“My escort, are ye, Jamie Lathan?” she groused as he reseated himself next to her. “Growing up, ye felt ye had to do Toran’s bidding. I see that hasna changed.”
“On the contrary,” Jamie answered in his most diplomatic tone, though it pained him to keep his voice level when his gut demanded the answer towhy. Why was she on the offensive? And why was she so displeased to see him? “On the contrary, much has changed.” He gave her his best disarming grin. “Besides, Toran is laird now, and married, with bairns due to arrive at any time. His loyalty lies, rightly so, with his lady wife.”
“Indeed. What of the loyalty he owes his clan?”
“How do ye mean?” Jamie’s earlier fears seemed well-founded. He couldn’t believe she really would have preferred Toran as her escort. The thought made him heartsore. And angry after the many years he had spent mooning over losing her in the troubled times that followed his sister’s death. This haughty creature was not the Caitrin of his memories. Far from it.
“The opportunity to gain allegiance from both Fletcher and MacGregor, of course. As my escort and advocate. But I should have known he’d pass off anything to do with me to ye.”
For once in his life, Jamie was speechless. What had happened to the lass he used to know? And why was she now seemingly determined to put a barrier of resentment between them? While she lived at Lathan, Toran had paid her no more heed than he could avoid and tormented her when he did notice her. Was she truly smarting from his absence? Or from Jamie’s presence?
Jamie realized his ego was coloring his perception of her. While she tried to put distance between them, he wallowed in his long-held jealousy of the interest he thought she’d shown in Toran. Nay, this had nothing to do with Toran, or their past. She was scared. Understandably, though he hoped she did not fear him. She knew no more of the man he’d become than he knew of her. Perhaps she also missed the lad he once was and feared his loss. But why go immediately on the attack? Did she think to force him to refuse her escort as a way to avoid the match her father was making? She was no more free to ignore her laird’s wishes than he was. Or did she also remember him fondly and fear his presence would distract her from the man she was intended to marry. His ego preferred that explanation, but he’d learned the hard way not to trust that fickle beast.
“It’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other, Caitrin,” Jamie said, trying to change the tenor of their conversation before they got too far down the wrong path. “Canna we begin again as the friends we once were?” He studied her eyes, searching for the lass he used to know, then smiled, hoping to encourage an answering smile from her. “Yer da’s description in his letter to the Lathan didna do ye justice.” Flattery might work. It usually did with a lass. Certainly, it couldn’t hurt.
“Think ye to sway me with sweet words, Jamie Lathan? I am nay longer a lass of sixteen years to be swept away by a lad’s fawning attention. I’m the heir to Fletcher. Dinna patronize me.”
“I never would,” he replied. Too quickly, he realized, as her eyebrow arched. Ach, think. What was she up to? “I merely hoped to renew our acquaintance. Since we’ll be spending the next several days together, I thought we might enjoy—”
“We may be forced to travel together, but there’s nay reason for us to make anything more out of the journey. Ye are here to do a job.”
Jamie winced as she spoke the same words he’d said to himself not so very long ago. At least they were in agreement on one thing. “Aye, I am.”
“Then I trust that ye will do it well and deliver me to my da.”
“Of course.”
How had this gotten so out of hand? Jamie knew better than to go into a negotiation with expectations of how his adversary would act, but this…he’d never thought of Caitrin as an adversary in his life. Nor had he thought their first meeting would devolve into this sort of…he had no word for what this had become. Disaster, perhaps. Disappointment, surely. While Caitrin’s beauty had matured, her nature had…soured. What had happened to her in the intervening years? When he had the time, he’d discover the truth, and mourn the loss of the lass she used to be. But for now, he must deal with the woman before him.
Thankfully, the kitchen staff arrived with their meals and gave him time to get his emotions—and expectations—under control while they ate. Caitrin passed the meal in silence, seeming to have dismissed him from further consideration. Jamie allowed her that, for now. But he vowed to find out what had caused such an unhappy change in the lass he used to know.
