Highland Troth (Highland Talents Book 3) (18 page)

Her tears welled again. She shook her head and moved past him. It was up to her to save herself and Fletcher. Her father’s inability to see the truth meant she must act for him. In the morning, she’d confront Alasdair and tell him the wedding was off. If her father felt well enough to flirt with Madeleine MacGregor, he must be well enough to travel. It was time to head home.

Chapter Twelve

Caitrin chose to confront MacGregor in his solar. She knew better than to challenge him, perhaps embarrass him, in front of his people, so she waited until she found him alone there. With the great hall only steps away and full of people, she should be safe enough. As a precaution, she left the door open. MacGregor, working at his desk, glanced up as she approached, then quickly rose to his feet.

“Ah, my lovely betrothed. How are ye? And how does yer father fare?”

“Da is much improved,” Caitrin said. “Thank ye for yer concern. But he is no’ why I am here.” She paused, considering how to go forward. “Or perhaps he is.”

MacGregor’s quizzical smile and raised eyebrows confirmed she had his attention. She refused the chair he gestured for her to take and did not object as he reseated himself.

Now to tell him her decision, and make him accept it.

“I’ve come to tell ye I canna marry ye.” She held up a hand as MacGregor leaned back in his chair. His expression quickly changed from curious to something darker as his brow lowered. The flinty glint in his eye made her wish she’d brought an army with her.

“Indeed.”

“I’m sorry. MacGregor is an impressive clan, an imposing keep. And ye…” Caitrin suddenly found herself at a loss for words. She swallowed. “And ye…will make an advantageous match with another woman. Another clan.”

“Will I?”

He said the words softly, but suddenly, MacGregor looked downright dangerous. Caitrin forced herself to remain calm. She dared not show any weakness.

He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his desk, his hands clasped loosely before his face. “And will ye be arranging such an advantageous match for me?”

“Me? Nay, how could I? I simply mean to say ye willna marry me.”

“And does Fletcher agree with this?”

“Da doesna ken I am here. ’Tis my life. My decision to make.”

“I must assume ye have someone else in mind to marry. The Lathan, perhaps?”

“What? Nay!” MacGregor could not find out how she felt about Jamie! It would put him in terrible danger. She forced herself to meet his gaze. “I simply dinna wish to marry at this time. Perhaps never.”

“Ye would disobey yer father, yer laird, in this manner?”

“My da will understand.”
Eventually.

MacGregor stood and moved around the desk. Caitrin willed her knees to hold her up as he approached. She kept her gaze on the middle of his chest, fearing eye contact would set him off.

“I dinna think he will,” MacGregor murmured as he lifted her chin with one crooked finger, forcing her to meet his gaze.

His touch scalded her skin and his sour breath turned her stomach—or did fear do that? Why had she thought she could come in here, announce her intentions, and simply leave with this man’s acceptance? She cursed herself for a fool, but held her ground.

“In fact, I believe he will be most distressed. His daughter’s rebellion, for one, will cause him pain. As will her temerity in pretending to speak for her laird.”

As MacGregor spoke, his voice softened, and his eyelids drooped heavily. Caitrin’s heart kicked against her ribs as icy dread finally washed through her. What did he mean to do?

Before she could blink, he slapped her, hard, across the face, knocking her to her knees. “And of course, her condition will distress him, once I finish punishing her for disobeying her rightful laird. Both of them.” He lashed out again, landing an open-handed blow to the side of her head.

Ears ringing, she scrambled to get away, but he caught her easily and pulled her up by her arms. He studied her for a moment, his gaze traveling from her face down her throat to her breasts and lower. With a curl of his lip, he punched her in the belly but prevented her from doubling over against the pain, nearly wrenching her arm from its socket. Next, he grabbed her breast and squeezed until he had the nipple between his thumb and fingers, then he twisted.

She cried out, but that only made him twist harder. Head spinning, she fought back with her free hand, clawing at his face, going for his eyes. He laughed and released her breast, only to spin her around and pin her injured arm behind her back between them. Then he started to pull up her skirt. Caitrin tried kicking him, but she only succeeded in wrenching the arm he held. He slid his hand up her leg, making her skin crawl, then grabbed her thigh and squeezed. She rocked against the pain of his fingers digging into her flesh, trying to dislodge his hand without dislocating her arm.

