Chapter Nine

 

 

Angus rubbed the back of his neck as Catherine gathered her blue mantle. A whirlwind of energy, this woman befuddled him. Though no one expected to like her, in the fortnights she’d been here she wormed her way into many hearts. She in no way acted like the spoiled Sasunnach they expected.

He informed her, “I must leave Cray Hall. Torchil shall be in charge. Inform him if you need aught.”

“I can care for myself, Angus, but I thank you for your concern.” Her eyes lit with mischief. “Will you be gone long?”

He teased, “I am away to Dunkeld. Hardly long enough for you to miss my handsome face.”

Catherine laughed, a beautiful, lilting sound. “Travel safe. I shall miss you.” She stopped before she reached the door. “Carry tides to my lord husband. I look forward to his return.”

Catherine disappeared before he answered. However had she known?

~ * ~

Duncan sat inside Dunkeld’s inn and wondered why Angus hadn’t arrived. After all, he needed to check on Cray Hall, be sure everyone had enough food. He needed to know his clanspeople had enough peat to get them through the winter.

Peat? Winter? Och, why couldn’t he just admit the only thing he really craved to know—how fared his wife that he ridiculously stayed away from? Vexing, in the time they’d been together, she’d somehow become part of him, as important as his next breath. Could he live without such a vital part of himself?

Alone at the rear of the crowded inn, Duncan spotted his friend when he walked in. Angus looked tired, worried. Watching his friend’s painful movements, Duncan berated himself for suggesting meeting here.

Unwilling to share his thoughts, Duncan stood and greeted him warmly. “Angus, how fare all at Cray Hall?

Angus took a seat. “We lost cattle to the neighboring Farquharson’s, but it did not take long to recover them.”

“Plus a few more?” Duncan chuckled.

“Och, aye.” Angus nodded, a twinkle in his eye. “How fare Laird Grant and his Lady?”

Duncan smiled. “Still sparring.”

He’d hoped to have such a home. A place where love and happiness abounded. Now he doubted that would ever happen. Would contentment forever elude him?

When Angus just sat drinking his ale, Duncan growled with frustration, “Enough! I wish to know about the woman.”

“The woman?” Angus chuckled, his mouth full of food. “You mean the lass you brought home and abandoned.”

“I did not abandon her.” Duncan sat up straighter, masking his response before Angus saw the regret in his eyes.

“Aye, you did.”

“I left her safe.” Duncan’s eyes flashed his annoyance.

“Aye, and she seems grateful.” His tone forced Duncan to meet his eyes. “So grateful, she cried every day after you left.”

“The lass cried?”

“Aye.”

Weary, Duncan swiped a hand across his face. “I thought she might be pleased to be rid of me.”

“Dinnae be daft. She is stubborn,” Angus stated. “Almost as unyielding as you.”

“What mean you?”

“She insists on caring for herself. The only thing she allows us to do is bring water.” Angus laughed. “The young woman does like bathing.”

Duncan said nothing. He couldn’t. Memories of Catherine flooded through his mind. He could still feel the softness of her wet skin, smell the gentle scent of her hair.

“She can do whatever she wishes,” Duncan said. “She is my lady wife.”

“Och, so you do remember? How would you feel if someone dumped you amidst strangers?” Before Duncan responded, Angus pounded his point home. “Och, you do know how that feels. MacThomaidh did the same when he fostered you with Clan Kerr.”

Embarrassment rose on Duncan’s face. For a fleeting instant he couldn’t breathe. The memories those words brought back were too painful.

“What I did is naught like what MacThomaidh did,” Duncan said through gritted teeth. “He abandoned me because he wanted naught to do with me.”

“What you did is different?”

“I left her with people I trust. MacThomaidh cared not where he took me. His only desire was to be rid of me, never checked to see if Laird Kerr hurt me. I probably would not have lived out the year had Laird Drummond not arrived one day and taken me to Drummond Castle. They became my family.” Duncan ran his hand over the back of his left shoulder to ease the building tension, the phantom pain of the scars lingering in his mind. Had Angus’ cruel charge meant to evoke the dark memories? What he’d done in no way compared to his father’s actions. Yet a frisşon of doubt niggled at his mind.

Angus continued, “Your mam was proud of the man you turned into. On her deathbed she forgave your lord father for sending you away. Said his actions forged you into the finest man in all of Scotland.”

