Dreamer (Highland Treasure Trilogy) (19 page)

Realizing that weariness was
probably contributing to her urge to snap at him in response, Catherine bit her
tongue and tried to retain her composure. His words sounded threatening, but
she knew that it would be pointless to bait him. Staring into her husband’s
face, she did not flinch as she met his dark scowl.

“Husband, you appear to be overly
agitated by some of these overstated accounts of the day’s happenings. I can
assure you, once I’ve had a chance to speak with the bishop, I will put your
mind to rest on all that we encountered on the journey from Balvenie Castle.”

She tried to take a step around
him, but his powerful hand took hold of her arm, and she felt the viselike
strength of his grip. Knowing that Brother Bartholomew would be a witness to
everything they said and did, she decided against chastising him for this rough
handling of her. Instead, in her mind’s eye she tried to recall the gentle and
passionate man she’d spent last night with, and gave him her sweetest smile.

His scowl wavered for a moment, and
Catherine decided to take advantage of the change.

“If you will allow me, husband, I
do not know if His Excellency’s evening meal is...”

“Leave us, monk!”

Athol’s curt order sent the man
scurrying toward the chapter house in an instant. Catherine watched as anger
once again clouded her husband’s face. Feeling a bit vulnerable at being left
alone with him like this, she raised herself on tiptoe and glanced around the
courtyard as the vespers bell began to ring. The workers in the stables and the
smithy beside it were crossing the courtyard toward the cathedral, casting
curious looks in their direction, but steering a wide path around them. They
were alone, except for the old gatekeeper, who sat dozing on a block of wood by
the courtyard entrance.

“No one can save you from my wrath,
my sweet.” He tugged on her arm, pulling her across the courtyard toward the
stables.

“Saving?! I can’t see why I should
need saving. Considering the fact that I have done nothing wrong, I find your
attitude completely uncalled for. Do you hear me? Uncalled for!”

In the deep shadow by the stable
wall, he swung her around none too gently until she faced him fully.

“For a woman who considers herself
blessed with a fair amount of intelligence, you act with less sense than those
old mules you stole from me.”

“Stole?”

“Aye, stole.  But the mules, at least, knew enough to make their way down into the glen where they could be
found.”

“I’m delighted you were able to
find your valuable
property
undamaged, m’lord.” Catherine could see the
muscles in his jaw flicker dangerously. His face flushed crimson, and his eyes
blazed with anger. Well, she thought, she might as well let him vent his anger.
Crossing her arms, she nodded encouragingly. “Very well, husband. Let me hear your
complaint!”

“Catherine Percy, do not try to
pacify me. I can read your mind.”

She nodded again, this time giving
him a weak smile. “Come, I am waiting! You want to rant and rave and tear me in
two? Well! I am ready!” 

“I--I...cannot understand how a woman
like you, a stranger in country as rough as...” He sputtered on, assailing her
with reasons why her journey from Balvenie Castle had been so ill-judged, but
she was not listening. At height of his anger, his eyes had turned as dark as
the night, and Catherine gazed up, admiring their intensity as well as their
tendency to change color along with his mood. And for the thousandth time, she
again noticed his long dark eyelashes. She couldn’t help but wonder what
beautiful children he would father. Children! She smiled inwardly. Not so many
days ago, she had been appalled by the very thought of marriage to this man,
and here she was daydreaming about bairns.

“Stop that!” He snapped the words
out. “You are not even listening to me!”

His hands were on her shoulders.
She shook herself out of her reverie and nodded. But she couldn’t stop her gaze
from fixing on his full lips.

“Catherine! You haven’t heard a
word of what I’ve been saying! How could you be so...”

She wished he would kiss her. Until
this moment, she hadn’t fully realized how much she’d missed him today. In
fact, seeing him charging toward her out of the bishop’s residence tonight, she
had nearly cast aside her dignity and run into his arms. She wondered vaguely
if he would still be so angry if she’d done that. 

“Catherine! Stop distracting me!”

