Charming the Shrew (25 page)

C
AT WOKE TO
the extremely pleasant sensation of Tayg’s body curled against her back, cradling her against his chest, his thighs snugged against hers and her bottom tucked neatly into his lap. Thinking of his lap brought the events of last night rushing back, and Catriona found herself wishing to experience that joining all over again. She closed her eyes and remembered, sinking into the feelings that had swept over her, the joy, the overwhelming tenderness, the desire to touch and to be touched. She squirmed a little to get closer to Tayg, needing to feel his skin against hers. His arm tightened about her waist. His hand moved over her ribs and up to cup her breast and the newly sensitive nipple he had been so attentive to the night before.

“If you keep wiggling against me, love, we shall have to repeat last night’s activities.”

She could hear the grin in his voice as she rolled in his arms to face him. He greeted her with a kiss that had her mind reeling and her body aching for his touch, which he quickly supplied. Catriona let herself wallow in the sensations of his hands and his mouth on her, then satisfied her own curiosity by exploring his well-muscled body with her own hands and mouth. When they were both breathless, he kissed her deeply once more and slid into her. She was sore, but he was gentle with her, moving slowly until she could not stand the pace a moment longer. They moved together, faster, urging each other on until there was nothing but white-hot, fiery pleasure.

After a while, Catriona opened her eyes to find Tayg staring at her, his nose mere inches from her own. He propped his chin in one hand and stroked her cheek with his other.

“You are truly a remarkable lass.”

“In spite of my tart tongue?”

“I’m rather fond of your tongue at the moment,” he said, leaning forward to kiss her lightly.

’Twas odd that such a simple chaste kiss could make her feel so desired, so loved.

“I think we should be married as soon as possible,” he said. “I do not want to wait to make you my wife. You do remember saying you would wed with me, do you not?”

She smiled at the question. “I will be your wife, Tayg. ’Tis practically a done deed already.” She stared at him a moment, drinking in the sight of all that sinewy strength, remembering the night they had spent, and the last hour. She would be content to stay here in his arms, safe from the world forever. But the world would not let them.

“Where is your family? Culrain, did you not say? We should go there and seek the blessing of your chief.”

He nodded slowly, his expression serious. “To Culrain. ’Tis little more than a day’s ride, perhaps two with the snow so deep. I think I can wait that long.”

She pressed one hand to his cheek, then leaned forward and kissed him, letting all her love pour into it, into him. When she pulled away his eyes were dark and full of passion.

“Mayhap you can,” she said, “but I am not sure that I can wait that long.”

He grinned at her. “Some things need not wait,” he said, pulling her on top of him and kissing her senseless.

T
AYG GRABBED HIS
clothing and quickly dressed, never taking his eyes off Cat. A sharp possessiveness sank its claws into him equal to the fierce tenderness he felt as he watched her move about the loft, dressing.

He must tell her who he was, explain the whole complicated mess to her, but he did not want to ruin this first bright morning of their life together. She would ride tucked within his embrace this day and he would tell her the tale from start to finish, or at least to the present, for the end of this tale was yet to be determined. She would no doubt display her fine temper when he told of his deception, but she loved him, fiercely, passionately, and eventually she would see that it mattered not what name he used nor who his kin were. All would be well.

“Hurry down, love. I would prefer to spend the day in this bed with you—” he kissed her “—but alas, we must make haste to the king.”

“Aye, you must deliver your report, and we must think of a way to protect my clan from Broc’s folly too.”

Shame had him reaching for his pack to avoid meeting her eyes. “We will, lass. ’Twill be but a small matter once we find the king.” He grabbed her and kissed her again, unable to keep his hands from her.

“Go!” She giggled and shoved him toward the ladder. “I will be down soon.”

Tayg skipped the last few rungs of the ladder and jumped to the floor, pleasantly surprised when his jarring landing didn’t pain his ribs anymore. The friar, Gair, and Lina sat at the table, talking quietly. Tayg cleared his throat to announce himself.

“Good morn to you, young Tayg,” the friar said. “I trust you and your bonny wife are
not
well rested this morn?”

Lina smacked the man’s shoulder as she rose from the table, but the friar and Gair still grinned at Tayg and he could not help but grin back.

“Aye, we are not well rested, thank you very much,” he said.

Lina served a bowl of porridge from the black kettle hanging above the fire. She handed it to Tayg with a spoon.

