She must be ready to leave without delay when the others did.
Still, she paused at her chamber door, unable quite to open it. How many more times would she walk through this doorway? She had lived here all her life. Seldom left. Oh, there had been a few trips of short distances to visit relations. Naught approaching a march to England.
She—just like Geordie, like Da—might not return.
The panel beside hers swung open, Geordie’s door. The harper stood there.
They gazed at one another in the gloom and silence of the hallway. Katrin could still hear commotion from the hall, and from outside also. Reagan would be preparing his men there.
“Mistress,” Finlay whispered. His gaze flicked over her swiftly. “Are ye well?”
“Aye.”Nay. She gestured to her chamber. “I must—I must prepare.”
He cocked an eyebrow.
All at once, she needed to speak to someone. He was here.
“Come in. Pray shut the door.”
He followed her into the room, though not far, and stood regarding her. “Your hands are trembling.”
So they were, still. Not just her hands, but in truth her whole body.
She stepped past him and shut the door firmly. Began talking.
“I have to prepare to leave, and I have no’ much time, only a matter o’ days. I am going wi’ my father. To meet up with Earl Randolph’s forces. To—to fight. Da has bade me nay, but I shall no’ listen to him. How can I listen to him? Am I a child that he might order to do as he wishes? I am seven and twenty. I have a right—a right to mak’ my ownchoices. There will be an argument when he learns I mean to accompany him. No doubt a grand one, and before all the men. But he canna stop me, can he?”
Speaking to Finlay felt almost like talking to herself. But his hands came up and lightly caught her shoulders.
“Wait,” he said. “What is this ye’re saying?”
“I am going wi’ my father when he leaves. For war.”
Finlay’s grasp tightened convulsively before gentling again. He stared into her eyes and she gazed back at him. A thousand thoughts, she saw moving there. As if he would say a hundred things but thought better of each one.
He drew a deep breath. “You wish to be a—a camp follower?”
“Nay. I mean to fight. Like Hulda, in yon story ye told.” Katrin tipped her head to one side. “I am no’ so unlike her, am I?”
Now a tremor passed through him, one she felt. “Nay, ye are no’ unlike her.”
“Was she no’ my ancestress, and a woman in her own right?”
“Katrin. Katrin, Hulda was trained for war.”
She tossed her head. “As am I. Geordie did train me, and I ha’ been working wi’ Reagan since, in the evenings. After supper.”
“I saw ye wi’ him,” Finlay said. “I thought—”
“What did ye think?”
“That, mayhap, ye grew feelings for him.”
“I do ha’ feelings for him. He is a good friend. He and his men will be a vital part o’ this fight. The fight I mean to join.”
Finlay said naught. Katrin stepped away from him, farther into the room. Had Finlay thought she loved the Gallowglass? Then what had he supposed that kiss she’d given him meant?
It meant naught now, she told herself grimly. It might all end here. Her life might end.
