It wasn’t arrogance, exactly. Or superiority. More a separation. He would laugh, flirt, and jest with everyone (except for her), but there was always an arm’s length between him and the world. An air of caution.
To the uninformed, hers might seem an impossible quest—the most handsome man in Scotland and a cute-ish twenty-year-old bastard who was better with a sword than with a needle?—but Cate knew there was a connection between them that defied logic or explanation. A connection that went beyond skin-deep.
She might not be a raving beauty, but she did have many other good qualities. She was loyal and trustworthy and would fight to the death for the people she loved. Peoplelikedher—except for Seonaid and her friends, but they weren’t nice to anyone.
If only Cate could curb her temper. And her passionate nature. And behave more like a lady. But she was working on those things.
That she and Gregor were meant to be together might seem a rather bold claim for someone who’d seen him no more than a handful of times in five years, but she had faith. She understood him like no one else. Not even his mother—perhapsespeciallyhis mother. God knew Lady Marion had loved him, but she hadn’t understood his drive.“He’s so handsome,”she would say.“He can have whatever he wants. Why must he put himself in danger for a man who might never be king when he could marry a king’s ransom?”
But Gregor was a man of deeds and accomplishments. He wanted to earn his way. That was why he fought so hard. Indeed, his dedication, loyalty, and integrity were the things she most admired about him. There was no man she believed in more.
She’d learned so much about him from his family, including John, who was still staring at her.
Cate laughed and, in what must be some primitive feminine instinct that had previously never been seen in her, she twirled. Twirled! “Do you think so?”
A broad smile spread across his familiar features. John was so much a brother to her, sometimes she forgot how handsome he was. Not outrageously so like Gregor—who could be?—but his strong, masculine features were warm and pleasing. Especially now when he was laughing (rather than scowling) at her.
“Aye, I’ve never seen you look so fine.” Suddenly, his eyes narrowed. “What’s this about, lass?”
Cate looked away, pretending to adjust her gown, so he wouldn’t see her embarrassment. “Nothing. Has Gregor arrived? Is that why you came to fetch me?”
He paused for too long before responding, as if he’d guessed exactly what this was about. She plastered an innocent look on her face and turned back expectantly. She didn’t think he was fooled, but then he swore, remembering his purpose. “Ah hell, it’s the lad. Have you seen him? I sent him into the village three hours ago with some coin to purchase some spice for the wine. If he’s gambled it away again…”
Cate stiffened. “Pip didn’t gamble away anything. It was stolen from him by that horrible Dougal MacNab.”
“So he says. But Iain saw the lad playing raffle at the alehouse that day.”
“I gave Pip that money from his share of the fish we caught; it was his own to do with as he liked. And Iain shouldn’t be tale-telling. Perhaps I should mention to Iain’s wife that he was at the alehouse the day the rents were paid?” Their old retainer had a fondness for Annie and her ale. His wife had barred him from both. Cate gave John a knowing look. “Besides, you shouldn’t be so quick to jump to conclusions. For example, I might think that you had sent Pip for some spices because you were drinking Gregor’s good wine again and trying to cover it up.”
John’s eyes narrowed. “Cate…”
The warning fell on deaf ears. He couldn’t intimidate her even if he tried. “It won’t work, you know. He will know the difference.”
Gregor had a taste for the fine things in life—from food, to drink, to horses, to women. The last would change when he found the right woman. In other words, her.
Was she being a fool? Was it ludicrous to think he could ever love her back?
John muttered a curse and dragged his fingers back through his dark-blond hair. “Damn it, I know. But he shouldn’t leave it here for so long if he doesn’t want someone to drink it.”
Cate tried not to laugh. “Let me know how that excuse works.”
John shook his head. “You’ll know.” He grimaced, unconsciously rubbing his shoulder as if already feeling the thrashing he would take on the practice yard. “I hope he hasn’t learned any more new wrestling moves. The last time I had bruises for a week.”
Cate laughed, walked over to him, stood up on her toes, and placed a fond peck on his cheek. “Poor John.” When she drew back, his eyes looked a little odd. She hoped he wasn’t coming down with the ague. Maddy had been sick for a week.
“Don’t worry about the money,” she told him. “I’ll see where Pip has gone. He’s probably on his way back with your spices right now.”
Despite what she’d told John, Cate wasn’t so certain about Pip’s location. After searching the tower house and the handful of wooden buildings inside the peel, she hurried along the path in the woods the short distance to the village. If she happened to be heading toward the alehouse, she told herself it didn’t mean she didn’t trust him. Pip—Phillip—was a troubled, confused fifteen-year-old lad who’d been abandoned by his mother. He needed someone to believe in him. And Cate did. Really. She was just being diligent in her covering of all possible locations.
As it turned out, Cate’s faith in him was warranted, although she would have rather found him at the alehouse.
Barely had the old wooden motte-and-bailey tower house of Dunlyon, built by Gregor’s grandfather on the site of an ancient hill fort, faded into the distance when she heard a burst of laughter followed by the excited shouts and cries of children playing, coming from the River Lyon on her right.
She smiled and continued on her way. But a small prickle at the back of her neck made her stop and listen again. In the cacophony of noise she tried to sort out the different sounds. A chill spread over her skin, and she started to run. It wasn’t laughing, but jeers. And it wasn’t the excited shouts of children playing, but the inciting chants of a mob.
Her heart pounded as she ran through the canopy of trees and burst out into the bright sunshine of the boggy riverbank. Her stomach dropped seeing the circle of boys—although two or three of them were already the size of full-grown men—gathered around watching something.
Please don’t let it be…