“Where is your lady?” she asked as she returned to her seat at the table.

“She will be down in a moment,” Tayg said. “I thank you for your kind hospitality, but we must be on our way as soon as she has broken her fast.”

“What is your hurry? Stay another day,” the friar said. “You have not entertained us with song and story yet. Surely my cousins’ hospitality deserves as much?” He winked at Tayg.

“My talent is but little,” Tayg said with a grin. “Gair and Lina’s hospitality deserves much more than I can provide. I promise I will send a more talented bard to visit here—and you, good friar, will have songs and tales aplenty while attending the wedding festivities in Dingwall.”

“Besides, ’tis winter,” Gair said. “’Twould be best for you to take advantage of the clear weather today, though your bride may not wish to sit a horse so soon.” Gair grinned.

Tayg nodded. “I will pad the saddle for her if I must, but you ken well why we must hasten to the king.”

“The king?” the friar said. “Och, ’tis no need to hurry then. The wedding in Dingwall is still ten days hence and ’tis but three days’ ride at most. The king rides between his northern supporters until then, gathering new men to the cause of Scotland’s freedom and gaining vows of allegiance from those who have not tendered such before. He should be at Linsmore or Culrain by now. He is said to work his way south to Dingwall, arriving but a day or two before the wedding, which shall take place on Hogmanay.”

“You did not tell me this news, John,” Gair said. “Tayg, ’twill be even easier for you to find the king if he bides in your father’s hall at Culrain.”

“Your father?” The friar narrowed his eyes. “Methinks, cousin, that you, too, have not been forthcoming with all you ken.”

“Nay, John—”

“This is no bard,” the friar continued as if Gair had not spoken. “’Tis braw Tayg of Culrain.” A huge grin broke over the friar’s face, and Tayg felt the moment spin out of his control.

“I am not.”

“Aye, ’tis why you seemed so familiar to me when we met upon the trail yesterday. I met you and your brother once when you were but wee lads, and I have heard many a tale from Gair and songs from the bards about your exploits on the battlefield.”

“Please, Friar John, Lina,” he added when he realized the woman stared at him, her mouth a hard line. “There are reasons for the deception. I would ask that you keep this knowledge to yourself—”

“Cat does not know, does she?” Lina asked quietly, her eyes now focused on a point behind Tayg.

Hair rose on his neck and he turned.

Catriona stood frozen at the foot of the ladder, her face ashen.

“I think we should leave these two alone again,” Lina said, shooing the two older men away from the table and out the door. “Give him a chance to explain, lass,” she said to Cat. “’Tis sure I am ’twill be a good tale.”

C
ATRIONA STARED AT
the stranger standing across the room. He looked like someone she knew, and yet, if what she had heard were true, he was a stranger. Tayg of Culrain, not Tayg her bard. ’Twas impossible.

“Cat, I can explain.”

“Is it true? How can it be true?”

Tayg stepped toward her, but she held up a hand, stopping him before he could get close enough to touch her.

“You are a bard. I have heard you play.”

“Though you yourself agree I do not play well.”

Catriona’s knees threatened to give out on her. She felt blindly behind her for something to sit on, finally lowering herself to sit upon the cold floor.

“Cat? Are you unwell?”

She shook her head, still trying to fit the Tayg she knew, the Tayg she had traveled with, bickered with, made love with…oh, God. What had she done?

“It cannot be.”

“Aye, love, ’tis the truth. I am sorry I could not tell you sooner.”

“You did not tell me now!” Pain flickered to life in her gut as she realized the full import of what had just happened. “You took me to your bed without ever telling me who you truly were.” She had the odd thought that her voice sounded as if it came from someone else, someone quiet, breathless, afraid. “Did you laugh all night long at how gullible Catriona was?”

She raised her gaze to meet his but could not see him clearly for the tears gathering in her eyes.

“Nay, Cat, ’twas not so—”

“Tayg the Charmer of Culrain has taken yet another lass, and this time he did not even have to dangle his reputation to get her to throw herself in his bed.” She swiped at her eyes, determined not to let the tears fall.

“’Twas not like that, Cat. You know it.”

“’Twould seem I know nothing. I am but an ignorant, gullible, stupid git, so easily duped that I did not even ken I fell in love with a guiser.” The depth of his betrayal made the admission so much harder, the pain so much greater.

