Chapter 10
I can’t help but smile as I scan my room. I feel like a bride on her wedding day. There are so many people here to help me prepare. The dresses are gorgeous. Blues and greens as deep as gems are strewn across the bed. Ladies buzz about me with pins and ribbons, singing and laughing, brimming with excitement. It’s difficult not to be excited as well. The castle is filled with visitors. Clans from far and wide have come for the games. And tonight, I will meet the men that will be competing for me. Holy God. I can’t believe this is really happening. I’ve zoned out to the conversations as I sip my wine, but Mary’s voice brings me out of my musings.
“Dinna be silly! She’ll wear the emerald silk with her hair down. I’ve some lovely pearl hairpins on the vanity.” Mary’s voice brooks no further argument. I’ve learned it’s best to stay quiet and still during these types of discussions or else I may get caught in the crossfire.
“Nay, Mary, she should wear hear hair up. Ross has sent her some lovely butterfly combs.”
I have to laugh to myself. This conversation could be happening anywhere at any time. I’ve grown close with these women and count them as sisters. And as sisters, they can be wonderful or annoying.
“Angus likes it down so she’ll wear it down,” Claire interjects.
“Whoa, ladies, never mind how Angus would like my hair. I’ll wear it however I’d like.”
Suddenly I’m surrounded by laughter. Apparently, they don’t believe me. I can’t say I’m wholly convinced, but I can fake it.
Mary catches my eye, “Of course he notices, Katherine. He watches you. Never lets you out of his sight. For someone so learned, you’ve not a clue about men.” They all nod their heads in assent.
“That doesn’t mean she can’t enjoy some harmless flirtations with her suitors. She’s got all these lovely dresses ye ken.” Claire winks at me as she hands me more wine. “Besides, the ones she doesn’t choose will need some consoling, no?” That brings more laughter.
As the afternoon turns into evening and the wine takes effect, I get into the spirit of things.
“These butterfly combs are lovely. I think I’d like to wear them. Margaret, would you help me?”
Mary tsks me. “Tis a dangerous game you’re playing with Angus, lass. He’ll not like it.”
He won’t like the combs in my hair? Certainly he won’t even notice, and I tell Mary as much. “They’re just hair combs, not a wedding band.”
“You mark my words, Katherine. He’ll notice.”
The other women nod, but I can’t say I agree. I let the subject drop since we’ll be heading downstairs soon enough, and then we’ll see what he does and doesn’t notice. It’s fun getting ready with the girls. I don’t have close family, so this is a rare treat for me. The camaraderie and sisterhood is easy, natural, and I feel a twinge of guilt that I haven’t told them the truth about me.
Silly woman. You don’t plan to stay so it doesn’t matter. But the problem is that I think I am staying. My brain hasn’t quite caught up to my heart yet.
Margaret sits next to me, and taking my wine from my hand, she sips it slowly.
“What’s bothering ye, Katherine?”
“Oh, nothing. I’m just overwhelmed. Everyone’s fussing over me.” It’s a partial lie, but if Margaret catches on to it, she lets it slide.
“Well, this is fun. Any reason to dress in our finest and flirt with handsome men, aye?” She hands me back my wine and kisses my cheek.
“Come, let’s be off before the men wonder where we’ve gone.” Lady MacGregor beckons us. She’s dressed in a deep burgundy color that makes her skin look luminous. I wish I had a camera to commemorate this moment. Of course, they haven’t been invented yet, but this is one of those times that I miss modern technology.
I rise, finish my wine, and put a smile on my face. No use fretting about things now. I’ve got a party to attend with a roomful of men that want to win me. No pressure.
The girls and I make our way down to the hall dressed in our finest. In the end, I chose to wear a sleeveless sapphire silk with a deep square neckline. Margaret left my hair down and brushed it until it shone like a L’Oréal ad in Vogue. Against her better judgment, she added the butterfly combs made from mother-of-pearl and sapphires. They are lovely and match my dress perfectly.
We enter the large dining hall, where the party is already in full swing. The air is electric, filled with the scents of roast meat and wood smoke. Laughter and music greet us as we stroll in late. One of the passing servers hands me a glass of wine, and I follow Lady MacGregor over to be introduced to the men. One by one my hand is kissed and my beauty is complimented. My eyes are compared with the blue of the ocean and my skin as blush as a summer rose. I must say that between the wine and the attention from a room of handsome men, I’m feeling mighty fine.
“Excuse me, Lady MacGregor, I’ve had a little too much wine. I think I need some air.”
“You’ll do no such thing, Katherine. Do ye see the men in this room? They’ve traveled from all over Scotland to compete for you, and if you think that will only happen in the games, then you’re mistaken. It begins tonight.”
Feeling brazen with the warm wine running through my veins, I say, “Do you honestly think for one moment that Angus will let anyone come anywhere near me?”
This catches her off guard, and she lets her perfect countenance slip for a moment before she once again schools her features, “Angus will fight for you, but for very different reasons than the men in this room.” And her eyes wander to the guests as she smiles graciously. “He loves you, yes. If you really don’t want him, you’ll have to convince him. He won’t let you go without a fight.”
