Dangerous Pride (40 page)

Schooling her features to mask her concern, Catriona reached down to feel his forehead for any sign of fever.  It wouldn’t do to have her husband think she was some besotted schoolgirl.  If he knew of the tender feelings she held for him, it would only make her more vulnerable to him – and she would lose what little control she had over what happened in her life.  “We were beginning to wonder when you would decide to grace us with yer company,” she replied calmly, satisfied that he was untouched by fever.

“Ye gave us quite a scare,” Rory chuckled from over her shoulder as he looked down on Lachlan.  “But ye’ve been in verra capable hands since the minute ye were back on yer own lands,” he added with an affectionate look at Catriona.

Lachlan smiled faintly, pleased to see that two of the people he cared about most in the world were at his side.  “The other men, then…?” he asked, his features suddenly darkening as he recalled the attack that had befallen them.

Catriona paused to give Lachlan a sip of water, checking his bandages while the room lay in awkward silence.  Satisfied, she turned to face Rory, knowing she needed to give the men a moment of privacy.  “Please, just do no’ tire him overmuch,” she whispered before she smiled down at her husband, then turned and left the room.

“The others did no’ survive the attack,” Rory told him gently as he pulled a chair to the edge of the bed.  “They will be buried here in two days, in a manner befittin’ their bravery.”

Lachlan fastened his gaze across the room, unwilling to have his friend see the tears that threatened at the back of his eyes.  He had not been a good enough leader to save his men.  Now, they were soon to be buried, all because of his carelessness.  “We had no warning they were going to attack.  The men came from out of nowhere – we barely had time to draw our swords before they were upon us.  They were clever.  They must have waited for some time until we were crossing up from the glen.  By the time we saw them, it was too late.”  The pain of watching his loyal warriors fall before him was still fresh in Lachlan’s mind, and he struggled to contain his grief and guilt.  Still, he knew the best chance of catching the bastards lay in striking hard and fast.  And as quickly as possible.

“Did ye recognize them?” Rory asked quietly.  Though he knew Lachlan was still very weak, the warrior in him could not let the murderers go unpunished.

“They wore naught to indicate which clan they sprang from, and in truth, I think they were a group of broken men,” Lachlan said at last.  “The man who gave me this,” he said, gesturing to the wound to his belly – “must have been certain he had done his job well.  He told me Calum Leslie sent his kindest regards.  And that he would see me in hell.”

“The arrogant son of a bitch,” Rory muttered, amazed at the man’s audacity.  They had all known Leslie’s insane greed was something to be feared, but none had thought the man would behave so rashly – or so viciously.  Reiving was one thing; murder quite another.  Clearly, Leslie hadn’t intended for Lachlan to emerge from the attack alive.  They needed to strike while they had the element of surprise in their favor.  Leslie and his men would assume Clan Forbes was in mourning for the loss of their laird, not plotting their revenge against his would-be murderers

“We’ll ride at first light,” Rory said finally, noting that Lachlan was struggling to keep his pain-glazed eyes open.  “Ye need no’ worry.  Justice will be done.  Ye have my word on it.”

Lachlan could only nod gratefully at his friend as sleep rose up to claim him.  The honor of the Forbes clan would be avenged – Rory would see to that.

His thoughts were of his slain men – and the debt he owed them – as he gave himself over to the exhaustion he knew would obliterate the pain for at least a time.

Lachlan’s recovery from his injuries was all but miraculous, and a testament to his stubborn personality.  Despite the harsh protests of his wife and mother, he left his bed to join the clan when the men who had fought to save his life were buried with honor on Tolquhon land.  The effort exhausted him, and it was several days before he was once again able to leave the bed under his own power.  Even though he was anxious to resume his normal responsibilities, Catriona forced him to rest, and to give his wounds time to fully heal.

Desperately afraid that his injuries might become infected, Catriona attended his wounds with a diligence that was endearing, both to Lachlan and his people.  The dowager had never shown any interest in healing, and for the first time, Catriona found that Lachlan’s people were seeking her out for her advice on their ailments.  In the days following the laird’s injuries, she spent as much time administering to his people as she did to her husband, but she was grateful for their show of loyalty and their confidence in her abilities.

