Twenty
 

Tomorrow came and went without anything being resolved. The cool light of day, and a whisky-cleared head, had not imparted to Gregor any sudden epiphanies or rationality about Cate’s motives for—or means of—securing a proposal from him.

Nor did he give her the chance to explain. He skipped the morning meal and was locked away in his solar with Aonghus, Bryan, and Cormac—three of his household men—for most of the morning.

As most of the guests were staying through to the wedding, he could not avoid the midday meal, although she suspected he would have if he could have found an excuse. He sat beside her at the high table on the dais, but there was so much distance between them, he might as well have been in England. He spoke to her only when necessary, and then with such blank politeness it cut her to the quick. The easy rapport and intimacy of the day before had vanished as if it had never existed.

Anger Cate would have known how to fight. But this seeming acceptance of her guilt and sentencing to a purgatory of the unknown—where she couldn’t appeal her conviction or know her punishment—was far harder to combat. If she’d thought him untouchable before, it was nothing to the air of remoteness and indifference that had gone up like an icy shield around him now.

Still, she tried. She tried throughout the meal to talk to him, but he either brushed her off or included the people around them in the conversation to forestall the discussion of anything personal. As soon as the meal was concluded, he excused himself and joined the other Phantoms at their table. A few minutes later, they departed. To hunt, she would learn from John later.

She was left to entertain their guests and pretend nothing was wrong. Pretend that she wasn’t deeply hurt by his behavior. Pretend that she didn’t see the pitying glances sent in her direction.

Pretend that she wasn’t worried.

What if he refused to believe her?

By the end of the day, Cate had had enough. She’d hoped that she wouldn’t need to defend herself, but she couldn’t let it go on like this any longer. If Gregor wouldn’t talk to her, then he could very well listen.

After saying good night to the children, she went back down to the second level, but not to her room. Instead, she took up a post at the window in the room where Gregor had slept before he’d removed himself to the barracks. Unlike her room, his overlooked the bailey and gate.

As the chamber was temporarily empty, no one had lit the brazier, and the drafty room was about as cold and desolate as she was feeling. Though far from spacious and modern, the old tower house was a palace compared to the small cottage she’d grown up in, and she loved it. It was comfortable. It was home. Removing the fur-lined coverlet from the bed, she wrapped it around her shoulders, sat on the wooden bench, and waited, watching the gate for any sign of riders.

Surely he would return soon? Though it was only seven or eight o’clock, it had been dark for some time.

But an hour passed, and then another. The number of people moving about the bailey dwindled until only the warriors on the night watch remained.

The castle grew silent. The candle she’d brought with her burned low. Her lids grew heavy.

Reality set in. Gregor wasn’t coming back. At least not tonight. Maybe not …

She wouldn’t let herself finish the thought. With a feeling akin to despair, she curled up on the same bed where they’d made love and tried not to let her mind wander in terrifying directions.

He would come back, and she would talk to him when he did. It had only been a day. Nothing horrible could happen in a day. It would be all right.

But it was a long time before she slept.

Cate startled awake from what felt like a posset-induced slumber. Jangle. Clop. Clop. The sounds penetrated her hazy consciousness. She sat up. They were the sounds she’d waited hours to hear the night before … horses!

A barrage of yapping followed as she hopped out of bed and raced to the window.

Grasping the wooden frame with white-knuckled fingers, she peered out. Her heart fell with disappointment. It wasn’t riders coming in; it was men leaving. She recognized Bryan as he rode through the gate.

Good gracious, what was the matter with Pip’s pup? It was tearing back and forth in front of the gate, barking frantically. Finally, one of the men picked him up and started to carry him back toward the stables.

Pip had better keep watch over the poor little mite if he didn’t want it to get hurt. The lad was going to have to find a name for it, too. The pup was thriving and well past any danger—assuming it didn’t get trampled by horses, that is.

A glance at the sun already high on the horizon told her she had slept late and had better hurry if she didn’t want to miss the morning meal.

Maybe Gregor had returned sometime during the night? If not, she would find John and see if he could tell her anything.

Gregor couldn’t just leave. Not with all these guests. Not with their wedding only days away. At least that was what she kept telling herself.

