Getting out of the croft unnoticed proved easier than Katherine thought it would be. The once empty structure was now a beehive of activity with more people scurrying about than she could count. Be they real or part of her elaborate dream, they were fortunately too busy with preparations for the feast to pay her any mind as she nonchalantly sauntered down the hall, through the kitchen, and out the back door.
Once outside, she glanced around the yard adjacent to the main building. Judging by the number of wooden trestle tables arranged in a large open space by the garden, Lord Grant was expecting a huge crowd of people. On a spit, hanging over a fire pit, were two wild boars and three sheep. In the distance, she noticed preparations being made for another large fire.
According to a book on Celtic festivals owned by her grandmother, couples would jump over the flames for good luck and a wheel representing the sun would be set ablaze, using the burning branch from the bonfire, and rolled down a hill as part of the ceremony.
If what she’d read was true, St. John’s Eve, formerly the pagan Litha festival, was held on the evening of the longest day of the year — midsummer night — and started with an outdoor feast. Dancing and merriment would continue throughout the night, and at dawn the next day, they gave thanks for the sun and prayed for good crops, a fine harvest, healthy livestock, and good luck throughout the year.
“Good day, Lady Catriona.” A man who was tending to one of the cook fires spoke to her as she passed.
She nodded. “Good day to you too. It is glorious.” There was no time for small talk, so she smiled politely and when he turned his back to stir the hot embers, she bolted for the woods.
Since she couldn’t ask anyone for the location of the stream without prompting suspicion, she had to rely on her instincts and hoped it wasn’t far.
Upon entering the forest, she was careful to stay on the path. The foliage was so dense, she was certain she’d get lost if she strayed. After only a short walk, she came to a glen of gently sloping hills and noticed a babbling brook, leading into a small loch. She recognized the place immediately. It was exactly as she’d pictured it in her dreams.
A gentle breeze caressed her cheek and Katherine tipped her face toward the sun, hoping to catch the warmth of its rays. She kicked off her slippers and lifted the hem of her gown, before dipping her toes into the stream. Shivering, she quickly withdrew her foot, the water much colder than she’d expected. She smiled inwardly. After the number of times she’d relived the exact same dream, she should have known by now the water was cold.
With arms outstretched, she spun full circle, taking in the panoramic beauty of the burn, the glen, and mountains around her. Fragrant heather dotted the brae and meadow, along with bluebells and other assorted wildflowers. Highland cows and sheep grazed on sweet tender shoots of grass and a pair of hawks circled in unison overhead, in what she guessed was a mating ritual as old as time.
And while the scenario was exactly like it was in her dreams, this time she prayed she wouldn’t wake up before the fantasy had a chance to play out, and she’d meet with Ayden.
“I nary tire of looking at you, lass. You always manage to take my breath away,” someone called out.
She gasped, her stomach doing a quick flip, her pulse quickening. He’s here, Katherine thought as she spun around, prepared to finally meet her dashing knight. And she wasn’t disappointed. Just like in her dreams, Ayden sat tall atop his black destrier, wearing a chainmail tunic over his leine, padded gambeson, trews, and leather gauntlets. A gentle breeze lifted his hair and when he smiled, her knees went weak.
He quickly dismounted and strode toward her with purpose. “Have you been here long?”
Katherine couldn’t take her eyes off him. He was gorgeous, even more dashing than she remembered. She returned his smile, gazing into eyes as blue as the sky and a face so handsome, she thought she might faint.
“I’ve been here long enough,” she answered playfully. Her heart hammering so loud she wondered if he could hear it, she anxiously awaited the part of the dream where he’d envelope her in his arms. When he did, it was different than she remembered. Different in a very good way. In addition to the raw animal magnetism he exuded, the cacophony of emotions bombarding her senses — a strange, yet invigorating concoction of excitement, anticipation, desire, and lust mixed with nervousness, fear, and uncertainty — were far more intense than she’d ever experienced before. And this time, she knew his name. “You’re lucky I stayed.” Her mouth suddenly dry, her voice cracked when she spoke and she found it hard to catch her breath.
“Is that so? If you’d left, you’d have missed out on this.” He slid his arm around her waist, hugged her against his chest, and nipped at her lower lip. “And this.” He buried his face in the curve of her neck, suckled lightly on her sensitive flesh, then feathered kisses upward until he reached her mouth.
He smelled amazing and tasted even better than she’d imagined, too. Enveloped in warmth and bombarded by intense desire that seared through her body like a wildfire out of control, she leaned into his embrace, her stomach coiled tight, and moist heat pooled between her thighs.
Her knees weak, she fisted his tunic for support. “You know it is difficult for me to get away from home and na have my fa—” In her current situation, everyone thought she was Catriona Grant, but she couldn’t bring herself to call that tyrant her father. “To have anyone follow me,” she muttered against his lips, then kissed his cheek.
“When we’re married, you’ll only answer to one man.” He lowered his head and nibbled at her bottom lip again. “Me. I canna wait until the time comes when I can make you mine.” A possessive growl rumbled in his chest as he tightened his hold and kissed her soundly. When he slid the tip of his tongue across her mouth, willing her to open to his sweet invasion, she gasped with pleasure, permitting him entry. He wasted no time taking control and deepened the kiss, his tongue tasting, swirling, and teasing as he plundered without mercy.
Breathless, she planted her hands on his chest and shoved until their kiss was broken. “You know my father is not in favor of our union.” She lifted her gaze until it met with his, then slowly took in the contours of his finely chiseled features, full lips, deep blue eyes, and a strong chin covered in dark stubble. His long raven hair cascaded over his shoulders and flowed down his back. Not only was he the most attractive man she’d ever seen, but what he could do to her insides with just his presence had to be a sin.
