Nineteen
 

Cate was pleased when Gregor rode out with the three other Phantoms on the morning of the Hogmanay feast.

She was surprised that they’d managed to keep their identities hidden for this long. All anyone had to do was look for the most terrifying, intimidating, fierce-looking men around, and the search would be over. Had she not been about to marry the most handsome man in Scotland, she also might have noticed that they were all uncommonly attractive. And tall. And muscular. It made sense, given their reputed prowess on the battlefield, but it was rather awe-inspiring all the same seeing them together.

What made Cate happy, however, was not this discovery, but that Gregor had taken his bow with him and intended to use it this time. She’d been more worried by its absence across his back than she’d realized. She couldn’t recall a time when Gregor had gone weeks without practicing. But it seemed the unusual break was at an end. Probably because he would be going back to the war soon. Her chest squeezed, recalling what he’d told her last night after the evening meal.

The day after their wedding? It wasn’t fair!

Not for the first time, she cursed the man who’d fathered her, albeit this time not for leaving her, but for taking the man she loved away from her.

You have to tell him. She knew she could not keep it from him forever. It might not have made a difference were he just another soldier in the king’s army, but he was more than that. Far more.

She would tell him. As soon as she had the opportunity. With all the guests and festivities, it had been difficult—almost impossible—to find time alone. But before Gregor had left, he’d leaned over and whispered “tonight” in her ear. That one word, that one taunting word filled with husky promise, had sent a shiver of anticipation racing through her.

A shiver of anticipation that had tormented her all day. The wretch! Did he know what he did to her? Probably. Definitely.

She found herself flushing at the oddest moments throughout the day. Such as when she was in the kitchens with Ete overseeing the roasting of the pig, and one of the kitchen maids had mentioned how excited she was for tonight. When the girl had asked Cate if she was, too, it wasn’t the feast Cate had been thinking about that caused her cheeks to turn red.

Cate’s torment had only increased when the long-awaited feast finally began. Though Gregor’s hosting duties as laird left little time for conversation between them, she was seated next to him on the dais, and more than once, his hand had “accidentally” brushed hers, his arm had grazed her breast, and his thigh had pressed up against hers, the contact making her jump. His uncle Malcolm, Chief of the MacGregors, who was seated on her other side, had given her more than one odd look and finally asked her if something was wrong. With a chastising look in Gregor’s direction, she’d scooted a few inches away from him on the bench.

But putting distance between them didn’t help. Every time their eyes met, she’d see that knowing look in his and flush to her roots. She’d lost her train of thought more than once, which left her stumbling embarrassingly through her conversations with the steady stream of people who came forward to offer their congratulations.

The dancing after the meal was even worse. Gregor didn’t miss any excuse to touch her. A hand held too long … a touch on the waist as he guided her through the steps. By the end of the first reel she was flushed, breathless, and so aroused, she was sure everyone could see how eager she was to strip off that fine dark blue velvet tunic he was wearing and swive the tormenting blighter senseless. The scary-looking pirate Lachlan MacRuairi had caught her eye once and lifted one very dark eyebrow at her with what she swore was almost amusement. She’d been so mortified, she’d wanted to crawl under the table and hide.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t the only one looking at her betrothed as if he were a sweet she couldn’t wait to gobble up. The usual gaggle of women had dropped around his feet. But Gregor gave her no reason for jealousy. Though he was his usual effortlessly charming self, and polite to all the ladies with whom he danced, the flirtatious glances and touches were reserved for her. Only when she saw him dance with Seonaid did she feel a prickle of something resembling jealousy. Maybe she hadn’t forgotten about that kiss as much as she thought she had.

But she quickly realized she had no cause. The shield of untouchability that separated him from the rest of the world had been erected again. It had been gone for so long, she’d almost forgotten what it was like. But he didn’t use it with her. She alone had broken through.

By the time the candelabra were lit, she couldn’t wait for the feast to be over and the night to begin. She intended to make him pay for his teasing.

But Gregor didn’t make her wait. Not long after she’d seen him dancing with Seonaid, he came up behind her when she was talking to John and murmured “wine” in her ear.

She didn’t need to ask what he meant. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him slip past the partition to the corridor that led to the small room where the wine was stored.

Her pulse raced with anticipation. She could almost smell the pungent, musty smell of the casks now. She could practically feel his lips on her neck, his skin against hers, the heat and hardness of his body …

They would have to be quick if they didn’t want anyone to miss them. But somehow the hurriedness only heightened the anticipation.