“Cat, please, I did not want to hurt you. I did not lie to you about my feelings. I love you. Could you not feel the truth last night? I love you, Cat. I wish you to be my wife, to spend your life with me. There is no reason that cannot be. I am Tayg of Culrain. I am the man you said you wished to marry all along.”

She looked up at him, unable and unwilling to disguise the anguish that ripped through her, the shame. “’Tis too late now,” she said. “’Tis too late.”

Slowly he moved to her and crouched before her. “When we met I was already traveling as a bard and saw no reason why you should need to know otherwise. Later, ’twas too late, and I was a coward. I did not wish to challenge the tender feelings that were growing between us with my secrets.”

“Secrets? Are there other lies? Other tales yet to be told about poor, stupid Catriona?”

“Aye.” He winced. “Nay. Not about you, and neither are you poor nor stupid.” His voice held a hint of exasperation, but she did not care.

“There is more then?”

Tayg held her gaze for a moment then looked to the floor and seemed to make a decision. He settled himself in front of her as if they still sat in their little travelers’ hut amid the storm—only this storm was of a different making, and she didn’t think she would survive it.

Whether it was a moment or a day later, Cat couldn’t say, but when Tayg finished his tale of Dogface’s plot against the king, her clan’s part in it, and her own status as a hostage, she was sure the world had ended. She had nowhere to turn, not even the comfort of Tayg’s strong arms. She had nowhere to go. She had nothing.

In the space of time it took to tell the tale, her world had crumbled until there was nothing left.

As she stared at the stranger before her, a vast emptiness opened up within her, extinguishing the fire that had been Catriona.

“C
ATRIONA
?” T
AYG’S GUT
clenched. She was so still, so silent. This wasn’t how she was supposed to react. Where were the sharp words, the angry glare? “Cat? Lass? This changes naught important. I love you. I want to marry you. ’Tis better for your clan that you marry Tayg of Culrain, not Tayg the bumbling bard.”

He expected a smile or at least a snide agreement with his description of himself, but she continued to stare at his chest, not making eye contact, not reacting in any way. He reached out, and she didn’t even flinch or tell him not to touch her.

Fear crawled out of his gut and strangled his heart. “Cat, please, look at me. I never meant to hurt you, never intended…any of this. But it has happened and I—”

The cottage door burst open, and a grim Gair scattered snow as he rushed to Tayg’s side.

“’Tis a rider, coming this way in a great hurry. Pol saw him from the ridge. You must away immediately.” He looked from Tayg to Catriona’s stricken face, and the concern on Gair’s face deepened. “Lass, the lad meant well…”

“Leave it, Gair. She knows it all now.”

This was his doing, and he’d not have her pushed for his mistakes. The lost look on her face had him tied in knots. If she’d scream, throw something, he could understand that, but the silence, and the look of despair, was something new. ’Twas as if she had gone from a finely forged sword to the most delicate of glass goblets—an empty glass goblet ready to shatter at the slightest touch.

“Cat? I’m sorry, lass, but we cannot risk capture. I’ll not let your brothers have you—and we must warn the king.”

She blinked slowly, as if waking from a dream. “What?”

“We must away now. Someone comes.”

She rose from the floor, refusing the hand he offered. “My bag…” She looked up at the loft, and he knew from the pain etched about her mouth that she could not return to the place where she had given him so much of her heart and of herself.

“I will fetch it. Gair—” he turned to the man “—will you help her with her cloak and have the horse brought round?”

“The horse is already sent for,” Gair said, grabbing Cat’s cloak from a peg by the door.

Tayg was back before Gair had finished settling the cloak on her shoulders.

“My thanks, Gair, for everything, and my apologies for getting you involved in my troubles.”

“’Tis an honor to get into trouble with you, Tayg. You keep that lass safe and give her some time. She loves you, ’tis clear, only you have given her a bit of a shock. She’ll come round when she realizes she’s captured the brawest lad in all the Highlands. Now go. Quickly. Give my respect to your da when you see him.”

Tayg nodded and reached for the door just as it opened. The brightness of the morning sun glinting off the ice-crusted snow blinded him for a moment, then Pol stepped into the dim room.

“We’ve another guest, Da, and he’s looking for Tayg and Cat!”

Tayg stepped in front of Cat as a larger form blocked the doorway. He squinted, trying to make out the features.

“’Tis quite the merry chase you have given, sister.”

