“But I can keep you away from him,” Andrew countered.
“You’ve warned me more than once, Óg. As much as you tell me being with him puts me in danger, the opposite it true too. I won’t risk his life because someone sees me looking at him or talking to him.”
“Aye. Don’t forget stags and fowl aren’t the only things being hunted.” Andrew looked pointedly at Catherine’s left hand as it stroked Timber’s neck. She scowled, disliking being likened to prey, but she supposed that’s what the marriage market really was: a hunt to bag the best bride. While there had been few men looking in her direction ever since the debacle with Edgar Gunn, more would pay attention if they believed not only could they gain themselves a bride but cast Rab asunder. Catherine nodded and offered a tight smile before Andrew moved to tend to his mount. The fun was short-lived.
Chapter 4
Rab watched Catherine throughout the hunt, not at all surprised when she and Catriona took off and then claimed the largest prey as their own. He’d noticed the bow she carried. It was the one he’d given her at their third summer meeting at a Highland Gathering. It had been his first bow when he was barely more than a boy. He was far too large to use it, even by then, but it still was a perfect fit for Catherine. As she shot the pheasants, he noticed her arrows’ fletching were the same he’d taught her to make. He knew both Andrews and her father taught her to hunt, but he’d encouraged her to enter the women’s archery contests once he gave her his bow. She’d done well, tying with both Mairghread Sinclair, who was now Lady Mackay, and Mairghread’s cousin Blair Sutherland, who was now Lady Cameron.
Pride surged through him as he observed her riding alongside Andrew. He’d ground his teeth when the Bruce ordered the women to the front, frustrated that he could no longer ride parallel to her and distrusting the surrounding men not to let their larger horses push Catherine’s smaller mare aside. He’d breathed a sigh of relief, even though he observed Andrew tense and rise in his stirrups, when Catherine pulled ahead. He knew her plan, having thought the same thing, but assuming he’d have to fall behind to make his way around the boulders. It didn’t surprise him, like it did several courtiers, that Catherine and Catriona were expert marksmen. He’d known Catriona longer than he had Catherine. His mother and Catriona’s were friends. He knew the two ladies-in-waiting were cast from the same mold.
As the riders brought their horses to the loch’s edge to drink, Rab wished for nothing more than to congratulate her, but he kept his distance. No one had spoken to him since he joined the party in the bailey. He supposed it was better to be ignored than being accused of being a rapist and murderer as he’d heard three ladies-in-waiting say that morning as he left the chapel. He’d forced an impassive expression, pretending as though he hadn’t listened to them, when all he wanted was to scream from the rafters that he hadn’t been there. That he’d punished the culprits in a way likely to send his own soul to hell for eternity. He wanted to speak to Catherine and apologize, as he had with Andrew. Instead, he kept to himself, only Cullen riding out with him. The experienced warrior rode close to his tánaiste, but he knew Rab was in no mood for banter.
“MacLaren.”
Rab wanted to cringe as Maxwell Douglas walked toward him. While he didn’t mind the man, he preferred not to have his name broadcast for all and sundry to hear. He held his horse’s halter and waited for the burly man to make his way to Rab’s side.
“Douglas.” Rab nodded, unsure whether he should extend his arm. When Douglas glanced down but didn’t extend his, Rab was even more uncertain if the other man had expected them to grasp forearms.
“You’re a brave mon to ride out with so many arrows that could wind up in your back.” Maxwell’s smile hardly appeared jovial.
“I suspect that’s what the king hopes will happen, so he doesnae have to deal with me.” Rab found no point in trying to hold up the pretenses that he was at court to pay his clan’s taxes. The raid was widespread knowledge.
“That’s most unfortunate.” Maxwell pinned Rab’s gaze in place as the older man assessed him. “A wee birdie told me you carried out your cousins’ sentence.”
Rab fought the temptation to glance at Andrew, furious that the man shared with Maxwell what had been told in confidence. Rab merely stared at Maxwell, unblinking for so long that Maxwell shifted his gaze.
“The king already knows, MacLaren, as you know. Mayhap the birdie wasn’t quite so wee.” Maxwell nodded before glancing back over his shoulder to where the Bruce stood with Maxwell’s nephew and Andrew.
Rab released the tension in his jaw, not pleased that anyone other than King Robert, Rab’s father, and the handful of men who accompanied him that morning knew what he’d done. But it relieved him that Maxwell hadn’t learned it somewhere else. Hadn’t learned it from Andrew.
“You should know before—”
“Why?” Rab interrupted. Maxwell’s brow furrowed. “Why should I ken what ye ken? Why should ye tell me?”
“Blunt. You don’t understand how this game is played at court. That’s one thing you should know. You are a Highlander among judgmental Lowlanders. Bluntness might suit you well among our people, but it will win you no favors here.”
“Whose favor should I curry? Yers?” Rab cocked an eyebrow. He knew he was blunt by anyone’s standards, and a small part of him found a perverse pleasure in watching the seasoned courtier shift uncomfortably.
“It certainly doesn’t hurt your cause if you did. But, no. I am not the one who needs winning over. That would be the king. But you should know that it isn’t the MacFarlanes who have cried the loudest. Dennis Buchanan claims your people have set their sights on making his clan next. While the king views him for the fool he is, plenty of other people are taking up his standard against your clan. I jest not when I say you should be wary of ending up with a back full of arrows.”
“Ye’ve told me what ye ken. But ye havenae told mewhyye’re telling me.” Rab crossed his arms, his muscles bulging. But they were of little consequence to the older man, whose own arms appeared like they belonged to a blacksmith.
“Because your troubles with the MacFarlanes shall get the Campbells involved. They’re not only allies with the MacFarlanes but barely speak to your clan. I don’t need Brodie Campbell holding any more influence than he already does. Bluidy Campbells already think they own all of Glencoe.”
“That’s because they do.” Rab smirked. He understood there was little love lost between the Campbells and the Douglases when it came to their rivalry for being the most powerful clan in Scotland. However, as much as he disliked the Campbells as a clan, he respected Brodie and his younger brother, Dominic. However, he minded that the Campbells’ incursion into MacGregor land, after King Robert gifted them a sizable piece of MacGregor territory, meant the MacGregors were encroaching on MacLaren soil.
“Either way, no one else will guard you from those who lurk in the dark shadows at court. No one else will ally with you and possibly face the Campbells.”
“Other than to prove ye have a pair of bollocks, mayhap even large ones, what do ye want?”
“Like I said, I don’t need Brodie Campbell and his neb stuck in the middle of this.”
“Ye wish to be the one to broker the truce,” Rab cut in, not waiting for an explanation after all. “Ye aspire to be the great statesmon who ends the violence and brings the MacLarens and MacFarlanes together to break bread. How excited ye must have been to discover the MacFarlanes’ tragedy, to ken ye can use their misery to enhance yer standing. And that I should be so loathed will only make the accomplishment so much grander.”
“You may have surmised the situation, but you haven’t turned me down.”
“What is there to turn down? Ye’ve nae made an offer, and I’m nae standing here to hear one. I dinna need to be yer pawn. I’m up to ma eyeteeth in shite. I’m nae making this disaster yer crowning glory.”
