to the moment, until it flung them both back into reality as though those brief moments were all the paradise mortals deserved.

It was enough.

And yet she found herself realizing that it might have to be exactly that—enough. The uncertain future ahead of them tormented her, but she was too spent to stay awake and think of ways to fend it off. Sleep dragged her into its embrace, as Rolfe’s breathing near her ear eased her concerns.

* * *

He meant to leave her before dawn.

Katherine watched Rolfe pleating his kilt while the sun was just breaking night’s hold. She stayed still, wanting to soak up those moments, dreading the coming parting.

He smoothed the wool with sure motions, confident ones. There was no valet to dress him, such as she recalled her father needing.

Of course not. He was a Scot, and a Highlander at that. In her father’s house, they would have labeled him a savage.

She loved everything about him.

“The sooner I go, the sooner I shall return.”

Rolfe proved he was aware of her, even when she thought she’d managed to remain still. He looked up at her, sending her that arrogant grin before he lay down on the pleats and pulled his belt around his trim waist to buckle it.

She sat up, bundling the bedding around herself as he stood and the wool fell down to cover his legs. The pleats in the back were longer, so he might raise them up to cover his head if it rained because the belt was across the center of the fabric. He reached for a second belt and secured it over the folded wool and then looked toward her.

Satisfaction lit his eyes and curved his lips. “Do nae move, Kat. I want to remember ye exactly as ye are, warm and tousled, and in me bed.”

She reached up to smooth her hair back, earning a chuckle from him. He came close, leaning over into the bed to kiss her. Determination flickered in his eyes when he withdrew. She knew the expression, and there was no arguing with it.

“I will return to ye.”

He believed it, or at least he would not allow himself to show her doubt.

It didn’t matter if he maintained his confidence. Her belly was still knotting with dread because she knew firsthand the sort of monster he was riding out to meet.

Rolfe paused at the door, looking back at her a final time before he slipped into the passageway like the night shadows dissipating in the light of day.

He might have been no more than a figment of her imagination.

Except for the tears that stung her eyes and the ache that twisted her heart.

She loved him.

In that moment, there was only that feeling and the knowledge that she was fortunate beyond words to have encountered a man who filled her with such emotion.

But it also filled her with determination to ensure he did not suffer a dire fate due to having met her.

She crawled from the bedding and moved with solid purpose toward the vanity, where she plucked a comb from its surface.

A hellion she might be, but today, that would serve her very well indeed.

* * *

Marcus let out a foul curse. Duncan looked up from the bed in Katherine’s chamber. “Well, ye’re the one who raised her.”

“I know it.” Marcus rubbed a hand down his face. When he was finished, he looked at the maid who had been sleeping in the chamber. “Ye should have refused her.”

The maid was not young. She looked back at him with the steady confidence of a woman. “I did it willingly and do nae regret it.”

“I can remedy that, mistress,” Duncan informed her with thick promise in his tone.

The maid merely lowered herself before her laird and rose again to face them. “If she had stayed and let him shelter her at the expense of his own suffering, there would never have been any acceptance for her in the Highlands. When she told me that, I agreed, because everyone must earn their place. English or not, I respect her for it.”

Duncan drew in a stiff breath. “Go on with ye.” His tone was soft when he spoke because he realized that he could not argue with her.

“I’m riding up to fetch Symon Grant.”

Duncan looked at Marcus. “And then what? Morton likely has a good memory of the way ye and Symon’s sister duped him.”

“True,” Marcus replied. “But the man also wants the Highland lairds to support him. Since we can nae be obedient to him, I suggest we gather enough of us together to make him think our opinion is worth something.”

“He might just hang ye all and have yer sons raised at court.”

“In that case,” Marcus reached out and slapped Duncan on the shoulder, “be thankful ye do nae have a son.”

“Aye,” Duncan grumbled as they left the chamber and made their way down to the hall. Marcus wasted no time in gathering the MacPhersons and heading into the yard. They were racing against time now, and every man among them knew it.

