Twenty-seven
 

After being pushed to the very edge of his restraint the night before, it wasn’t surprising that Gregor found himself at the practice yard early the next morning. He felt like killing someone and needed an outlet. Nay, not just someone—the smug bastard who’d had his eyes and hands all over Cate last night. Just the memory of the way Randolph’s palm had rested on the small of her back and then slid down one very inappropriate inch made every muscle in Gregor’s body flare.

Gritting his teeth, he swung his sword and let it come down with all the frustration and anger teeming inside him.

He was fortunate his sparring partner was the best swordsman in Scotland and didn’t know the meaning of the word “practice.” With MacLeod it was always full-out, no-holds-barred combat.

MacLeod blocked the blow, albeit with some effort. The Chief of the Highland Guard drew back to take a break, breathing heavily. “Christ, Arrow, keep swinging a sword like this and we might find a new place for you with or without your bow.” He gave him a long look. “I guess I don’t need to ask what has gotten into you? I saw Randolph with your lass last night.”

Suddenly, MacLeod’s gaze shifted past him. Gregor turned just as Cate stomped up beside him.

“I’m not his lass,” she said to MacLeod with gritted teeth. Gregor was so glad to see her, so busy drinking in every sweet inch of her, that he didn’t even mind when she scowled at him. “Why aren’t you practicing with your bow? And what is this my father says about you not rejoining the, uh …” She looked about uncertainly at the men gathered around. “… army?”

Unfortunately, his place in the “army” wasn’t exactly a secret anymore. Gregor sighed, pulled off his helm, and dragged his fingers through his sweat-drenched hair. Damn Bruce for bringing her into this! “Can we talk about this later, Cate?”

“I don’t know, Slick,” MacSorley piped in from his position leaning against the wall of the armory, where he’d been watching the sword practice. “I’m rather interested in what you have to say on the subject as well.” He looked around at the other members of the Guard gathered there: Sutherland, MacKay, MacRuairi, and Campbell. “We all are.”

Feeling more than a little cornered, Gregor might have snapped back angrily, but Cate unexpectedly came to his rescue. She turned to MacSorley. “You know, I think you are going to have to come up with a new name for him. He doesn’t look very slick right now. He looks rather a mess.”

Some rescue. Gregor repressed a groan.

MacSorley grinned. “Ah, you might be right about that, lass. I’ll have to think of something. But don’t worry about that pretty face of his—it will heal up just fine. Did he ever tell you how he was dipped in the River Styx as a child?”

Gregor muttered a not very low “go to hell” under his breath, while Cate laughed.

“Like Achilles with the arrow? How appropriate! Did his mother hold him by the heel as well?”

It was MacRuairi who answered, shaking his head. “We didn’t think he was vulnerable anywhere. But turns out he is.”

Cate searched the faces of the men around them, waiting for an explanation.

Finally, Gregor let out an exasperated sigh. “You, Cate. He means you.”

Their eyes met and for the first time in a long time, she was not looking at him with hatred and anger. She blinked widely. “Oh.”

“Aye, ‘oh,’ ” he repeated. Conscious of too many eyes upon them, he drew her away. “Come, we can talk inside the armory—where we won’t have any interruptions.”

“Ah, hell, I was hoping for a rematch,” MacSorley said. “I’ll be ready next time, lass. Although you might not want to wear such a pretty gown. This time I won’t be the only one to get dirty.”

Cate was laughing as he dragged her away. “He’s amusing,” she said. “I can see why you like him so much.”

“Hawk’s a pain in the arse,” he grumbled. “Wait until he comes up with a nickname for you.”

The smile that lit her face stabbed him with a longing so intense it stole his breath. How could he have been such an idiot? How could he have thrown away the most important thing that had ever happened to him? She meant everything to him. He should have trusted his feelings. Committed himself to her, heart and soul.

“Do you think he will?” She couldn’t hide her excitement. “What do you think he will call me?”

“I don’t even want to guess. But you can be assured it will be hilarious to everyone but you or, more likely, me.”

Before they went into the armory, he washed some of the grime off his face and hands with a bucket of fresh water from the well.

Entering the armory, he could see that there was enough light coming through the wood slats, so he closed the door behind them. Clearing off a wooden crate that was used to reach the weapons stored higher on the walls, he motioned for her to sit, but she shook her head. “I’d prefer to stand.”

