Dreamer (Highland Treasure Trilogy) (21 page)

All was quiet in the household by
the time Catherine reached her husband’s chamber door. Thinking for a moment of
how exhausted he must be after nearly a week chasing the raiders through the
hills, she suddenly had second thoughts. She paused, her hand lifted to knock.

But then she thought, what other
choice did she have but to awaken him? Athol could as well be gone tomorrow for
another endless hunt, and she would never even get an opportunity to speak with
him. An unexpected pang of sadness cut into her chest at the thought that he
could go off again without even taking time to send for her.

Well, she decided, she would not
wait to be sent for.  

Her knuckles only met with thin air
as the door opened abruptly. Startled, she looked up and found her husband’s
dark and weary face gazing down at her. The trace of a smile tugged at the
corner of his mouth.

He stood in the doorway, as silent
as a statue, and his eyes raked over her body. Her face flushed hot in an
instant, and she was suddenly conscious of the pulse pounding in her temple.
Athol cocked his head slightly to the side, his gaze pausing at the Stewart
tartan she wore around her shoulders. Then, without a word of greeting, he
leaned down and placed a firm kiss on her lips.

“I’m glad you’re here, lass,” he
growled finally. “I was coming after you.”

“After me?” she croaked. His one
large hand wrapped around her wrist and dragged her into his outer chamber,
closing the door behind them.

“You can keep that hole in the wall
you call a bedchamber, if you like, but when I am here at Balvenie Castle, I expect you to share my bed with me.”   

Vaguely, it occurred to Catherine
that she should object to such a command, but instead, the words spread a
warmth through her. Wordlessly, and with somewhat unsteady legs, she followed
her husband as he guided her through the doorway leading into his bedchamber.

Stepping into the room, she
immediately spotted the huge half-barrel that sat by the fire. Feeling the
release of his hold on her wrist, Catherine turned and watched him as he
latched his door. The intimacy of his action shot a bolt of fire through her,
and her head suddenly whirled with dizziness. Crossing to the hearth, Athol
lifted a huge kettle of water from the hook over the fire and added the steaming
liquid to the water already in the tub.

“I...heard...I’ve heard that...”

“I can see I’ve stayed away too
long.” He turned toward her and yanked his shirt over his head. “You are again
forgetting your words when we are alone.”

She took a step back and tried to
gather her wits. She had to voice her request before he came close enough to
touch her. “I want to return to Elgin.” 

He unfastened his kilt and the dark
wool pooled at his feet. She couldn’t stop her eyes from scanning the long,
sinewy muscles of his chest, the taut skin of his stomach, the wispy trail of
reddish hair leading to his...

Catherine jerked her eyes away. “I
need to see the bishop!” she exclaimed.

“A strong reaction to your
husband’s body, Cat. But I need to take a bath!”

He wasn’t taking her seriously.
“Well! You can’t take a bath until you at least agree to stop your people from
harassing me when I tell them I wish to go to Elgin.”

He moved toward the tub and stepped
into the water. “You are in no position to bargain.”

She saw him sit back into the tub
and give her a devilish smile. But at the same time she didn’t miss the
softening of his gaze as she unwrapped the tartan from her shoulders and placed
it on the bed.

Dressed in a simple linen dress
that Jean had sewn for her this past week, Catherine felt like anything but a
seductress. But still, knowing that her husband was the most agreeable whenever
they were involved in a passionate encounter, she prepared herself to put all
her power to good use. After all, it was for a good cause, and certainly worth
a try.

“As I mentioned before,” she said,
“I need to get back to Elgin.”

“I heard you, Cat, and you won’t be
going. So put it out of your mind.”

“I won’t put it out of my mind!”
She reached up, slowly pulling at the laces that tied the front of her dress.
She could not help but shiver with excitement at the way he froze in the tub,
his eyes following the movement of her hands. “I have already traveled that
route. I can take the other two monks as companions, if it makes you feel...”

“You are not going,” he said
vaguely.

She pulled at the neckline of the
dress and started pushing the garment over one shoulder. She could see that
he’d ceased breathing. “Getting your approval for the school was only half the
battle, I need to see the bishop to secure tutors and...”

