Suspecting who was responsible, Cate’s gaze slid to the dark corner where her sentinel stood watch. He wasn’t alone but talking to her father, who’d just returned from Galloway. Although “talking” was putting it nicely. From the look on her father’s face, Gregor was getting an earful.
It wasn’t hard to guess why. Her eyes narrowed, even from across the room she could see that Gregor’s nose was about twice the size of normal and had a new crook at the bridge.
She might have been amused at the irony of his sabotaging her flirtations as she had done to him previously, if she weren’t so angry and exhausted from the effort to ignore him. This had gone on long enough. She and her surly, overbearing sentinel were going to have a little talk.
Squaring her shoulders, Cate marched across the room ready to do battle.
There was a reason they called it penance. It wasn’t supposed to be easy; it was supposed to hurt. And God’s blood, it did.
For Gregor, standing to the side while Cate blossomed like a rose in the sun, watching her shine and captivate everyone around her—not just because she was the king’s daughter, or because she was about the most adorable thing he’d ever seen all dressed up like a princess, but by the sheer force of her personality—was self-flagellation, a hair shirt, and whatever else monks used to torture themselves all rolled into one.
For God’s sake, did she have to smile so much? She was too damned pretty when she smiled.
Not interfering, not putting his fist through the teeth of every one of the men who’d vied for her attention or dared—dared—to even think about touching her was the hardest thing Gregor had ever done.
But she deserved the attention, and by God, if he had to chain himself in a room to see that she got it, he would.
Apparently Bruce had reached a similar conclusion. “You are fortunate I do not toss you in a pit prison for attacking Lindsay like that.”
Gregor clamped his jaw down tight. “The bastard deserved it.”
“The ‘bastard’ is one of my best knights and did nothing more than dance with her.”
Gregor gritted his teeth. Lindsay had done far more than dance—the young knight had let his gaze drop down to her chest and lingered for a full three seconds.Three!Gregor had counted every blasted one of them.
He wouldn’t apologize. Hell, no. Lindsay was lucky Gregor hadn’t blackened both his eyes and had left him with a few unbroken ribs.
Bruce studied him. “At least he seems to have given as much as he got. You aren’t looking so pretty. How are you planning to win my daughter looking like that?”
Gregor turned from his view of Cate across the room to shoot him a glare. “Cate doesn’t care about things like that.”
She loved him for who she thought him to be. He just had to prove to her that he was that man.
“You’d better hope so. Do it again and I’ll banish you to the Isles. You can be the most handsome man on the Isle of St. Kilda.” The king laughed at his own jest, but then took a look at his broken nose and grimaced. “I knew this was a bad idea. I never should have agreed to let you stay here. You were needed with us in the south.”
Gregor felt a twinge of guilt but pushed it aside. He was the only member of the Guard who hadn’t been in Galloway to watch the MacDowells fall. “I needed to be here.” With Cate.
“Your brother is skilled,” the king said in a more even voice. “But he is not you.”
Gregor wasn’t surehewas himself anymore. He hadn’t picked up a bow since the day he’d shot Cate, and he didn’t know if he would ever want to again. He wasn’t sure he had the stomach for it anymore. Any of it.
“John will improve,” he said. His brother deserved a chance to fight. For too long he’d been doing Gregor’s duty for him. Gregor was laird, and it was time he started acting like it.
The king gave him a long look. “I hope you know what you are doing. I’m not convinced she’ll have you back—or that you deserve to be forgiven after what you told me.” Gregor clamped his mouth closed. To get the king to agree, he’d been forced to confess the basics of what had happened. It had been a risk, but he’d escaped with his body parts intact—all of them. Bruce might not have been faithful to the women in his life himself, but he wouldn’t tolerate anything else for his daughter. Illogical or not, for Gregor it wasn’t an issue. Cate had his loyalty and fidelity for life, if she wanted it. “Be assured that if you hurt her again, I’ll run you through myself.”
Catching a glance of the expression on the face of the woman who’d just started toward them, Gregor said wryly, “You won’t need to.”
It seemed the princess was finally deigning to speak to him.
A slow smile turned the king’s mouth as he saw his daughter. There was undeniable pride in his face when he spoke. “If she weren’t so cute as she is, I would almost wish she’d been born a lad. I’d have made her one of the best knights in Christendom.”
Gregor didn’t doubt it. But he was rather glad she was a lass.Hislass. For if it was the last thing he did, he would win her heart back.
He could see the outrage on her face as she stopped before them, sent an angry glare in his direction, and turned to lift on her tiptoes to give her father a kiss on the cheek.
“Are you having fun, Caty?” Bruce asked. “I wasn’t here to celebrate your actual saint’s day with you, but I hope today will make up for it.”
“It’s perfect, Father, thank you.” She glared at Gregor again for good measure. Putting a hand on her head, she said, “And thank you for the circlet as well—it is beautiful.”
