“Rab, I ken what I can do if the rain holds.” Catherine prayed the weather cooperated for once in Scotland. “I can find some reason to get drenched tomorrow. The day after, I’ll fall ill and blame it on being soaked and chilled. I’ll make sure everyone kens I’m too sick to leave ma chamber. There’s a hunt planned on All Hallows Eve, which will take the king and queen from court for most of the day. On All Souls, the queen usually visits several almshouses, and she spends most of All Saints in prayer. I should be able to slip away during the mornings, and nay one will be the wiser. The only people who would ken are Evina and ma maid, and neither will say aught.”
“Ye’re certain Evina willna tell anyone?”
“She kens I come to spend time with ye. She hasnae admitted it, but I’m certain she figured it out. She hasnae said aught to me or anyone else.”
“But ye sneaking out with me for a few hours each night is far different from ye disappearing from court for three mornings in a row.”
“She doesnae ask any questions, so I dinna have to tell any lies.” Catherine embraced Rab when they reached her floor. “I love ye.”
“I love ye too.” Rab bussed a quick kiss against her lips before Catherine gathered her skirts and sprinted down the passageway. He watched until she disappeared into her chamber. He wished he’d bathed before attending the evening meal, but there hadn’t been time. Despite having no fresh clothes to change into, he’d found enough time to run back to his chamber and run soap and a wash linen over his body. But a soak in a hot tub would have done wonders for his weary muscles.
As Rab returned to his chamber, it tempted him to summon a bath, but the servants would gossip if he requested the tub and hot water in the middle of the night. Instead, he shucked off his clothes and fell onto the bed, exhausted. It was several hours past dawn when he stirred, much later than when he usually awoke, but he felt hopeful once more. It had been so long since he’d awoken looking forward to the day, but the feeling had finally returned now that he was with Catherine.
Chapter 11
Catherine listened as rain pounded the stone walls around her chamber’s window. As she lay in bed, she considered what excuse she could devise to go outside when anyone with sense would tuck themselves away with a peat fire burning in the hearth. She tried to come up with a reason to visit Timber in the stables, or why she might need to go to the gardens, or even why she needed a desperate trip into town. But she drew a blank on something believable.
As she left morning Mass, one of her guards greeted her in the passageway, soaked but smiling.
“Óg’s been spotted. He’ll be in the bailey in five minutes, ma lady,” the seasoned warrior informed her. Catherine’s smile was genuine, but it was from excitement not to see her cousin but for a way to justify going outside. She followed the guard to the door, but he blocked her. “Ye’ll get drenched, ma lady.”
“I ken, but I must speak to Óg before anyone else can overhear us,” Catherine reasoned. Her mulish chin warned the guard who’d known Catherine her entire life that she would be notoriously stubborn. He shook his head but stepped aside as he opened the door. Catherine flew down the steps into the bailey and sloshed her way to where Óg dismounted.
“Catherine, have ye lost that little sense I said God gave ye? Get back inside,” Andrew barked. Fatigue and discomfort left him sounding like the disgruntled Highlander he was.
“I’m happy to see you too, Cousin.” Catherine grasped Andrew’s hand and pulled him toward the gardens. When he balked, she pushed back the hair plastered to her cheek. “It’s the only place no one will overhear us. I need to ken.”
Andrew’s scowl deepened, but he nodded. “Ye ken this can wait, but I can tell ye willna. I want a hot bath, a tot of whisky, and some food. But vera well, have it yer way.”
Catherine stretched to kiss her cousin’s bristly beard and playfully tugged a few hairs. “It’s even longer. I can think of someone who might like you to trim it before you see her.”
“Catherine,” Andrew warned.
“You tell me to be more discreet. You ought to listen to your own preaching. Now tell.”
The cousins entered the garden, and Andrew unpinned the extra length of his plaid before wrapping it around Catherine’s shoulders. It was awkward to talk, standing side-by-side, but it allowed him to cover her head too. But it mattered little since she was soaked and already shivering.
“When ye fall ill, I shall tell ye I told ye so.”
Catherine secretly prayed that’s exactly what he would do when she pretended to have the ague. She nodded and attempted a guilty smile. Andrew narrowed his eyes but answered her demand.
“Father isn’t interested in the MacDonald of Keppoch. He’d rather nae get into bed—have ye get into bed—with them. He doesnae trust the mon.”
“Good. What aboot the Keith?”
Andrew paused and swallowed. Catherine’s eyes widened as she vigorously shook her head.
“He hasnae decided, but he’s considering the mon.”
“But why? Their land is up near the Sinclairs, close to the North Sea. My dower lands will do them no good, and they will have to march across the width of Scotland to come to our aid. They aren’t even that influential in their region, let alone the Highlands or Scotland.”
“That’s what I said.” Andrew held up a hand. “I told ye I had to present the options to Father, and I told ye to prepare yerself for him to accept one of them. But I also told ye I wouldnae recommend either of them. A visit home wouldnae be such a bad thing after all. Ye ken he can barely deny ye aught. Mayhap some cajoling on yer part might convince him to continue looking. Once the dignitaries leave, do ye think ye could travel back to Inveruglas with me?”
Catherine didn’t hesitate, even though she knew there was no possibility for what Andrew suggested. “Once they return to France, I don’t think the queen will deny that request.”
“Then plan for that within the fortnight.” Andrew cast Catherine a shrewd look. “Ye’ve been sneaking around with him. I’m certain he returned already. Have ye at least been careful? Traipsing around for secret rendezvous gives Dennis a chance to accost ye or spread rumors aboot ye.”
“Andrew.” Her cousin balked and pulled away. She rarely called him by his given name when they talked together. “You can’t expect me to stop loving the mon I’ve wanted since I was barely more than a lass. I ken you and Mòr thought sending me to court would make me forget aboot him. It didn’t. How do you think I feel being here and not being able to talk to him because someone might see us?”