She inhaled deeply, his rich masculine scent, a mix of pine and leather, more intoxicating than any spirits. She tried to resist but failed. She reminded herself that she’d just ended a relationship and needed time for her heart to heal. The last thing she needed was to get involved with, let alone marry a man she’d just met. Even if he was her knight. But it was obvious he had some strange power over her and could make her bend to his will. But it was her will too. And this was just a dream, she convinced herself and looped her arms around his neck.
She gazed into eyes dark with need. With her body molded against a solid wall of honed muscle, she wondered what it would be like to make love to him, to lay naked together, their bodies fused, legs entwined, flesh against flesh, and their two hearts beating in unison.
It was hard to believe Ayden was not Lord Grant’s choice for a husband. Even if he was not from a wealthy clan, she would think he’d rather see his daughter marry an honest man as opposed to the scoundrel MacConnery was rumored to be. However, if padding his coffers was Lord Grant’s true goal, she could understand his choice. Yet she hoped despite his disregard for Catriona’s happiness, the fact that she was his only daughter might trigger a spark of sentiment.
Ayden’s brows dipped and he held her tighter. “You know we’re meant to be together, and it’s only a matter of time afore we marry,” he replied. “I’ll speak to your da this evening at the feast, and ask his permission to marry you before the garrison heads out to challenge the English bastards who threaten to take Stirling Castle. But I wanted to ask you first.”
“You’re leaving?” Her heart plummeted. She’d forgotten about that part. And if her memory served her well, the Scottish army lost Stirling Castle to the English in August of 1304, which was only two months away.
“Aye, we’ve been called to arms and must defend Scotland and what are left of her holdings.”
“When do you leave?” She clung to his shirt and peered up at him, wishing she could think of something to change his mind.
“We depart two days hence.”
“So soon?” She clutched a hand to a knot of emotion choking her throat. “But I thought you said you wanted to marry me before you left.”
“I do.”
“Even if we were granted permission to marry, there isna enough time to have the banns read.” She was grasping at straws, hoping he’d postpone or cancel his plans to go.
“We can dispense with the reading if the priest so chooses. And if I have my way, by this time on the morrow, we’ll be husband and wife.” His brows shot up and a mischievous grin tugged at his lips. “And after a night of wedded bliss, you’ll be glad to see me go, and will be thankful for the rest.”
“Getting permission to marry me will not be easy. What if your request is denied?”
A stern expression darkened his features, his gaze intense. “Leave your da to me,” he said, his voice hard-edged. He cupped her cheek. “And if he refuses to grant his permission, there are other ways for us to be wed. But it will happen. You will be my wife.” Wasting no time, he scooped her into his arms and carried her to patch of soft grass beneath an old oak tree and gently lay her upon it. “You’re mine, and let no man say otherwise.”
When he sprawled out beside her and pulled her into his embrace, Katherine offered no resistance. Instead, she lightly traced his lips with her fingertips and sighed. If she was going to conjure up a dream lover, Ayden fit the bill in every way. She wasn’t in the habit of falling into bed with a man she’d just met, but in his case, she’d willingly make an exception.
He brushed the pad of his thumb across her lips. “You do want to marry me, do you na?”
“More than my next breath, and I am willing to do whatever it takes for us to be together.” The words spilled out and it was too late to take them back. She had no idea what possessed her to say what she did, and she certainly had no business speaking on Catriona’s behalf. But when he lightly stroked her cheek and gently twisted a strand of her hair around his finger, she’d melted like butter on a hot stone.
She knew from reading the journal the depth of Catriona’s love for Ayden. She wanted to marry him and why wouldn’t she? He was the only son of a respected laird and stood to be a chieftain someday. He was tall, well-muscled, brave, and honorable, yet treated a woman with the utmost gentleness and reverence. He spoke to her as his equal, not his property, which was rare for a man in his day. She believed the man inside was what truly mattered, and not if he was handsome, wealthy, or held a title. But the fact he was a braw feast for her eyes to behold and turned her inside out with merely a glance, made it impossible to resist him.
What Noreen told her about the legends of Glen Heather came to mind. If they proved to be true, Catriona and Ayden would never be together. Instead, their lives would be shattered by war, greed, and revenge. But if he didn’t go to Stirling, he could stay here and fight for Catriona. And if necessary, they could run away together. Either way, they’d live.
He pressed a kiss to her brow. “You seem most distracted, sweeting. What troubles you?”
Tears welled in her eyes and she blinked them away. “I dinna wish for you to go with the warriors to Stirling. I fear something terrible will befall you there, and we might never see each other again.” She wanted to tell him that according to history books, the Scots would lose the castle to Longshanks in August, and that many, if not all of a Scottish patriot would die when the English king refused to accept surrender, and continue to assault the castle with his trebuchet, Warwolf. After what she’d read in the journal, she wanted to warn Ayden to be wary of her father and keep his guard up at all times. But if she informed him about these dangers and what she knew, he’d think her a witch, if not mad.
“What would you have me do? I’m a son of Scotland. It’s my duty to defend her soil.”
“Is Warren is going to Stirling? I saw the two of you practicing your swordplay in the yard.”
“Nay. He willna be accompanying us for this particular battle.”
“Does that mean his doing Scotland a dishonor by not defending her property against the English?”
“Each man must decide what’s right and wrong. Your brother is my dearest friend and regardless of what he chooses to do, I will stand behind him and his right to decide,” he said. “Freedom to make such choices and to live our lives the way we see fit are the very things we are fighting for.”
She rested her hand over his heart. “Give me your word you’ll be careful.”
“I promise to return to you.” And just like in her dream, he rolled her beneath him, lowered his head, and captured her lips.
She was powerless to resist. Lord help her, she was falling in love with this man after just a few kisses — and years of dreams. And she couldn’t let that happen. It was Catriona Grant he loved, not her.