Harlequin Historical May 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: Notorious in the West\Yield to the Highlander\Return of the Viking Warrior (28 page)

Chapter Six

O
nce the weather broke and the storms finally ceased, the ground began to dry out. Villagers and those living in the keep all sought out the fresh air and began to emerge like ants from their nest. Though most duties could not cease simply for rain, those who could avoid going out in it had. And, as was the usual occurrence during forced time indoors, tempers flared.

His father insisted on fair challenges and fights to sort through disagreements among his warriors, so the fair weather brought forth many of those. Once the work was done for the day, those challenged and those defending gathered in the yard. Though he was neither, Aidan would not mind a chance to work out the tension in his body.

With the sun setting so early, there was not much light left. Aidan called out to Angus and Caelan when he noticed them by the fence and went to watch the first matches with them. Young Dougal, Rurik's son, stood at the ready for the next match. He probably bore no one a grudge—the young man just loved to fight. With only Munro missing from their group, the fight began. It took no time at all for the crowds to gather and the betting along the outer fringes to begin, too.

But the murmurs that passed through the crowds just then had nothing to do with the men fighting within the fence there. Elbows nudged and heads leaned closer to whisper some bit of gossip about someone walking towards the keep. As he leaned away and looked to the person causing the comments, a sick feeling hit him like a punch in his gut, its sourness spreading into a very bad taste of bile in his mouth.

Catriona MacKenzie walked alongside the steward's sister, heading for the keep. He noticed that she glanced behind her as people passed, clearly aware of the whispers and pointed staring in her direction. When those whispers and stares began to include him, he knew for certain that someone had witnessed that kiss.

One thing his father had taught him was that to give scandal attention was to give it life, so he returned his gaze to the men fighting. His attention remained elsewhere, wondering who had carried the tale. And if everyone knew what had happened. And if everyone thought that they had....

Bloody hell! They knew him and his ways—of course they thought he'd taken Gowan's wife as his lover. A twinge of guilt assailed him as he knew that he would have if she'd said aye.

The discretion he'd planned, if that path had been followed, was impossible now. If he tried to correct the assumption that everyone now accepted, it would draw more attention than if he simply did not comment on it.

That plan lasted exactly four minutes—the length of time it took Munro to reach his side after entering through the gates. He hoped to explain things to his friend—after all, they'd shared a number of sexual conquests in their carousing nights and Munro would believe him.

It was the punch that connected with his jaw and landed him on his face and the taste of dirt in his mouth that convinced him otherwise.

‘Munro,' he began as he pushed to his feet and wiped the back of his hand across his face. ‘Come. Let us discuss this....'

He got nothing else out before the punch in the stomach knocked the air from his lungs and made speaking impossible. When Young Dougal grabbed Munro and held him, wrapping his arms around their friend and not allowing him to deliver any blows, Aidan caught his breath.

‘In the hall,' he ordered. ‘Gair's chamber. Now.'

Young Dougal had some sense for he dragged Munro around to the front of the keep and entered that doorway, not crossing paths with the stricken woman whose reputation was now being bandied about by one and all, embellishing the details as it passed. Aidan thought about how to proceed, how to stop this reckless talk before true harm was done, but he could come up with nothing.

Munro walked on his own as they made their way through the main floor of the keep, heading towards the chamber that Gair, the steward, made use of. It was one of few truly private places within the keep, making it a perfect place for the discussion to come. Once they were gathered inside, with the door closed and a servant outside to drive away the curious, Aidan faced Munro.

‘I know not what gossip you heard, but it is not true if it involves your father's wife.' Crossing his arms over his chest, he waited for the accusations, planning to reveal nothing more than was necessary.

‘So, you say you have not been following Catriona? And you did not meet with her in the village two days ago?' Munro glared at him, his posture daring Aidan to lie.

‘Following her? I spend time in the village. If I saw her and greeted her, 'twas only as much as anyone else who lives there.' He evaded the question, but from the expression in Angus's eyes, he knew not well enough.

‘And during the storms? 'Tis said you two were kissing in the village then. You were seen wrapped around her and her clutching you back.'

‘Aye, I did see her during the worst of the storms. She was making her way to some task and nearly fell into a rut in the lane. I righted her and she went on her way and I on mine.'

Munro looked stymied then. To question him further could be considered an insult, yet it was clear to Aidan that he wanted to.

‘Did you question her about these accusations? Oh, wait. No one actually accuses us. This is just gossip being spread with or without the truth mattering,' Aidan said.

‘Aye, I did question her,' he spat out. ‘First she refused to answer me and then she denied it. Do you deny it as well?'