Duncan might have refused to go, but part of him was impressed with the way Katherine had managed to earn the respect and love of the MacPhersons. It was evident in the way they followed Marcus. Men might be ordered to ride, but a wise leader learned to read their body language. These retainers didn’t hesitate or drag their feet. They were off to help one of their own.

So he’d be going along, too.

Morton was about to learn that he’d been successful in ending the feuding in the Highlands, and that meant the man would be facing them all as a united force.

Duncan was going to enjoy seeing the look on the man’s face.

* * *

“Finished at last?”

Katherine didn’t take offense. She was too tired to care what the men around her said. They enjoyed teasing her, thinking her a young lad. It served her purpose well, because they gave her more chores, since they felt their age granted them the authority.

She took the duties without complaint because it took her away from them. Hiding her face, she let the dirt build up on her skin, forbidding herself to wash it away. Rolfe had keen eyes. Staying out of his sight was the only way she would succeed.

So she did all of the work her companions heaped upon her and collapsed into an exhausted sleep well after dark every night. The days were longer with summer upon them, and they rode at a pace that covered ground quickly.

As they came into the Lowlands, there were more people on the road. More towns as well, and ones that were larger, with two-story buildings and paved roads. The horses’ hooves made a clip-clop sound on those streets while they rode past curious Scots who wore pants instead of kilts and peered at them suspiciously.

The barbarians of the north.

There were times when the Lowlanders were pleased to see Highlanders on their streets, such as when the English were roaming on Scottish land. Now, mothers hustled their children off the streets and peeked out of windows while they rode by.

At least the feeling was mutual.

None of the McTavishes or Lindseys cared to be there. Rolfe was riding for the stronghold where young King James was. Few ever saw the king because he was still being tutored and raised to adulthood. The Earl of Morton ran the country, and many whispered that he would continue to do so until he was forced to give power back to the king.

Of course, with the way it was at court, there would be men willing to help the young king wrest control from Morton’s hands. Such help would come at a price, though. As they rode through the gates, Kat looked around and wondered who was there to position themselves for the coming power struggle.

It would be soon. James was fourteen and approaching an age when he would no longer accept being treated like a child.

In fact, she would have sworn she felt the tension in the air. There were men watching everything and everyone, looking like wolves contemplating their next meal.

A chill was taking root inside her as she found herself back in the courtyard and dismounted. Years before, she’d dressed in Helen Grant’s worn clothing and escaped while Brenda Grant took her place. The gamble had landed Brenda in dire circumstances because she had been the one left to face the Earl of Morton’s fury.

Katherine risked a glance toward Rolfe. Determination was etched into his face, along with a sternness that she recognized as the way men held themselves when they were about to do something for all of the right reasons.

Such as duty.

Honor.

And noble intentions.

She loved him more for it, even though he might never forgive her for disobeying him. She looked back at the horse, working on the saddle as she accepted the fact that Rolfe was pure Highlander. He might jest about enjoying her being a hellion, but the reality was, he wouldn’t take help from his wife.

Not when it came to business matters.

Which was why she was there. She pulled her bundle from the saddle and pushed her bonnet low on her forehead. Her choice had been made, and there was no way she was going to allow Rolfe to suffer for her.

The only thing left to do was pray that God might decide to grant them both freedom. The only problem was that she doubted Morton answered to God.

* * *

“Marcus MacPherson,” Symon Grant bellowed. “It’s good to see ye, man.”

Marcus made a brisk path toward his friend. Symon’s grin faded as Marcus closed the gap.

“Ye look half dead.”

Marcus raised an eyebrow in response. “I’ve more strength in me than that.”

“Glad to hear it,” Symon responded. “But the look in yer eyes tells me I am no’ going to like the reason ye seem to be riding yer horse into an early grave.”

“Ye aren’t, and that’s a fact,” Marcus confirmed. “We need yer help to deal with Morton.”

Symon’s expression darkened as he listened.

* * *

The Earl of Morton had a great number of people waiting to see him.

Rolfe discovered himself among other lairds and ambassadors outside two large doors that were only opened when the Douglas retainers allowed them to be. Inside, the earl sat in a throne on a raised platform, with tapestries draped behind him.

