“I have never been inside, not even once. He keeps it locked.”
Sending Guy a conspiratorial glance, Katherine hurried to the front of the house. As Guy had said, the two large front doors, both weathered wood but beautifully paneled and engraved, were locked.
“What do you think to do?” Guy asked curiously.
She grinned at him, her eyes twinkling. “Explore.”
Guy’s eyes widened, and then he grinned, as well. “Perhaps the steward has the keys. But he will not give them to me. And the captain might be angry when he finds out what we have done.”
“Leave O’Neill to me.” Katherine thought but a moment. “I do not think the steward will give them to me, either, but…” Her smile flashed again. “I can try!”
Laughing together they turned, and came face-to-face with Macgregor. His face was carved into granite planes, as usual, but Katherine saw some kind of indecipherable gleam in his brown eyes. “Are you in need of aid, Lady Katherine?” he asked politely.
Since coming to the island, Katherine had changed her opinion of the big, bald, brutish-looking man. She had thought him an illiterate mercenary, but whenever he spoke to her, his words were polite and precise, indicating a level of education above the average. He also was fond of reading. And he did not play just the bagpipes with great skill, but the flute and fiddle as well. No, this big, oxlike man was not at all as he seemed. And the few times he found it necessary to speak with her, he always addressed her with respect, as if she were an earl’s daughter—or Liam’s wife.
“I wish to go inside,” Katherine said imperiously.
“No one goes inside the captain’s house.”
“Why not?”
He shrugged. “’Tis not my affair to ask.”
“Who has the key?”
“Undoubtedly the captain.”
“And the steward?”
Macgregor sighed. “He will not be happy when he learns you have gone inside.”
Katherine’s smile faded. Liam would not care that she had trespassed into his manor house—because he would be so furious over her escape. Briefly, a sadness she did not want to feel claimed her. Already she ached over their parting.
And Macgregor misunderstood. “There, my lady, do not fret. I will get you the keys—but you shall have to explain to the captain what you are about.”
Katherine cried out.
Beside her, Guy stood frozen, his eyes wide.
Katherine could not believe her eyes. She stared at the dusty parquet floors. Even at court she had not seen such precise workmanship. She stared at the paneled walls, surmising the wood to be rich mahogany. These carpenters had known their craft—they could not have come from the village below. She moved through the entrance hall. Staring first at one rich, brilliantly colored tapestry, and then at equally lovely oil paintings in gilded frames. She paused on the threshold of the dining hall.
That room was paneled in dark oak. The table was round, a long, paler version of the same wood, set on a heavy, intricately carved pedestal that boasted gargoyles. Upholstered chairs of state stood around it. And on the oak floors were red-and-gold Persian rugs.
Katherine looked at the two huge sideboards, at the dull silver tureens and vases, then up at the dust-covered gold chandelier. Inhaling, she ran into the next room. This chamber was smaller, but as richly furnished. Paintings hung on the walls. Heavy damask draperies covered the windows. Chairs and stools abounded. A bookcase graced one entire wall, the wood shelves crammed with tomes. And a huge desk, somehow balanced on delicate legs, the feet gold hooves, dominated the room.
Katherine sank down on the nearest chair. For some absurd reason, tears filled her eyes.
“Are you all right, lady?” Guy asked her in a whisper.
She blinked at him. “I do not understand that man.”
Guy said nothing, looking in awe around them again.
Katherine also looked around, more tears filling her eyes. “I do not understand him,” she said, more fiercely. “He plays pirate, but he is really a gentleman. He plays savage, but he is literate and wise. He calls that dank castle his home—when right next door there is a home that would please any prince—and any princess.”
Guy sat down on a wooden stool, the seat leather studded with brass. “He is a great man.”
“He plunders and pillages, Guy. He is a pirate.”
