Catherine nodded, too tired to argue and finding the merit to Rab’s idea. Her chest ached from how hard her heart pounded while they tried to put more distance between the Buchanans and them. She was content to let Rab decide.
“We keep to the dark until I can find out if there’s a chamber for Lady Catherine and space in the stables for ye. Nay one can sleep in the tavern’s main room. We dinna need anyone taking note of our plaids.” Rab guided them around the outskirts of the village until they found the tavern and its stables. The establishment sounded quiet, but Rab assumed nothing until he assessed the patrons. Catherine waited with the men and horses while Rab slipped inside. It was only a few minutes later that he returned to escort Catherine to a chamber. The men tended their mounts and bedded down.
The room the tavernkeeper showed Catherine and Rab was cold and dank. It felt as though it hadn’t been aired out in years, but there was wood and peat near the hearth. After he ordered food for them and his men, Rab lifted his scabbard off his back and laid his sword on the table. He found Catherine already building a cheery fire. She smiled over her shoulder at him as he slipped his arms around her waist.
“How do ye feel?” Rab asked.
“Tired. A little sore. But mostly anxious.”
“Kitty, we’re still on Buchanan land. I dinna want ye to be frightened because that will exhaust ye even faster. But I need ye to be alert. If aught happens while we’re riding, ken the men will protect ye first.”
“I ken. I’ll stay in the circle.” Catherine unpinned the brooch from Rab’s shoulder and dropped it in his sporran. She caught the extra length of plaid as it slid from his shoulder, wrapping it around hers, bringing their bodies closer. She rested her head against Rab’s chest. “I could stay like this forever.”
“Nay, ye couldnae. Ye look ready to drop.” Rab kissed her forehead before he scooped her into his arms. He carried her to the bed and helped unlace her kirtle. Since they were still waiting for their food, Catherine kept her chemise on. Rab removed his belt, placing three dirks on the table beside the bed and one under his pillow. He shrugged when he caught Catherine’s wide-eyed stare. He folded his plaid in half before wrapping it around Catherine. Despite being half its usual length, it still drowned Catherine. She cared not. She was warm, and she was far too fascinated with how the muscles in Rab’s legs bunched and corded once he toed off his boots and only wore his mid-thigh length leine.
When the food arrived, they shared their meal on the bed. As Catherine spread out the dishes, Rab double-checked the door’s lock then peered out the narrow window. He eyed the drop from the window ledge to the ground. He was certain it wasn’t deadly, but likely to injure them. He knew Catherine fit through the embrasure, but he foresaw himself getting wedged into the tight space. With a frown he gathered his sword from the table and leaned it against the bedside table.
“Where are we? Have ye passed through here before?” Catherine asked as she handed Rab a piece of roast chicken.
“I dinna ken. I havenae been here before, but I think we’re nearly on Graham territory. We’ll be safe there. They’re allied with the Stewarts and dinna care for the Campbells or the MacGregors. They may nae invite us to break bread, but if we can make it onto their land, we should be safe.”
“Which way will we ride in the morning?”
“North. If the men Cullen spotted pursued us, they probably turned north thinking we’re racing back to Edinample. We’re farther west than I planned.”
“Closer to Loch Lomond than Loch Earn.” Catherine watched Rab as he nodded. “Do we change our plans?”
“If we continue north from here, I expect us to wind up on MacGregor land that’s now the Campbells’. That puts us between Inveruglas and Edinample.”
“What aboot Andrew? Do ye think he’s tracked us at all?”
“I dinna ken. But we’re more likely to come across him now than we ever were since we’ll be closer to Inveruglas than we intended.” Rab moved the tray aside and pulled back the covers. He followed Catherine under them after they both tossed aside their last garments and the tray rested on the floor. They lay looking at one another, an arm tucked under their head. “I still dinna ken what’s best. It’s nae as though we refuse to tell our families or that we’re trying to hide.”
“Nor do we want to make it worse. But I genuinely believe that after Mòr’s and Caelan’s tempers settle, they will accept this is best for both clans. Mayhap it’ll never be the strong alliance we wish for, but it will at least end the raiding and fighting.” Catherine’s subconscious niggled, telling her she was naïve and a fool for believing anything could be so simple.
“I ken. We must weather the hellish storm first. If we can find Óg, and he sees ye’re well and married by yer choice, then he can tell Mòr while we tell ma family.”
“I’ll say the rosary a dozen times tomorrow if it can be that simple.” Catherine inched closer. “Are we horribly selfish and immature for what we’ve done?”
“I wonder the same. We arenae horribly.” Rab stroked Catherine’s cheek. “But we are selfish, and I canna deny that without kenning it’s a lie. But immature? Nay. It’s as though we’re the only ones who want to end the feud with Óg once he and I are both lairds. And regardless of whether I married ye or someone else, I dinna wish for ma children to inherit a feud with yer clan. We seem to be the only two people trying to end this rather than perpetuate it.”
“That’s how I feel. But will anyone else see it that way?”
“I dinna ken aboot yer clan, but I think they will in mine.”
“Mine? Yer? Arenae they the same now?” Catherine pressed up on her elbow, not appreciating the distance Rab’s words put between them. Rab took her hand and tugged until she laid down with her head against his shoulder.
“Ye are a MacLaren, Kitty. Ye’ve been meant to be one for seven years. But ye’re also a MacFarlane. I will never try to take that from ye. I will never ask ye to repudiate the clan of yer birth. I dinna ken what it must be like for a woman. The clan of ma birth is the only clan I will ever have. But for a woman, ye have two—the clan of yer birth, and the clan of yer marriage. I canna imagine being caught between the two. I dinna envy ye that. Ye made a choice when ye married me, but I dinna want ye to feel like ye must abandon them for me. I never want that.”
“Ye make it sound as though yer clan will accept me without hesitation. Yet there’s clearly hatred on yer side, nae just mine.”
Rab shook his head. “Ma men talk more than auld women. It seems there’s a lot that’s happened that I was none the wiser to. That irritates me to nay end.” Rab scowled as he thought about how blind he’d been to things going on around him at Edinample. It made him questions his soundness to lead. “It turns out it’s more than people wish we could marry because they ken how we’ve always felt. They still hope we’d marry because they believe it could end the feud. They dinna want to fight yer people, especially once ye’re a MacLaren. They’re tired of raiding and being raided. From what the men told me, the families that ken ye have grieved what was taken from ye. Mayhap they dinna have much sympathy for Mòr and Óg, but they do for ye.”
“I canna say what ma clansmen gossip aboot because I havenae been home in so long. But I ken people wished we married before I left for court. When I’ve visited Inveruglas since becoming a lady-in-waiting, people ask me aboot ye. They ask if I wish to marry. A few even seemed sad when they learned I was to marry Edgar. I dinna think ma clansmen and women dislike ye—or even Caelan and Nessa—but it’s pride and grief that makes them unable to move past the hostility.”
“Aye. Mòr and Óg willna find a warm bed to lie in among ma people, but ma clan would give ye the clothes off their back. I believe they will welcome ye for ye, but they’ll also welcome ye if it’ll end the violence.”
“Let’s pray that we’re right.” Catherine stroked her fingertips over Rab’s chest, enjoying the feel of the soft, curly hairs scattered across it.