In the main court, men clustered together in their clans, while women looked on. Tension filled the air, as each man waited for his name to be called.

“Just what we need.” Adwin spat on the floor. “Gordons.”

Rolfe turned and watched a new group enter. Diocail Gordon came to a stop as their gazes met. The man slowly grinned and turned his head, giving Rolfe a view of the side of his bonnet. Three feathers were raised high and held in place by a brooch.

“So Colum finally left the rest of us in peace,” Adwin remarked. “About time.”

Rolfe stepped toward Diocail. The men waiting in the other room moved back. The bad blood between the Gordons and the McTavishes was well known. Rolfe offered Diocail his hand, stunning their audience.

“I’ve come down to swear my allegiance to the regent.” Diocail spoke loud enough to be heard by those listening. “Colum Gordon is dead.”

“I’m glad to see the Gordon clan being led by a good man.”

Whispers rose behind them in response.

The doors opened, drawing everyone’s attention.

“McTavish,” a Douglas retainer called. “Ye are summoned.”

Katherine watched him go, hiding near the wall as the men resumed their whispered conversations.

* * *

“Are ye simple?”

The Earl of Morton was gripping the arms of his throne with hands that showed how agitated he was.

“Nae.”

The earl sat forward and glared at him. “Yer father promised me Katherine Carew.”

“Aye, he did,” Rolfe answered. “Before I wed her. Now that she is me wife, I expect ye to understand why I did nae bring her.”

“Ye…what?” The earl leaned back. “I gave no permission for that.”

Rolfe stood his ground. “Ye wanted her wed to Marcus MacPherson for the alliance it would gain. I am a better alliance.”

The earl looked at him through narrowed eyes. “That was years ago.”

“Are ye saying ye are done trying to settle the feuding in the Highlands?”

The earl slowly smiled, and there was nothing kind about the expression. The man was hard and cold at his center. Rolfe decided Morton looked very much like Colum Gordon in that moment. The only thought in the earl’s mind was how to gain the most from the situation. His desires were the only ones with merit.

“The matter at hand is one of a promise made and not upheld,” Morton said very clearly. “I want Katherine Carew, and yer father promised her to me.”

“She is me wife now,” Rolfe responded. “So ye’ll have to understand I will nae be handing her over.”

The earl drew in a deep breath and leaned forward. “Nay, McTavish. Ye and yer kind will be understanding that I am Scotland, and ye will no’ cling to yer clans before me!”

“I am here.” The response gained him a flicker of respect from the earl, but that was all.

“Because yer father ordered ye here.”

Rolfe nodded. “Honor does nae bend to personal preferences. I gave me word I would face ye, and I willingly decided to take Katherine to wife to keep her from ye. She was me prize, no’ me father’s, and I intend to keep her. If that means there will be no title, I will tell me laird so without shirking.”

“Aye,” Morton agreed. “I believe ye, son of the McTavish.”

The earl held up a thick finger. “But the difficulty remains with ye Highlanders thinking ye can decide when to obey me. Katherine Carew is the natural-born daughter of the Earl of Bedford. The man is one of Elizabeth Tudor’s closest advisors.”

“Katherine has nae seen the man in over a decade.”

“Blood is blood,” Morton shot back. “Is nae that the code ye Highlanders live by?”

He chuckled when Rolfe was forced to nod. “Ye craved an alliance with a Highland clan. It is done with me,” Rolfe said.

The earl smiled again. “I’m tempted to take that offer, just because I suspect yer father will no’ be so pleased with the bargain ye are trying to strike with me.”

Rolfe grinned. “He’ll be furious. Me sire has no liking for the English, even one with blue blood flowing through her veins.”

“But if I did, there would be no respect for me in the Highlands.”

Morton truly had a great deal in common with Colum Gordon. Rolfe watched the way the man coddled his pride above everything else.

“Obedience…” The earl spoke loudly so his guards could hear him clearly. “That is what I will have of every Highland clan.” His eyes glittered with his temper. “Ye have defied me and will learn the error of yer ways.”

* * *

“What are ye doing here?”

