Samantha Holt (Highland Fae Chronicles) (16 page)

“Why should ye care?”

“Why should I...?” he spluttered. “Ye surely are the most confusing, aggravating, troublesome lass I have ever met.”

“Ach, if ye came out here to insult me, ye can turn around and leave me now.” She flattened her palms against his chest in a bid to push him away but all it succeeded in doing was make her aware of the sinuous muscle and strong heartbeat beneath the linen.

“Ye scared me, Katie,” he ground out, “and I’ll no’ have ye do it again. I’ll no’ be scared by a woman again.”

With savage speed, his mouth came down upon hers. She made a sound as he pressed his lips forcefully to hers. Fingers curled into his shirt, she sagged as heat speared straight to her core. This aggressive, demanding kiss threatened to turn her legs to oil.

Deep down, the fight in her ignited. She would not crumble or succumb to weakness. Instead, she flattened her aching breasts to him and gripped tighter. When she opened her mouth to his searching tongue, he groaned—the sound sending thrills skittering through her. He still had her arms in a strong hold but it did not hurt—only made her feel safe and resilient, as if Finn’s strength fed into her. In his arms, she was no longer a damaged woman, haunted by demons. She was a woman, flesh and blood. Wanted and needed. Even if only for a quick bedding.

His tongue searched her mouth and clashed with hers. Catriona met him, kiss for kiss, driven by a need for more. More sensation, a deeper taste. More Finn. His arousal prodded her stomach and her mind drifted, filled with images of naked flesh and pleasure.

Something broke the heat—a spatter of rain drops and Finn jerked away. His ragged breaths blew over her, his chest heaved and she gulped. She missed his warmth but the look in his eyes… had she been wrong? He searched her gaze desperately for something.

He still had hold of her arms and he placed her back, took a step away and scraped a hand through his hair. “Forgive me, wee lass, that was....”

“A mistake?”

“Aye, nay, I…” He dropped his head briefly only to reveal a wide grin when he lifted it. “Ye’ll forgive me, lass. What can I say? Too much ale mayhap.” He reached for her. “Come, let us get ye back to the keep.”

Catriona shook her head vigorously and folded her arms. She recognised that grin. He used it often. But she’d never noticed how deliberately he used if before. It was disarming and he knew it. Used to send her off track. He’d been about to say something, intended to reveal more, but he’d snapped on that smile and covered it. What else did he cover like that? How many other hurts did he conceal with such a look? Mayhap she was not the only one hiding.

“Can we no’ stay a little longer?” She glanced up at the skies and frowned. The heavens were clear aside from a few puffy white clouds. The threat of rain had passed in an instant. Strange. She turned an imploring look on Finn. “Just a wee while longer. I need some fresh air. Ye know I dinnae do well in castle walls.”

His shoulders dropped and he nodded slowly. “Just a wee while. Lorna shall be worrying for ye.”

Sitting, Catriona curled her legs to one side and patted the ground in invitation. “I didnae mean to worry anyone. I just needed some air. I didnae think anyone would notice. I intended to use the passageway when I returned in the hope that I could sneak in and no one would be any the wiser.”

Logan had revealed the escape passage through the back of the keep on her first day. He told her it was intended for times of war. Why he showed her, she knew not. She suspected Logan was the kind of man who planned for every eventuality.

Finn sat beside her, drawing one knee up and resting an elbow on it. He stared out over the hills, affording her the chance to appreciate his profile.

“Did ye truly think I wouldnae notice?”

She rested her chin on her knees. “Aye.”

“Ye dinnae know me well at all,” he concluded.

She tilted her head to view him, cheek supported by her knee. “I dinnae think anyone knows ye well, Finn,” she replied softly. “But I am learning.”

Finn’s throat flexed and his great body heaved with a sigh. “Ye are too canny for yer own good, Katie.”

“I dinnae think anyone has ever called me canny.”

“Then they dinnae know
ye
.”

“But ye do?”

He gave a half shrug and shifted. “Well enough.”