He’d prefer she do her standing a few feet away from him because in the enclosed space, with only a few feet between them, he was finding it very hard to keep his hands at his sides. It had been so long since he’d touched her—really touched her—that he ached with the need to feel her soft skin under his fingertips again. And as if the thought of that wasn’t enough to test the limits of his control, a moment later the subtle scent of flowers teased his senses. She’d used lavender in the water to wash her hair, and all he could think about was unbinding the two coils secured under her veil and burying his nose in the silky softness.

But he’d lost that privilege. He’d have to earn it back—if she let him.

Taking a step back, he cleared his throat. “What did you want, Cate?”

Unaware of the fragile command he had on his control, she stepped toward him until she stood only inches away. Christ, all he had to do was bend his head and her lips would be under his. His muscles tensed. A rush of heat pounded through his veins, but he kept his arms pinned to his sides and tried not to think about how badly he wanted to kiss her.

Maybe she was more aware of what she was doing to him than he realized. Her voice was slightly husky. “What’s wrong, Gregor? Why have you not been using your bow? Why are you contemplating quitting?”

His jaw hardened. It wasn’t quitting; it was merely that what he wanted had shifted. He no longer felt the need to prove himself. He no longer had the drive to be the best and nothing else. He no longer wanted to avoid his other duties.

“This isn’t because of me, is it?” she asked. “I know you didn’t mean to shoot me. It was an accident.”

He gritted his teeth against the tight swell of emotion in his throat. When he’d let loose that arrow, for the first time the full import of what he did hit him. “I could have killed you.”

“But you didn’t. And even if you had, it wouldn’t have been your fault. You couldn’t have anticipated what I was going to do. In fact, I think you’d instructed me many times not to do what I did.”

The sympathy in her eyes undid him. He had to tell her the truth—no matter how shameful. “You don’t understand. If you hadn’t done what you did, the king might be dead.” His mouth hardened. “I missed, Cate. The arrow I shot was too low. It wouldn’t have killed Fitzwarren.”

The surprised doubt on her face only made it worse. “You can’t know that. And even even if it’s true, I imagine you were unusually distracted.”

He clenched his jaw in silence. She was right. He had been distracted—by her—but that was no excuse. “It wasn’t the first time. It’s one of the reasons I was sent home.” He described the hesitation at Berwick and the small mistakes he’d made leading up to it. He gave voice to his fear for the first time. “My skills are slipping.”

“Your skills are exceptional. But you are not perfect. So what? You are the only one who expects you to be, and you don’t need to be. Even with a few not-perfect shots, you are still the best archer in the Highlands. What about the shot you made from the ladder? From what my father said, it saved the attack from discovery.”

“I was lucky.”

She looked at him as if she knew better. “Luck or not, no one else could have made that shot, Gregor. No one. Think about that.”

His jaw hardened. Whether she was right really didn’t matter. “You don’t understand. I’m …” He just said it: “Christ, I’m losing my edge. I don’t feel the same intensity.”

She gave him a long look, considering his words but seeing far beyond them. “How could you? You must be mentally exhausted. You’ve been fighting for my father for …?”

“Over seven years,” he filled in.

“So seven years of functioning at the highest levels, under the most extreme of conditions, with constant pressure? That would be difficult for any archer, let alone with the type of precision required for a marksman. I’m not surprised it has begun to wear on you; actually, I’m surprised you lasted this long.” She paused, cocking her head to study him. “Do you still believe in my father?”

“There is no one I believe in more. He is a great man—and a great king.”

She looked up at him with far more understanding and compassion than he deserved. But it was what she did next that nearly brought him to his knees. Slowly, she reached up and cupped his jaw in her hand. He regretted the roughness of the stubble scratching her soft skin, but she seemed not to mind as she rubbed his chin against her palm.

“You won’t let him down, Gregor. Even if you never hit another mark again, you have proved yourself many times over.” She made a face. “You don’t know how many stories of your escapades I’ve been forced to endure the past few weeks.”

She’d shocked him. “He’s been furious with me.”

“Aye, so maybe that should tell you something. His faith in you is as unwavering as yours is in him.” She smiled. “Even after shooting his daughter.”