‘She denied it because she has been only faithful to your father, Munro.' He lowered his voice. ‘There is no proof.'

And that was his mistake, for Munro raised his head and met his gaze. He began to grind his jaws as he rose to his full height.

‘No proof? I think you had me invite you to supper that night just to press your suit. Now that I think on it, you have been in the village more than usual. And you have not mentioned another woman's name in weeks and weeks. That means you are pursuing a new lover for your bed. Proof, Aidan? I have only to remember your ways to know that there is more to this than you or she is saying.' Munro pushed him aside and strode from the chamber. When his friends looked to him to see if they should stop him, he shook his head.

‘Let him be.'

‘Aidan?' Caelan asked the question without even saying the rest.

‘She is faithful to her vows,' he repeated, telling them exactly what they suspected—it was not for a lack of trying on his part that Catriona MacKenzie did not share his bed.

‘What about Munro?' Angus asked.

‘Leave him be. This gossip will die down soon enough. When all those who now watch us both see nothing, it will die down.'

Now, their expressions confirmed what he already knew—this gossip would not go away soon or well enough. Everyone who heard it would think Catriona guilty of cuckolding Gowan. She was an outsider, from lands and a clan who were, until only recently, their enemies.

So until Gowan returned and the matter could be dealt with as it needed to be—the misbehaving wife punished and the man issued a challenge—the gossip would do what gossip did.

It would spread.

* * *

Two weeks had passed since her life irrevocably changed and there was still nothing she could do about it. In spite of knowing she'd done the right thing, everyone in the village and the keep believed she had sinned and humiliated Gowan.

Munro dogged her steps and slept at the cottage every night. He also arrived at various times during the day—unexpected and unannounced—with the hardly hidden goal of catching her in some act. It was not just his presence, it was the way he spoke to her and glared at her. So many times she wanted to strike out at him, but she held her hand and hoped that Gowan would believe her even if his son did not.

The worst part was that Munro revealed that he'd sent word to his father to return and take care of this matter of honour. Her body trembled as the thoughts of what that would entail crept back into her mind. As her husband, Gowan had the right to punish her however he chose, though to kill her would require the chieftain's permission. He could banish her or send her to a convent, but that would require money. As much as she wanted to believe Gowan would not seek such redress, Munro's taunts and threats could convince her otherwise.

Muireall stood by her when none other would, but Cat had heard the harsh, whispered words between Muireall and her husband, Hugh, and knew her friend risked much by her support. The rest of those living in the village reacted the same—treating her like a traitor and shunning her.

The butcher could not give her the meat she asked to buy and offered her only the toughest cuts instead. The baker had no space in his ovens for her bread. The women stared or walked away instead of answering her greetings. When walking through the village, she lost her footing several times when bumped or jostled from behind as people rushed past her.

The strangest thing she'd noticed was how the men of the village treated her. Before, they treated her with the respect due the wife of kin. Now, more often than not, she met lustful stares of men who saw her as a loose woman, her rumoured association with the earl's son being the only proof they needed. None ever approached her, but it did not stop them from following her with illicit desire in their eyes.

If she'd thought she was an outsider, a stranger in a place where everyone was familiar to everyone else, these last two weeks had proven how wrong she could be. Convinced that this would probably not change, no matter the course of action Gowan took with her, Catriona wondered if refusing Aidan's advances had caused more problems than accepting them would have. She brushed that sinful thought aside and tried to make it through another terrible, miserable day.

When she arrived at the well with her buckets to fill and every bit of conversation stopped in one moment, Cat knew they'd been talking about her. She nodded her greetings to anyone who would meet her gaze—only one woman did—and walked to the edge to begin filling her bucket. Somehow, one of her buckets fell off the edge and into the water below.

Fell? As she glanced around and noticed the smirks alight on most faces, she did not doubt it was done a-purpose. She had no choice but to retrieve it, so she began the task of trying to capture it with the bucket on the rope and bring it back up to her. No one, not a one, offered any assistance. The heat of their glaring stares burned her and she fought back tears as she struggled with the bucket.

Tempted to give up, leave the bucket behind and retreat to the privacy of her cottage, Muireall surprised her by arriving and helping her. Cat shook her head and tried to make her friend go away because she understood the dangers that Muireall faced being connected to her. But, true friend that she was, Muireall remained at her side, pointing and joking at the bobbing bucket until Cat's efforts met with success.

* * *

‘Come to supper tonight,' Muireall said as they reached Cat's door. ‘I made more than enough for one more mouth at the table and the children have missed your company.' She waited until Cat had put the buckets down before taking her hand. ‘I have missed your company.'