Duncan silently cursed Angus’ insight. It twisted his insides to hear his mam had been proud. He’d never known. “Mam may have forgiven MacThomaidh. I never shall.”

“’Tis the only reason why you are not with your young wife now. Because your da chose her. You are lying to yourself if you think to deny what you feel for the lass.”

Duncan forced his fisted hands to relax. “After what happened with Helen, I swore never to wed again. She was no better than Father. She left, just like he did.”

“Thankfully, not all women are like Helen.”

“Are they not?” Duncan grumbled.

“Och, you are stubborn. You are more like your da than you know.”

“I am nothing like MacThomaidh!”

“Mayhap if you returned and got to know the lass better.”

“I did get to know her.” Duncan shook his head as the memories of their trip home burned into his mind and his heart.

Angus drove his point home like a pike into stone. “Aye and you liked what you saw.”

Duncan sat mutely. There was nothing he could say. Angus was right.

“You must admit naught,” Angus said softly. “Your feelings were plain as heather on the hills.”

Duncan rubbed his hand across his chest. It hadn’t ached before Angus arrived and started nattering about the lass.

“It matters not.”

He handed Angus a bag of coins and pushed his hands against the table to rise. “For whatever she desires. I had no other choice than to leave, Angus.”

The old man stared long and hard while Duncan’s emotions roiled with a disturbing combination of pain and loneliness.

“You always have a choice. Just as your da did,” Angus said sadly. “He chose wrong. You chose wrong. ’Tis what you do now that makes the difference.”

“I am tired, old friend. Join me if you wish to share a room. We could break our fast afore we depart.”

Angus yawned widely. “I am tired.” He stood and stretched, threw coin on the table for the food.

 

Just as Duncan blew out the candle on the bedside table, Angus yawned. “Goodeve, lad. Sleep well. Och, before I forget, you are going to be a da.”

Duncan stared in amazement as Angus rolled onto his side and faced the far wall. A father? He was going to be a father? His Catherine carried his child?

He shook Angus and thrust his face close to the auld man. “What mean you I am going to be a father? Do not be spouting such words and think to ignore me.”

Angus rolled over and looked up at Duncan, a smile on his cagy face.

~ * ~

There was no further point denying it—he wanted to go home. Duncan paced the Great Hall in Crieff, but turned when he heard footsteps. He smiled at the interruption. “Tory.”

Another pair of brown eyes flashed through his mind. Shaking his head, he realized Tory spoke to him. “I am sorry. I did not hear what you said.”

Tory sat in a chair her husband made for her. “You woolgathered. About your wife? Do you plan to go home to her where you belong?”

“Aye, but I worry about returning to the woman MacThomaidh shoved down my throat. What if she wants naught to do with me now?” Turmoil roiled in him. Fear.

Grant entered the room. His childhood friend. Now a tall, imposing man with black hair and hazy grey eyes. He bent and kissed Tory.

Heartsick for what his friend had when he wanted the same, Duncan knew the only reason he didn’t have it was stubborn pride. He sighed and crossed the room to fill a pewter cup with whisky.

“‘Tis a wee early for that,” Tory scolded.

Duncan breathed out frustration. “Your woman has no pity for me, Grant.”

“If you do not wish to be chided as a bairn, cease acting like one.” Tory smiled her taunt.

Grant stood beside his wife, one hand resting on her shoulder as he curiously cocked a brow. “Leave the man be, Tory. He is returning to Cray Hall. He just needs a wee dram of courage.”

“’Tis more than that.” Duncan sat down with a thud on a bench. “Angus said I am to be a father. I know not what will happen when I return, but I must be there. I am going back to my wife and shall fetch my daughter home as well. Angus waits outside.” His eyes met theirs, his own unsure. “What if Catherine no longer want me?”

Grant and Tory clasped hands and smiled at each other. Duncan thought back to Grant holding her prisoner and Tory trying to escape. Foolish. They’d learned their mistakes the hard way.

He’d made mistakes, too. Leaving Catherine had been the worst mistake of his life.

~ * ~

Catherine fretted about the birth of her child. People at Cray Hall were nice, but they weren’t family; this wasn’t her home. She missed Trevor. She needed his support, his shoulder to cry on. Needed someone strong to hold her and tell her everything would be fine.

There was no one.