Returning to her own chamber, she quickly washed, tugged a comb through her tangled hair, and changed her gown before racing down the stairs. When she entered the hall, she realized it must be later than she’d thought. The servants were already clearing the trays, and most of the guests and clansmen were gone.

She caught sight of Ete with her head down and darting out the back entrance—probably chasing after Maddy—and would have gone after her if she hadn’t seen John talking with Aonghus near the fireplace. Snatching a crust of bread and piece of cheese from one of the trays, Cate managed a few bites while she waited for the men to finish their conversation.

Every now and then she glanced out the window, but the man she was looking for didn’t appear. Her gaze kept being drawn back to the two men on the other side of the room. It was clear something was wrong. John looked upset and Aonghus appeared very uncomfortable, as he responded to what appeared to be a barrage of questions from John.

Questions that stopped dramatically the moment John looked up and caught her eye. Something in his expression set the hair at the back of her neck on edge. It was half apologetic and half pitying. He looked like he felt sorry for her, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to know why.

God, had he left her?

Her heart thumped in her chest. He said a few more curt words to Aonghus and sent him away.

Cate approached cautiously, having the distinct impression that the conversation had been about her.

John’s mouth was tight and his expression strained as she drew nearer. Finally, she stood before him. Holding her breath, bracing for the worst, she looked up at him. “Is something wrong?”

His mouth drew even harder, whitening his lips and making the muscle in his jaw jump. “My blasted brother will explain. I’ll have nothing to do with this.”

John was furious. Whatever Gregor had done, clearly John didn’t agree with it.

“Gregor has returned?” She hoped she didn’t sound as relieved as she sounded.

“Aye. He’s a bastard but not a coward,” he said grudgingly—very grudgingly.

Cate had no idea what he was talking about, but something was obviously very wrong. Taking a deep breath for strength, she asked the question, “What has he done?”

John swore, dragging his fingers back through his hair the same way Gregor did when he didn’t know what to say. “It’s my fault. I didn’t realize what he was asking. I never would have told him before talking to you, if I’d known.”

“Whatever are you talking about, John? Told him what?”

“That you sent for me that morning. I didn’t think anything of it until he started acting like an arse that night, and I realized what he thought.”

Cate stared at him in confusion. “I sent for you?”

“Aye, that morning we walked in on you and Gregor … uh, in bed.”

Cate was aghast. She stood back, looking at him as if he were deranged. “I did no such thing!”

He frowned. “Pip said you had to tell me something important.”

“No.” She shook her head. “I didn’t send for you. There must be some mistake.” Suddenly her eyes widened in horror. She covered her gasp with her hand, realizing what it meant. “And you told Gregor this?”

Dear God, what he must think? What John told him must have seemed a confirmation of Seonaid’s claim that Cate had trapped him into marriage. No wonder he’d been acting so cold.

John nodded. “Aye, he asked me how it was that I came to your room that morning, and I didn’t think anything of it. At least not until he started drinking, and …”

He left off, clearly not wanting to say what else Gregor had been doing. Flirting—please let it only be flirting—with those other women.

“Acting like an arse?” she finished for him.

He nodded. “I’m sorry, Cate.”

The way he was looking at her …

Her pulse spiked with trepidation. “I didn’t send for you, John. I would never try to force him into marrying me. You know that, don’t you?”

He hesitated. It was clear that like Gregor, John had thought the worst. But unlike his brother, he had some doubts. “I didn’t want to think so. I hoped there was an explanation. I told him so, but he was too angry with me—I told him I wanted to fight with Bruce, not stay here and run his clan for him.”

Cate was glad that John had found the courage to tell Gregor how he felt. But how ironic that John gave her the benefit of the doubt her betrothed would not. Yet John had never been manipulated and betrayed by a woman he cared about. John hadn’t learned to be guarded and cautious. John didn’t fear ulterior motives from every woman he met. And John hadn’t heard her in the corridor with Seonaid.

She cringed again. Oh God, how Gregor must hate her! It was a betrayal of the worst kind to him. For all that he pretended that women who set their sights on him instantly upon meeting him or turned him into a notch on the bedpost didn’t matter to him, she knew it did.

“There is an explanation,” Cate said firmly. “I’ll find Pip, and we can clear this all up.”

