“You’d rather make an enemy of me than an ally?”
Rab leaned forward, his arms still crossed. “Remember: Icarus learned what happens when a mon tries to fly too close to the sun.” He didn’t wait for Maxwell to puzzle through what he meant or for the conversation to go any further. If Maxwell wanted to be the king’s favorite, he could find another means. Rab swung into the saddle and turned back toward the castle. He’d made his appearance, even nabbed several hares. He no longer cared who might think poorly of him for leaving without the king’s permission. He figured most couldn’t think lower of him than they already did.
As he rode past Catherine, he was certain she was aware of him, but she made no move to glance in his direction or acknowledge him. He’d seen Andrew speaking to her and deduced he’d warned her away yet again. He kept his eyes forward and walked his horse around the assembled riders, who were mounting once more. He was nearly clear of the group when, yet another voice called to him.
“MacLaren.” Queen Elizabeth guided her horse to stand alongside where Rab stopped. He bowed over Bolt’s neck and waited for the queen to speak. “How fares your mother?”
Rab was unprepared for the question, so he hesitated. He suspected his father told his mother of how he carried out her nephews’-by-marriage deaths, but she had never said as much. However, she’d changed toward him, grown more distant since then. Rab worried his mother feared him or feared for his mortal soul.
“She’s well, Yer Majesty.”
“I haven’t seen Lady MacLaren in several years. When I was but a lass in Ireland, I traveled to the Isle of Tiree and met your mother. She was kind to me when I knew no one. It wasn’t long after that her father, the auld Laird MacLaren of Tiree, betrothed her to your father. I haven’t seen your mother since she became a MacLaren of Balquhidder. But my memories are still vivid and fond. I have faith she shares her kindness to all around her, especially as a mother and clan’s lady. I’m certain she continues to be a worthy influence on all who know her.”
Rab wanted to ask Queen Elizabeth to speak clearly rather than leaving him to deduce her meaning. With no disgust or animosity toward him, he hoped he understood her meaning. He believed she attempted to let him know she recognized him for being an honorable man, since she mentioned his mother’s kindness twice.
“I am most fortunate that Nessa of Tiree became Lady MacLaren of Balquhidder and ma mother. She is a vera warm-hearted woman, and I pray some of her virtues rubbed off on me.”
“I believe they did, young MacLaren. You may resemble your father, but anyone who tries will recognize your mother in you too.” Queen Elizabeth smiled. “Mayhap around the eyes.”
“Thank ye, Yer Majesty.” Rab observed the queen as she watched him before she turned away. Rab knew without moving that she watched Catherine. He was certain of it, even though he hadn’t turned to follow her gaze. He knew the queen to be astute.
“Hopefully, you can resolve all that you need to during this visit, MacLaren. Time is not on your side.” Queen Elizabeth spurred her horse, leaving Rab to bow once more over Bolt’s neck. He made his way back to his chamber, where he once more lay on his bed and stared at the canopy.
In only a day, I’ve spoken to Kitty again, even caught her laughter. I’ve watched the lass I kenned enjoy a hunt she didna want to attend. I’ve had Maxwell Douglas issue me veiled threats in the form of an alliance. And the queen—I think—means she understands I’m nae to blame fortheirchoices, and she may ken ma feelings for Kitty. Would that ma conversation with the Bruce should go so smoothly.
If he admits me to the Privy Council chamber tomorrow, mayhap I can have the matter settled before sundown. I dinna ken what the outcome will be, but at best, I will be back on Bolt’s back the morning after tomorrow and back on ma way to Balquhidder before I watch Óg betroth Kitty to someone else. As though I didna notice the men watching her today. It willna be long.
Rab closed his eyes but jolted awake several hours later when he heard the bells peeling for the evening meal.
* * *
Once more, fighting her desire to search for Rab, Catherine made her way to the evening meal. He hadn’t attended the evening meal the day he arrived or the day prior when they’d gone on the hunt. Catherine hadn’t seen Rab all day, but she’d listened to men talking about him. It had made her cringe at first when they described him as though he were some primordial beast, but pride swelled in her chest as she followed the men into the Great Hall. While they’d sounded disgusted at Rab’s strength and prowess in the lists that day, Catherine thought about the years she’d watched him at the gatherings and how he’d only grown more impressive with each tournament.