Here, she suspected, was the real Finn. The tender and open one. There were no quick smiles or chuckles. She’d seen glimpses of him in his care of her but this was the first time she’d had a conversation with him. She wouldn’t give up that chance. Curiosity forced the next question from her lips.

“Did yer wife know ye well?”

A muscle in his jaw ticked and he remained focused ahead, as if scouting the land for enemy. “How do ye know of her?”

“Lorna told me a little. Not much.”

“Lorna shouldnae be speaking of such things.”

“Why? I am yer friend, am I not? At least I thought I was. We spoke of many things on our journey yet ye never mentioned Alice.”

The tiniest ripple of his muscles suggested he’d shuddered. Had she pushed too far? Telling Finn of her troubles had eased her dreams and she had not swooned since. She longed to offer him the same comfort.

“’Twas a long time ago.

“Ye told me I should speak of my troubles. Do ye no’ think ye should take yer own advice?” She plucked a strand of grass from her skirt and fingered it. “Did ye love her?” she prompted, bracing herself for the answer. As much as he needed to speak of it, him loving another made her stomach churn with jealousy. Not that it should. Finn had made no declarations toward her.

“Aye.” Finn twisted to look at her. “Aye, in a way. We were young. She was a good woman. I have heard the bards speak of love and I dinnae think it was that, but I loved her in my own way, aye.”

“I am sorry.” She reached over and rested her hand on top of the one at his side. He didn’t take her hand as she had hoped but he did not move either.

“Sometimes I wonder if I do not love the memory of her more.” He shook his head. “But ‘tis no matter. This is all in the past.”

“The past shapes us, Finn.”

He chuckled, admiration in his expression. “And ye say ye are not canny? Lass, yer surely the canniest woman I know.” Before she responded, he snatched her hand and came to his feet, taking her with him. “Come, let us return before my sister tears apart the castle.”

Catriona peered sideways at him, her heart heavy. That grin was back in place. He’d hidden himself away again. Still, she would treasure the trust he had put in her, even if it was only brief. And she would try not to read too much into it. She had other things to worry about. Like the fact her dead sister’s betrothed would be arriving on the morrow.

***

Gillean arrived in a fanfare of horses, banners and too much fuss in Finn’s opinion. He folded his arms, widened his stance and drew in a breath through his nostrils as the laird discarded his mantle and dipped to kiss Lorna’s hand. Lorna smiled but Finn saw tension in her posture while she greeted him at the large oak doors.

The man breezed in—as if he owned the place. Which, of course, he did. Finn mentally kicked himself and forced his glower to relax. Stood in front of the top table, he had a good view of everything. Including Katelyn’s discomfiture as Lorna introduced her and Gillean’s gaze roamed over Katelyn, no doubt weighing her up and finding her more than satisfactory.

Finn couldn’t hear what either of them said but he knew well what Gillean would be thinking. He’d be congratulating himself on winning such a prize. In a deep purple gown that reminded him of heather after rainfall, her skin glowed and her hair shone. She’d clearly taken extra effort to dress for the laird and that made Finn grind his teeth until his jaw hurt.

When Gillean took Katelyn’s hand and dropped a lingering kiss to it, Finn had to lean against one of the candle mounts and grip it. The iron dug into his palm but at least he wasn’t ploughing his fist into the smug laird’s face.

Gillean finally turned his attention away from Katelyn and offered Finn a smile. An understanding ran between them, one that acknowledged Gillean had won, even though Gillean had no way of knowing how he felt about Katelyn.

How did he feel about Katelyn?

Ach, he was imagining things. He wasn’t in competition with Gillean.

“Finn, how goes it?” Gillean strode over and dropped his head briefly.

“Well enough,” he replied tightly. He had not seen Gillean for many years. Gillean had been old enough when his brother had married Lorna but his hair was now completely white and deep lines framed his grey eyes. A thick white beard barely concealed his smirk.

“Lorna tells me I have ye to thank for rescuing Lady Katelyn.” He glanced over at her and motioned for her to come to him. With slow movements, she came to his side and slipped her hand into his offered one.

Finn released the iron mount and flexed his fist at his side. Katelyn refused to look at him. Her gaze remained cast down, studying the reed-strewn floorboards with great interest.

