Dangerous Pride (2 page)

It seemed that nature itself was smiling on the day, as the sun beat steadily down from a sky that held not a single cloud.  Lachlan’s hair, the deepest shade of ebony, gleamed blue-black in the sunlight, and his smile and good cheer made it plain to see that he was proud to be the center of attention.  Even from a distance, Catriona was able to recognize the features she had studied for so many years.  Lachlan’s profile spoke of confidence and strength, his handsome features exuding a power and grace that had ensured he never lacked female companionship.  His dark, gleaming hair hung in waves to his shoulders on this day, though it was usually pulled back by a leather thong.  Dark grey eyes exuded warmth and compassion, as well as a fierce intelligence and insight that made most people feel as if he was able to see into the very heart of their thoughts.  His strong nose was no longer straight, having been broken at least once in various boyhood skirmishes.  It dominated his angular face, which was bronzed by sun and wind.  The sharp planes of his cheekbones and proud, strong jaw left little doubt as to the inherent strength and masculinity of the man.

Lachlan sat tall and proud on his horse, his long, muscular legs guiding the beast as he made his way closer to the front of the procession.  Catriona could see that he held the reins loosely in his right hand.  His left hand, injured many years before, was clenched tight to his side, partially hidden by the full white sleeves of his linen shirt.  Lachlan was dressed formally, with a ceremonial dirk fastened at the heavy leather belt that encircled his waist.  A brooch held his plaid in place at his shoulder, and his muscular calves were encased in leather boots that gleamed in the sunlight.  Lachlan was taller and broader than most of his kinsmen, a fact that had not been missed by Annella’s keen eyes.  “If ye’ll pardon my sayin’ so, Catriona-lass, I’ve ne’er seen a finer man tae look upon than yer sister’s betrothed.”

Annella’s words brought Catriona back to reality, wrenching her from the joy she had felt as she watched him near the keep.  Tears clouded her eyes as she saw Lachlan pass by, radiating pride and strength, as she was consumed by a sense of loss.

“The sooner ye accept he is no’ yers, the happier ye’ll be,” Annella said, knowing her words would have little success in easing her friend’s pain.

When the procession was no longer visible, Catriona slowly rose to her feet, absently brushing strands of grass from her heavy skirts.  Annella helped her straighten the thick, rich folds of the gown as she muttered her frustration with the damage that had been done to the beautiful garment. “We must hasten back to the keep now,” Catriona sighed as she turned to begin the walk down the hill.  “It will be hard enough to get through this day without having to answer anyone’s questions.  Or,” she added, looking pointedly at her friend, “having to accept anyone’s pity.”

Annella grasped her friend’s hand as they made their way along the path leading back to the keep.  “Once this betrothal is done, ye’ll be yerself again,” she insisted stubbornly.  “Ye must put it behind ye if ye want tae be happy.  And who kens what the future holds?  Ye might meet a lad at yer sister’s wedding and fall madly in love.”

Catriona raised her eyebrows questioningly, her emerald eyes flashing.  “You should ken better than most that I have no’ had to beat lads back from the door.  Why should things change now?”

Annella sighed her frustration, but wisely held her tongue.  When she looked at her friend, she saw a girl whose compassion, grace and generous nature would put her sister and most other young women to shame.  The truth of the matter was that despite the way she had been raised, Catriona was as beautiful in spirit as she was attractive in form.  She rarely spoke a negative word to anyone, and was always ready to help, regardless what task lay before her.  Though she was not conventionally beautiful, Catriona had pleasant features that became beautiful whenever her face was transformed by a smile.  Her luxurious auburn locks cascaded down her back in thick, curly waves that gleamed with shadows of the richest mahogany.  Her sparkling emerald eyes reflected her intelligence and sensitivity.  Catriona’s figure was only beginning to blossom, but with her enviable height and trim waist, Annella had little doubt that she would develop into a gorgeous woman.

But Catriona saw a completely different picture of herself, one that was obscured by her sister’s beauty, and limited by her belief that what was unique and unusual was by definition unappealing.  Dark where Catriona was fair, curvaceous where Catriona was thin, Elizabeth was a vain, shallow woman who never missed an opportunity to belittle her sister.  Elizabeth’s taunting, combined with her father’s obvious preference for his eldest daughter, had led Catriona to believe that she possessed none of the qualities necessary to entice a man.