Was the fear of losing Bruce’s faith in him what was holding him back? He suspected it might be part of it. For so long his focus on being the best—proving himself by his skill—had been all that mattered. But what happened when it was gone? Maybe he was fighting too hard against finding out.

That was Cate. Cutting through the chaff to get to the wheat. She seemed to take the jumble of confusing emotions inside him and make them clear.

She wasn’t done. “I suspect this might have as much to do with Father Roland’s offertory basket and the stones on your father’s grave as it does about your skills. Taking a life—any life—is not easy, even when it is deserved. You were right in that.” He wished he could have spared her that knowledge. “Not being eager to take a life is nothing to be ashamed of; it just ensures that when you do, it is necessary. And what you do is necessary—I know you know that. You just need to remind yourself. My father needs you, Gregor.”

He took her hand and brought her dainty fingers to his mouth. Some of the tightness squeezing in his chest relaxed when she didn’t pull it away, but allowed him to press his lips on her fingers. “But I need you. None of it means anything without you. For so long, I’ve been fighting against someone else’s image of who I am that I lost sight of the man I wanted to be. You reminded me of who that is. I want you to be able to count on me, Cate. I want my clan to count on me. And I want our children to count on me. Give me your trust, Cate, and I swear I will die before I ever break it again.”

He could see the indecision in her eyes, the vacillating between longing and fear. She wanted to trust him, but she was scared. He couldn’t blame her. His chest tightened—burned—knowing just how much he’d hurt her.

But it was the longing that snapped the last tethers of his restraint. He couldn’t see that fragile plea of hope and love in her eyes—that tenderness that he’d feared would never reappear—and not respond.

He kissed her. It was a kiss unlike any he’d ever given a woman before. It was a kiss to destroy all indecision and all fear. It was a kiss to woo, a kiss to persuade, and a kiss to convince.

It was a kiss that didn’t allow any room for protest or argument. With every gentle caress of his mouth, with every long stroke of his tongue, with every groan and sweep of his thumb on her cheek, he told her how much he loved her and how much she meant to him.

She had to believe it.

Cate’s knees went weak when he kissed her. Everything else went weak as well with the tender onslaught of his mouth and tongue. Her resistance melted under the warmth of his love.

He did love her. It wasn’t just words or a kiss that convinced her. It was in everything he did. It was in the way he looked at her when she first walked into a room; it was in the way he’d forced himself to stand aside for a month while she enjoyed some of the benefits that might have been hers by birth had tragedy not intervened; it was in his haggard appearance and in that ridiculous broken nose.

Suddenly, recalling what else he’d said, she pulled back. “What do you mean you want your clan to count on you?”

“I might not have been born to be the laird, but I am, and it’s time I started acting like it. I had John fill in for me in Galloway. There is no reason he cannot do so again.”

Cate was glad for John, knowing how eager he’d been to return to battle. “But not all of the time, Gregor. They need you.”

He didn’t say anything.

“Don’t you want to be a Phantom anymore?” she asked.

“Of course, but I have a responsibility.”

She knew that was only part of what was weighing on him. She had not yet fully convinced him that there was nothing wrong with him that rest and the realization that he did not need to be perfect would not cure, but she would. He had plenty of faults, and she’d be happy to remind him of them whenever he needed her to. “Aye, but don’t you think there is a way to do both? Perhaps we might come up with a compromise?”

His eyes held hers. “ ‘We’?” He stroked her cheek with the back of his finger. “Does that mean you will give me another chance?”

She lifted a brow. “I believe I still have two more days in my promised month. I’d hate to lose them when Sir Thomas has asked—”

She didn’t get to finish. He cut her off with a very unflattering curse about her cousin and hauled her up against him. The feel of her body pressed against his was at once familiar and new, and as always, it made her gasp with shock.

This time when he kissed her, he kissed her hard. Possessively. And very, very thoroughly. He left her no doubt of exactly what he wanted to do to her and all the pleasures that awaited her in their marriage bed.

When he pulled away a long time later, they both were breathing hard and about one minute away from experiencing those pleasures up against a wall in the armory.

“Did I say a month?” he said huskily. “I meant twenty-nine days. One more night like last night, and I’ll be calling St. Kilda home.”

Cate laughed. “Is that what my father threatened you with? I wondered.” Her expression turned serious. “But thank you, Gregor. Twenty-nine days or a month, what you did …” She looked up at him. “You don’t know how much it means to me.”