The hair on the back of her neck rose, making her shift in her seat. As though he were a lodestone, Catherine’s eyes followed Rab as he made his way to a far table with his men. They sat apart from everyone else, and Catherine wasn’t sure if that was wise or foolish. She considered the distance kept them from getting into any arguments with other clan delegates, but it also made them stand out more. She wished for Rab’s sake that they could merely blend in. But the niceties and formalities of court were foreign to the men accompanying Rab.
“Heathens,” Rebecca Kerr spat as she glared in Rab’s direction. Catherine had barely taken a seat, but she glanced toward the MacLarens. She noticed that each man had a whisky flask before him rather than a wine chalice. Three servants stood at various spots along their table while the men speared large hanks of meat from the platters with what appeared to be dirks rather than eating knives.
“I hear men as massive as they have massive appetites for all things,” Evina giggled, but it died on her lips as the Lowlanders glared at her. Normally, the women had no qualms jesting about the Highlanders’ many renowned strengths. But at this meal, disdain consumed them too much to even consider the men’s desirability.
“Aye. My uncle says he’s close to signing contracts for my marriage.” Catriona announced as she reached for her chalice. “Aboot bluidy time I get back to the Highlands. He’d best have paired me with one of those braw men and not some gangly toad from down here.”
Catherine watched as Catriona darted her eyes toward Rab with speculation. A stab of jealousy coursed through Catherine as she wondered if that was what Rab discussed with Maxwell the previous day during the hunt. Rab left the hunting party immediately after and didn’t appear like a man who’d settled a betrothal. He’d appeared sullen and even more withdrawn until Catherine watched him stop to talk to the queen. Despite the distance, she could tell his face relaxed, even if his posture didn’t.
“You’d have that criminal?” Rebecca demanded.
“‘She who is without sin among you, let her throw a stone at him first.’” Catriona quoted the scripture, changing it to make her point toward Rebecca. “Your family isn’t without scandal nor criminals. How fares your cousin, Brighde? Word is she’s immensely happy in the Highlands with her husband and bairns. Alexander Sinclair is one of the brawest of them all.”
Catherine bit her lip to keep from smirking. It was a faded memory for many that Brighde’s father, the former Kerr laird, had arranged a marriage to the infamous Randolph de Soules. People knew him for being on the wrong side of morals and the law until he died for his conspiracy. Rebecca’s other cousin, Mary, had once been the merciless ringleader of the ladies-in-waiting. Her reputation for cruelty matched Sarah Anne Hay’s. She’d conspired with Sarah Anne’s uncle, Archibald Hay, to abduct Deirdre Fraser, who married Alexander Sinclair’s brother Magnus. Mary carried on an illicit affair with Archibald until they both died for their crimes. The Kerrs hardly had a sterling reputation.
Rebecca scowled at Catriona, making it clear she wished to make a rebuttal, but nothing came to mind. She turned her attention to Catherine, who cocked a challenging eyebrow. While Catherine got along with most of the ladies-in-waiting, she had a reputation for being blunt when pushed to share her opinion or to defend herself. Rebecca opted to remain quiet, not wanting to take on both Highland women.
“Do they even chew or merely inhale their food?” Margaret Hay snarked. She had no qualms about pointing at the MacLarens, who appeared to gobble their meal. Catherine assumed they wished to finish the meal and duck out of sight as soon as they could. Their serious miens made them appear even more intimidating than their reputation did. Still using dirks instead of eating knives, the men guzzled their supper. Only Rab ate with a modicum of decorum. He took smaller bites and chewed longer, but his elbows rested on the table when he wasn’t adding more food to his trencher. Catherine’s brow furrowed for a moment, knowing Rab’s mother had instilled better manners into both her sons. Catherine supposed it was testimony to how badly the MacLarens wished to escape the Great Hall.
“I’d run away to a convent before ever agreeing to marry such a barbarian,” Sileas Gunn noted. Catherine turned toward Sileas, surprised that the reserved Highlander spoke up against one of their own. “Even by our standards, he’s uncouth for a noblemon.”
It took great restraint for Catherine to point out that manners did not make the man. Sileas’s cousin Edgar had sufficient manners and turned out to be as dishonorable as the day was long.
Catherine and the other ladies-in-waiting had ventured to an almshouse that morning to offer donated knitted woolens to the orphans and impoverished. While she’d tried to focus on being gracious with those who she encountered, the other ladies ignored those less fortunate than themselves, and instead spent the time discussing various upcoming weddings and matches in the making. Evina and Sileas both had men courting them, and Sarah Anne and Margaret were closer to the altar than Catherine. The two sisters’ potential husbands were as desirable as the peevish women, but it was likely they could both wed by the end of the year.