Aye, but that you could see yourself as others see you,
Annella thought, her eyes soft with affection as they settled upon her friend.  Catriona didn’t realize that many mistook her natural shyness for aloofness.  She never seemed to notice the admiring glances she had begun to receive from young men, nor to appreciate that people kept a respectable distance from her because of her position as their laird’s daughter
. 
One day, you will realize what value you have,
Annella thought. 
Pray God, let it be soon.

###

Catriona felt like she had unwittingly stumbled into a snake pit.  As she bowed her head, listening to the priest as he spoke the betrothal vows in the kirk housed within her father’s keep, Catriona could feel the eyes of the others upon her.  Her mother shot her a particularly venomous look, and Catriona immediately lowered her eyes in prayer.  She and Annella had been late in returning to the keep, and her parents had been furious when they had discovered her absence.  Her father had been tightlipped with anger, and her mother had berated her for drawing attention to herself on Elizabeth’s special day.

Tears stung Catriona’s eyes as she dared a glance around the kirk.  Elizabeth was resplendent in a gown of spun gold, her hair cascading down her back in a shimmer of silky curls.  She spoke her vows in a strong, clear voice, gaining confidence from the fact that so many eyes were fixed upon her as she knelt before the altar of the small kirk.  Catriona dared not let her gaze linger on Lachlan, fearing it would bring forth a steady stream of tears that would only cause further embarrassment.

Light streamed in from the extravagant stained glass windows her father had recently ordered from France, sending shimmering, colorful reflections throughout the small chapel.  Strange, Catriona thought ruefully, how little affection there seemed to be in the ceremony.  The enthusiasm of their kinsmen was evident, though, as the tiny kirk was filled to overflowing.  Many more had gathered outside the chapel, anxiously straining to hear the priest’s voice as it echoed through the building.

Once the vows had been spoken, Lachlan gently slipped a betrothal ring upon Elizabeth’s finger.  Though he bent forward for a chaste kiss, Elizabeth pulled back, intent upon examining the beautiful ring that now graced her slender finger.  After an awkward pause the priest cleared his throat, drawing Elizabeth’s attention, and she finally offered Lachlan her cheek.  Elizabeth quickly shrugged off her breach of etiquette, too engrossed in the gem to give much consideration to what others might think.

Led by the priest, the couple quickly exited the kirk, accepting the best wishes of the guests as they were joined by family members in the courtyard.  For some time Catriona stood back awkwardly, watching as Elizabeth, Lachlan and their parents receive the good wishes of their clansmen.  After exchanging pleasantries with the guests she recognized, she slowly made her way over to the couple to offer her congratulations.  Steeling herself for the harsh words she knew awaited her, Catriona stiffened her spine and set about completing the unwelcome chore.

Lachlan saw her approaching, and with a brief nod of thanks to the woman he had been speaking with, he stepped forward and grasped Catriona’s hand.  She felt her heart race as he looked down at her, a gentle smile warming the corners of his strong, generous mouth.  He looked so elegant, so devastatingly handsome in his formal attire, she found it difficult to concentrate.  “My congratulations,” she said finally, struggling to keep her voice from quivering, and betraying her nervousness.  “It was a lovely ceremony.  I trust you were pleased?”  Her words came out in a jumble, fast and furious, and had plainly betrayed her uneasiness.

Lachlan’s answering smile did not quite reach his serious grey eyes as he gave Catriona’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Aye, I suppose it was,” he agreed, casually leaning forward until they were separated by scant inches.  “I myself had hoped to avoid this for a few more years, but one canna argue with duty,” he whispered, his breath sweet and warm against her cheek.  Lachlan’s eyes were twinkling mischievously as they settled on Elizabeth, leaving no trace of his earlier remoteness.  “No matter how long I searched, I could not have found a more beautiful wife,” he added, pulling back as his voice reached a normal volume.

Catriona’s eyes shifted from Lachlan to Elizabeth, who raised an eyebrow and looked expectantly at her sister.  “Indeed,” Catriona replied finally, struggling to meet her sister’s harsh stare with an air of confidence.  Lachlan turned to acknowledge another guest, and in the absence of an audience, Elizabeth’s expectant gaze turned mean and threatening.