Diocail kept his voice low, but Katherine heard the reprimand in it nonetheless. She kept her chin tucked, but the quick glance she chanced at the man told her he’d recognized her.

“Aye,” he confirmed as he looked out across the room. “I wondered who might be looking after Rolfe McTavish like a starving kitten.”

“And yet you do not unmask me.”

He made a low sound under his breath. “I was there to set ye free.”

She knew instantly what he spoke of. That moment when he’d stepped from the shadows and let them escape from the Gordon stronghold.

“And since I was willing to take the risk of going against me laird…” Diocail was still talking in a low voice and looking away from her, as though he were merely passing the time with someone he considered beneath him. “I will know why ye are risking yerself once again.”

“I won’t let Rolfe be harmed because of me.”

Diocail looked straight at her.

“He has a plan to deny the earl what his father promised him in exchange for a noble title,” she explained.

Anger flashed in Diocail’s eyes. “You?”

Katherine nodded. Diocail made a low sound under his breath. “Ye have a unique fate, one I do nae envy.” He swept his eyes over her, from head to toe. “Ye seem to rise to the challenge of it well enough. But if what ye say is true, ye need to leave.”

“I will not,” she assured him. “I will never leave my husband to answer for my cursed lot in life.”

Diocail offered her a slight curving of his lips before the large doors opened again. There was the pounding of a staff against the stone floor before the herald cried out.

“Diocail Gordon.”

“Wait.” She reached for his arm. “Where is Rolfe?”

Diocail sent her a hard look. “If he did nae come back through those doors, lass, he’s likely on his way to the dungeon.”

She stiffened and felt Diocail grasp her forearm. “Do nae rush in. Let us see what Morton is planning first.”

The herald was looking at Diocail, and Adwin was trying to decide why he was hesitating. She didn’t duck her chin fast enough, and Rolfe’s captain recognized her. There was a flash of fury before Diocail pulled her along with him and left her in the captain’s care.

“I’ll see what news there is of yer master.”

Adwin gave Diocail a brief nod before he clamped his hand around Katherine’s wrist and pulled her into a passageway.

“Are ye daft?”

He bit back the word woman.

“Determined,” she answered in a whisper. “I will not let Rolfe suffer for me.”

“He’ll no’ like hearing that ye are here.”

“Of course not,” she agreed, causing Adwin to lower his brows in vexation. “You both know I am not submissive or obedient.”

Adwin snorted in response.

“So it should not shock you to find I am here,” she said. “And I will give myself up to save Rolfe. It’s my cursed lot.”

Adwin looked around to see the other McTavish retainers had followed them. They were glaring at her in disapproval until she finished. She wouldn’t say they gave her their full approval, but their expressions eased as her words hit them.

“There might be another way,” Adwin said as he held tight to her arm. “I can nae in good faith allow ye to step into harm’s way.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” she reminded him.

Adwin merely grunted and cast her a stubborn look.

Katherine reached out and grabbed his jerkin. “I am a hellion, and I will not allow Rolfe to shield me from my fate.”

Adwin’s eyes twinkled with admiration for just a moment. But they were distracted by the huge doors opening again. Diocail and his two senior captains came striding out as the herald called another name.

Diocail strode past them without stopping. He sent a swift look toward Adwin that had the man following a few moments later.

“Release me,” Katherine hissed at the captain, who was still holding her arm. “Or it will be whispered that you prefer boys in your bed.”

Adwin responded instantly, but he glared at her. “Stay right beside me, gilly.”

He stressed the word gilly, making sure she understood she’d better act the part of his apprentice servant or he’d suffer the rumors. It was enough of a reprieve. She fell into step behind him, tucking her chin as she became just another of the McTavish retainers. It was a skill she’d been perfecting for years on MacPherson land.

Of course, she’d never thought she’d have so much to lose if she failed to dupe those around her.

“He’s in chains.” Diocail was waiting behind a huge stone pillar in the outer entryway. “Morton took a great deal of delight in telling me all about what happens to Highland lairds who do nae give obedience to him.”

“His fate?” Katherine asked.