She waited what she hoped was a sufficient amount of time before slipping out after him.

She’d gone only a few feet, however, before she heard someone behind her and turned. She tensed, her body instinctively bracing her for what was sure to be an unpleasant confrontation.

“There you are, Caitrina,” Seonaid said innocently, as if the meeting were by chance.

Cate looked behind her, surprised to see that she was without her trusty handmaidens. “Were you looking for me, Seonaid?” She smiled sweetly. “I’m surprised you did not see me. I was seated at the head table next to the laird.”

Cate had to admit, seeing the flush of anger on the face of the woman whose jeers and cruel barbs had tormented her over the years gave her a distinct moment of girlish satisfaction. But it was soon replaced by regret. She couldn’t let Seonaid get to her like this. Cate wasn’t mean-spirited and petty.

At least not usually. But something about the other woman brought out the worst in her. Seonaid’s taunts, her verbal jabs, her condescension and disdain, reminded Cate of her childhood and the nameless bastard she’d been—the girl who’d been so desperate to find a place in a world that looked down on her. A place that had been so much worse when the man she’d idolized left her.

Every time Seonaid looked at her, she felt like she was seeing the little no one who desperately wanted to be someone. She felt like the five-year-old who’d donned a pretty dress and believed she could be a princess.

It made her want to lash out. Made her want to gloat and descend to that same unpleasant level that Seonaid trod upon.

But Cate didn’t need to gloat. She didn’t need to prove herself to anyone. She’d won Gregor because of who she was on the inside. Not because the man who’d sired her was a king—she still couldn’t believe the handsome young earl who’d sat on the rush-covered dirt floors of her mother’s cottage and played games with her was king!—or because of her beauty, her feminine wiles, or the size of her breasts.

She gritted her teeth. She would be gracious even if it killed her. In a much nicer voice, she added, “Can I help you with something, Seonaid?”

“I underestimated you,” the other woman said, her eyes sparking malevolently. She gave Cate a long look, her gaze traveling down her velvet gown—the green one—and up again. “You obviously knew what you were doing when you said you would get him to marry you.”

Cate stiffened. “I didn’t say that!” Did I? She bit her lip. “Well, that’s not what I meant.”

Seonaid drew back in surprise at her protest. “What else could you mean? Your words were very clear. You said you could get the handsomest man in Scotland to marry you, even if you had to trap him. You sounded very determined and sure of yourself. Weren’t your parting words something like, ‘If you don’t think I can do it, you are wrong’?”

Cate cringed. Dear lord, had she really said that? It sounded so … ugly.

Seonaid might not have all her words exactly right—Cate had never spoken of trapping him—but she’d gotten the gist well enough.

“So how did you do it?” Seonaid continued. “Did you strip naked and crawl into his bed so that he was forced to marry you?”

Cate’s cheeks flushed hotly—guiltily? It wasn’t like that. She’d had a nightmare, and it had just … happened. Because you touched him intimately when he tried to leave. You wanted to force his hand. You wanted to seduce him. But not to trap him, only to prove that he cared about her; she hadn’t been thinking of marriage.

But had a part of her known that would be the result?

The blood drained from her face. No! She couldn’t let Seonaid do this to her. “Of course not!” she protested. “How dare you insinuate anything so duplicitous! What is between Gregor and me is none of your business!”

But Seonaid latched on to her twinge of guilt like a dog to a meaty bone. “You did! I knew there had to be an explanation. Why else would Gregor MacGregor even look at someone like you?” Her gaze dropped to Cate’s chest, and her lip curled. “Unless you have more under there than I thought.”

Someone like you … The disdain in the other woman’s tone made something inside Cate snap. She wouldn’t be put on the defensive. Not by someone like Seonaid. “Why someone like me? Maybe because he finds me attractive on the inside as well as the outside. Maybe because I have more to offer than perfectly coiled golden curls and big breasts.” Cate returned every bit of her disdain. “You might try not being so obvious. That dress leaves very little to the imagination. Some men like a little mystery in what they are getting—especially when there is little else to offer.”

Seonaid gasped. Her eyes hardened to ice. “You pretend to be so high and mighty, but you are the one who had to trick a man into marrying you. Had I been willing to sink so low—”

“You would have found yourself alone in bed,” Cate snapped. She was so furious, she wasn’t even listening to herself. All she could think of was that for the first time, she didn’t have to take the other woman’s taunts. She didn’t have to feel less. “You are deluding yourself if you think differently. You know what your problem is? You’re jealous. You can’t stand to think that the girl who wasn’t good enough to be your friend could have won the man you wanted for yourself.” She took a step toward her. “But I did win, Seonaid. He doesn’t want you, he wants me, and you are just going to have to accept that.”