The hard, tight look returned to his face. “I’m afraid it’s too late for that.”

“What do you mean it’s too late—”

She stopped, the reason for John’s anger and odd behavior suddenly hitting her full force. She felt like she’d just been crushed under a wall of rocks.

No … No! Gregor wouldn’t …

But he would. The pain cut like a jagged knife, eviscerating her heart from her chest in one cruel slice. He’d warned her they couldn’t stay, and she hadn’t wanted to believe he could actually send them away. But his anger with her had given him all the excuse he needed. He was making it clear that they wouldn’t be a family.

The pup’s barking made horrible sense. Pip, Eddie, and baby Maddy … they were gone.

Concentrate, damn it. There is nothing wrong with you. Gregor grabbed an arrow from where it was stuck in the ground at his feet, nocked it, drew it back, and let it loose in one smooth motion before picking up the next and the next in rapid succession.

Within seconds, he’d fired off a half-dozen arrows at as many targets that hung from a rope along the wall. All but one of the arrows had hit its mark dead center. The one that missed had done so by less than two inches. Nearly perfect. But for Gregor, two inches was as good as ten feet.

He wasn’t the only one who noticed the miss. Although they were trying not to show it, all three of his brethren were looking at him with varying degrees of concern. It had been like this all morning, except that if anything, Gregor’s shots were getting worse.

“It was a late night,” MacSorley said. “We are all tired. Hell, we probably rode thirty miles last night. Perhaps we should call it a day.”

Christ, it was so bad, MacSorley wasn’t even trying to jest.

Without a word, Gregor went to the wall to retrieve the arrows from the stuffed bags of linen marked with a black “x.”

Gregor was tired, and they had ridden most of the night—chasing shadows as it turned out, with no sign of the men who’d been in the forest—but they all knew that wasn’t why he’d missed a target that a squire would have hit. In fact, it was a training exercise Gregor had devised as a lad and used now to teach young archers.

Two days ago when he’d ridden out with his bow for the first time since returning home, he’d been flawless. Focused. His old self.

But two days ago wasn’t today. Two days ago he hadn’t known that the marriage he’d actually been looking forward to was a sham. Two days ago he hadn’t felt like ripping off someone’s head—preferably his own.

God, he couldn’t believe what a deluded fool he’d been! He’d actually thought she was different. He’d thought she really loved him, and for the right reasons.

But whatever the truth of her feelings, he no longer cared. He didn’t need her love, or anyone else’s for that matter. He’d had enough games, enough “traps” and boasts, to last a lifetime.

He yanked the errant arrow from the mark disgustedly. He’d missed the target for one reason and one reason only: because he couldn’t bloody concentrate. He couldn’t get himself to that place he needed to be where nothing else mattered. The narrow zone where there was only his arrow and the target.

He didn’t know why he was letting her get to him like this. Why was he still so damned angry? Why couldn’t he stop thinking about it? He shouldn’t care, damn it. She would be his wife, but that was all. She shouldn’t matter to him.

Coming home was supposed to clear his head of distractions, not make them worse. He never should have let himself get involved with her. He should have married her off and been done with it as he’d originally planned. He had a job to do, damn it. The king was counting on him. His friends were counting on him. He sure as hell wasn’t going to let them down.

He couldn’t afford to lose his edge and let anything interfere. Not when they were so close. Which meant he had to get Cate out of his head for good. He needed to get back to the way he was before he’d been duped.

MacSorley and MacRuairi were already starting back to the barracks when Gregor returned to the line. But Campbell was waiting for him.

The revered scout didn’t say anything for a while. He just stared at him with that eerie, penetrating gaze that made you feel as if he were looking right inside you.

Suddenly, Campbell straightened, sensing her arrival moments before Cate walked around the corner. His partner was like that. He could feel things before they happened. It had come in handy more than once.

One glance at her devastated face, and Gregor knew she’d discovered what he’d done. He hardened the fool heart that felt a pang of remorse she didn’t deserve and looked back to his partner.

“Whatever is wrong between you and the lass,” Campbell said, “fix it. We need you.”

Gregor held his friend’s gaze for a moment, and then gave a determined nod. He intended to do exactly that.