He had no right, but he asked anyway. “Forgive me, Cate. What I did was wrong. I will spend the rest of our lives proving to you how wrong and how much I love you, if you will let me.”
She held his gaze. For one long heartbeat, he thought she might give him another chance.
But he’d hurt her too much. She looked away, silence her only response.
Refusing to accept the truth that was staring at him, Gregor tried the only thing he could think to do. But when he put his lips on hers, hoping to reawaken their love—to prove that what they had couldn’t be denied—all he felt was the poignant ache of loss.
As his lips touched hers, he felt the warmth, tasted the familiar sweetness and hint of mint, but the most important thing was missing: her response. She didn’t want to kiss him. She didn’t want him at all.
This wasn’t a faerie tale. A kiss didn’t heal wounds or make everything all right.
He feared nothing he could do would ever make it right. But damn it, he was going to try.
Twenty-six
As soon as Helen declared Cate well enough to travel, the two women and a small retinue of her father’s men removed to Dunstaffnage Castle in Lorn on the west coast of Scotland. A good portion of the king’s army—including her father himself—had gone south to Galloway to join in the battle against the MacDowells. What remained of the king’s men had been left behind in Perth to help in the slighting of the castle, continuing with the king’s policy of destroying Scotland’s fortresses so they could not be used against him.
In addition to Cate and Helen, there were about forty men on thebirlinnthat sailed from the River Tay to the Firth of Tay, out to the North Sea and around the northern coast of Sutherland, and into the Atlantic. The captain was none other than Erik MacSorley (whose war name of Hawk became clear when she saw his ship), who along with his terrifying kinsman Lachlan MacRuairi, the fierce warrior Tor MacLeod (whom she remembered from her rescue), Arthur Campbell, and—much to her constant irritation—Gregor, comprised the Phantom portion of her escort.
The royal castle of Dunstaffnage was kept by Arthur Campbell and his wife, Anna, but with most of Scotland’s major strongholds still in the possession of the English—including the castles of Edinburgh, Stirling, Berwick, and Roxburgh—it served as the temporary seat of the king’s court. As such, it was a beehive of constant activity, buzzing with courtiers and other important nobles.
For the first time in her life, Cate found herself feted, and openly acknowledged as the king’s daughter. Along with the endless parade of nobles through the gates, there were feasts, fine gowns “fit for a princess,” and even a jeweled circlet for her twenty-first saint’s day.
It was as if her father was trying to make up for the fifteen years they’d lost together in a few weeks. She suspected she was also serving as a substitute for the family that was still being held in captivity. She wasn’t the king’s only natural child, however, and she was looking forward to meeting a couple of her five half-siblings in the ensuing weeks.
She did have a family, as it turned out, although her heart still pinched at the thought of those whom she’d lost. She had not forgotten her vow to ensure that the children were well cared for. It was the only thing she’d asked of her father, and he’d promised to look into it. As soon as it could be arranged, she would be reunited with Pip, Eddie, and Maddy.
Although Cate enjoyed all the attention, it was a bit overwhelming and at times even a little intimidating. She was worried about doing or saying the wrong thing. Despite her recent foray into “acting like a lady” to attract Gregor, Cate wasn’t used to all the rules, expectations, and accoutrements of the nobility. For that, Lady Anna had been an enormous help.
Still, three weeks after arriving at Dunstaffnage, Cate found herself missing the freedom of her life at Roro and chafing at the bit to resume her training. Her back was still a little sore when she lifted her arm, but she feared that if she sat around pretending to sew for any longer, her fighting skills were going to be completely atrophied. But despite her father’s obvious pride in what she’d done to save his life, she wasn’t sure how the king would react to his daughter taking to the practice yard. Moreover, she suspected who would insist on overseeing.
Gregor had not tried to approach her or speak with her privately since that day in her chamber at Perth, but he was an ever-present source of watchfulness hovering around her like an unwelcome, forbidding dark cloud. The other Phantoms traveled with her father to Galloway, but Gregor hadn’t gone with them. What she didn’t know was whether it was his choice or her father’s.
Either way, she didn’t like it. When she found herself enjoying the company of a dinner companion, one of the dozens of young knights and lords of the royal castle—she suspected her father’s involvement in this—a servant would appear or the music would stop unexpectedly, and she would catch him glowering at her with one of those dark, dangerous stares he was getting so good at.
She had to admit that maybe once or twice (or maybe more than once or twice), she’d egged him on a little with her flirting. Thinking of all the times she’d been forced to watch him do the same, it was rather fun to be on the other side.
For a while. But as it was clear from the number of times she’d told him to leave her alone that he wasn’t going to listen, she did the only thing she could do and ignored him.
It wasn’t working very well. Despite the firm resolve in her head, she was too blasted aware of him everywhere else. If he would just leave her alone, she could get on with her life. Forget about him and move on.
He’d broken her heart, hadn’t he?
But she couldn’t help noticing that the charming rogue wasn’t so charming anymore. She hadn’t seen him talk to any woman except Helen or Lady Anna since they’d arrived. He didn’t have time. He was too busy staring at her and trying to intimidate anyone who came near her.
Day after day, he was there. Her own personal sentinel. Dark, forbidding, and maybe a little rough around the edges with the unkempt brigand look he seemed to have adopted, but still undeniably the most handsome man she’d ever seen.
And sometimes at night (very well,manytimes at night), she would think of everything else. How it had felt to be in his arms. The way her heart had jumped when he surged inside her. The warmth and possessiveness of his hands covering her body. How much she’d liked to touch him, to feel the granite-hard muscles of his chest and arms under her fingertips. She remembered the heat of his mouth, the lash of his tongue, the heady taste of mint. She remembered how the bottom had fallen out of her stomach every time he’d kissed her.
She still felt ill when she thought of what she’d seen at the alehouse, but she’d been more relieved by what he’d told her than she wanted to admit. Hehadstopped. Maybe not soon enough, but he hadn’t been able to go through with it. Did it mean something?
Good God, just listen to her! She was a fool. She couldn’t soften. He didn’t deserve her forgiveness.
Why couldn’t he just leave her alone?
She redoubled her efforts to forget about him. A distraction was what she needed. Surely she could find one in the bevy of young knights and lords her father brought before her?
That night she danced with every unattached young man she could find and whittled it down to a few possibilities. But inexplicably the next day, at what was to be her belated saint’s day celebration, two of the men were nowhere to be found, and the third—one of her father’s most vaunted knights, Sir David Lindsay—appeared to be nursing a very ugly-looking black eye, among other cuts and bruises.