“Ah, ye like that, do ye?” His words, whispered in her ear, chilled her. Then his hand slid farther upward and Caitrin whimpered. “Ye like it rough, I see. Ye’re wild for me, aren’t ye?” She closed her eyes, but that only made her more aware of the sensation of his fingers grasping and prodding at her, causing a cramping pinch deep in her core. “Nay doubt of yer innocence, then. I’ll enjoy breaking through that with my cock.” He drew his hand from beneath her skirt. “Ye’re ready for me. I’m going to have ye eventually. I dinna see a reason to wait to claim my bride. Do ye?”

He slammed her face down onto the desk and bent her over it, and then he grabbed the back of her skirt and pulled it up. Pinning her in place with his hip, he fumbled one-handed at his clothing as he continued to force her arm up behind her back. Cool air suddenly contrasted with the heat of his body against her bare bottom. Caitrin clenched her teeth and shed hot tears on the desk. He meant to take her like this. If she fought him, he’d break her arm, or worse.

Then she heard footsteps in the hall outside the open door. “Nay!” she cried, praying they would hear her distress.

MacGregor swore and pulled her upright, turning her to face the door. The hem of her skirt fell to the floor as she spun and she breathed a small sigh of relief at the reprieve. “Let me go,” she pleaded as two of MacGregor’s men appeared in the doorway.

“Laird?” one of them said. “We heard a cry…”

Caitrin had no idea what errand had brought them, but she wanted to throw herself to the floor at their feet and thank them. Their presence saved her. For the moment, at least. She squeezed her legs together against the unfamiliar, uncomfortable sensation left behind by MacGregor’s assault.

“Take her to her father,” MacGregor ordered.

She could not mistake the fury in his voice. She dared not look around at him. Instead, she tried to run to the door as MacGregor pushed her forward. She tripped on her skirt and fell headlong at the men’s feet, just as she had pictured doing. In her panic, she had not realized MacGregor had ripped the cloth in his attempt to punish her.

“Pick her up and get her out of my sight,” she heard MacGregor growl.

Hands gripped her under her arms, and she cried out as spears of pain shot down the arm MacGregor had used as leverage against her. But the men kept moving, not speaking, likely no more anxious than she to remain in their laird’s presence.

“Take me to my chamber, please,” she pleaded as they forced her along between them. “I dinna wish my da to see me like this.” Or anyone else. Caitrin barely noticed the route they took, but to her great relief, they encountered no one. She gasped her thanks when she found herself at her chamber door. One of the men opened it, and the other nudged her inside. The door slammed shut behind her.

But she was not alone—one man remained behind. To finish what his laird had started? Surely, MacGregor would not tolerate one of his men sullying his intended bride? Her heart thudded into her throat and she backed away.

He shook his head. “I’ll no’ harm ye, Lady. But what do ye need? Shall I send the healer? A hot bath?”

Caitrin’s knees went weak. “A hot bath?”

“Dinna fash. I’ll send Nan. She and the bath will be here soon. I’m Malcolm. Open the door only when ye hear me say my name, aye?”

“Malcolm.”

“Good lass.”

It took a moment for Caitrin to realize he’d left her and she was alone in her chamber. She let the sobbing come then, wrenching her chest and pouring out her pain and shame at how MacGregor had violated her body. She had no doubt this was the future she faced if the marriage went forward.

What had she hoped to achieve? After he’d manhandled her in the hall, she’d been a fool to think an open door would protect her. That he would simply accede to her demands and allow both Fletchers and Lathans to depart in peace. Her father was right—her confidence in her ability to detect lies only led her to rash action and caused trouble. She could not fight the MacGregor alone. Nor could her father.

Her father! If he saw her like this, he’d challenge the MacGregor, but he wouldn’t survive two minutes.

Jamie and the Lathans were her last hope. If they could get her away, hide her, perhaps MacGregor would lose interest and seek another bride. Another poor woman he could abuse.

Suddenly, she saw the expression on the pregnant woman’s face in a whole new light. Her smile had not been prideful, it had been a smile of sympathy. The woman knew the fate that awaited Caitrin. How many other women in this clan, and elsewhere, shared that awful knowledge?