Rory visited Lachlan’s chamber at the end of every day, bringing him the news his men had gathered during their daily forays in search of the laird’s attackers.  His friend also helped him take his first steps around the chamber, until, gradually, Lachlan required less and less of Rory’s support.  The dowager’s interest in the people around her seemed to have been invigorated by the prospect of losing her son, and she was rarely far from his side, reading or talking with him to help pass the time.  Lachlan’s brush with death had proven to be a grim reminder of how much his skills and his generosity meant to the clan.

The weather turned dark and rainy as fall unleashed its full power.  This was but a minor setback to the men who covered every inch of Tolquhon and surrounding lands in an effort to extract their revenge not only for their laird, but also their fallen friends.  When the sun finally broke through the heavy, dark clouds one day, Lachlan convinced Rory to join him for a walk around the keep.  Lachlan breathed deeply of the fresh, moist air, happy to have been allowed out of the house, and grateful that he was alive to enjoy another day.

“I feel more like a weak bairn than the laird of this keep,” Lachlan complained as he leaned heavily on his walking stick.  ”If the women had been given their way, I would be abed until Beltane – or even longer.”

Rory chuckled, having long since grown immune to Lachlan’s frustrated outbursts.  In truth, he was surprised by how well the young laird was handling his recuperation.  The fact that Rory attributed much of Lachlan’s good humor to his pretty, devoted wife was not an opinion he chose to give voice to.  Even though his laird was still injured, Rory knew such an observation would not go unpunished.

“Ye ken as well as I that yer lucky tae be alive,” he said instead.  “Ye would do well tae be grateful ye can enjoy the day, rather than complain.”

Properly chastised, Lachlan merely shrugged his acceptance of the reprimand as the pair slowly made their way around the grounds.  “I fear I will no’ truly feel myself again until we have given that bastard the punishment he deserves,” Lachlan muttered.  “You have nay word of him?”

“We’ve learned naught.  He seems tae have vanished into thin air.  I did as ye asked yesterday, and sent word tae Catriona’s father that he best be on guard against the man.  He sent the messenger back before the man even had a chance tae rest his horse or get a bite tae eat.  Said if ye had any request of him, ye best deliver it yerself.  And that ye’d be wise not tae make claims against a man who is worth more than ten of ye.”

Lachlan’s dark browns were knit in frustration.  The Earl of Seafield treated his daughter as little better than a possession, and the ties of marriage that bound their families seemed to matter not at all to him.  The fact that the man would ignore such a request from his own son-by-marriage was an insult that Lachlan could ill afford to ignore.  Something had changed forever in the Earl when Elizabeth had died.  Lachlan hardly recognized him as the honorable, caring man he had known as a youth.

With a sigh, Lachlan gestured to a small bench in the corner of the garden.  He was no longer in the mood for any exercise.  When the pair was seated, Lachlan leaned back, enjoying the feel of the warm sun as it shone on his upturned face.  “Are there still reports of missing cattle and sheep from the outlying villages?”

“Aye.  Not many – but more than usual, and enough tae cause concern.”

The sound of an osprey calling its mate drew Lachlan’s attention, and he watched for a time as the birds flew together to the nest they had built high in the branches of a spruce tree.  Together they fed the tiny hatchlings whose beaks were outstretched, clamoring to be attended.  “Even those birds have more of an instinct to protect their children than Seafield does,” he muttered ruefully.

The Earl had done everything in his power to avoid both his daughter and her husband since they had wed.  During the journey to meet with the Gordon clan, Seafield had deliberately eluded the young laird despite Lachlan’s efforts to speak with him.  In fact, he had done all he could to make it plain that he suffered Lachlan’s presence only because the Duke desired it.

There was no way around the fact that he was going to have to go to Boyne Castle to meet with the man, to try to talk some sense into him.  The threat to the people of both clans was too great to ignore any longer.  Calum Leslie had to be stopped before any other innocent people were harmed.  No matter what it took, the Earl of Seafield would have to be made to see the man for the threat he was.  Because until he did, no one was safe.

