Dangerous Pride (38 page)

Willing herself to swallow her fears, Catriona leaned forward to take Lachlan’s hand in hers.  “What of my da, then?  I have no’ yet said more than five words to the man,” she admitted, her eyes downcast, her heart in her throat.  Surely Lachlan would think her a coward for not confronting her father sooner, and she could hardly blame him for that opinion.  Despite the years she had spent apart from the man who had given her life – and the cruelty he had set into motion – he still had the power to make her feel vulnerable and unworthy.  “Will the Earl leave Tolquhon before I have a chance to set things to rights with him?”

Leaning forward, Lachlan brushed a tender kiss across her lips, running his hand through her unruly tresses as he pulled her closer.  “You need no’ worry about him, lass.  In time, you will have a chance to clear the air with yer da.  Let it be enough that he has seen that yer happy in yer new home.  The rest will come, I promise you,” he said, gently running his hand down her back in a comforting gesture.  “I’ll be back by nightfall, lass.  We can talk more of it then.”

Before she could argue, he gave her a lingering kiss to silence her protests.  When she was sufficiently distracted, he drew her close for a brief moment before he set her aside, grabbing his sword from the floor beside the bed.  With a gentle smile, he turned on his heel, closing the door behind him.

The man knew how to distract her better than other person alive, Catriona admitted ruefully, though she realized that no amount of protest would have swayed him from the course he had set for himself.  As she raised her fingers to her lips, tingling still with the memory of his kiss, she forced herself to shake off her concern for his safety.  Lachlan’s sword arm was among the finest in all of the Highlands, and he was more than capable of keeping  himself – and his clan – safe.  To think otherwise would be disloyal, and she had no intention of questioning either his judgment or his abilities.

With a resigned sigh, Catriona pulled her robe tight around her, leaving the warmth and security of their bed.  Quickly she washed and dressed, selecting a simple house dress since she would not be expected to do any entertaining.  At Lachlan’s request, Annella had delivered a small breakfast tray to her room,  and while Catriona sipped her strong tea she watched the Duke’s party leaving the keep, her husband riding at his side.

Catriona spent the day ensuring the holding resumed its normal routine, supervising the laundry, and the cleaning of the rooms the guests had occupied.  She took a bunch of late blooming flowers to the dowager to thank her for her support in ensuring the visit went without incident, and devoted herself to dozens of small tasks to ensure her mind didn’t linger over thoughts of her husband’s absence.

There had been great deal of food left over when the Duke’s visit had been cut short, and Catriona was determined to see that it did not go to waste.  Rory and a small group of men had agreed to take the provisions to kinsmen in outlying areas, to widows and needy families who would be grateful for such a gift.

When the evening meal came and went with no sign nor word from Lachlan, Catriona could no longer shake off the horrible feeling of foreboding that was rapidly overtaking her.  Annella and the dowager had quickly noticed her anxiety, and had done everything possible to put her mind at ease.  Nothing, however, had been able to erase the sense of fear she felt about her husband’s safety.  Lachlan had promised to return by nightfall, and the fact that he had not yet arrived did nothing but fan the flames of her fear.

It was well past midnight when Catriona acknowledged that she would not sleep that night.  It seemed like she had spent hours pacing the chamber, unwilling to climb into their bed until her husband had returned.  The book in which she had tried to lose herself lay discarded on the floor by the hearth, having been tossed aside when she found herself reading the same page half a dozen times without really comprehending anything at all.  Torn between her worry and her desire to be logical and practical about Lachlan’s absence, Catriona struggled to control her fears.

Logically, her husband had left the keep in the company of several of his own men, as well as the Duke’s guard, and her father’s.  They were a force to be reckoned with, and would certainly have given the Gordons pause had they been of a mind to cause trouble.  Still, Calum Leslie had remained out of sight for several weeks, and though unlikely, it was possible he might use the distraction of the visit to cause trouble for the clan.

Twisting her shift in her hands, Catriona stared into the red-orange flames of the fire, desperate for some sign or clue that would set her mind at ease.  When it became clear that there would be no divine guidance, Catriona forced herself to deal with the matter at hand.  Aye, she reasoned, it would only be her pride that would be wounded if she were to raise a question about Lachlan’s safety, only to have him return to the keep unscathed.  It was a price she would willingly pay, if only she could be assured that Lachlan were well.  But to ignore her sense of foreboding – only to learn that Lachlan had been harmed, when she could have helped him – that was simply not an option she could live with.

