“Fair enough.” Rab shifted his gaze to the Great Hall’s doors, then turned back to Andrew. “I dinna suppose we can walk to the lists together.” He flashed a toothy grin, but even after his expression grew serious, his eyes held a hint of mischief.
“Nay. I suppose we canna. I must draft ma own missive to ma father, so I shall do that first.” Andrew paused. “I wish things could have been different for ye both. Ye’re good for each other and would have been good for our clans.”
“Thank ye.”
“But dinna think that’s me giving ye permission for aught. Stay away, Rab. Ye’re going to break her heart all over again when ye ride out.”
“I ken. Thinking of leaving her breaks ma heart.” Rab gathered the now-dry parchment and his supplies. Both men set off for their chambers, each writing missives to their fathers and dispatching them with haste. Their timing was not so impeccable when they arrived at the lists at the same moment. A brief nod was all the salutation they offered one another before finding their men. Rab spent the next several hours swinging his sword and training, glad to have something to distract him as he waited for the hour to come when he and Catherine could make their escape.
Chapter 14
Catherine checked the satchel she’d packed. She’d only put the most essential items, hoping she could launder her stockings and spare chemise along a riverbank or a loch’s shore. She packed one other gown, but she suspected they would both be beyond salvage when they reached wherever they settled. But she cared not. She wouldn’t miss the trappings of court life, especially the weight of the gowns she wore. She was eager to return to the proper Highlands and wearing more practical kirtles. And more than anything, she was excited for Rab to present her with one of his plaids for her to keep. Circumstance forced her to hand back the one she borrowed each time they returned from Dunblane. She felt twinges of guilt that she longed to wear the MacLarens’ colors, but it was wearing something of Rab’s that she craved. She was proud of her husband, despite all that stood between their clans.
She hurried to shove it under her bed when someone rattled the door handle. She sat on the edge of her bed, pretending to put on her slippers as Evina entered. They had spoken little since Rab arrived. Their silence was companionable, but it was borne of a need to avoid either asking or saying something neither wished to have spoken aloud. However, Catherine knew inevitably, Evina would discover she ran away. She was likely to be the first person to realize Catherine hadn’t sneaked away somewhere within the castle grounds.
“Catherine, I am so sorry aboot this morning,” Evina apologized in a hushed voice.
“That wasn’t your fault. I acted badly toward Agnes, and I knew Dennis was waiting for an opportunity to pounce. But I stayed with you. I appreciated the few extra minutes of prayer. I’m grateful you went for Rab.”
“Catherine…”
“Aye?”
“I will keep your secret, even after…” Evina nudged her chin to where the strap of Catherine’s satchel stuck out from beneath the bed.
“I don’t mean to put you in the middle of this. You know Óg and the Bruce will question you.”
“And as long as you tell me naught, then there is naught for me to tell.” Evina leveled Catherine an even gaze with the practicality of a Highlander, despite sounding like a courtly Lowlander.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Be careful. I hope you find happiness however that may come.” Evina offered Catherine a loose embrace, neither having shared any signs of affection before. “I think I left something somewhere. I best go before it’s time for the evening meal.”
Evina didn’t wait for Catherine to say anything before she slipped out of the chamber. Catherine hurried to pull the satchel from beneath her bed and changed into her riding boots. She already wore the same plain kirtle she’d been wearing each time they rode to Dunblane. She quickly folded and squeezed her sealskin cloak and her MacFarlane plaid into her satchel. She couldn’t leave the cloak behind because it was far too valuable, and she couldn’t leave her plaid because she was still a MacFarlane, even now that she’d become a MacLaren. The thought of finally sharing a name and a clan with Rab sent a warm rush through her chest and tugged a smile at her lips she saw no reason to hide.