She looked up and let her eyes roam
his face. His long red hair looked almost black in the darkness. She could just
make out the tight braids, pulled back with the rest of his long, thick hair
and tied with a thong at the nape of his neck. She wondered what he would do if
she were to raise herself on tiptoe and kiss his chin, his jaw, his neck.

“That does it!”

As Athol took her roughly by the
hand, Catherine found herself being hauled through the stable door. The smell
of fresh straw and horses warmed her. Such a comforting smell, she thought.

“What are you doing?”

“Finding a place that’s a wee bit
more private! Where every window facing on the courtyard won’t have a view of
the earl of Athol and his obstinate wife. We need to have a...a
private
talk.” His voice dropped to a growl. “And do not think for a moment that I do
not know what was just going through your mind.”

He was dragging her toward the low
hanging hayloft. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to be so obvious!”

Turning, he placed his hands on her
waist and literally threw her into the loft, scaling the short ladder after
her. 

Catherine was still trying to catch
her breath when she heard the low rumble escape his lips. Stunned, she stared
at him as he stretched out beside her. It was a laugh--she was certain of it.
He had actually laughed!

“Obvious? To no one but me, Cat. But I’m telling you this, my sweet, we are far from finished discussing your rashness in coming
here alone.”  

She started to reply, but then
stopped.

Well, first things first, she
decided. After all, there was no reason she could think of for continuing the
argument. Why, he might just forget all about it by the time they were done
with this private...er, talk.

Catherine turned to him and smiled.

The frightened stable hand took two
steps back at the approach of his leader. 

“I tried, master! I told them both
that the only route to Elgin was through the Glen of Rothes! I even gave them
the oldest mules in the stables. The ones I knew would be easy to...”

“Tried!” Adam of the Glen spat out with disdain as he brushed past the trembling man. He stalked to the fire.

Roy Sykes raised a nervous hand to
the side of his head as if checking to make certain it was still connected to
his shoulders.

“Master, they’d barely left the
gates of Balvenie before I came running with the news.”

Adam stared into the fire. “By now he must have learned of your treachery.”

Roy stared at the broad back of the
giant Highlander. The leader’s broadsword was still strapped to his back. “Aye,
I’m sure some of the stable hands saw me talk to Lady Catherine before she
left. They’re certain to tell the laird who ‘twas that gave her the mules.
He’ll hang me for not telling him about her leaving. Please, master, do not
send me back to face him.”

The Highlander turned and stared
darkly into the terrified man’s face. “But you’d face my wrath before his? I
should have Ren tie you to that tree and let the kites peck out your eyes!” 

Roy Sykes dropped to his knees and
clasped his hands. “Do not send me back, master. But please spare my life! I
did what I thought you’d be wanting. I never thought that the Englishwoman and
the monk would take it on themselves to travel across the hills!”

Adam of the Glen turned to the
scarfaced man who crouched before the fire, listening. “He says you must be
blind, Ren. For you tell me they never passed by you, either.”

“Aye, if the lad says so, then I
must be blind.” Ren turned a murderous look at the stable hand. “For we had the
shepherd’s trail across the Mannoch Hills blocked. There was no way some
lowland bitch, traveling with a fat monk, could have gone past us. We’d have
smelled them coming a league off.”

“You were watching the shepherd’s
trail?”

“Aye, and there was not a soul...”

“And you didn’t spread your men
back to the river?”

“Aye...well, we did as the day wore
on.” Ren looked away uneasily. “But there was no sign of them, master.”

“By the devil!” Adam snapped. “Then
they
could
have gone around you!”

“Nay!” Ren squirmed visibly. “Well,
aye. But master...you said so yourself. These are just two English lapdogs...a
monk and a lass. How would they...?”

The huge Highlander exploded,
kicking dirt at his warrior. “By ‘is Bones, I am tired of having to do every
bit of thinking around here! For the first time in months, I have a real chance
to avenge myself on that blackguard, Athol, and all of you suddenly decide to
play the fools...at the same time!”

The gathering of warriors shifted
uneasily and began to murmur among themselves. Adam turned his wrath on them
fully. “She was out there! A flower to be picked. But none of you had enough
courage, enough wit...”

