Chapter 6
Brushing my hair, Margaret remarks, “It will be a lovely evening, but have a care. Our captain willna like it if his guard flirt with ye. Connor especially. He’s the one that bested him in training today. Angus will already be sore at him for that.”
“Aye, watch out for Connor, lass, he’s charming and handsome and always gets what he wants. That he’s competitive with the Captain makes this a tricky evening. Dinna worry though, we’ll be there to guide ye.”
Excellent. With such a ringing endorsement, what could possibly go wrong?
I haven’t had my hair brushed since I was a young girl. My mother would brush it. It’s a luxurious feeling. I ask Janette, the maid tending to my hair, if my hair is going up into pins.
“Nay, milady, ye’ll be wearing it down tonight. It looks so bonny. Yer so lucky to have such lovely hair. ‘Tis like silk, it is.” She hands me a mirror and I recognize the eyes, but the rest looks like a beautiful stranger. As I touch my face and hair, I had to admit that it’s indeed silky. I can’t help but think that these women would make a fortune selling their services in modern times.
There’s a little knock at the door and Janette opens it. Duncan enters, smiling as usual.
I turn in my seat and he stops mid-step.
“Och Lady Katherine, yer verra beautiful.” Duncan remarks.
“Thank you very much, kind sir. And you look very handsome yourself,” I say and mean it. He’ll be the next laird of this castle. I’ve witnessed his protectiveness firsthand so I can see him caring for those that live under his charge. My eyes are drawn to the lovely crest on his sporran.
“Your clan crest is lovely. The lion’s head with a crown, what does it mean?” The rich red of the clan MacGregor tartan contrasts against the white of his shirt.
Obvious pride shows on his face as he explains, “Our clan motto, ‘S Rioghal Mo Dhream means ‘Royal is my Race.’ MacGregor is the oldest, most respected clan in Scotland.”
“You must have many stories passed down through your family,” I say.
“Aye! So many I could fill a book.” Duncan’s face bright with excitement, “Would you like to hear one now?”
“Och, no Duncan,” Mary gently scolds. “We must finish preparations.”
“Will you promise to tell me some time?” I ask and his frown turns to a smile.
“I will, aye, Lady Katherine,” Duncan replies eagerly.
His father must have been imparting family history on him since he was born. By telling him the stories of his own family history the way modern parents tell their children bedtime stories, he would have been able to recite them verbatim.
“You look very formal tonight. Is there a special occasion?” I ask him before he leaves.
“You’re the special occasion, Lady Katherine. Mother said we’re dining in your honor tonight.”
“In my honor?” I ask, “Why?”
“For saving me, of course,” Duncan replies. “Mother and father are very happy to have you staying with us, though they aren’t happy for your circumstances. I’m sorry for the loss of your family, but we can be your family now.”
The maids stop their bustling and I look at Mary. Her eyes are sad but kind.
“Yes, you poor lass. We’ll not let any harm come to ye,” Mary says.
Taking Duncan’s hand, I stand and smile, warmed by their kindness.
“Everyone has been very kind to me. Your generosity is overwhelming, thank you,” I say as tears threaten to spill from my eyes.
“None of that now, no tears,” Mary says. “Come along, they’ll be waiting for you.”
“Yes. You’re right, Mary. I’m looking forward to an evening of stories and music,” I say, and take a deep breath, or at least a small breath as this dress doesn’t allow for much more than that.
I make my way down to dinner with Duncan, and the festivities are already in full swing. The tables are packed and full of roast boar, pheasant, and Cornish hen. There are candles on the tables and wine flowing freely. Many are already seated.
From where I’m standing with Duncan, I can take in the sight. That’s when I feel eyes on me. As I scan the crowded hall, I can’t find the source, but I know he’s here, somewhere. Duncan interrupts my thoughts.
“Come and sit next to me, Lady Katherine.”
“Lead the way, my handsome knight,” I say, and I swear his chest puffs out a little and he walks a little taller. Though I’ve had a few glasses of wine, my stomach growls. The banquet is not only a feast for the palate but also for the eyes. As Duncan directs me to my seat, a warm calloused hand reaches for my arm and brings me face to face with Thor, or at least the Chris Hemsworth version.
“Tha thu Gàidhlig,” Thor says with a smooth, deep voice.
Damn he’s handsome, if you like that tall, broad shouldered, chiseled jaw kind of thing. Tongue-tied, I can only stare up, up, up at his perfect smile.
My arm still in his firm yet gentle grip, I’m a little star-struck by his size and face. All of the Guard are huge. Is it something in the water? Blond hair down to his shoulders, smiling blue eyes, and a dimple in his chin. I know the type. Whether in a suit and tie or kilt and plaid, that kind of man is as charming as he is dangerous.
There’s nothing wrong with a little harmless flirting, I think to myself. I certainly didn’t spend hours getting ready for nothing. I may as well enjoy it.
I smile sweetly and lower my lashes at Thor. “Good evening. What did you say? I’m not familiar.”
I only know a few words and phrases, and most of those aren’t things proper young ladies would ever say in gentle company.
“We haven’t been introduced. My name is Connor James, second in command to Angus. I was just saying how beautiful you look tonight, Lady Katherine,” he says as he takes my hand and pulls me toward him. Drawing near, he kisses each of my cheeks and grins. I imagine he does very well with the ladies.