Seonaid’s gaze, which had been fixed on her, suddenly shifted to the left, looking past Cate’s shoulder and coming to rest on something.

Nay, on someone.

The bottom fell out of Cate’s stomach. The blood in her veins turned to ice. She didn’t need to look behind her to know who it was.

Seonaid smiled. “My laird, I was just congratulating Cate on her coup.”

How long had he been standing there? Cate turned and met his eerily cold and blank gaze. It was like looking into a dark cave. There was nothing there but empty blackness.

Long enough.

Every word she’d just said came back to her in one shameful wave of horror. She wished she could cut off her stupid tongue. But it was too late for that. How could she have let Seonaid get to her like that?

Gregor wished he’d stayed in the storage room. But Cate had been taking so long, he wondered if she’d misunderstood his intent. He’d heard the voices as soon as he’d opened the door, recognizing Cate’s soft tones and Seonaid’s more grating ones.

He’d been standing there the whole time. But both women had been so focused on the hostile game they played between them, they hadn’t noticed him.

He wished they had.

“Get the handsomest man in Scotland to marry you … trap him … forced to marry you …” He flinched at the words, unable to accept what he was hearing. And Cate’s response? Boasts and taunts instead of real denials. Then she served the final coup de grâce, the words that left no doubt of what she thought of him, “… won the man you wanted for yourself.”

Won. Like he was some damned prize.

He felt his insides twist.

Damn it, not her, too? It couldn’t be true. Cate wouldn’t do that. She was too honest for such deceit. She wasn’t superficial and conniving like Seonaid and her ilk—even if for a moment she sounded like her. He didn’t much like this spiteful, boastful side of Cate. Still, he didn’t want to believe it.

Don’t overreact, he told himself. Calm down. This was Cate. His Cate.

But her own words seemed to damn her. Why had she managed only one feeble denial and acceded to everything else Seonaid accused her of? Why was she throwing her “win” back in the other woman’s face? And then there was her expression when she turned to him and gave a startled, “Gregor!”

Horror. Guilt. Shame. He saw the mixture of emotions cross her delicate features and felt the doubt inside him begin to harden.

He glanced over to Seonaid, and the satisfied cat-like smile on her face hardened him a little more. He’d be damned if he’d let the she-tiger see how deeply her claws had scratched. “Coup?” he asked lazily.

Seonaid smiled. “Just a figure of speech, my laird. But it is quite an achievement for a girl like Caitrina to secure a proposal from a man of your … repute.”

Gregor’s fists curled in spite of himself. He knew exactly what “repute” she was talking about. “A girl like Caitrina?”

Seonaid flushed, probably realizing how petty she sounded. “I merely referred to her being an orphan, my laird.”

He knew exactly what she meant, and it wasn’t that.

Cate seemed to have been knocked from her shock. She grabbed his arm, “Gregor, I—”

He cut her off, not wanting to hear her explanation—at least not right now. “I see you let Seonaid in on our wee jest,” he said.

Cate looked just as surprised at seeing him smile as she was taken aback by his words. “Jest?”

He turned to Seonaid. “Cate told me all about your conversation. We laughed about the ironic timing of our announcement, but we never thought anyone would actually believe it.” He gave her a slow, deadly smile. “Do I look like the type of a man to be trapped by an innocent lass?”

Seonaid flushed hotly, her cheeks turning a bright scarlet red. “Of course not. We were just surprised by the sudden announcement, that’s all.”

“So you decided to speculate as to the reason?” His gaze hardened. “I hope you have not been spreading lies and rumors about my betrothed, Mistress MacIan.”

The lass’s eyes widened at the none-to-subtle threat in his voice. “Nay, of course not!”

“Good,” Gregor said, not believing her for a moment. “Then I assume I will hear no more of this. And you will correct anyone who repeats such malicious lies?” He leveled a pointed gaze on the venomous blonde, and then turned to Cate, who was looking at him with a relieved expression on her face.

With a frantic nod, Seonaid muttered something unintelligible and excused herself, seemingly unable to escape the corridor fast enough.

“Thank you,” Cate said, putting her hand on his arm.

Noticing his stiffening, she looked up at him questioningly. The guileless set of her adorable features seemed to make it worse.

His expression turned to stone. “For what?”