He also owed it to his wife to repair the relationship as best he could.  She had sacrificed much by agreeing to marry him, and he owed it to her to see that she was reconciled with her family.

“We ride for Boyne Castle three days hence,” Lachlan said as he pushed himself to his feet, his mind eased by the process of making the decision.  “If the Earl will no’ see reason on his own, it’s up to us to open his eyes for him.”

Rory watched as Lachlan slowly made his way back to the castle, standing proud and tall despite the pain of his injuries.  The man had many burdens to bear of late, and Rory knew this conflict with the Earl of Seafield could be ignored no longer.  He only hoped Lachlan would be strong enough – and patient enough – to win the battle that loomed before him.

###

No matter what he said – no matter how he argued, cajoled or pleaded – she would not be left behind.

Lachlan had used every tactic within his repertoire to convince his wife that it was absolutely necessary for him to confront her father.  She knew better than anyone else how important it was to bring Calum Leslie’s threats to an end.  Yet despite all the evidence that had accumulated to support Lachlan’s argument, Catriona refused to believe that her father was a necessary part of efforts to eradicate Leslie’s influence.

Though she clearly felt it was too soon for him to leave his sickbed, she obviously knew better than to try to stop him when his mind was made up.  What he hadn’t anticipated was her desire to travel with him to Boyne.  Given the anger she felt towards her father, Lachlan hadn’t thought for a moment that she would wish to return to her childhood home.  Yet Catriona wouldn’t be dissuaded.

He had tried reasoning with her.  When that hadn’t worked, he had argued that the trip was going to be a short one, and that his men would not want to have their progress slowed by a woman.  Then he had warned her that it was entirely possible that they would be set upon again by Calum’s men, and that he felt the journey was too dangerous for her.  No matter what his argument, Catriona rejected it out of hand.

When his efforts to make his wife see reason had proven fruitless, Lachlan had stormed from their chambers, too frustrated and angry to trust himself to spend any more time in his wife’s company.  Even though he would never strike her bodily, he knew his tongue might cause wounds that would prove even more resistant to healing.

Instead of debating his wife, Lachlan had spent the day secluded in his study, not trusting he wouldn’t inflict his dark mood on anyone else he might encounter.  His meals had been brought to him on trays so that he could avoid seeing his wife or his mother during meal time in the great hall.  Even Quinton had given him a wide berth, visiting him for only a few hours in the afternoon when Lachlan wanted to complete some pressing correspondence.  Oddly, his anger at his wife’s stubbornness seemed to revive his flagging energy, and he was almost able to forget the discomfort of his wounds in his fury.

As much as he hated to admit it, his wife’s behavior had taken him very much by surprise.  In all the years he had never seen her so disobedient or unreasonable.  From what Iain had said – and based on what he himself had witnessed – Lachlan knew that her childhood had been full of rejection from both her parents and her sister.  Catriona had always gone to great lengths to please them, in the vain hope of winning their affection.  Sadly, it had always seemed to him that the harder she tried the win their love, the more they rejected her.

As much as he tried, it was impossible for Lachlan to reconcile his headstrong, stubborn wife with the quiet, obedient woman he thought he had married.  At times, it was as if he were living with two different women – one who was shy, reserved and eager to please; the other a willful, alluring seductress who showed no lack of strength or conviction.  With a rueful shake of his head, he realized that no matter how long he lived, he was unlikely to understand the complexity of the woman he had sworn to honor and cherish for the rest of his life.

Night had long since fallen when Lachlan finally decided to retire to his chambers.  He had spent several hours working by candlelight in his study, reviewing the financial records for the clan.  The wool produced that season had been of particularly fine quality, and the quantity had also been excellent.  The deal he had negotiated while he was in Aberdeen would be lucrative for the clan.  With any luck, he would be able to afford to hire an engineer to oversee additions to the battlements during the winter months, further securing his people from their enemies.  It had taken incredible effort, but he was finally beginning to see an end to the debt his father had incurred for the clan, due in large part to his poor business sense.