Her mind now set on a course of action, Catriona drew on her robe.  Retrieving a candle from a wall sconce, she slowly made her way down the cold, dark hallway, not wanting to cause any undue concern in the household.  She breathed a sigh of relief when she noted that no light shone from beneath the door to the dowager’s room.  At least one of the women in the keep was not losing sleep that night.

Padding quietly down the stairs, Catriona moved slowly until she reached the entrance of the great hall.  Though the handful of torches in the wall sconces had helped her make her way, she was grateful for the extra light cast by the taper in her hand.  Peering into the large room, she could see a number of Lachlan’s men lying on the rush-covered floor, wrapped in their plaids as they slept.  The room was quiet, save the crackling of the fire, and the sound of their snores.  Stepping slowly into the room, Catriona began to wonder if she would ever find Rory among the sleeping men.  If she tarried in the room too long – or made too much noise – she was sure to wake the rest of them.

Unsure of how to proceed, she stood staring down at the sleeping men when she felt a gentle touch on her shoulder.  Whirring around, she was relieved to see Rory standing before her.  Smiling, he placed a finger to his lips, indicating that she was to stay silent.  Gesturing to the hallway, he grasped her elbow as he steered her in the direction of Lachlan’s study.  Only when the door was safely closed behind them did he turn to speak to her.  “I’m sorry, my lady, but I did no’ want the lads roused.  I’d have their wits sharp on the morrow.”

Nervously, Catriona waved away his apologies.  “There’s no need to apologize, Rory.  In truth, I did no’ think to find you awake at this hour.”

“I could say the same tae ye,” Rory replied with a wry smile.  “But I think we both have a wee bit too much on our minds tae be able tae seek our rest with ease.”

Unconsciously, Catriona took a step toward Rory, grateful that perhaps he, too, shared her concerns.  “I’m worried, Rory,” she burst out, no longer caring about keeping up appearances.  “Lachlan had planned to return to the keep for the evening meal.  Something must have happened to have kept him away this long.”

“It is possible the Duke required his services further, my lady,” Rory mused, though his coarse features hardened into a frown as he considered her words.

“If that had been the case, he would have sent word.  He would have kent I would worry unless I kent the reason for the delay.”

As the soft red glow of the firelight spread across Catriona’s pale cheeks, Rory thought again about how the relationship between his laird and the lady of the keep had improved quite dramatically.  She was clearly worried about her husband, which was a good sign indeed.  Pushing these notions aside, he rubbed his chin absently as he considered the situation.  Though he had not wanted to worry the lady, the truth was that he had been concerned about Lachlan’s safety since the young laird had left the keep.  Lachlan had taken a small but capable guard with him, but Rory would have felt much more comfortable had he been there to watch his laird’s back.  There would be little to fear while he traveled with the Duke’s entourage, but Lachlan’s return to Tolquhon was another matter altogether.  The Duke’s party was a fairly large one, and was sure to have attracted a great deal of attention as it made its way to the lands claimed by the Gordon clan.  It would be a simple enough matter to watch the entourage pass by, then await the return of Lachlan and his men until they made the journey back to Tolquhon.

“Though I’m sure all is well, I am a mite concerned by his late return,” Rory admitted finally, choosing his words carefully.  “It is possible they encountered some trouble on Gordon lands, or that the Duke has required further assistance from them.”  Catriona started to interrupt, but Rory continued.  “Tae set yer mind – an’ mine – at ease, I’ll take a small group of men with me in the morning, an’ trace the laird’s path. ‘Tis likely  we’ll meet him as he returns to Tolquhon, but I would not have ye worry, my lady.”

Emboldened by Rory’s concern, Catriona quickly decided to press her advantage.  “I would consider it a personal favor, sir, if you would be willing to leave this evening.”  Rory raised one dark eyebrow in question, but wisely said nothing.  “It’s just that, I…uh…I have battled a feeling of unease all day, and it has done naught but increase the longer Lachlan is away.  If you would be willing, Rory, I would be most grateful if you would leave immediately,” she concluded, her words coming forth in a rush.