****

Jamie knew there had been trouble as soon as he opened his door and saw Caitrin’s face. She tried to hide behind her hair, but a dark bruise marred one cheek and she held one arm close to her side. He hated the haunted look in her eyes. “Who did this?”

Her gasp and pale complexion only added to the air of misery around her.

“MacGregor?”

He barely heard her acknowledgment.

He gathered her into his arms, uncaring who might come upon them in the hall outside his chamber. “Come.” He kept an arm around her as he led her inside then shut the door firmly behind them, making it clear he would hear this tale undisturbed. “What happened?”

The tears that just then began to streak down her cheeks nearly broke his heart. But he led her to a chair and sat opposite her, out of reach. He needed a cool head to listen to this tale and touching her would not help him remain calm.

“I went to him. Alone. I told him I wouldna marry him,” Caitrin said softly. She touched her face and dress. “It looked worse than this, but I…I took a bath and put on fresh clothes…”

The tears were coming faster now. Jamie wanted to beat something, preferably MacGregor.

“He hit ye. What else did he do?”

Caitrin’s hands covered her face, and Jamie held his breath. If that bastard had raped her, Jamie would kill him in his own keep, no matter how many warriors he claimed within its walls.

“He punched me and knocked me down. Then he put his hands on me and tore my skirt. But his men interrupted him before he could do more than that.”

Jamie closed his eyes and swore, his jaw bunched, yet he had to be grateful for the men’s timing. MacGregor had intended to rape her. He would answer to Jamie for that.

“Does yer Da ken what happened?”

Caitrin dropped her hands and looked at him, wide-eyed. “Nay! He’d go after MacGregor, and MacGregor would kill him.” She choked back a sob. “I canna tell him. I canna let him see me. This is my fault.”

“Nay, ’tis no’ yer fault. ’Tis yer da’s for bringing ye here without having a good measure of the man he planned to wed ye to. And MacGregor’s fault for being a whoreson.”

“I dinna believe I’m the first he’s beaten. The first he’s…assaulted. The other women…”

“I dinna believe ye are either, but how could ye ken that?”

“I had a feeling when I sat with some of the clan’s ladies.” She gnawed on a knuckle then looked up. “What can I do? I canna marry him.”

“Ye must let me handle it. I will tell yer da ye fell ill, and yer maid put ye to bed to let ye rest.”

“Nay, ye canna. He saw us last night. He’s furious. He warned me to stay away from ye.”

“I got the same warning from him this morning. But that doesna matter. Yer safety does. I’ll find another way to get the word to him. That should buy ye the rest of today and tonight to recover.”

Caitrin’s shoulders dropped and she sighed.

“Has the healer seen ye? Do ye need her?”

“Nay and nay. The fewer who ken this, the better. If the healer hasna been able to help the other women in the clan, there’s naught she can do for me.”

“Ye canna be certain of that.”

“Perhaps no’. But I dinna wish to see her.”

“Very well. ’Tis best if ye stay here while I’m gone.”

“Nay, take me to my chamber. One of yer men can stay by my door.”

“If Kyle or one of the other lads is seen standing guard on yer door, word will get back to Alasdair very quickly. ’Tis no’ the same as keeping watch over yer da. He’ll take it as a challenge for possession of ye. Let’s keep ye here as long as it is safe to do so.” Jamie thought for a moment. “It would help if I had someone close to MacGregor who could tell me how many times this has happened with other women. That might convince yer da.”

“One of MacGregor’s men, Malcolm helped me…afterward. He got me back to my chamber. Perhaps he would speak to ye.”

“If I must, I’ll approach him. In the meantime, I will get word to yer da, and then my men and I will decide what to do.”

“To take me from here?”

“One thing at a time, Caitrin.” Jamie stood. “Rest, now. I’ll be back soon.”

He left her staring into the fire.

He found Kyle and the others in the great hall. “We’ve got a problem,” he told them, “and we need a plan. Several, in fact. And one of them will involve killing MacGregor.”

Stunned silence greeted him until Bram spoke up. “What has happened?” If the situation had not been so serious, Jamie would have enjoyed the wide-eyed, shocked expressions on their faces.

“MacGregor attacked Caitrin.” Jamie clenched his fists. “If I didn’t have to answer to Toran for ruining his plans, I’d kill the bastard right now.”

Several of the men exchanged worried glances, but no one had a reply.