Tayg’s head pounded. ’Twasn’t enough that he had hurt the woman he loved this day, but now her future was doubly in jeopardy.

Ailig MacLeod had found them.

“H
ELLO
, T
RIONA
,” A
ILIG
said.

Catriona seemed to be swimming through mud. Every movement took more effort than it should. Voices seemed distant, muffled, separate. Words didn’t make sense unless she concentrated very hard. So when she heard Ailig speak, ’twas hard to believe he was really there, even harder to drag herself from her misery and respond. Tayg said something, his tone harsh, but it took her a moment to understand.

“What do you want? Where are the others?” That was Tayg’s voice, and he sounded…worried?

He was worried, but not scared. He should be scared. He had not fared well with her brothers the last time they met. Her mind raced away from the memory. She did not want the concern that threatened to cast a light into the misery. She listened hard, swimming up from the black pit, determined to understand, to avoid the memories.

“I wish to speak to my sister, bard,” Ailig said. “The others are not with me. Triona, do you now let others speak for you?”

He spoke to her. She must reply, but words were difficult when she could feel nothing.

“Triona? Are you well?”

“Her name is Cat,” Tayg said, his voice possessive.

She stepped around Tayg’s bulk to stand beside him. She made herself look Ailig in the eyes and was surprised by the concern she saw there.

“I do speak for myself,” she said, her voice more quiet than usual, “but only when I have something to say.” She swallowed, struggling against the black pit that beckoned to her. “Go home, Ailig. Leave me be. I am weary of so many men manipulating my life.” She roused herself enough to glare at both men for a moment before the numbness stole over her again.

“I have things to say to you, sister. I would know what has happened to you and why you travel with such as this bard.”

She sighed and rubbed a spot over her left eye that had begun to throb. “You know very well why, and the rest is not your concern. ’Tis between myself and Tayg.”

She glanced at Tayg and saw a glimmer of hope blossom in his face, shining from his warm brown eyes. For a moment he held her gaze and her heart. For a moment she would have given up everything to be with him, to fall into bed with him again and have the world disappear, leaving only the two of them to revel in each other. But she would not love again—not him, not anyone—for love led to weakness and betrayal and pain, and she would rather live the rest of her life numb than to have her heart ripped out ever again.

How quickly joy had changed to pain, love to…She sniffed. She wanted to hate him, needed to hate him, for that was her armor against the pain, but she could not find the hate. Hurt, disappointment, betrayal, all of those rose from the dark pit and wound round her heart, but she could not lock them into place with hatred as she had done with Broc and Dogface all these years. She broke the gaze and purposefully looked Ailig in his icy gray eyes.

“At least my b…he…helped me. No one else would.” She moved to a stool and sat. “Go home, Ailig, and prepare the clan for the wrath of King Robert, for ’tis surely deserved and ’twill be swift, no doubt, once we inform him of the plotting against him.”

“Wheesht, Cat,” Tayg said, but he did not take his eyes from Ailig, who had gone very still at her words.

“Explain,” Ailig said.

Cat looked first at her brother and then at Tayg. She had tried to lean on both, trusted both, yet both had failed her. She felt something shift, a strange sensation as if the world slipped out from beneath her feet, and she feared the new strength she had found in these last few days with Tayg might disappear. Her armor was brittle with betrayal and in danger of shattering altogether.

But she would not let that happen.

No matter what happened with Tayg, she’d not let her brother see the ravages her heart had wrought upon her. She tried to remember how she had been before she met Tayg: tough, self-sufficient, lonely. ’Twas difficult, though, when all she wanted to do was curl up and have the world leave her to her misery.

“Triona, I would have an explanation. Why will the king’s wrath be ours?”

A sad smile drifted over her lips, and she shook her head. “Do not you play me for an idiot, too. I have had enough of that for a lifetime.” She glanced at Tayg but found no comfort in the wound her words caused. She turned back to her brother. “The truth, Ailig, you owe me at least that.” She spoke the words but could not muster any force behind them. “What part do you play in Duff’s plan?”

Ailig’s eyebrows drew down and confusion filled his eyes. “His plan to get the king’s blessing for the marriage between you and him?”

“But—” Pol began.

“Let us sit and share a drink,” Gair said, interrupting his son. “Tayg, this one cannot harm you with all of us around,” he said. Catriona realized suddenly that all of Gair’s family surrounded them, forming a circle around Ailig, protecting Tayg and Catriona from him. “It sounds as if there is a story to be shared,” Gair continued. “I’m thinking perhaps the storyteller should spin this tale. Perhaps many things can be explained at once?” Gair looked from Tayg to Catriona, but she could not answer the question in his eyes.