“If ye had sent more men, I wouldnae have had to.”

Gillean’s eyes narrowed marginally before he let out a laugh. “Alas, when I travel I have a need for many men. I doubt anyone would attack ye, Finn. Not when there would be little benefit in it for them.”

Finn bit back a growl and Katelyn snapped her head up, swinging her wide gaze between them. Swallowing his resentment, Finn gave him a mocking bow. “I am but yer servant, my laird, and I cannae object to aiding a beloved sister. Should she have been without any more men, I would have feared for her safety, and of course the safety of yer castle. I fear ye have too many enemies, Gillean, to leave it unmanned so,” Finn said pointedly.

“Ha, none would be foolish enough to attack my property.” He squeezed Katelyn’s hand. “Finn here would have ye believe ye would be in great danger as my wife, but let me assure ye, my lady, ye will come to no harm by my side. I am greatly feared across the Highlands.

“Aye, that I know,” she said quietly, but Finn heard the bitterness in her tone and scowled.

“None would go against me,” Gillean continued, ignoring or mayhap not even hearing Katelyn’s soft statement.

Lorna approached, a warning look in her eyes. “Ye must be worn from yer journey, will ye no’ take some refreshments, Gillean?” She motioned to the laid table behind her.

“Aye, thank ye, sister. It has been a long few sennights, but I believe I have made some fine business arrangements.”

Finn barely smothered a snort. Business deals? If the man counted threats as arrangements, mayhap. He was willing to bet Gillean had never made an honourable deal in his life.

The laird turned to Katelyn. “Will ye do me the honour of allowing me to serve ye, my lady.”

“Of course, my laird.”

“Pray, call me Gillean. I would not have one of those marriages where we stand upon ceremony.”

“Gillean then.”

The laird’s name coming from her lips sent bile into Finn’s throat. Disgusted, he snatched a cup and a jug of ale. “If ye’ll excuse me, I must see to something.”

Gillean did not even acknowledge Finn’s words, his attention consumed by Katelyn as he saw her to her seat and placed himself next to her. Finn could well understand his enchantment. Finn had suffered the same ever since he first met her, but did he have to look at her with such obvious lust?

“Forgive me, sister,” he murmured to Lorna. “I shall see ye at supper.”

Lorna gave a resigned sigh and patted his arm in understanding. “Aye, as ye will.”

Before he stormed out of the hall, he glanced at Katelyn. She sat rigid, only the ghost of a smile on her lips while Gillean offered her a fig. He fed it to her and Finn’s throat burned. He turned away and pushed through the oak doors. Had he seen what he thought he had in Katelyn’s eyes? He scrubbed a hand across his jaw. A plea for help had lingered in those green eyes and by God, he wanted to answer it.

***

Finn threw back his wine and got up to pour some more. He scowled as his chambers wobbled and he had to steady himself against the wall.

Snatching the pitcher from the bedside table, he poured himself a hearty drink and paused to gaze out of the window. The evening had grown dark and many would be abed. Clouds covered the stars this night. He snorted. Appropriate. The darkness mirrored his mood. He sucked in the fresh air but it did little to cool the bubbling anger inside.

All supper he’d suffered observing Gillean’s fawning and touching, watched his arrogance and listened to his boasts. While Lorna pandered to him, Katelyn remained reserved, smiling and commenting quietly at the right moments. Mayhap only he saw the fear in her eyes. And it seemed like more than that of a maiden set to marry a man of which she knew nothing. He closed his eyes and leaned against the wall.

The tension in the keep was unbearable. He understood Katelyn’s need to escape. How he longed to do so. Lorna had retreated to bed with dark shadows under her eyes and grim strain in the lines around her mouth. He had done her no favours leaving her to deal with Gillean all afternoon. He opened his eyes and thrust a hand into his hair. Ach, he’d failed her yet again. When would he cease letting down the women in his life? Put a sword in his hand and fear deserted him but it was the unseen dangers that terrified him. Illness, childbirth. Ach, women were such delicate creatures. How could a man invest his emotions in a lass when they were so easily taken away? Even his own sister.