“Tutors?” His gaze flickered for a
moment to her face. “My answer has not changed.”

Catherine pushed the dress over her
other shoulder. In an instant, it had slipped over her hips and fallen to the
floor. His scorching gaze told her that although he had a thorough knowledge of
what lay beneath her thin chemise, that knowledge did nothing to diminish the
desire he was feeling now.

“Suddenly, I am wondering if you
would be interested in a bargain.”

“You are a wanton thing, Cat.” He
smiled faintly and nodded. “Perhaps I would, at that.”

Gathering her courage, Catherine
took a small step toward the tub. “If you were  to stop imprisoning me here and
allow me to gather what I need for the school, I in return will...”

“Aye?”

“Wash your back for you?”

His laugh was hearty and brought a
smile to her lips.

“Why is it that I have an idea
you’d be willing to do a great deal more than that...for this school of yours?”

“Very well! I’ll wash your back and
arms and...and dry you, as well. But, in return you must hold to your promise.”

“Come here.”

His command was lazy, its seductive
note clear above the crackle of the fire. She shook her head. “Nay, not
until...”

“You’ll come here...or I’ll come
out after you.”

She again shook her head, taking a
step back and putting a chair in between them. “Not until I have your word
on...”

“You already have my approval for
the school.”

“Aye, but without the assistance of
the bishop--assistance I wanted to get from him at Elgin last time--I don’t
know how...” Catherine’s words caught in her throat as Athol rose suddenly from
the tub. Her eyes widened at the sight of his wet and fully aroused manhood
before lifting her eyes to meet his meaningful gaze. She forced out her words.
“You...you never even gave me the chance to see Patrick Hepburn!”

 “Are you going to come over here
of your own accord or would you like me to come after you?”

“You...Stop, John. You still
haven’t given me an answer that suits me.”

“You come and wash my back, Cat,
and I promise I’ll give you an answer that suits you.”

She still looked at him doubtfully.
“And I have your word of honor?”

“You have,” he nodded with a sly
smile, slowly lowering himself again into the water. “You come here, and I’ll
give you what you are after.”

There was no denying him. And there was no denying her own desires. Walking slowly toward him, she watched his eyes as
they roamed her body. When she reached his side, he held up a wet cloth.

“There you are, lass,” he said. But as she reached for it, his hand darted out, taking hold of her wrist and looping his other
arm around her waist. She was on his lap in the water before she could even cry
out.

“Ah! Now this is much better,” he
whispered devilishly, nestling her comfortably until she was half immersed into
the water. Catherine could feel his arousal pressing intimately against her.
“Perhaps, first I’ll wash you, my sweet.”

With her feet still dangling on the
outside of the tub and her arm around his shoulder, she looked up and met his
intent gaze. “Before we get any further into this...this...”

“Bathing? Lovemaking?”

“Whatever!” She tried to not be too
aware of the warm water he was pouring with his huge hand over her breasts,
soaking the thin chemise until it was transparent. “Your...your promise. I can
leave for Elgin tomorrow.” 

“Nay, you won’t!”

She stiffened in his arms and
started fighting his hold. “You blackguard! I should have known that I could
never...”

“Sit still. You are splashing half
the water out of the tub.”

She turned into a hellcat. “When I
am done with you, you will be mourning a lot more than just some water!” 

“You cannot go to Elgin.”

She tried to pull herself from his
lap, but his steely grip on her waist held her in place.

“You promised me, and now you are
reneging...”

“Nay, I’m not,” he growled,
pressing his lips to the bare skin of her neck. She couldn’t stop her
excitement at the feel of his lips, but still she wouldn’t give up her
struggle. “You wanted the bishop’s blessing and assistance in opening your
school...”

She slapped him soundly on the
chest and tried to pull away.

“The bishop has given all of that,
my wild thing. I’m sure there is no reason for waging war in a warm bath over
such things.”

Catherine went limp for a moment in
his arms. Then, turning and placing both hands on his shoulders, she looked
into his face. “What did you say?”