“For defending me. For trusting in me enough to know that what Seonaid said wasn’t true. I didn’t intend to trap you, Gregor.”

His mouth hardened, the bitterness rising inside him threatening to pour out in hot molten waves. “Didn’t you? And yet that’s exactly what happened. You seem to have talked about the very thing with your friend—or former friend. She seemed to recall your conversation quite well. I heard a lot of boasting on your side, but not many denials.”

He expected a stream of denials, and assurances that it had all been lies. Instead, she flushed guiltily. “If you don’t believe me, why did you tell her what you did?” Suddenly the reason came to her. “Oh.”

Aye, being duped was bad enough. He wasn’t going to confirm it for everyone else to hear. The very idea of him falling prey to that kind of machination—being tricked into marriage and made a prize to be “won”—made his skin crawl. It was what he’d sought to avoid for most of his life.

It was what other women did. Not Cate.

Her hand on his arm tightened. She took a step closer. The warmth of her body and the subtle fragrance of her hair teased his already on-edge senses. He had to steel himself against the desire that even now—when his gut felt like it was being chewed up—raced through him.

“Please, Gregor, listen to me—it’s not what you think.”

She had no idea how much he wanted to believe her. “Then you did not say that you were going to trap the ‘handsomest man in Scotland’ into marrying you? Did you not try to best her and ‘win’ me?”

He could barely even say the words, it sounded so ridiculous. The thought that Cate could have said something so shallow and deceitful made him ill. She wasn’t like that. She was different.

So why wasn’t she denying it? Why was her face filling with shame and guilt? Why was she looking at him with panic in her big, dark eyes?

“It wasn’t how it sounded. I never said I intended to trap you. That was Seonaid’s word, not mine.” The sheen of tears in her eyes spoke of her earnestness. “I know I sounded horrible, but you have to understand how it has been with Seonaid and me. She is always finding ways of belittling me and making me feel like I don’t belong. I couldn’t stand hearing any more about how inferior I am, how I act like a lad, and how impossible it would be for someone like you to fall in love with me.

“So when she cornered me in the churchyard, I’d had enough. It was right after that night in the Hall when you held me, and I realized for the first time that you were attracted to me. I knew we were meant to be together, and that seemed to have confirmed it. So when she taunted me that the only way you would marry me would be for me to trap you, but that I lacked the sufficient enticements to do that, I told her she was wrong. I knew it was petty and silly, but I just couldn’t stop myself. Just like what you heard earlier. She brings out the worst in me.”

She blinked back the tears and he could see that her hurt was real. “Haven’t you ever wanted to throw something back in someone’s face who’s been cruel to you? I know it’s childish, but I’d heard so many of the same things when I was younger that when I had the opportunity, I couldn’t resist it.”

She’d been teased as a child, he realized, and the injustice of it made him want to lash out for her. So aye, maybe he could understand. If it were just the conversation, he might understand. But it was more than that.

He had been effectively forced into marrying her when they’d been found together in her bed—a bed he’d tried to leave the night before until she’d touched him so boldly. Touched him in a way that shouldn’t have been seducing to a man of his experience, but because it had been Cate, was.

He’d tried to leave again that morning after her strange disappearance and she’d stopped him again. Vehemently. He remembered that now. She’d seemed insistent on him not going. At the time he’d thought she just wasn’t ready for the night to end—nor was he—but was there a more nefarious purpose? And he couldn’t help but recall her strange reaction to his jest about being “trapped.” At the time he’d taken it as innocence, but what if it wasn’t? What if it was guilt?

He wanted to believe her, but there were too many questions to ignore. “So the nightmare was just a coincidence? My understanding was that you hadn’t had one in a while.”

She gazed up at him, the hurt in her eyes making him feel guilty for even asking the question. “I told you why I had the nightmare. It was the man I saw.”

“Aye, that’s what you said.”

She drew back, the first glimmer of anger and outrage appearing in her eyes. “Good God, Gregor! What do you think? That I made him up, lured you to my bed with a nightmare, seduced you, and then arranged for us to be discovered? You give me far more credit than I deserve.”

Maybe, maybe not. Though it might sound implausible based on the difference in their ages and level of experience, they both knew that he was far from immune to her and had been fighting a losing battle with his desire, which she’d pushed very close to the edge. “And yet that’s exactly what happened.”