“I don’t know what I want,” I mumble into my wine glass.
I don’t fool Lady MacGregor because she turns to me and tilts her head ever so slightly and responds, “Don’t you though?”
“I’ve never been in love before, milady. How do I know that is what I feel? How do I know it’s not just lust?” This elicits and honest laugh that gets her husband’s attention at the next table. She looks at him with open desire and he sees nobody but her.
“Oh, that’s part of it, yes. I’ve seen how ye look at each other. Everyone in the room feels it when you and he are together. Tis a powerful thing, yes?”
I nod because I can’t disagree.
“Well, I’m not running away I promise, but I do need some fresh air.” The heat from the massive fire and all the bodies, not to mention the wine I’ve consumed and the lack of food, is finally taking its toll on me. I excuse myself from the guests and make my way outside. The cool air hits me and I shiver.
“Katherine.”
The word is whispered so close behind me I can feel his breath in my hair.
I don’t want to turn to him. I don’t want to see the fire in his eyes. The fire that will no doubt mirror mine.
“I’m just getting some fresh air,” I say, but now, with him so close, I can’t seem to breathe.
He takes my hand and turns me to face him. “Those fools think I’ll share you. I won’t.” His whiskey eyes smile down at me. His are knowing eyes. They look deeper than I care to acknowledge, although I’m finding that I want him to see me. I want him to know me. All of me. I’ve never allowed anyone that kind of access. To be that vulnerable is not natural. We are always taught to guard our emotions.
It’s a shame that at one moment he sees the real me, and another he talks of ownership. I’m torn. I want to be my own woman, but there is a part of me that wants him to mark me, to make me his. My whole life, I’ve been independent. I’ve never been desired, nor have I ever wanted to be desired this completely. It would require being exposed and honest. It’s easier to keep people at a little distance yet I can’t help but wonder, What would that feel like? But apparently, I’m not ready for that yet, because all I think to do is exert my independence, my shield against intimacy.
“Share me? That would imply ownership and I belong to no man,” I say with as much feeling as I could muster but it falls flat even to my ears.
As he steps closer, I step back. I can’t go too far as he’s still holding my hand.
He reaches up and gently pulls the butterfly comb from my hair and as he places it in his pocket he says, “You’re wrong, Katherine.”
I scoff, and he smiles at me. “Come inside, love, before you catch a chill.”
Trying in vain to pull my hand from his, I exert a little more force, “Let me go.”
He apparently has no intention of doing anything of the sort. Instead of releasing me, he steps closer.
His other hand cups my cheek and he kisses me softly, whispering gently against my lips, “My fiery lass, fight me all ye want. I enjoy it.” With that he releases me, and still smiling strolls back into the castle.
Composing myself, I realize he still has the Ross’s butterfly comb in his pocket. I have a feeling I’m not getting it back.
At dinner, I’m seated between Claire and Margaret and as we laugh and drink, I think that we could easily be sitting in Starbucks in modern times, dressed in J. Crew, or drinking flirtinis at Grants. I sip some sweet wine and ponder this when I notice that Rory, one of the Captain’s Guard, has focused his attention on Claire. Interesting.
I turn to Claire to test my theory.
“Claire, have you ever noticed how handsome Rory is?”
She cuts me a look. “Certainly not. I’m much too busy and he’s much too, well, uh . . .”
Margaret notices the flush on Claire’s cheeks and then looks to me. My sly grin must give me away because she leans closer to listen.
The lady doth protest too much.
“You have noticed, admit it.” I won’t relent.
“Well, I suppose it’s good you haven’t noticed since he’s been staring at Janice all night,” I say.
“He has not!” she squeals.
Margaret joins the fray, “Really, he and Janice would make a lovely pair. He’s so braw with his guard uniform and green eyes. That cleft in his chin makes me want to . . .”
“That’s quite enough! All right, he is handsome! Are you happy?” she finally admits.
“I’m very happy, my lady,” Connor says. He seems to have appeared right on time.
And three sets of eyes peer over our glasses into the smiling face of the handsome Highlander.
“We were just commenting on the wonderful party. I’m looking forward to dancing later, aren’t you?” Margaret says.
Subtle Margaret, real subtle.
“I am, yes.”
Although he addresses us all, his eyes never leave Claire, “You’ll save me a dance won’t you, ladies?”
I reply since Claire seems to be tongue-tied, “We’d be delighted.” And with that, Rory inclines his head and returns to his table.
“Oh, Katherine, what am I going to do?” Claire sighs into her wine.
“What is there to do? He obviously wants you.” Things are so complicated here. If we were home in my time, she could text him to join her for coffee.
Margaret chimes in, “Yes, he wants her, but he hasn’t declared himself yet. She can do nothing until he does.”
Well then, I’ll have to do something about that.
