Very much as it would happen in the future when he inherited the titles, lands and people of the Clan MacLerie. His word and his actions would send men to war, deprive others of their lands, direct marriages and contracts, both binding and severing relationships—and he would bear responsibility for it all.
The image of a humbled Catriona, beaten down both by her husband’s hand and the scorn of the villagers, horrified him more than he could say. To see the spirit and the passion within that woman be less than the woman he knew she could be, would be, bothered him more than he could explain.
‘So? How would you take him to be?’ he asked once more, glancing from under his brow to watch his father’s reaction.
‘I think he will do only what he deems necessary to restore his honour. I will speak with him as well.’
Aidan nodded. His father’s words would carry weight with the warrior to mitigate Catriona’s part in this. Feeling less burdened now, knowing that this would all be worked out, each of them playing their part in getting past the gossip he’d caused, Aidan thanked his father and turned to leave.
‘Once we return from Athdar’s wedding and decide on your own betrothal, I think you should take over the running of Ord Dubh. Move there. Make it to your own liking. Take your pick of the men and establish it as your holding. ’Tis time, ’tis past time, really.’
Ord Dubh, black hammer, was a small stone keep that sat on a round hammer-shaped hill at the southernmost spot on MacLerie lands. It was a choice parcel of land and a good place to prove himself to be his father’s heir. So, while his newly betrothed wife was living here and becoming accustomed to the ways of the MacLeries, he would be preparing their home, his home, in the south.
Away from the temptation named Catriona MacKenzie.
With these plans in place, all that need happen now was Gowan’s arrival home to sort through things with him and see Catriona settled back into her husband’s regard. No matter that he could easily see her standing on the stone balcony that Ord Dubh’s keep boasted, watching his return and waiting there for him.
Not with Gowan. Not another woman waiting.
Catriona. His.
Shaking off thoughts and dreams that could not be, he held out his hand to his father.
‘My thanks for your support, Father,’ he said, shaking his hand.
Leaving the chamber, he made his way to the small room he claimed as his in the other tower and went to bed. His dreams were filled with the lush images of Catriona, naked in his arms, on his bed, in his keep. Her brown hair pouring over them, shimmering in the light of candles. Her eyes so icy blue they burned as she gazed down at him, her legs tight around his hips as she rode him. Until they both cried out in pleasure.
He awakened, sweat-covered and hard, unable to find a way back to a peaceful sleep with such dreams yet tormenting him.
Hopefully, Gowan would arrive home soon and take Catriona out of his thoughts and dreams.
* * *
Catriona sat near the small window, using the sun’s weak rays to light the clothing she was mending. Her back ached from the position, so she welcomed the knock at the door, knowing only it gave her the opportunity to stand and stretch out the tight muscles that complained even now. She lifted the latch, expecting Muireall to be there, on her daily errands and with wee Donald on her hip. Instead she found Lady MacLerie. Dropping into a deep curtsy and remaining there, she could not think of why the lady would be standing at her door.
‘My lady,’ she said, without lifting her head. ‘How can I serve you?’
‘May we speak inside?’ the lady asked. Cat stood and moved back so the lady could enter. Though for what reason, she knew not.
‘There, Peggy,’ the lady said, pointing at the table.
Cat then noticed the girl standing behind the lady and the basket she carried. With a nod to her, young Peggy hefted the basket on to the table. Still puzzled over the lady’s reason for visiting her, she watched as Lady MacLerie whispered some instructions to her maid and waited for her to speak. Though a common sight in the village, visiting the sick, speaking to villagers to ask after their situations and conditions and other duties expected of her, Catriona had not met or spoken to her.
‘May we sit?’ the lady asked.
Cursing her own lack of manners under her breath, she pulled out the two best stools from under the table and waited for the lady to settle herself on one of them before sitting next to her. When the lady reached out and took her hand, patting it gently, alarm and fear set in. Shaking her head against the reason for this visit, Cat waited to hear the terrible words. For the other reason the lady visited here was to...
‘I am so sorry to tell you that Gowan has died.’
It could not be. He was an able soldier and had been on many dangerous missions and fought in many battles for the MacLerie. His assignment this time was not one of those. This must be—
‘—A mistake, my lady. Gowan was at one of your holdings, training some men. Munro said he is on his way here...to...’ She stopped, noticing the way the lady’s gaze slid away from hers for a moment, acknowledging the shameful incident without saying a word.
‘He will arrive in a day or so,’ she said, deciding she needed to look out the door to see if her husband approached even now.
But the lady’s grasp on her hand tightened, not allowing her to rise. When she glanced at the face of the woman who’d tamed the Beast of the Highlands, she read the truth of it—Gowan was dead.
Gowan was dead.