‘'Tis best, I think,' Cat explained. ‘I know Hugh objects...'

‘Bah on his objections!' Muireall said with a laugh that was too strong and told Cat how strong the man's protestations were. ‘You are my friend.'

‘Muireall, I know you are my friend. Still, I will not cause you more strife with your husband or his family.' Glancing outside to see if others watched, she lowered her voice. ‘Gowan is on his way home, summoned by Munro. All will be settled then.'

‘Will he believe your words?' Muireall asked. She'd never once asked if they were true, she simply believed Cat. ‘What do you think he will do?'

‘I know not,' Cat admitted. ‘He is a patient and fair man, but he can be hard, too. Now when his honour is involved...' She shrugged. ‘If Munro has convinced him to return now and to these accusations, I just do not know.'

If her friend sensed or heard too much of her despair, she would never leave. So, she forced a smile and hugged Muireall.

‘Go now! Who is with those bairns while you dawdle with me?' Cat walked over and grasped the edge of the door, shushing her friend out.

‘You gave me no answer about supper.' Muireall stopped in the middle of the doorway and crossed her arms over her chest. ‘And “no” had best not be what you say.'

‘Fine. I will come,' she agreed. It would be the first enjoyable meal for her since...

‘You are worrying again.' Muireall turned to leave, but glanced back again. ‘Worry not over Hugh. I am not.'

* * *

It became clear to her just a short time later that Hugh was a problem. When Cat arrived at her friend's cottage, Muireall's husband stomped out with a silent stare and as the bairns watched in shocked silence. Muireall welcomed her with watery tears and a brave smile, but Cat knew this would be the last time they shared together until Gowan returned and settled this matter.

Until Gowan returned, nothing could be changed or fixed.

* * *

As she fell into a troubled sleep that night, images of Gowan's return filled her dreams. Cat prayed that the man who had saved her life once would be able to save her honour now.

But everything waited for Gowan's return to Lairig Dubh.

Chapter Seven

A
idan answered his father's summons when it came. Though he had expected to be called to answer for the rumoured actions long before this, he knew it would happen sooner rather than later. Knocking and then opening the door, he found his father, grim-faced, sitting in the chair he called his. His mother stood apart from him—not a good sign. Strife between the Beast and his mate was never good. Closing the door, he walked forward, kissing his mother and nodding and standing before his father.

The silence grew, stronger and more uncomfortable by the moment. It was a strategy, used by his father many times, and a successful one at that. He waited, as practised at this as his parents were. Oh, his sister Lilidh would crumble in tears after a few moments of her father's hard stare. And Sheena, the youngest, would have trembled by now and admitted all sorts of sins, both real and imagined or planned. But he was the eldest and could play this game.

‘A married woman, Aidan,' his father finally said. Not a question as most would ask, but a statement, a judgement against him already.

‘You have never taken an interest in the women I take to my bed before, Father,' he said, choosing not to answer the question even if it wasn't asked yet. At his mother's gasp, he realised his error. ‘I beg your pardon, Mother.' He faced his father again. ‘She said no.'

He'd never lied to his parents before. Oh, he'd told wild tales and twisted the truth when it suited his needs, but he had never lied. Would his father accept his word as truth now?

‘There are problems now, Aidan. Gowan carries out his duties well. He accepted whatever tasks or assignments I set before him. If others see that their wives could become the target of your efforts to fill your empty bed with a new lover...' His mother gasped again and Aidan steeled himself for her displeasure even as his father attempted an apology of sorts.

‘I told you this was not a suitable matter for you to attend, Jocelyn. I said I would handle this myself.' His father stood and approached his mother. ‘Your son is a man now and makes his own decisions. And he must stand by his actions as well.'

Jocelyn MacCallum, Lady MacLerie, was not a woman to be told her place. As a matter of fact, Aidan could not remember a place or a discussion where she did not go when the need or interest rose in her. Whether matters of kith and kin or king and country, she freely offered and sometimes forced her opinions into the decisions his father considered. Telling her that it was not her place was a challenge, plain and simple, and, from the dark expression on her face, one she was not going to let pass.

‘Not suitable for me, Connor? Truly, did you say that?' His mother approached, finger pointing at him. She stood only as tall as his chest and he would like to say that he did not fear her. But he did, as did his father when her eyes flashed and her finger pointed. ‘He is still my son and if he has dishonoured a married woman in seeking to fill his bed, I would have my say.'

Aidan prepared for her stinging words and then he would speak privately to his father. It was the way they handled things between them. ‘Before you begin, let me repeat—she said no.'