“Surely you must be used to losing to me by now,” she hissed, grasping her sister’s hand and drawing her closer so no one could overhear her harsh words.  ”You’d best wipe that silly, lovesick expression off your face before someone sees you mooning over my betrothed.”  Catriona drew back, wounded by her sister’s words.  There was a glint of menace in Elizabeth’s eyes as she too drew back, raising her voice now so those nearby could hear her.  “Don’t worry. Da will surely find you a worthy man soon enough.  Mayhaps a merchant, or a farmer who has need of your dowry.”

Catriona paled in the face of her sister’s insult, feeling the cold, pitying stares of the guests who witnessed her humiliation.  Overhearing the insult, Lachlan did his best to defuse the situation.  “Our Catriona is too busy thinking of her plants and potions to trouble herself over some lad,” he said kindly as he drew Elizabeth closer to his side.  “Why, she’s hardly out of the nursery – how can you speak of marriage for a wean her age?”

The sound of her father’s booming voice saved Catriona from further humiliation.  The Earl of Seafield took Lady Ana’s arm in his as he invited his guests inside the castle for the feast.

While the guests hurriedly made their way to the great hall, Catriona seized the opportunity to quietly sneak away from the crowd.  Lachlan’s kind words had wounded her far more deeply than Elizabeth’s deliberate insult, for they only served to remind her that he had never considered her anything more than a child.

Hurriedly she made her way past the castle, politely greeting the villagers she met along the way as she walked toward the stables.  Catriona let out of a sigh of relief when she realized the building was empty save a young boy who was helping one of her father’s favorite warriors tend his injured horse.  Calum Leslie had made his home in her father’s keep for several years, yet the tall, darkly handsome man still managed to set her nerves on edge whenever she encountered him.  He claimed distant kinship to her father, and in him the Earl seemed to have found a kindred soul.  Indeed, Calum seemed more of a son to the Earl than his own heir, Catriona’s brother Iain.  Like countless other landless men before him, Calum had used his charm and his flattery to create a comfortable life for himself in another man’s keep.

As Catriona neared the pens, Calum turned from the horse he was inspecting and gave her a slight bow.  In deference to the celebrations at Boyne that day, he was dressed impeccably.  On any other man, the effect would have been devastating, but Catriona was unable to see beyond Calum’s manipulative, selfish nature to admire the striking impression he created.  Eschewing the plaid most Highland men wore, he was dressed in black leather trews that molded his long, muscular legs like a second skin.  Over his white linen shirt he wore a dark jacket of finely woven fabric, adorned with silver buttons that attested to his status.  His hair, more red than blond, was pulled back and neatly tied at the nape of his neck; his thick, copper-hued beard neatly trimmed.

Catriona stopped short, and soon felt his eyes scan her body from the tips of her slippered toes to the tiny ringlets that framed her face.  Catriona crossed her arms in a vain attempt to feel less exposed in front of the predatory, arrogant man.

“Lady Catriona,” he said at length, finally dragging his glance from her bosom to focus on her flashing eyes.  There was a look of hunger in his hooded eyes.  “I trust you found the ceremony as romantic as the rest of us.”

Her senses wary, Catriona acknowledged his greeting with a slight nod, and willed herself to relax under his demanding gaze.  “It was lovely, to be sure.  We are lucky to have forged such a powerful alliance with the Forbes clan.”

Calum raised one eyebrow almost imperceptibly, as if struggling to discern the hidden meaning in Catriona’s carefully chosen words.  He finally settled on the most obvious question before him. “Aye, Lady Catriona, but should you no’ be back in the great hall, enjoying the feast?”

Catriona willed herself to meet his gaze, tilting her chin up in a show of defiance.  As much as the man unnerved her, her pride demanded that she do her best to mask her reaction.  “I favor a ride, and since the hall is filled with kinsmen, I do no’ think I will be missed.”

Both Calum and the stable lad looked at her in surprise as she made her way to her horse’s stall, picking up her skirts with as much dignity as possible as she carefully chose her footing.  Calum gave the lad a shove, reminding him of his duties.  As Catriona led Lily from her stall, the boy quickly grabbed her saddle from the rack on the stable wall, and with practiced grace, threw it on the back of her mare.  Calum had moved to the far wall of the stable so that he could enjoy a better view of their efforts.  As he leaned back, arms crossed at his chest, a grudging smile tugged at his full lips.