She held his gaze. “I didn’t do what you are accusing me of, Gregor. I didn’t plan any of it. What happened just happened. Maybe I wish I hadn’t pushed you by touching you—that’s why I was embarrassed earlier with Seonaid—but I wasn’t trying to trap you into marriage; I wanted you to stop denying how you felt about me. I love you. I would never try to trick or force you into marriage. I would have hoped you would know that without me having to tell you. I’m sorry about the conversation with Seonaid. It was childish and petty, and I never should have spoken of you as if you were a prize to be won. It was unworthy of me, and the love I have for you. But I did not deceive you or dupe you into anything.”

She stood there as regally as any queen, waiting for him to say something. When he didn’t speak right away, she lowered her gaze, as if he’d disappointed her. “Think about it, Gregor. In your heart you know the truth. I am not Isobel.”

No, she wasn’t. He watched her walk away, head high and spine straight, wanting to believe her despite everything he’d just heard. She sounded so sincere, and everything he knew about Cate to this point—or thought he knew—told him she was speaking the truth. She loved him; she understood him; she wouldn’t have done something like this, knowing how much he despised such machinations.

But love didn’t preclude betrayal. And it wouldn’t mean a damned thing, if he found out she was lying to him.

He took a few moments to let his blood cool and let the sting of the conversation he’d overheard fade. He would give her the benefit of the doubt—for now.

But there were too many things about that night that bothered him. And he wouldn’t be able to put his questions to rest before a few of them were answered.

Gregor’s questions were answered sooner than he expected. The first person he saw upon reentering the raucous Hall was his brother. In one carelessly spoken sentence, John crushed the last hope that Cate might be telling the truth.

“She sent for me,” John said without hesitation when Gregor asked him why he’d appeared in Cate’s room that morning. John had been enjoying the free-flowing cuirm of the feast and grinned, not realizing the impact his words were having. “Said it was something important.”

“And it couldn’t wait until morning?”

John shrugged. “I was worried. The boy mentioned something about blood, which is why I woke Ete and Lizzie.” He frowned. “I wonder what it was that she wanted?” He smiled lopsidedly. “Ah, well, I guess it worked out all right.”

It had worked out all right—just as she’d planned. The bitter taste of betrayal filled Gregor’s mouth … his lungs … his chest. It burned like acid in his gut. He called for the whisky to put it out. But the flame only grew hotter.

It wasn’t until that moment that he realized how much he’d wanted to believe her. John’s confirmation of her perfidy made it all that much worse. Gregor had known something was wrong about that morning. Now he knew why. She must have sent for his brother when she’d left the room for so long. That was why she’d been so anxious for him not to leave when she returned.

What a damned fool! How could he have let himself think even for a minute that she truly cared about him? Him. Not his reputation and all the other shite that went along with him.

She was just like Isobel, and he’d been just as blind. Instead of using him to make his brother jealous, Cate had used him as some “coup” to laud over her friends. And she’d done it. Aye, the little “orphan” who’d seemed so genuine and artless had trapped the man who didn’t think he could be trapped. She’d turned a jaded, cynical man into a temporary believer.

Gregor would laugh if his chest didn’t feel like someone was standing on it. The hurt was what angered him. He didn’t want to admit it, but she’d gotten to him. Christ, he’d actually thought he might be falling in love with her.

Isobel had stung his pride, but Cate had done much worse. She’d made him feel. She’d made him want. And if that was what “love” was about, he didn’t want anything to do with it. He’d been fine the way he was before, but he’d let himself get caught up in a young girl’s game.

No longer. His eyes were open—wide open, damn it. And soon enough hers would be as well. She might have forced him into marriage, but she hadn’t “won” anything else. She could take him as he was or not at all—he no longer cared.

He drained his cup and poured himself another. It was Hogmanay, damn it. He was getting married in a week. What did he care if the bride had made a bloody fool of him? It was time to celebrate. And he, for one, intended to have a good time.

Cate returned to the Hall and did her best to pretend nothing was wrong. But her smiles were forced, her attention was distracted, and her heart was aching. She felt like someone had just taken a hammer to her happiness and shattered the illusion like glass.

She hadn’t realized how fragile the bond she’d formed with Gregor was until Seonaid came along and snapped it with a few carelessly spoken words and half-truths.

Without question, Cate was ashamed of the conversations with Seonaid. She never should have boasted about her relationship with Gregor or spoken about marrying him as if it were a contest and he a prize to be won—especially since she knew how much it bothered him to be thought of in those terms.

In doing so, she’d made herself no better than the countless other women who’d sought him out because he was “the handsomest man in Scotland” or made a game of trying to bring him to heel. But she wasn’t like those other women. The ones who tried to seduce him, the ones who wanted to marry him not because they loved him but because of how he looked and his reputation. He had to see the difference—didn’t he?