He watched as doubt and then suspicion filled her expressive eyes, the colour his sister had inherited, and then as she realised what he'd said. ‘So you did not bed her?'

‘Mother.' He let out a breath. He did not wish to discuss his lovers with her, but it would be easier to answer her question. ‘Nay, I did not bed her.'

‘But you tried? And your attempts were witnessed?' she plunged on. One glance in his father's direction told him two things—he was enjoying Aidan's discomfort and would not intervene.

‘Aye. Apparently.' Short answers would be best. The next thing he knew, she would be taking him to task over...

‘So now married women, older women appeal to you?' Her eyes narrowed as she asked.

The barking laugh escaped from his father's mouth. Aidan felt the edges of his own mouth twitching then.

‘Not married
women
. Not older
women
.
She
appealed to me.
Catriona
appealed to me.'

There it was. This time it was a different matter altogether. He did not just want fill the empty place in his bed with another warm body, he wanted her. In a way, it was disquieting. An uncomfortable feeling tingled in his skin. It was about her and no one else.

‘Connor, tell Duncan to invite the three women we spoke of here...now. Spring is too far off.'

‘Here now, love...' his father had stood at some point and now walked to his mother's side ‘...we will travel to your brother's lands in just over a month for his wedding. On our return, the three will visit here and Aidan will make his decision. We all agreed to this plan.'

‘'Tis clear to me that he needs to be married sooner rather than later.'

‘Which is what I have been telling you for the last year, love.' Aidan startled and glanced at his father. So his mother had been the one behind delaying his betrothal? ‘We will see to it now.'

His mother seemed contented by that answer, even if he wasn't comforted by the idea at all. Especially not when he just realised that what, or rather who, he wanted was outside his reach. Games aside, seduction aside, there was something about her that was different from every other woman he'd chased...and caught before. Over these last two weeks, since the incident that somehow exposed them, he'd thought about her more than he had before.

And how he'd dragged her into this mess.

‘Jocelyn, I'd like to speak to our son now,' his father said, softly. His tone disarmed whatever objections she might have raised.

‘Listen to your father, Aidan,' she said, lifting on her toes to kiss his cheek. ‘His counsel is wise.'

Aidan smiled as he saw his father's brow rise as his mother walked by him. They watched as she left the chamber, closing the door behind her.

‘So,' his father began, filling a cup with ale from the pitcher there and holding it out to him, ‘did you suggest Gowan for the assignment to get him out of your way, then? So you could pursue his wife?'

He would not lie. ‘Aye.'

Aidan waited as his father drank deeply before meeting his gaze. ‘And did you? Pursue her?'

‘Aye.' The word came out on a whisper and echoed across the emptiness between them.

‘You have not failed in that kind of pursuit before.'

Now it was his turn to raise a brow at that remark. How closely had his father watched his amorous exploits?

‘As your mother will no doubt tell you, there is little or nothing that happens in my family or on my lands that I do not know about.' His father laughed then. ‘And it was not so long ago that I was a young man chasing any young woman who would share a few moments of pleasure with me.'

‘And marriage made you stop?'

His father's faithfulness to his mother was well known, but was considered an eccentricity among most other families. A man could have a wife and a leman if he could support both and a wealthy, powerful nobleman such as his father could afford as many as he'd want. Yet he neither sought nor kept any lovers since, according to the stories, his marriage to Jocelyn MacCallum.

Connor MacLerie's marriage stood as an example and many men in the clan followed his lead, finding happiness in the beds and hearts of only their wives. Duncan, Rurik and others remained steadfast to their vows.

‘Not marriage so much as love,' his father explained. Though his father's first marriage had ended in disaster, rumours said he had loved his wife. ‘That is why I want you to focus on your marriage. If you find a wife like the one I found in your mother, this restlessness will pass.' His father put his cup down and sat once more. ‘So, how do you plan to proceed in this matter between you and Gowan?'

‘When he returns, I expect he will punish his wife as he sees fit and he will issue a challenge to me.' That much he knew for no man would allow such an insult, whether real or perceived, to go unanswered. And Catriona would bear the brunt of Gowan's displeasure over his actions.

‘And you will decline it? Handle it privately?'

Aidan shook his head and put the cup down. ‘Nay. I see no way to handle this in private since word has spread. I will accept his challenge and allow him to win. His honour will be satisfied and my transgression will be looked at as a youthful escapade.' He used Catriona's words to describe it. A pang of true longing struck him then. ‘Is Gowan a cruel man? A fair one?' he asked, now contemplating what actions a man could or would take against a wife who shamed him...even if she had not.