Adam stopped mid-sentence at the
sound of a soft whistle from the darkness beyond the light of the fire.

With a parting glare at Roy Sykes
and Ren, the leader strode past the ruined stone hut at the edge of the
clearing and toward the spot where he knew his visitor waited.

******

The only light seeping into the
stable came from the torch out by the pen, but Catherine Percy was beautiful in
any light.

Reluctantly rolling away from her,
Athol slid to the edge of the loft and dropped to the dirt floor. With a sigh,
Catherine followed him, and John Stewart gently lowered her to the ground,
placing a soft kiss on her still parted lips. Gathering her tightly to him, he
warmed at the feel of her body against his, the pressure of her hands on his
back. He tucked a loose tendril of black hair behind her ear.

“I have become a wanton and wicked
woman.”

John gazed soberly at her. “Aye, no
doubt about it. In fact, I’m certain the bishop would have grave things to say
about a woman who is so corrupt that she
wants
her husband to make love
to her. But now that I think of it, I do not care
what
the bishop’s
views might be on the subject.”

Her quiet laugh brought a smile to
his face, and he kissed her hair.

 “So you are telling me you think
there is nothing odd about a husband making love to his wife in the very shadow
of the cathedral?”

“Nothing odd, at all!” He grinned
at her. “Certainly not odd when one remembers that this is the same husband who
took her wife’s virginity in the window of a darkened corridor, cheerfully forsaking
the blissful comforts of a wedding bed.”   

She nestled closer against his
chest and sighed contentedly. “I very much like the way this husband views some
things.”

John Stewart chuckled to himself.
He’d married an enchantress. There was a power she wielded over him. It flared
up and blazed--controlling his body, his sense of discipline, even his heart,
it seemed. She had the power to transform him from an angry man to a panting
school lad in the space of a moment. And now, here she stood, satisfied and
seemingly unconcerned about the potent force that dwelt within her...or about
the reprimand he had planned to lay about her pretty ears.   

“You are no longer angry with me!”

But not completely oblivious, he
thought. 

“Catherine...” he started, pulling
back slightly and framing her pretty face in his large hands. “I suppose I
cannot blame you completely for what happened today. You cannot be even half
aware of the danger dogging your steps here in the Highlands, or you wouldn’t
be traipsing so recklessly through these hills.”

“I am much hardier than you think,
John.”

“By St. Andrew, I know you are
hardy enough! But our enemies here are much more cunning than the ones you’ve
escaped from in England.”

“I have done no wrong for any of
these people to hate me!” Her midnight blue eyes widened. “Or is it because I
am half English that you think me in danger among your people?”

“‘Tis neither of those things,” he
whispered quietly. “Just by marrying me, Catherine, you’ve become a target for
those who wish to destroy me.”

“And why would one want to destroy
you?” Her voice gentled, and he felt her words caress his spirit. “You are a
good leader to your people. From everything I can see, they honor and respect
you as their earl and laird.”

Her confidence in him was precious.
Looking into her face, he traced her lower lip with his thumb. With a sudden
rush of anger, he drew her fiercely to his chest. The helplessness he’d felt
after learning she’d gone had been maddening. “Never do that to me again, Cat!
Never put yourself in danger as you did today.”

She pushed herself away from his
chest and met his gaze. “For me to recognize friend from foe, John, I need to
learn the truth about you. I need to know who is your enemy and why he is so
determined to do us harm, though I think there is danger inside the heavy
curtain walls of Balvenie Castle as well as outside.”

“You mean the stable hand, Roy
Sykes.”

She nodded. “‘Twas not until we
were away into the hills, and I caught a glimpse of an ambush ahead of us, that
I realized there was a reason for him being so easy to persuade.”

“When we return, I want you to
point out the spot where they were waiting for you.” Athol clenched his jaw.
Thus far, they’d successfully eluded him every time he’d chased them, but he’d
run the rascals right into the ground this time, if it took him a year. He
glanced up, realizing she was looking intently at him. “But how was it that you
didn’t think I was the one waiting for you to pass by?”