Looking in both directions and waiting with her breath held, Catherine slipped from her chamber and crept to the servants’ stairs. She wound her way through the castle, avoiding anyone who might demand an explanation for her satchel. She left the castle and rushed to the stables through the undercroft. She thanked all the saints that a wagon was pulling away, allowing her to remain hidden until she was at the stable doors. She slipped inside and found Rab and his men waiting. He’d retrieved the basket she’d left in the hayloft the night before. She handed her satchel to Rab in exchange for the basket.
Cullen wore breeks and a plain leine. He would pretend to be Catherine’s guard, allowing her to leave on Timber before Rab and the others. They all knew it was odd for him to dress as a Lowlander since none of Catherine’s guards ever did, but it was all they could think of. Rab hurried to saddle Timber, and Catherine shoved hay beneath the cloth in the basket, making it appear as though she were taking something into the town. When all the horses were ready, Catherine moved toward Timber but stopped.
“I ken ye’ll probably hate this idea.” Catherine relished abandoning her courtly speech. She faced Cullen and winced before continuing. “But ye should wear ma plaid. Nay one will question ye if ye wear MacFarlane colors. If ye look away from the guards as though ye’re looking for something in the lists, then they may nae recognize ye.”
Cullen stared at Catherine, then shifted his gaze to Rab. With pursed lips and a scowl, he nodded. They all knew that was far better than their original plan. He accepted Catherine’s plaid and ducked into an empty stall. It was only moments later that he returned with a pleated and properly donned, albeit short,breacan feile.“Better than bluidy breeks. Room for the necessary bits to breathe.”
Catherine chuckled while it was Rab’s turn to scowl. “Help me up, please.” Catherine tapped Rab’s chest, and he lifted her into the saddle. Cullen mounted and led the pair out of the stables. Both Cullen and Catherine breathed a sigh of relief when they realized the wagon Catherine used to shield her was leaving at the same time. If Catherine rode between the wagon and Cullen, and he turned toward the lists, it was unlikely anyone would recognize him. They made their way through the gates without incident. As soon as they were clear of the town gates, they spurred their horses. They had a rendezvous place fifteen minutes outside of town; they would wait for Rab and the others there.
* * *
Rab watched as Catherine and Cullen rode through the gate without incident. He trusted all his guards with his life, but Cullen was one of the few he trusted without reservation with Catherine’s. He knew his lifelong friend would do everything within his might to protect Catherine. Rab had told Cullen about his feelings for Catherine before he did his brother, Douglan. Cullen had been the one, just as often as Douglan, to make excuses when he slipped away for walks with Catherine at any event where the couple both attended. It was Cullen who’d suggested Rab seek Katherine as his leman, knowing how much Rab pined for the Catherine he always loved.
He gave the order for the men to mount, but rather than leave through the main gate, they slipped through the postern one. They rode toward a meadow but circled around the edge of town once they were well out of sight of the guards on the castle’s battlements. Once clear of Stirling, they raced to catch up with Catherine and Cullen.
Little was said while the party rode to Dunblane, all contemplative but alert. Catherine patted Timber’s neck, relieved that sneaking away hadn’t forced her to abandon her steed. She’d raised the mare since she was a filly, one of the last things her parents gave her before they were both dead. She glanced at Rab, who watched their surroundings in every direction. Even though he tasked David with riding at the rear and watching the road behind them, Rab looked back several times. Despite his wariness, the ride passed quickly and without incident. They rode into the monastery as a few villagers milled around for the evening prayer service. There were far fewer than during the Sunday and holy day Masses, which suited everyone well. Catherine didn’t doubt news of a wedding would spread, and a few more people might trickle in before they were through. She didn’t notice Cullen had ducked into the stables until he handed her back the MacFarlane plaid, looking far more at ease in his MacLaren one.
“Are ye ready,mo piseag?” Rab lifted his arm, palm up. Without hesitation, Catherine placed her hand in his, and they walked to the church’s steps. Father Michael emerged as they reached the top.
“Any trouble getting here?” Michael asked.
“Nay. So far, it doesnae seem like anyone is after us,” Rab answered.
