She tried to smile, but it wobbled and turned down at the corners as her chin trembled.
“Just tell me,” he said a bit desperately.
“I came across four English soldiers on the road.” She looked up at the ceiling and blinked rapidly, her fingers tightening around his. “They wouldn’t let me pass. One was injured but didn’t want the help of a Scottish healer. The other…” She swallowed. “The other rode closer to me and…” She shuddered. “He told me that we will…He would…”
He was glad that he was holding on to her, because his anger spiked immediately, and at the moment her touch was the only thing anchoring him. “Cait,” he said on a strangled breath.
She was in her own world now and wasn’t listening to him. “He told me that he would be at my cottage tonight. If I cooperate, I will be well protected from the other English soldiers. And…he said if I told someone then I was just postponing the inevitable.”
Iain squeezed her hands, wanting her to stop. His anger was choking him, strangling the breath in his lungs. There was a strange noise, and Iain realized he’d growled like a damn dog. “Did this soldier give you a name?” he asked quietly.
“Donaldson. Lieutenant Donaldson.”
“He said he would return to your cottage tonight?”
She nodded. Her eyes were dry, but she was clearly shaken. Hell, he was shaken. And he was furious. Murderously furious.
He touched her chin with the pad of his thumb, moving her head one way and then the other. There were two bruises, one on either side of her jaw.
“He touched you.” It wasn’t a question, and he really didn’t need confirmation.
“He…” She swallowed. “He kissed me,” she whispered.
Iain was going to meet this Donaldson tonight at Cait’s cottage, and God help the man.
“Ye can’t go to the cottage,” Cait said. “Please, promise me ye won’t go.”
“Oh, I’m going.”
She grabbed his arm, her fingers digging in. “Don’t. It will only make things worse. A Scotsman can’t confront an English soldier like that.”
“This Scotsman can.”
She pulled away and struck him in the upper arm. It was so unexpected that he could only stare. “Damn ye,” she said between clenched teeth, her face twisted into an ugly grimace. “Damn ye.”
“Cait—”
She hit him again. And again. He didn’t even think about turning away or defending himself. The raw anger inside her paralyzed him. Her blows didn’t hurt, so he stood there and became the outlet of her anger as tears ran down her cheeks and sobs shook her body.
“Ye don’t listen,” she said. “None of ye listen. Ye just go and do what ye want without thinking of anyone else.” She balled up her hand into a fist and punched him; he’d tensed for it, and it didn’t hurt. “And then ye…die.” The hits came faster, and then she stopped and spun around, grabbing the hairbrush and hurling it across the room. “Ye all die. And ye don’t care about who ye leave behind all alone.”
Good Lord. She was coming undone. All of those years of staying strong had come to this.
She sank to the floor and buried her head in her hands, her shoulders shaking with sobs. Iain knelt next to her and gathered her trembling body to him, rocking her as he stroked her wet hair. “Cait,” he whispered, his heart breaking. Had she ever had a chance to grieve the loss of her daughter and husband? She’d been pushed out of her home by her grandparents, but had she ever given herself time to feel sorrow over that loss? He’d argued with her about confronting Donaldson, and she’d equated it with him marching toward his death.
He kissed the top of her head, wishing he could take away all of her pain and make it his. He settled more fully on the floor and pulled her onto his lap. He didn’t think she even noticed, she was so far into her grief.
“I hate him,” she said, her voice hoarse.
He wasn’t certain whether she was referring to Donaldson or John.
“I felt safe in my cottage, and now…” She sniffed. “And now I don’t. He took my safety away.”
Iain tucked her head beneath his chin and closed his eyes. “You’ll feel safe again. I promise you that, Cait. I’ll make it so you feel safe again.”
She rubbed her wet cheek against his coat. “I hate him for leaving me,” she whispered, and Iain figured she was talking about John now. “If he were here…”
“He would kill Donaldson.”
