What must have been one large room (albeit a low-ceilinged one) had been partitioned into a few private chambers off a central solar. But with only wooden screens for walls and hangings for doors, there was little privacy. Cate could hear everything. She could hear the couple in the room to her left grunting and groaning in the throes of a very energetic coupling, and she could hear the voices in the room to her right: Maggie’s giggling followed by Gregor’s deep, rough tones: “I like it just fine.”
Like what? Cate wasn’t sure she wanted to know. She moved toward the curtain like a ghost. They hadn’t bothered to close it completely—why should they, as it hid little of what was going on?—and if Cate stood at the edge, she could see the occupants well enough.
Oh God, no…
She drew in her breath as a fresh surge of hurt rolled over her in deep, hot waves. Gregor stood in front of the narrow box bed—the only piece of furniture in the tiny room—facing her. Although there was very little of his face that she could see, as he was locked in a passionate embrace with Maggie. His hand rested at the base of her spine with his fingers spread over the top curve of her buttocks. Maggie’s dark hair was loose down her back, the lacing at the back of her kirtle had been undone, and the gown had been tugged down past her shoulders. Her breasts must be bare.
This wasn’t like the kiss with Seonaid that she’d witnessed. It was far more carnal. Far more passionate. Far more painful. Far more like the way he kissed her.Special…different. Her claims seemed to taunt her. She couldn’t seem to look away from his hand. Those strong, powerful fingers gripping someone else.
Fortunately, the kiss lasted only a few seconds before Gregor pulled away.
“Is something wrong?” Maggie asked.
Yes. Please say yes.
“No,” Gregor said, his voice slurred. He’d obviously been drinking heavily, but that didn’t excuse what he was doing; it only added to the unsavoriness.
“Are you sure?” Maggie said, a coy playfulness to her tone. “Maybe it’s the drink?”
Her shoulder moved and Cate had to bite her fist to prevent the fresh stab of pain, realizing what she was doing. Maggie’s shoulder had moved because her hand was between his legs. She was stroking him.
Cate’s stomach turned in violent revolt.
Maggie giggled. “Let’s see if this will help.” She dropped to her knees before him and reached her hands around to grab him by his backside. “I remember you told me how good I was with my mouth.”
Cate stilled, not understanding. But when Maggie’s head moved forward between his legs, comprehension dawned in shocked, cruel clarity. She was going to pleasure him with her mouth.
Push her away. Please push her away.
Instead, Gregor gripped the back of Maggie’s head with his hands, holding her to him. His eyes were closed, his face a mask of taut lines and intense concentration.
Unable to bear another moment without being ill, Cate moved away. She’d seen and heard enough. No further proof was necessary. Gregor had achieved his purpose. She believed him. God, how she believed him.
What they had together wasn’t special.Shewasn’t special. He’d proved it. He didn’t care about her—at least not enough to stop him from seeking out another woman’s bed at the first sign of difficulty between them.
Cate wouldn’t marry him, even if he came crawling on his hands and knees begging for her forgiveness. She didn’t doubt that he would regret it when he learned the truth, but she didn’t care. It was too late. She’d run out of patience, excuses, and faith. Seeing this side of him had shattered every last one of her illusions. She was done making excuses for him.
She’d wanted to believe that she was the woman for him, but there was noonewoman for a man like Gregor MacGregor. She’d been fooling herself to think he could be faithful to her—that he could commit. The bond between them that meant so much to her didn’t matter to him. Not if he could make love to another woman. Maybe he was right. Maybe for him love had nothing to do with the bedchamber. But for Cate it had had everything to do with it.
Had. But not anymore. Gregor had done what she thought impossible. He’d destroyed her love for him. He’d ripped her heart out of her chest, torn it to shreds, and ground the scraps to dust. There was nothing left. Only the dull, numbing ache of emptiness—as if she were missing a vital piece of herself. The love she’d had for him that had filled her with such joy and hope was gone.
A part of her hated him—but not completely. She also felt sorry for him. Sorry that he was too jaded and cynical, too molded by his past experiences with women, to recognize real love when he had a chance.
It was his loss. Cate would not waste another moment of her life on him.
The man Cate married would believe in her just as much as she believed in him. And it was clear that man would not be Gregor. She did not doubt that he would marry her still. But if he did, he would leave her feeling just as abandoned as her father had. Maybe not physically, but in every other way that mattered.
Gregor wasn’t the man she’d thought. She had thought there was more to him than a handsome face. She had thought he was the kind of man she could count on, the kind of man she could trust. But he was no more the noble knight of her fantasies than her father had been. Maybe Gregor was right. Maybe shehadbeen trying to create the perfect family to replace the one that she’d lost with him at the center, representing everything she thought a great man should be. She’d wanted him to be something he was not and imagined qualities in him that weren’t even there.
She was about to start down the stairs when she heard men below and stopped in her tracks.
“Damn it, someone needs to stop him.”
Cate recognized the voice of one of the Phantoms—the big, tall blond one who looked like a Viking, Erik MacSorley. She bit her lip, still embarrassed about the black eye she’d given him.
“We tried, cousin. He didn’t seem to be of any mind to listen.”
Lachlan MacRuairi, she thought with a shiver, identifying the dark voice and the brigand it belonged to with ease. He sounded as menacing as he looked. Except for the facial hair—they both had unusually shaped, stubbly beards—the two kinsmen looked nothing alike.