She put a hand to her stomach. Nay, that wasn’t right. She had her babe and she was the one who needed to be strong for its sake.

Downstairs, she saw Torchil. Her decision made, she informed him, “I have decided to return to London.”

He looked incredulous. “You cannot, My Lady.”

“I did not ask, Torchil. Merely gave an order,” Catherine said sadly. “Make preparations.”

She crossed the Hall, rushes catching on the toe of the soft leather shoes she’d begun wearing shortly after her arrival. Her mother would be appalled at her lack of fashion. She’d adjusted well to simplicity of the Highland life. Surprisingly, it suited her. Could she go back to a life that now seemed inconsequential?

Pacing nervously, Catherine walked to the garden doors, opened one and gazed outside, fighting for composure. “When I am gone, Lord Duncan can return. He should not have to stay away for something our fathers did. He—”

“Is a blasted fool for not returning,” Torchil ranted.

Catherine smiled at the vehemence behind the man’s words and the dark expression crossing his face. She gently touched his arm. “Thank you for being so kind.”

“You do not like it here?”

“I like it here very much. Please believe... I have come to love you all, love this Hall.” Tears clogged her throat.

“Stay and fight for what you want. ‘Tis the Highland way. You are a Highlander’s wife now,” Torchil said.

Catherine closed her eyes. He made it sound so simple. “Fight for Duncan to fall in love with me?” Not meaning to reveal her innermost thoughts, she raised her hand to her mouth.

Torchil locked eyes with her and nodded. “Only a fool could not love a lass as bonnie as you.”

“Thank you my friend. I was raised to run a castle, see to my lord husband’s happiness. Not to be a warrior.” She sighed. “Were I not with child, I might consider staying forever—and Duncan could find himself another home. ‘Twould serve him right for leaving me.” She laughed guiltily. “But I must make a life for myself and my babe, one where we are wanted.”

“You are wanted here. The MacThomas’ child should be born here,” he pressed.

“Please do not make this harder for me.” She raised a hand to stay his retort. “I am homesick, Torchil. Until I wed Lord MacThomas, I had never been away from home more than a sennight. I was so homesick for Trevor and Elizabeth I got sick. My aunt took me home and I never again left. Until the king’s intervention.”

Peering outside, she took in the surrounding area. “I always knew I would wed, but thought I would live in town, near my family. Although...I have never seen such majestic mountains.” She glanced over her shoulder, discovered Torchil behind her. Lost in concentration, she hadn’t heard his approach. She gazed back outside. “We have naught like them in London, you know.”

“Because you do not have mountains,” Alex grumbled from the doorway. “You have naught but wee hills.” Catherine heard unwanted emotion in his voice.

“I did not realize you were here, too, Alex, but since you heard me, I should like to leave on the morrow.” Defeated, she battled tears, whispering, “Afore I change my mind.”

“You cannot take away Laird Duncan’s bairn. It must be raised here.”

Catherine remained adamant. Exasperated, she told them, “I need my family right now. I need my brother.” She turned to look at the land around Cray Hall. “I love it here, but my mind is made up.”

Torchil shook his head, turned, and walked away, muttering with each step. “Angus left me in charge. Faugh! Laird Duncan may have my head.” He swore as he strode out the door.

~ * ~

Men loaded Catherine’s belongings onto a small cart. Tears pooled in her eyes as she bade farewell. She didn’t care if anyone considered hugging servants proper or not. Instantly her mother’s voice sounded in her head, Catherine Gillingham, what are you thinking? These are villeins.

Villeins? Nay, they are friends, family. Her shoulders sagged as she bade Siobhán farewell. Following a strong urge, Catherine brushed a tendril of hair from the woman’s cheek as Duncan had always done for her. She fought for composure at that memory. And lost.

Why is this so difficult? Everyone has only been kind because Duncan insisted they must. The moment she thought it, Catherine knew it for the lie it was. They’d befriended her of their own accord, had shown an outpouring of love. How could she leave? Then again, how could she stay? In London her brother could help. She twisted her hands in her skirt.

She wanted to leave—but wanted to stay. God help her, she didn’t know what she wanted.

I cannot wallow in self-pity. She straightened her shoulders, stood taller. I must do what is best, shall never tell my child its father abandoned us. Remembering how patient he’d been teaching her to swim, she imagined Duncan would have been a good father. Before she changed her mind, Catherine climbed into the litter and left for London.