****
Caitrin swallowed her food past the lump in her throat. The reality of Jamie’s presence was so much…more…than she’d imagined. She’d nearly swooned when she entered the hall and saw him. And that made her teeth clench. And her eyes well up.
He was here—at last. Why now and not sometime in the last six years? More handsome than she could have dreamed he would become. Bigger, broader, with hair turned so dark it was easy to miss the reddish highlights she recalled from his youth. His eyes were the same deep blue she remembered, and had widened a bit, the moment he first saw her, as though her appearance surprised him. And why would it? She was much the same. Taller, more filled out, but the same hair, the same eyes, the same…longing. For him. Aye, and that made her even madder. How dare he appear now? Years too late. Why was he the man fate decreed to take her to be wed to a stranger?
It seemed her lot in life was to be handed off from one set of strangers to another. She was tired of it. So achingly, bone-wearily tired of it. Sitting next to Jamie should have pleased her, but instead it served to rub salt in the wound of her insecurity. Would she ever find a home, a family, a husband, who would not abandon her or send her away? And why did Jamie’s presence in the hall make these feelings so much more pronounced? She’d kept them at bay for years. Now, anger and despair seemed to fill her, blocking out any lighter emotion, such as gladness at seeing her old friend.
She’d pushed him away with rudeness and hauteur when what she really wanted to do was lean into him and rest her head on his shoulder, to feel is arms go protectively around her as they once had done when she was upset at Toran, or at anything else. Jamie had been her friend, her protector. He didn’t deserve her ire, and he’d borne it with typical Jamie good grace. Only she knew him well enough to see him struggle to hold his reactions in check, to allow her to vent. She saw his puzzlement at her verbal attack, though she was certain no one else could. He knew he didn’t deserve such treatment, but he let her get away with it. And now, suddenly, shame added itself to the mix of anger and despair that filled her. To hold back tears, she bit the inside of her cheek. She had spoiled what should have been a happy, or at least a pleasant, reunion. Her peevishness turned it into acrimony. How would they ever recover from what she’d just done?
This was not like her. Jamie must be shocked at the change. But, perhaps it was for the best. Perhaps, deep down, she knew she must keep him at arm’s length. He’d returned to her too late to save her from anything.
She glanced around the room and saw Will smile at her and nod. He’d been watching, and probably listening, though how much he could hear from his seat was a question she couldn’t answer. No matter. He’d have seen their faces. He’d be pleased by her actions. He lived to do as her father commanded. Too bad, she did not. Oh, who was she kidding? She could no more defy her father’s wishes than Will could. Fletcher was busily arranging a match that would benefit their clan. She had no choice in the matter.
And at this moment, she would do anything for the chance to choose Jamie Lathan. But she dared not.
When the meal ended, Jamie stayed by her side, watching her and, it seemed, patiently waiting on her pleasure. She stood abruptly, no longer able to bear being near him when unable to reach out to him as her old friend. Jamie immediately got to his feet, politely dipping his head.
“Let’s go to the solar,” she said and wondered from where those words had sprung. She hadn’t meant to say anything but that she would be ready to ride in the morning. Then dismiss him. But her unruly heart apparently had other ideas.
“After ye,” he responded with an open-palmed gesture. He placed a hand on her lower back as he helped her down the dais steps and left it there as he escorted her across the hall. Caitrin could barely see anything around them. Jamie’s touch held her in thrall and let her hope she had not fatally wounded their relationship after all. It took a great deal of effort to make Jamie angry. Perhaps she’d fallen short. Now that she’d had the time during the meal to cool off, she hoped so.
In the solar, she gestured him to a seat then went to the sideboard and poured them both a liberal dram of whisky. She almost missed his quick frown, as he tasted the first sip. “If it isna to yer liking,” she offered, determined to keep pleasant the tone of the first words spoken to him since their earlier confrontation, “I can provide something else. Ale? Mead?”
“Nay, ’tis fine enough,” he answered smoothly. “But I will have to introduce ye to the MacKyrie spirit.”
“Superior, is it?” Damn it, her sarcastic tone was back.
