Chapter Twenty-four

 

 

Duncan stood in the doorway to his chamber, pleased his brother by marriage was gone. Thanks to Tamara’s intervention, Trevor returned home alone. Meghan was curled at Cat’s side listening to her weave a tale of faeries. Catherine had spent the last sennight drawing a book for Meghan with whimsical creatures. Each time they perused the tiny drawings she created a new story. Duncan delighted in seeing the look of joy on his daughter’s face as they read the book together, a single candle nearby.

Catherine wore a wildflower in her hair, obviously a gift from his ever-thoughtful daughter. Though she’d been all smiles with Meghan, she grimaced at his approach. “Can we not forego this? I really do not feel like—”

“You are the one who told your brother you wish to leave,” he shot at her, more upset than he cared to admit over her writing Trevor to come fetch her. “You shall not contrary me about our sessions.”

“Do not tell me what I cannot do,” she said in aggravation. “Tell me what I can.”

Duncan smiled, having won this round. “Och, that is easy. You shall do your exercises.”

Catherine glowered. “That is not what I meant and you know it you big oaf.”

Eyes wide at the exchange between her parents, Meghan scampered from the room.

To Duncan’s surprise, Catherine put extra energy into her efforts. Her muscles had to be screaming, the pain unbearable, but she refused to cry in front of him.

Proud of her efforts, Duncan praised, “You did well, Cat. Keep it up.”

“I knew you wanted me to leave. Is that why you are pushing me so hard?”

Duncan laughed. “Again you twist my words. How do you do that? Only hear the part you wish to hear.”

“Leave me be.”

~ * ~

For a fortnight Duncan maintained the same schedule. He lifted her carefully in his arms, carried her down to break her fast, then in late morn carried her upstairs to rest before doing her leg exercises.

Approaching their open chamber door, he heard Catherine telling Meghan about her youth. He leaned against the doorway and listened.

“My brother always grew frustrated when I did not let him get his way.”

“Laird Trevor got angry wif you?” Meghan questioned in awe.

“Not angry,” Catherine assured. “He thought he was right about everything. But I didn’t back down.”

Och, so my bonnie wife was a force to be reckoned with as a child, too. That does not surprise me.

Too soon her story ended.

Catherine rolled her eyes when he entered the room, but didn’t argue.

Meghan reached up to hug her father, leaned over to kiss Catherine on the cheek, then scrambled off the bed and left the room.

“What?” Duncan queried with a laugh, turning his attention to Catherine. “No argument?”

“‘Twould be futile, so why bother?”

She pushed herself to her limits, he saw, determined to show him she could do anything he said. She did so well, Duncan added new stretching motions. He straightened her leg and tried to raise it in the air, then pressed it gently toward her chest.

She bit her lip, finally shouted, “Duncan! Are you trying to fold me in two?”

Though he tried to keep his voice light, his tone grew serious as he lowered her leg to the bed. “What I try to do is take your pain away. Watching you work so hard, I feel helpless and inept.”

~ * ~

Duncan sat at his desk but could think of naught but his bonnie wife. He loved the way Catherine regaled the clan youngsters with imaginative tales.

Or with tales of Jesus the Christ’s life and ministry. Only this morn, they’d gathered around her on the bed. When Duncan bundled her in blankets and placed her in a chair before the hearth, they sat on the floor at her feet listening about The Christ’s life as a child in something called a temple.

Their carpenter made a wooden box so she could stretch her leg in front of her while she sat and Duncan covered it with soft animal fur so it wouldn’t chafe her skin. The sight of her surrounded by children reminded him of Grant’s wife.

Perhaps Tory could help his wee wife. He sent a missive to his friends, explaining the situation and asking them to visit. He looked forward to seeing them and thought a visit from Tory just the medicine Catherine needed.

He realized what he felt for the gentle woman in his life far outweighed whatever feelings he’d ever had for his best friend’s wife. He grunted in surprise. Despite all her protests to the opposite, he’d fallen in love with his own wife.

Taken aback by his feelings, he headed upstairs, approached the bed and sat. He watched Catherine, but said naught. Instead he lifted her leg and gently kneaded the muscles, caressed the instep of her foot with his thumb. She made him feel awkward. He could never tell her the depth of his feelings. She’d laugh in his face.