“I said you do not have to go to Elgin. The bishop has already promised you all the support that you’ll be needing.”

This time she willingly allowed him
to pull her tightly against him. Her breasts pressed hard against his chest. “And how long have you known this? Was it Brother Bartholomew who talked him over to our side?”

He already appeared to have lost
all interest in the discussion. She shivered when his hand caressed the side of
her breast--his mouth descending and placing lazy kisses on her face. She lay
her head over on his muscular arm. She too suddenly found it hard
concentrating.  “Is...is he back already, and no one told me?”

“I’ve met my end of the bargain,”
he said hoarsely, his hand dropping into the water. She could feel his fingers
move up under the hem of her wet chemise and slide along the skin of her thigh.
All Catherine could do was to hold her breath and sink against him in anticipation of what was to come. “Now ‘tis your turn, I believe.”

Arthur Courtenay quaffed the last
of the wine in his cup and wiped his velvet sleeve across his mouth. Staring
into the fire, he sat back in the only chair in the small chamber and sent the
cup clanging into a darkened corner.

“Sluts, bitches, and buggering priests,” he muttered, his words slurring together. “Well, you’ll not make a fool of me.
I’ll have that treasure.”

The muffled sounds of men’s voices
in the Great Hall beyond the thick oaken door could be heard. The king’s Deputy
Lieutenant stood up, steadied himself, and moved toward the door. As he pulled
it open, the faces of his soldiers and a fierce-looking stranger turned to him.

“M’lord!” The newcomer approached
and bowed. “I come from the Lord Chancellor.”

“Aye, sir knight, enter,” Courtenay
growled, turning his back and moving across to chamber to the fire. “And be quick.”

With his face in shadow, the Deputy
Lieutenant stood with his back to the fire as the hard-faced courtier entered.
Courtenay made no effort to make the man comfortable. Leather and mail gleamed
beneath the man’s cloak, and wild shadows and light licked the walls around
him.

“What is it, then?”

“The Lord Chancellor sends his...”

“Get on with it, man,” Courtenay spat out. “What have you to say? I haven’t all night.”

The knight stared at him for a
moment. “Aye, m’lord. ‘Tis this. The king wants to know what progress has been
made to capture the traitor Percy’s wife and daughters.”

Sir Arthur stood silently for a
long moment, considering his answer carefully. 

“Tell the Lord Chancellor that we
know the whereabouts of the eldest sister. She has fled to the north. She has
taken refuge near Elgin, but we know where she is. She will not escape us. The
other two sisters and the mother are also in Scotland, but we will find them as
well, as soon as the eldest is caught. Tell your master that, sir knight.”

“Is there anything else, m’lord?”

Courtenay stared steadily into the
steely eyes of the knight. “That is all, knight. Now, get out.”

As the door closed behind the
courtier, Sir Arthur turned and stared into the flames. He would burn in hell
before he would tell them anything more. He would find those damned Percys, and
the treasure would be his. Only his.

****

Catherine breathed deeply the soft
tang of the autumn air and tried to clear her mind of the thoughts that had
been tormenting her these past few days.

Although she’d heard tales of the
terrible damp and cold that can afflict the Highlands, the autumn still felt
much like late summer, and the days continued to be mostly sunny and pleasant.
Moving ahead of her large group of accomplices into the protected alcove of the
garden, she nodded to the women, who hurriedly spread the blanket and placed
the cushioned chair beside the low wall. The smell of roses still blooming in
the trim hedge along the grassy path hung in the air.

Looking back, Catherine motioned
toward Tosh, who had carried the frail, but loudly complaining woman down from
the castle to the gardens. Carefully, with more gentleness than one might have
thought possible for the scarred and rugged warrior, he placed her in the
chair. The accompanying servants were quick to tuck a blanket and offer a cup
of medicinal tea to the ailing woman.

The dowager pushed the cup away
disdainfully. She glared fiercely at her daughter-in-law. “Catherine Percy, the
time has finally arrived when I can truly say I regret the day I first laid
eyes on your homely face.”