‘I am glad to see you are finally seeing the results caused by your lack of control and lack of discretion,' his father said.

The heat of embarrassment crept into his face. He'd been wrong, oh, so wrong, to pursue her and had never given it much thought. Before this, he would have taken his pleasure and never thought on the consequences. Now, an innocent woman who'd stood firm for the vows she'd taken would be chastised and, most likely, beaten for his actions.

Very much as it would happen in the future when he inherited the titles, lands and people of the Clan MacLerie. His word and his actions would send men to war, deprive others of their lands, direct marriages and contracts, both binding and severing relationships—and he would bear responsibility for it all.

The image of a humbled Catriona, beaten down both by her husband's hand and the scorn of the villagers, horrified him more than he could say. To see the spirit and the passion within that woman be less than the woman he knew she could be, would be, bothered him more than he could explain.

‘So? How would you take him to be?' he asked once more, glancing from under his brow to watch his father's reaction.

‘I think he will do only what he deems necessary to restore his honour. I will speak with him as well.'

Aidan nodded. His father's words would carry weight with the warrior to mitigate Catriona's part in this. Feeling less burdened now, knowing that this would all be worked out, each of them playing their part in getting past the gossip he'd caused, Aidan thanked his father and turned to leave.

‘Once we return from Athdar's wedding and decide on your own betrothal, I think you should take over the running of Ord Dubh. Move there. Make it to your own liking. Take your pick of the men and establish it as your holding. 'Tis time, 'tis past time, really.'

Ord Dubh,
black hammer
, was a small stone keep that sat on a round hammer-shaped hill at the southernmost spot on MacLerie lands. It was a choice parcel of land and a good place to prove himself to be his father's heir. So, while his newly betrothed wife was living here and becoming accustomed to the ways of the MacLeries, he would be preparing their home, his home, in the south.

Away from the temptation named Catriona MacKenzie.

With these plans in place, all that need happen now was Gowan's arrival home to sort through things with him and see Catriona settled back into her husband's regard. No matter that he could easily see her standing on the stone balcony that Ord Dubh's keep boasted, watching his return and waiting there for him.

Not with Gowan. Not another woman waiting.

Catriona. His.

Shaking off thoughts and dreams that could not be, he held out his hand to his father.

‘My thanks for your support, Father,' he said, shaking his hand.

Leaving the chamber, he made his way to the small room he claimed as his in the other tower and went to bed. His dreams were filled with the lush images of Catriona, naked in his arms, on his bed, in his keep. Her brown hair pouring over them, shimmering in the light of candles. Her eyes so icy blue they burned as she gazed down at him, her legs tight around his hips as she rode him. Until they both cried out in pleasure.

He awakened, sweat-covered and hard, unable to find a way back to a peaceful sleep with such dreams yet tormenting him.

Hopefully, Gowan would arrive home soon and take Catriona out of his thoughts and dreams.

* * *

Catriona sat near the small window, using the sun's weak rays to light the clothing she was mending. Her back ached from the position, so she welcomed the knock at the door, knowing only it gave her the opportunity to stand and stretch out the tight muscles that complained even now. She lifted the latch, expecting Muireall to be there, on her daily errands and with wee Donald on her hip. Instead she found Lady MacLerie. Dropping into a deep curtsy and remaining there, she could not think of why the lady would be standing at her door.

‘My lady,' she said, without lifting her head. ‘How can I serve you?'

‘May we speak inside?' the lady asked. Cat stood and moved back so the lady could enter. Though for what reason, she knew not.

‘There, Peggy,' the lady said, pointing at the table.

Cat then noticed the girl standing behind the lady and the basket she carried. With a nod to her, young Peggy hefted the basket on to the table. Still puzzled over the lady's reason for visiting her, she watched as Lady MacLerie whispered some instructions to her maid and waited for her to speak. Though a common sight in the village, visiting the sick, speaking to villagers to ask after their situations and conditions and other duties expected of her, Catriona had not met or spoken to her.

‘May we sit?' the lady asked.

Cursing her own lack of manners under her breath, she pulled out the two best stools from under the table and waited for the lady to settle herself on one of them before sitting next to her. When the lady reached out and took her hand, patting it gently, alarm and fear set in. Shaking her head against the reason for this visit, Cat waited to hear the terrible words. For the other reason the lady visited here was to...

‘I am so sorry to tell you that Gowan has died.'

It could not be. He was an able soldier and had been on many dangerous missions and fought in many battles for the MacLerie. His assignment this time was not one of those. This must be—