He swept a lock of hair that had tangled in her lashes from their kiss behind her ear. “I think I do. You are special Cate, and you deserved far more than a month. I wish I could give you everything you missed.”

“I think you’ve made a fine start.”

He grew troubled for a moment. “Are you sure, Cate? God knows it’s selfish of me to ask you to give me another chance after what you’ve been through. I nearly lost my mind when I discovered you’d been taken. They could try it again—using you to get to me and the others. I swear I will do everything I can to protect you, but being with me is not without risk.”

“I’m Robert the Bruce’s daughter, Gregor. I’m going to be at risk with or without you, and I like my odds better with.” She smiled. “When I cannot defend myself, there is no one I would count on more.”

She could see that her words meant something to him.

“You proved that well enough with what you did to save the king. I’m proud of you, Cate.”

She beamed, smiling broadly. His praise meant more to her than he could know. “I’m proud of myself, too. I guess all that dirt you made me eat that day was worth it.”

He laughed, and then gave her a cryptic smile. “I told you I wanted our children to count on me. Aren’t you curious to know what I meant?”

She rolled her eyes. “I assumed you were anticipating all those sons again.”

He grinned back at her. “Not exactly. I’m afraid I was referring to something a little more immediate than that.”

It took her a moment to realize what he meant. The blood drained from her face. She gazed at him wordlessly, not wanting to say the words that might crush her hope.

“They are waiting for you—for us—at Roro, my love.”

He’d brought the children back. “But how? What about their relations?”

“They will be a part of their lives if they want to be, but I convinced them that they belong with us. You gave them a home, Cate.”

She couldn’t believe it. Eddie … Maddy … “All of them? Even Pip?”

He nodded. “I think with my nose we even look like father and son now. What do you think?”

She gave a half-cry and sob and launched herself into his arms again, just letting him hold her. The feeling of those strong arms around her was like nothing else. She didn’t realize she was crying until she looked up, and he wiped the tears from her eyes.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Nothing. I’m just so happy, I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll marry me. Say you’ll be my wife. Say you’ll be the mother of my children—even ones I didn’t know I had right away. Say you’ll stand by my side during the day, and sleep by my side at night. Say you’ll grow old with me. Say you love me as much as I love you.”

“I do love you. And yes, yes, I will marry you.” She paused, tugging her bottom lip between her teeth. “Although I was looking forward to a month or two of courting.”

When he smiled that long, slow smile that curved his sensual mouth and set every drop of green in his eyes sparkling, the most handsome man in Scotland had never looked so dazzling. But it was that other glint in his eye—the one that promised another kind of dazzling—that made her shiver with anticipation. “That depends on the kind of courting you have in mind.”

She pulled back. “A very proper one, of course, under my father’s watchful gaze.”

He groaned. “Christ, that’s what I was afraid of.”

She quirked a brow. “Do I take it you are not enjoying celibacy?”

“Not when I am near you. Right now, I’m not enjoying it at all. After a month—or two—of this, it’s not going to be pretty.”

She patted him on the cheek. Poor, Gregor. I think you’ll live.

He captured her hand in his much bigger one and brought it to his mouth, pressing a warm kiss upon her fingers. “I will, but it won’t be easy.”

He looked as bent out of shape as his nose. She slid her arms around his neck and lifted on her toes to press a kiss on his disgruntled mouth. “Don’t worry; I think we might find a few storerooms in Dunstaffnage.”

A shadow crossed his face. “I haven’t apologized for what I said, Cate. I never should have said that about taking you against a wall. I didn’t mean it—”

She stopped him with a press of her fingers to his mouth. “I know. And I will let you apologize to your heart’s content later, but right now you’d better hurry if you don’t want someone to come in here and discover us.”

His eyes lit up like green flames as soon as he took in her meaning. It was clear from how quickly he started removing her clothing that he wasn’t going to wait for her to change her mind.

When they were both undressed, he slide his gaze down her appreciatively and let out a low whistle. “Hell, sweetheart, if it means I could trap you into marrying me faster, I don’t care who walks in. Maybe you should call John?”

For that, she slipped her ankle behind his and pushed him to the ground. But when she fell down on top of him, he didn’t seem to mind so much.

He was a rogue. But he was her rogue. And when he made love to her that day and for every day afterward, he never let her forget it.