There was little doubt that the young woman was deeply – genuinely – concerned about her husband’s welfare, Rory realized with some relief.  Though he was grateful for her loyalty to the laird, he doubted she had the wisdom or experience to understand the risks that her husband took every day.  She was too young – and too sheltered – yet to realize that in these harsh lands, harsh times, a woman must get used to waiting for her husband’s return, to having the threat of death and injury as a constant companion.  Catriona was no longer nestled in the safe, comfortable bosom of the abbey, and the sooner she learned that, the better.

But, by the Saint’s teeth, he was hardly the man to teach her that particular lesson. That dubious pleasure would be her husband’s responsibility.

“Now?” Rory asked reluctantly, struggling to contain his amusement at his lady’s hopeful expression, since there had never been any real possibility he would refuse her.

“Now,” she replied firmly, reaching forward to grasp his hand in a gesture of gratitude.

Rory nodded his head in consent, his mind already shifted to the work necessary to ready himself – and his men – for their departure.  “I’ll ride with a small group of men.  They are all well-trained, my lady, so ye need no’ worry.  But I will no’ take so many that we attract undue attention.  Or risk more of yer husband’s temper when he finds that we have left ye with a limited guard.”

Catriona’s words of gratitude rang in Rory’s ears as he rode from the keep a short time later, accompanied by a small but heavily armed group of men.  Though they had been surprised to be roused at such an hour, they were all loyal, well-trained men who would not complain about the task before them.

As much as Rory longed to believe all was well with Lachlan, he couldn’t deny his own sense of foreboding, the sense of unease had kept him from his rest that night.  Though he hoped his laird was still serving the Duke, he knew Lachlan would not have willingly spent the night apart from his new bride.  Not unless something – or someone – had prevented his return home.

As he spurred his horse on for Gordon lands, Rory hoped that he would need do naught more than reprimand one particular young man for his thoughtlessness that night.

###

The serving staff had just begun to clear the remains of the morning meal from the great hall when a lone rider tore into the keep, his garron lathered, the man covered from head-to-toe with mud and grime.  Leaping from the back of his horse, he burst through the doors to Tolquhon, curtly demanding to be taken to the lady of the keep.  Sorcha volunteered to show the man to the solar, where Catriona had spent the morning with Annella and the dowager.  Despite the serving girl’s best efforts to beguile information from him, the man refused to answer any of her persistent questions.

When Sorcha showed the rider into the room, Catriona knew immediately that something had happened to Lachlan.  On legs that trembled beneath her, she crossed the room to stand before the man she recognized as one of her husband’s finest warriors.  Annella and the dowager immediately ceased their conversation as a sense of foreboding settled over the room.

Catriona forced herself not to give into the fear that threatened to overwhelm her.  She would not shame Lachlan’s kinsmen by showing any visible sign of weakness.  Or fear.  Quickly, she dismissed Sorcha, and turned her attention to the muddied, disheveled man who stood before her.  “You have news then?” she asked as calmly as she could.

“Aye, my lady.  We found the laird several hours from the keep,” he replied, his tone as dark as the expression on his exhausted features.  Catriona felt the floor sway beneath her, and was grateful when Kenneth reached his arm out to help steady her.  “He has been badly hurt, my lady, but at whose hand we do no’ ken.  Rory sent me ahead tae tell ye tae prepare yer medicines…… tae be ready tae do what ye can for him.  They canna ride as quick as I, for their journey is slowed so they do no’ injure the laird any further.  If all goes well, they should be here within the hour.”

Vaguely, the impact of the man’s message reached through Catriona’s panicked, racing mind.  “He’s alive then, at least, thank God,” she said, her voice trembling with a mixture of relief and fear for what she would find when Lachlan arrived and she had a chance to assess his wounds.  Pushing all doubt to the back of her mind, she turned to face Annella.  “I will need to have my herbs, bandages and hot water brought to the laird’s chamber immediately.  Make sure the room is warm, and that all is in readiness for his return.  And do no’ forget to bring the foxglove and meadowsweet with you.  I may need them if he has fever or internal injuries.”  Annella wordlessly nodded her agreement, rushing from the room to see to Catriona’s instructions.  The pale, wan look on the dowager’s face nearly broke her heart, but she knew better than to betray her fears.  That would only serve to worry the older woman even more.  Instead she offered her an encouraging smile before turning to face the messenger again.