“How much longer until ye think the king will meet with me?” Rab nodded toward the door where two guards stood. “I dinna wish to be here when ye announce her betrothal.” Neither did he want Catherine there, either. But it would be at least three sennights before they could marry from whenever the banns were first read. He knew he faced waiting at least a month to marry, and that assumed Catherine agreed after only courting for a week. Rab’s belly tightened with unease, fear that time was running out, and Andrew might sign Catherine’s marriage contracts before he had time to marry her himself.
“You can count on being here at least a fortnight before he sees you.” Andrew upper lip curled in smug satisfaction as Rab once more became an enemy he wished to watch bleed before him. “He will drag this out so that, by the time he sees you, you will be the most hated mon at court. He will let the court be your jurors before he passes down your sentence.”
“Then he could have seen me yesterday if that were his goal. I’m already the most hated and least trusted mon here.”
“But you aren’t miserable yet.” Andrew sized Rab up once more. Anger and hatred he’d kept under tight rein for Catherine’s sake, and to ensure Rab didn’t tune him out, boiled over, bringing out his brogue. “Ye willna have to wait for the king if ye dinna stay away from Catherine. I will ensure ye suffer far more than the king can, even if he has his own dungeon.”
“Óg, for better or for worse, I willna ever do aught to harm Catherine.” Rab felt odd calling her by her given name, but he wasn’t interested in antagonizing Andrew any further. Andrew nodded, regaining some calm. He didn’t glance back as he walked away from Rab, leaving the latter to stare straight ahead, hoping he appeared indifferent to his brief encounter with Andrew.
* * *
After his confrontation with Andrew, Rab opted to take a tray in his chamber that evening. He refused to miss his rendezvous with Catherine, but he decided absenting himself was wiser than making people wonder if they both disappeared at the end of the night. If he never appeared at the meal, no one would consider Catherine slipped away to meet him. He prayed she wasn’t wrong to trust her roommate to protect her reputation.
It felt like hours from when he stepped inside the stables and peered out to when he caught sight of a woman leaving the keep. She didn’t look around, though Rab was certain Catherine was aware of everything within the bailey. Her situational awareness had always rivaled any warrior Rab knew, and he was glad for it, knowing that she lived among a lecherous court. She hurried until she reached the stables. He drew back into the shadows once he was certain she’d spotted him. Neither lingered in the doorway, Catherine leading the way to the ladder to the hayloft. She gathered her skirts and scaled the ladder as though she were still a young woman climbing trees. Rab forced his eyes away from her shapely backside as he followed her.
Once they stood away from the edge, their kiss threatened to devour them whole. Gone was the tenderness from the night before. In its place was unadulterated passion. Having admitted their feelings, confessed at least some of their secrets, and agreeing to court, there was nothing left to hold them back. Rab’s hands traveled from her waist to her bottom, cupping the round globes. While Catherine wasn’t particularly tall, nor was she overly endowed on top, she was curvy through her hips and backside. Rab was certain he’d died and gone to heaven. The thought of having the right, the privilege, to touch Catherine like this for the rest of his life was heady.
Catherine’s hands skimmed over Rab’s chest to his shoulders before sliding around his ribs and up his back. Every inch she felt was hewn muscle. She marveled at how hard the planes of his body were as he relished how soft she was. She pressed herself against Rab, frustrated when his sporran kept her from what she wanted to feel. Edgar had worn breeks at court, so it left little to the imagination when he was aroused. It had made Catherine want to pull away the first time she felt his length against her mound, but she’d reminded herself that she started the intimacies to woo Edgar into staying in her bed once they married. Now she was eager to feel Rab against her for the sake of being closer to the man she loved.
Catherine pushed Rab’s sporran out of the way, her hands gripping his hips. She pressed him toward her as she took a step closer. Her breath caught in her throat at the feel of Rab’s manhood against her mons. She had only one other man to compare with, and Rab far exceeded her expectations.
“When we wed, Kitty, the first time may nae be what either of us hopes. But I promise every time after will be pleasurable. I never want ye to be afraid.”
“I’m not. I’m—impressed.” Catherine didn’t know what else to say and wanted to swallow her tongue when understanding flashed in Rab’s eyes. He knew she compared him to Edgar, but it relieved him that he exceeded the man’s precedence. “Even before that, Aunt Aveline explained what happens between a mon and a woman. I think she suspected our feelings and even hoped something might come of us. I’ve always believed she talked to me because she wanted to prepare me to be your wife.”
Their kiss burst into flames, like the last one had. Rab walked backwards until he found the pile of hay. He drew Catherine down to straddle his lap as he sat on the mound. They moved together, their hips thrusting as Catherine rode him. Both knew the layers of clothes were a blessing, keeping them from going too far, doing something that could never be undone. But they frustrated the couple, nonetheless.