“Undecided,” was the hushed response. “I’m forbidden to leave until the matter is settled.” He sent her a hard look. “I believe the earl wants to make an impression on me to carry home to the Highlands.”

Her belly knotted in response. Diocail reached past Adwin and grasped her arm because the blood was draining from her face. She drew in a deep breath and ordered herself to remain strong.

She was a hellion, not some damned weak-kneed girl.

“Go…” She had to roll her lips in because they were suddenly dry. “Go and tell Morton…Rolfe was just attempting to best him. That I am here.”

Adwin had crossed his arms over his chest. “Maybe it will come to that. Maybe no’. For the moment, we need to strengthen our position.”

“Which means we’re no’ giving up our one advantage,” Diocail added.

The men around her grinned. She knew the look, had seen it plenty of times when they were raiding one another and trying to best each other.

“This is not about a few cows,” she argued.

“The earl sees ye as little more than a fine one,” Diocail corrected her. “We’d be fools to hand ye over, trusting in his mercy.”

“He doesn’t have any,” she was forced to admit.

“Exactly, lass,” Adwin said. “So we’ll have to see who is here to aid us, since Marcus dares not show his face.”

“Gordon and McTavish working together,” Adwin said. “The earl might approve, if we were nae intent on defeating him.”

There was a soft round of chuckles in response. Katherine would have liked to join in, but she was too busy fending off the dread trying to smother her hope.

She had to keep it alive, had to find the way to free Rolfe.

Without a doubt, she knew it would be worth even her life.

* * *

“Bridget Hussy would be satisfied.”

The Earl of Morton shifted his attention to his adviser, William Ruthven, the Earl of Gowrie.

“I crave an alliance with the Earl of Bedford, not his wife.”

“Both have advantages,” Ruthven continued without cringing over the tone Morton used. “The countess controls a vast wealth. Since Rolfe wed the girl without a contract, ye could keep the dowry.”

Morton nodded reluctantly. “And yet that is no’ an alliance with England.”

“Francis Russell has not left Elizabeth’s side in eight years,” Ruthven argued. “The girl is just a bastard.”

“An acknowledged one.”

Ruthven nodded. “Yet she has been in Scotland for seven years now. Too long for the man to want her back. Better to press the countess for a dowry and leave Katherine Carew wed to McTavish.”

“Which will not satisfy the question of disobedience,” Morton said.

The Earl of Gowrie sent Morton a long look. “That need to satisfy yer pride is becoming very costly. The Bedfords have more money than the Queen of England. More gold than a single by-blow is worth. Considering that ye stole the girl, getting anything for her is gain enough.”

“Scotland needs unity,” Morton growled. “If ye can nae put that foremost in yer mind, ye are no good to me. Get out.”

Beyond the private chambers of the Regent of Scotland, William Ruthven, Earl of Gowrie, encountered the Earl of Angus. Morton had dismissed Angus the week before.

“That man thinks he’s king,” Ruthven remarked in a hushed tone.

“Aye,” Angus agreed. “And James is getting old enough to do something about it.”

William looked around, making sure they were not being overheard. “Only if we get that lad away from Esmé Stuart.”

Angus grunted at the mention of the king’s new, very French friend. “This is a dangerous topic of conversation.”

“I am more concerned about how dangerous it might be if we leave it unspoken,” Gowrie said. “It’s one thing to insist on a few weddings in the Highlands to bring feuds to an end, but another to throw a man into chains for no’ being willing to hand over his own wife.”

“Morton should be pleased to have the English bastard out of his hands and no longer looking to him for her keep,” Angus agreed.

“He’s talking about hanging the McTavish.”

Angus snarled. “Bloody Douglas. What does he think that is going to accomplish?”

Gowrie looked around again. “From what I can see, Diocail Gordon is staying to see the outcome.”

“Morton just might succeed in uniting those clans after all,” Angus said. “But against us Lowlanders.”

“Aye,” Gowrie answered. “It’s growing past time for Morton to be removed from that throne he likes to sit in.”

“Maybe we can use this to our advantage.”

Angus lifted an eyebrow in question. Gowrie sent him a grin. “I’m going to find Diocail Gordon and see how deep his ties with the McTavish run.”