“Do I have your word, Ailig, that the others are not following you?” Tayg asked.

“You do. I did not wish to have you beaten to death before I could determine Triona’s wishes.” He watched her for a moment. “Though by the way she looks at you I would say she cares not what happens when Broc and the others find you.”

Alarm sliced through her. She surged to her feet. “You will not harm him, Ailig! Nor will you allow the others to.”

“Hm, that answers one of my questions, but opens the door on so many more.” He loosened his cloak, and one of the twins took it. “Let us enjoy these good people’s hospitality while we discover a few truths.”

Lina bustled around the fire, building it up while Gair got down the friar’s whiskey once more.

“I always say a story goes down easier with a little whiskey to help it along,” Gair said.

Ailig sat next to Catriona, and Tayg sat across the table from her, leaning forward on his elbows. She tried to ignore the determination radiating from him. She would not be swayed by his tale. She could not allow herself the weakness that opening her heart to him had been. She must be strong, as she always had been, only it had been so much easier to be strong when she had someone to be strong with her.

“Gair, this tale is not for weans.” Tayg glanced at the rapt faces of the children.

“Aye. Lads, go, take your sister. There is firewood to be hauled and chopped. Niall, you stay.” They waited as the children left the room, grumbling about being left out of the excitement.

When the door closed behind them, Tayg began. “Do you know who I am?” he asked Ailig. “What my errand was? What business of the king’s I travel on?”

“You are Tayg the Bard and you have a missive you were to have delivered to Broc from Duff. I know nothing of the king’s business.”

Tayg took a deep breath. “I am Tayg of Clan Munro of Culrain, warrior of King Robert, son of Angus Dubh and next chief of my clan, though God willing not for some time to come.”

Catriona felt a stirring in her gut, a tiny flicker of pride, at the way Tayg explained himself, but Ailig’s face was impassive, unimpressed.

“And what is this business of the king’s?” he asked.

“Where do you stand—you, Ailig, not your clan, nor your chief, nor your brothers—where do
you
stand where King Robert is concerned?”

All eyes were raptly focused on Ailig.

“Has Triona told you that I spent time in Edinburgh?” he asked.

Tayg nodded. “
Cat
has.”

“While I was there studying I found myself frequently in the company of lads who had witnessed the Bruce in battle or had met him in gentler company and knew him to be well-spoken, intelligent, and despite his father’s interference, a supporter of Sir William and the fight against the English. I came to understand that he fought for all of us in Scotland, not just the nobility, but even the Highlanders whose allegiance he could not guarantee.

“I have great respect for this man and for all that he strives to accomplish for Scotland. I am bound by my clan’s chief in my public actions, but I am the keeper of my own conscience, and in that I firmly believe the future of Scotland lies not with the power that gathers with the MacLeods of Lewes in the isles, nor with Edward of England, but in the hands of our own king. Were I chief of Clan Leod, King Robert would have my allegiance.”

“Cat was correct when she said you were the intelligent brother,” Tayg said. He fished in the leather sack at his waist for the documents that would accompany the tale he was about to tell.

A short time later, after a fortifying round of whiskey, Tayg refolded the documents and returned them to the safety of his sack. He tried to ignore the shocked faces around the table and concentrate on Ailig, who appeared to be rather pale, his gray eyes fevered. He stared at the place on the table where Tayg had carefully shown him the documents as if they were still there.

“I am a horse’s arse,” Ailig finally said, his voice tight.

Catriona rather agreed, but said nothing. She was appalled all the more with this second telling of her clan’s culpability in the plot against the king. How could she have been so selfish as to ignore the wider implications of an alliance between the two clans?

“I should have seen this betrothal for what it really was,” Ailig said. “I knew the alliance was Duff’s motivation, but I had no idea how far his delusions ran, nor how deeply Broc was involved in them.”

“’Twould seem that Broc knows well which siblings will trouble his conscience the most, aye?” Tayg glanced at Catriona then back to Ailig.

“Broc has no conscience, nor a lick of sense,” Ailig said. “This is clearly a trap he and Duff have set for you and Triona. And I have played right into their hands, finding you for them. Surely Broc was counting on that.”