Claire and Margaret excuse themselves, and I’m left alone to plot. Hands on either side of my chair, a familiar voice croons in my ear, “Lady Katherine, would you care to walk with me in the gardens?” Connor.
“Connor, how are you enjoying your evening?” My goodness he’s handsome. Is there something in the water here?
“It would be better if you’d walk with me. I’d like a word with you.” He’s very serious all of a sudden. It’s not like Connor to be serious.
“All right, some fresh air would be nice,” I say, and he takes my hand to lead me outside.
We walk in silence to the garden. What could he have to talk to me about? My mind races with ideas. I don’t have to wonder very long.
He grabs me around the waist and crushes his lips to mine. It isn’t that it’s unpleasant, but it feels wrong. I try to push him off me, and he must misunderstand because he redoubles his efforts. I feel the pins pulling from my hair as his fingers tangle in it. My God, the man could kiss. Too bad it’s not him that I want kissing me, I think as I pound on his chest. It’s an unsettling thought to want Angus. Unsettling and thrilling.
Before I can break out the moves I learned in self-defense class, he’s ripped from me and tossed like a rag doll into the shrubbery. Angus faces off against his second-in-command, and they are ready to do battle. Two titans locked on each other and God help the person that tries to get between them.
Metal scrapes against leather as their swords are unsheathed and I scream. Will I ever get used to that sound?
“No! Stop this right now!”
Neither man hears me. Or if they do, they are already committed to beating the hell out of each other. Vibrating with anger, Angus throws his sword to the ground and punches Connor in the face. As both men are well over six and a half feet, it’s a testament to Angus’s strength that he knocks Connor on his ass.
Cheering erupts around us but I don’t take my eyes off Angus. “Please stop!” I’m pleading now, which is silly. He’s the Captain and clearly my worry is wasted on him. And yet, I plead.
Someone pulls me back as Angus makes his way toward Connor again. “Leave them be, Katherine. It’s between them now.” Lady MacGregor keeps hold of my arm.
“I can’t let them do this. It’s insane.” My protests go unheard as the two large Highlanders, the captain, and his second in command, relentlessly exchange blows. I’ve never been to a boxing match or seen a bar fight. I don’t have brothers, and I attended an all-girls Catholic school so fighting is not something with which I’m familiar. Unable to watch any more, I wrest my arm from Lady MacGregor’s grasp.
The wine and brawling prove to be too much for me. Tears flow freely. Tears of anger and fear. Silly, stupid tears. I’m not used to crying over anything, never mind a man. Fleeing to the solace of my room, I weep into my pillow. If I stay with him, I’ll have to get used to fighting and bloodshed. If I stay, I know enough of history to know my life will not be easy. The thought of leaving makes my heart ache. I wonder if that’s where the saying “love hurts” originates?
Not too much later, the bed dips and a cool hand strokes my cheek.
“Don’t cry, lass. They’re not fighting anymore.” Mary gentles me like a child in her kind, soothing voice. “It’s been a long time coming if you ask me. The tournament won’t be much different, ye ken.”
Sniffling, I reply, “I hadn’t really given it much thought. They’ll all be fighting for me, like that?” I can’t allow it.
Mary leaves me and crosses the room to get a cloth to dip in a bowl of water. She explains as she washes the tears and worry from my face, “They’ll all be battling tomorrow for pride as much as for your hand. All except for one man. One man will be fighting because he loves you. And you love him, aye?”
“Why can’t he just ask me for my hand? I would say yes.”
The room fills with Mary’s light-hearted laughter.
“I still cannot believe you know so little about men. If he doesn’t fight for you now, after a challenge has been set, how do you think he could command his men?”
“What?” I’m not that dense. I understand what she’s saying but I just can’t believe it.
“A challenge has been set. If he wants you, he’ll have to fight for you. Tis verra simple.”
“I don’t think I can watch.”
“You can and you will,” she says, firm but not unkind. “Come. Sit up. Let’s get ye out of that dress.”
So I roll off the giant bed and let her undress me. As I slip into my nightgown, she explains further.
“They’ll battle because they’re men. That’s what they do.” She tucks me into the cool sheets and brushes the hair from my forehead. “Katherine, tomorrow there will be a great tournament and you will choose rightly.”
“But what if he doesn’t win?” I know it’s preposterous, but I still voice my concern.
Mary fixes me with her disbelieving glare. She doesn’t really need to say what’s on her mind. It’s written all over her lovely face.
“Love, you’ve been his since he found ye there in that forest. No matter how ye got there, you were surely meant to be in that forest. Brave lass, ye were meant to save Duncan. Ye were meant to come to us. Don’t you know yer heart?
Dinna worry, no matter what happens tomorrow, Angus loves you. You’ve only to claim him.”
I haven’t thought of it that way before. He’s made his intentions crystal clear.
I hear her gentle, “Sleep well” before she leaves me.
Alone now, I listen to the crackling of the fire and it occurs to me that I had asked for this. I wanted a man that would fight for me. I suppose, four hundred years in the future, that has a whole other meaning. Now, of course, it means swords and blood.