* * *

He didn’t regret anything.

Rolfe shifted and tried to find a spot on his knee to lean his head without pain. The chain connected to the collar around his neck was too short to allow him to lie down on the floor of the cell. Looking at the built-up muck, he decided that was likely a good thing. The stench told him exactly what the dark filth was composed of. If the smell didn’t clue him in, the lack of a toilet bucket in the cell did.

He didn’t regret it.

None of it.

A man only had his honor to call his own.

His father would argue that he’d been a darned fool, and perhaps it was a fitting label. All that admission did was make Rolfe smile. Being a fool for Katherine, well, he’d happily live with that.

The first time he’d seen her, he’d known she was unique.

He’d had to have her.

And it had been worth it.

No matter what.

Was that bewitchment? Love? He had no idea, except for the fact that even there, in that stinking cell, he was sure he could smell the delicate scent of her hair. When he closed his eyes, she was there, looking at him with midnight eyes, the very opposite of his own green ones.

Hellion…

Oh yes, she was that.

But she was his hellion.

* * *

“Morton doesn’t have any mercy,” Katherine said.

Adwin had a mug in front of him, but he wasn’t drinking the contents. Rolfe’s captain eyed her with a look that twisted her heart.

“I care for him.” She came closer, sitting beside Adwin on the bench. The fire in the hearth had died down, and the men had made their way abovestairs to sleep. She’d sat in her tiny room, waiting for the noise in the small town-house to die down. “You must allow me to free him.”

Adwin shook his head. “I could no’ fail to protect ye, lass. I’ve watched over that lad for nearly a decade now. He is me life.”

She slowly smiled. “I know. It’s clear on your face when you look at him.”

Adwin offered her a grin. The captain kept a full beard that made him appear gruff most of the time because it was so thick and dark.

“What makes ye think Morton will let Rolfe go, even if I tie ye up in a bow and deliver ye like a trained dog?”

She sighed. “I don’t know for certain.”

Adwin made a grunting sound.

“However,” she continued, “I know Morton likes to have his way. So if his desire is to trade for me, we should convince him that Rolfe was simply testing his nerve.”

“Needling him?”

She nodded. “He might see the humor in it. Convince him a Highlander like Rolfe means such as a compliment. After all, there would be no point in trying the nerve of, say…an Englishman.”

Adwin snorted and reached for his mug. “That might well get me thrown in chains alongside Rolfe.”

Katherine smiled at him. “Find me a dress, and the earl will think me as helpless as I was when he knew me before. As such, I doubt he will place me in chains. Such circumstances will be far easier to escape than the ones Rolfe finds himself in now.”

Adwin went still. She watched him contemplate her with a critical eye. It was a compliment to be looked at in that manner, because he was seeing beyond her gender now and weighing it against what he knew she’d done.

“I did nae think of it that way.” He slowly started to chuckle, a sound that was very menacing.

“Nor did I.” Diocail emerged from the shadows. “But she snuck down here to tempt ye with it when she hoped ye were alone. That tells me she thinks there will be those among us who do nae agree with her. She’s playing on yer soft feelings for the lad.”

“Why do you always emerge from the shadows?”

Diocail sent her an arrogant smirk. “Because it’s harder for people to kill me when I see them first.”

A tiny tingle went down her spine in response. There was more than just arrogance in his tone; there was hard, firsthand knowledge that was sobering.

Adwin set the mug down with a firm sound, recalling them to the conversation she’d begun. “The idea has merit.”

“She is a woman.”

“Aye,” Adwin answered. “And yet, no’ so very like others. Marcus trained her.”

“He did,” Diocail replied. “Better remember that fact, because if ye return to the Highlands without her, Marcus will have yer balls.”

“Marcus taught me how to smash a man’s balls.” She leaned forward and sent Diocail a hard look. “I assure you, I was a very accomplished student who will not be content to sit abovestairs while you attempt to rescue my husband.”

Diocail was hard to read. His expression remained tight for long moments while she refused to bend. A corner of his lips twitched at last.

“In that case, we’ll get ye a dress.”