My hand still in his, I feel the tingling again, but it has nothing to do with Connor.
“Lady Katherine’s dinner is getting cold. Leave her be, Connor.”
I know that voice. It’s a low rumble that I feel down deep in my stomach. It’s a voice of absolute authority. That rumble does things to me in places that I dare not think about. He’s dressed in much the same manner as the other men, with the exception of the crest at his shoulder. It’s different from the rest of them. I barely get a look at it before he takes my arm and leads me to the table, leaving Connor standing alone in the middle of the hall.
Angus’s fingers burn into my skin. I should be angry about being handled, but I can’t seem to find the words. I hate to admit it but I don’t mind his hands on me.
What am I doing? The thought that I want him rattles me. On my way to the table I trip over a stone or something on the floor but his hand on my arm rights me and I collect myself. He seats me next to Lady MacGregor and leaves. I stare after him in stunned silence as I reach for my wine.
Lady MacGregor leans in. “Katherine, you look lovely. You’ve certainly created some excitement among the men. The castle is all talk. We should have quite a turnout at the games.”
“Excuse me?” I finally look at Lady MacGregor. She’s got a mischievous grin on her face. “Whatever are you talking about?”
“Did you not feel every man’s eyes on you when you entered, and as they remain still?”
“If it’s due to anything, milady, it’s due entirely to the cut of this gown,” I chuckle as I take another sip of wine. It is, in fact, a lot stronger than I’m used to, but delicious. It’s a deep fruity burgundy that reminds me of wild flowers in a field. I’m certainly not a wine connoisseur, but this is lovely.
“I wouldn’t put too much stock in the dress Katherine, although I may have to order one or two for myself.” I almost spit my wine clear across the room. Lady MacGregor and I laugh throughout the meal while the laird discusses politics with Angus and his guard. Although she is the lady of the house, she seems like an old friend. We talk easily and each time I look down at my glass, it seems to be full again.
The candles are burning low and the wax drips onto the wooden tables. Laughter and general merriment fill the air, and many gather into smaller groups around the room. In the middle of laughing at Claire and Lady MacGregor, Duncan comes over and tugs on my arm.
“M’lady, Fergus is going to tell some stories and sing a little. Will ye join me?”
“Duncan, my handsome lad, I would love to join you.” I’m feeling pretty good. Even though I ate, this wine must be stronger than I thought.
And as I stand to make my way over to the fireplace, I realize that I’d had a tad more of it than is prudent. No matter. I’ll sit and listen to some stories in front of the fire, then sleep it off. No reason to leave my glass on the table though. It would be a shame to waste it.
There’s a lovely rug and pillows spread out before the blazing fire inviting me to make myself at home, so I just sit on the ground with Duncan. By the looks I’m getting, it’s probably not the proper place for a lady but I don’t mind. As Fergus begins his tale, I lean back against an empty chair. It could have been the wine or the cadence of his voice or a combination of them, both but my eyelids become heavy.
I rest my head on my arm as I lean on the chair and close my eyes. The next thing I know I’m being lifted in the air.
“What?” I open my eyes to find Angus holding me in his arms. He looks straight ahead and doesn’t acknowledge me. I can’t breathe, and it has nothing to do with the gown. He smells of wood smoke, whiskey, and man. It’s a heady combination indeed.
“What are you doing?” I barely manage to whisper as I look at his slightly stubbled profile. His body is taut and his jaw is clenched. I’m no small thing, and wearing this dress I weigh even more; yet, I feel light and more feminine than I’d ever felt before.
Silly woman—snap out of it. I mentally shake myself.
“Put me down, Angus. I can walk.” It’s as if I never spoke. He continues up the stairs and down the hall to my room. Heart racing, I think he must hear it. I should be horrified at a man disregarding my wishes, but perhaps he knows what I’m really thinking.
Perhaps he knows because he’s thinking the same thing.
“Angus, I said put me down,” I say, with as much authority as my half-drunk, half-swooning self can muster. That should convince him. Who am I kidding? I can barely convince myself.
He doesn’t put me down. Instead he turns his full attention to me, meeting my gaze straight on. Oh my. I stop breathing entirely. All thought flees from my consciousness but one: the urge to grab his hair and kiss him soundly on those perfect lips.
There, alone in my room, in the arms of this beautiful man, I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. He looks in my eyes as he lowers me to the ground. We stand that way for what feels like an eternity, when, in fact, I’m sure it’s only a minute. I wish he’d do something before I spontaneously combust.
Then, without a word, he removes my arms from around his neck and with a slight inclination of his head to signal his departure, he turns and leaves. Well then.
When the door closes gently behind him, I finally take a breath. My hand on my heart, I can feel the thumping.
Damn. He’s the Captain of the Guard, a shining example of chivalry. Of course, he picked me up off the floor.
Drunken idiot.
God, I feel so stupid. My face is flushed and my heart is racing, all over a man who’s completely indifferent to me. I thought he wanted me, but I suppose I was off the mark. I don’t see how I could be so wrong. Either way, I’m totally embarrassed and perhaps a little more than slightly drunk.