“You know I don’t give a shite about any of that. I’ll do my duty to my uncle without being bartered to the highest bidder. My position in the king’s army will be enough. What’s this really about, Cate? I thought you wanted to marry me. I thought you loved me.”
“I do…I do.” That was the problem. “But I don’t want you to feel honor-bound or compelled into anything.”
“Look at me, sweetheart.” She did as he asked. “Hear me well. I knewexactlywhat I was doing last night, and what it meant. I am honor-bound to marry you, aye, but I wanted to marry you before I made love to you.”
Her heart seemed to be coming out her throat. “You did?”
“Aye, I care about you, and I’m going to do my damnedest to be the kind of man you deserve.” He stroked her chin with his thumb again, then moved it up to play over her lip. “Now will you answer me?”
She smiled, tears of happiness brimming in her eyes. “Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you.”
His growl of something like “it’s about damned time” was lost, as he rolled on top of her and covered her mouth with his.
He spent the next hour telling her without words exactly how much he wanted to marry her. He did protest at a key moment about not wanting to hurt her, but she decided to take matters into her own hands, so to speak. She was becoming quite good with them—if his reaction was anything to go by.
Cate had never been happier in her life. The news of their betrothal was announced at the midday meal and was greeted with a resounding roar of approval. The litany of toasts and cheering that followed turned into a spontaneous celebration with copious amounts of wine,cuirm, dancing, and later a few bawdy tunes that made even her ears blush.
Given that it was Christmas Eve tomorrow and they were still in Advent, she was sure the church wouldn’t approve of the merrymaking, but Father Roland did appear to be having a good time.
Gregor took all the ribbing and congratulations with a satisfied, almost smug grin that, when coupled with his unusual attentiveness, put her last doubts to rest. He truly seemed towantto marry her. For all intents and purposes he was acting like a man in love, and she couldn’t help but wonder whether those feelings that she’d always known were there might finally be ready to reveal themselves.
About the only person who didn’t seem happy was Pip. He’d disappeared not long after the announcement, and it wasn’t until later that evening that she found him waiting outside the door to her chamber.
“You can’t marry him!” he burst out, his dark, overlarge features twisted with a bevy of emotions that ranged from a very manly rage to childish frustration, an accurate reflection of his on-the-cusp-but-not-quite-a-man state.
The swelling in his nose had receded considerably, but there were still black marks under his eyes from the beating he’d suffered at the hands of Dougal MacNab.
A heavy flop of dark hair hung in his eyes. She’d told him after their last practice session to cut it, but it seemed he hadn’t gotten around to it yet. He would—when it hampered his vision one too many times.
So far she’d introduced him to sword fighting, archery, and some of the hand-to-hand combat moves she’d learned from John. He hadn’t shown great promise in any one discipline, but he was enthusiastic, a quick learner, and a hard worker. All of which spoke well for future accomplishment. He was also stubborn like her, which prevented him from giving up.
Unfortunately, however, that same stubbornness that helped him drag himself out of the mud during practice also made him dig in his heels where Gregor was concerned.
She pressed her lips together in a hard line. Gregor might have made her happier than any woman ought to be, but that didn’t mean she didn’t wish she could throttle him for a thing or two—Pip being foremost among them. Gregor and Pip had gotten off to a horrible start—in large part due to Gregor’s insensitive handling of the boy’s situation—but she was determined that would change. They would come to care for one another, even if it killed her.
Ushering Pip inside the chamber, she motioned for him to take a seat on a stool by the brazier. She sat on the bed opposite him and tried to soothe his hurt by calmly responding to his demand. “I know you are not fond of the laird—”
“I hate him!” Pip cut her off virulently. His eyes glinted with proof of his words. “He wasn’t supposed to marry you. He was supposed to leave. Men like him always leave.”
Cate sensed something important lurking behind his words. She’d assumed that Pip had never known his father—he had professed him to be Gregor, after all—but he spoke as if from experience.
Her heart went out to him. She knew how horrible it was to have one parent abandon you; how much worse it must be to have two. She would know the truth eventually, but she would wait until he trusted her enough to tell it.
“Pip,” she said patiently, “you barely know him.”
“I know all I need to know,” he said with a belligerent thrust of his chin. “I saw the way he was looking at you last night in your chamber when you had a nightmare; I knew what he was going to do. He hurt you!”
Cate was shocked—and embarrassed—by how much the boy had guessed. “He didn’t hurt me, Pip,” she said quietly.
His mouth drew in a tight line. “I might be a bastard, but I know that what he did was wrong. I know all about him. I know how many women he takes to his bed. Why do you think my mother—”
He stopped, staring at her with wide, horror-struck eyes.
“Why do I think your mother what?” she asked gently.
His face crumpled, and tears he was valiantly trying to hold at bay shone hotly in his eyes. “You’re going to hate me, and want to send me away just like him. He knows—or thinks he knows.”
“Knows what, Pip?”