“I’ve never been afraid of this with you. I can’t say I’ve felt so at ease when I’ve pictured marrying someone else. But with you, it feels right. It feels as normal as breathing.”
“I doubt I should say this, so I should stop if I had any sense.” Rab tucked hair behind Catherine’s ear. “Never will I have to pretend to be with someone else, to ken when I cry out ‘Catherine’ into the night it’s because I’m with the right woman at last.”
Catherine eased back and sat on Rab’s lap. “You really picked Katherine as your leman because she has the same name as me?”
Rab sighed as he nodded, guilt plaguing him for the umpteenth time over the two years he’d been involved with Katherine MacLaren when all he thought about was Catherine MacFarlane. “When I decided I wouldnae be a monk anymore, I feared yer name on ma lips, in or out of bed. I canna deny she’s an attractive woman. Ye’d ken it for a lie the first time ye meet her. But she has dark hair much like yers, and ye’re a similar height. I felt guilty using her when I first started visiting her, but she seemed content to keep things simple. As time went by and I missed ye more and more because she wasna ye, I didna want to give up the fantasy that I was with ye. It’s twisted and despicable.”
Catherine wrapped her arms around Rab’s ribs as she leaned her head against his chest. His steady heartbeat was a soothing cadence. “I’ve never had a lover, but neither was Edgar the only other mon I’ve kissed. It was always light pecks, naught that encouraged more. I hoped each time that I could push ye from ma mind. I hoped Edgar could finally make me stop wishing. Instead, he was a poor substitute for the mon I couldnae have. It was ye I imagined. It was ye I could taste, smell. It was yer name on ma mind and far too often nearly on ma lips.” Catherine hadn’t noticed that her speech lapsed back into sounding like a Highlander, but her emotions were raw as they once more confided in one another.
“Kitty, I’m nae proud of what I’ve done, and I dinna want to hurt her. Whether ye agree to marry me or nae, I’m riding back to end it with her. I’m nae eager to return to her, and I canna dredge up even a sliver of anticipation to see her again. It’s over with her, regardless of what happens with us. I want to end it. I dinna wish to be here, falling even more in love with ye, kenning I must face her. How can I return to a woman who I dread seeing? And she doesnae deserve to find out it’s over because I ride into the bailey with ye as ma wife.”
“Can ye leave without meeting with King Robert? Even if ye ride as fast as ye can each way, ye will still be away long enough for word to reach him that ye left. He’ll never forgive the insult.”
“I ken.” Rab stroked the hair that hung down Catherine’s back. The silky strands with the hint of rosemary brought back waves of memories, ones that he no longer relegated to his dreams. “I will go as soon as I can. Once I have an audience with him, I can always say I must confer with Father and bring back his decision.”
“Ye’d lie to the king? Ye said ye’d go to Edinample without Caelan kenning. What happens when he discovers ye lied to the king? What happens when the king discovers ye never saw yer father?”
Rab inhaled a whistling breath and sighed. “Ye’re right. I canna say ought to King Robert aboot leaving, and I canna let Father ken I returned home with things unresolved. Hopefully, something will come to me.”
Catherine felt her body relaxing as her worry decreased, and Rab’s warmth enveloped her. “I shall fall asleep if ye continue to stroke ma hair. I dinna remember the last time I felt this content.”
“I wish to hold ye for however long we have. Sleep if ye wish for the rest.”
“Nay. I came here this eve to spend time with ye. Awake. I’m nae sleeping through our chance to talk. I want to ken more aboot ye and the mon ye are now.”
“There isnae that much to tell, I suppose. I spend most of ma time on patrol, riding the borders. We have been on tense terms with the Campbells for years, but we keep a mindful distance. It didna help that one of our hunters foolishly delivered a message to Dominic without learning from whom it came. He was supposed to be hunting for Father’s saint’s day and instead thought he might earn a few coins. He came back so shaken after Dominic chased him down, he confessed all to Father. We were fortunate Dominic and Brodie were more concerned with who sent the message than who delivered it.”
“I ken things must be even harder right now since we fought alongside them against the MacDougalls and Lamonts. I’m nae sure if Laurel can look in Óg’s direction without wanting to spit, but he seems to have redeemed himself in Brodie’s eyes with how he fought on the battlefield.”
“Aye. It makes it uncomfortable, but we keep to our side of the border, and they keep to theirs. When I’m nae riding there, I’m usually close to the Buchanans. Our ties to the Stewarts of Appin are what’s kept yer uncle from attacking, but it may be what makes the Buchanans finally ride for Edinample. They’ve razed some fields and harassed our farmers, but Dennis Buchanan is here painting a picture that they’re the victims. I dinna ken what the Bruce thinks, but much like with the Campbells, we dinna stray from our land. We’ve caught Buchanan riders each time they cross over, but we dinna kill them, just send them back a little worse for wear.”