But talking about him like that was wrong, and she deeply regretted it. It wasn’t how she thought of him at all, and she hated that he’d overheard a conversation that might have given him a reason to question the sincerity and depth of her feelings.

She wasn’t blind. Of course she loved the way he looked. But she saw far beyond that. She saw the man who could have a kingdom but was determined to prove himself on his own merit. She saw the man who no one—not even his own family—had believed in become someone to rely on. She saw a man who’d taken in a traumatized young girl and given her a home, a family, and a way to keep the nightmares at bay by encouraging her to learn a man’s skill. She saw the skill that made him one of the best warriors in Scotland, and the depth and compassion for those he killed that made him a great man.

Maybe she deserved his condemnation and anger for her part in the conversation with Seonaid, but a few thoughtlessly spoken words were a long way from the deception and trickery of which he’d accused her. It bothered her how easily he’d been ready to accept her guilt. She would never attempt to trap a man—any man—into marriage. He should know that, no matter how bad her words sounded.

Admittedly, they had sounded bad, and given what had happened with John and the others walking in on them, the situation had looked bad, too. But it stung that he hadn’t trusted her, and the cold, unfeeling look on his face had given her a moment’s pause. If he could turn on her so easily, maybe she didn’t know him as well as she thought she did?

Heartbreaker. What they said about him came back to her. That wasn’t him, she told herself. He did have the capacity to feel. He cared about her—maybe even loved her. When he thought about it, he would realize the truth.

But she was disappointed, hurt, and a little angry—certainly in no mood for merriment. Still, she forced a smile to her face as she danced with his uncle, and then with a steady stream of other guests. It will be all right, she told herself. Gregor would come to his senses. No doubt he would be ashamed for distrusting her and find a creative way of making it up to her later.

But as the night drew on, her thoughts of sinful kisses and passionate apologies became harder and harder to believe. He didn’t look like a man who was sorry for anything.

On returning to the Hall, Gregor had gone to the dais, spoken to John for a few moments, called for the uisge beatha, and proceeded to fill his tankard over and over with the strong-tasting brew that she’d seen him drink only rarely—and then in much smaller amounts.

The heavy drinking wasn’t the worst of it, though. Those flirtatious glances and touches that had been reserved for her were now being distributed freely and indiscriminately.

Gregor hadn’t looked at her once since returning to the Hall. But his friends had. The worried looks cast in her direction by the other Phantoms and John didn’t make it any easier to bear. When one of the serving maids somehow ended up on Gregor’s lap after bending over to refill his tankard—with her sizable breasts practically right under his nose—Cate had had enough. She wasn’t going to let him treat her as if she meant nothing to him—no matter what he thought she’d done.

She stormed over to the corner of the Hall before the fire, where he was holding court like some drunken sultan, and glared at the two until the giggling servant saw her and had the good sense to slide off his lap and scamper away.

The crowd of men who had been standing around him—maybe to protect her from seeing what she had?—slowly dissipated.

Not wanting to make a scene, she spoke in a low voice through gritted teeth and a tight smile. “What do you think you are doing?”

“What does it look like?” he replied with a narrowed gaze, and a dangerous glint in his eye that she’d never seen before. “Celebrating the new year.”

“It looks like you’ve done enough celebrating,” she said with a pointed glance at his tankard.

His smile was sly and calculating, and it sent a chill racing down her spine. “I haven’t even begun. The night is young.” He stood with more steadiness than she would have thought him capable after all the whisky, and threw back the rest of the contents in his cup for good measure, before slamming it on the table in front of him. “You aren’t my wife yet, Cate. You’d do best to remember that.”

She sucked in her breath. Her heart seemed to have stopped beating. Was he saying he no longer wanted to marry her? “What is that supposed to mean?”

He gave her a long look filled with a dark emotion she didn’t understand. “It means I know the truth. It means you may have ‘won’ your little game with your friend, but don’t try to get in my way.”

There was no mistaking the warning. Clearly, he still didn’t believe her. “Gregor, don’t be like this. We need to talk.”

His gaze hardened to black, unforgiving ice. “Aye, we do, and I shall have plenty to say. But right now is not the time. Do not push me, Cate.”

She let him go, watching him walk away with a sense of helplessness. What did he mean, “I know the truth”? If he knew the truth, he wouldn’t be acting this way. But it was clear he was in no condition to think rationally. He’d said they would talk. Tomorrow … tomorrow things would be much more clear.