Not Mine to Give (15 page)

Duncan almost laughed at the shocked look on her face. He knew she would try her best. He also knew he would be lucky if she lasted until they passed the first trencher of meat.

…

Katherine walked into the great hall at Duncan’s side and paused with him at the top of the stairs. She lifted her chin and looked out to the trestle tables filled with unsmiling warriors. Every McGowan face turned to study her. They wore the same disdainful looks she was used to receiving from the Fergusons.

“Keep your gaze down, Kate. Do na let them think you forward.”

Katherine focused her gaze on the rushes, but not before she noticed that each man had one hand on the hilt of his sword and the other on the dagger at his side.

“Welcome to Lochmore Castle, Callum. Geordie.”

Duncan greeted their guests in Gaelic, which was not surprising. Katherine doubted the
McGowans understood English. Very few Fergusons, other than Duncan and Malcolm and one or two others, did.

The McGowan whom Duncan greeted as
Callum took a step forward. He stood almost a head shorter than Duncan, his bushy red hair framing a ruddy, flushed face. There was a ready smile on his lips and a twinkle in his eyes Katherine found appealing. If he would not have posed such a threat, she was certain she could have liked him.

Not so his brother, Geordie. From his first leering stare, she felt a strong repulsion to the man. Although a good deal taller and broader than his brother, with blond hair and rugged good looks, the licentious glare in his eyes sent shivers up and down her spine. He stared at her as if he were undressing her, and almost drooled in anticipation of what he would do if he ever got her alone. Katherine lowered her gaze to the rushes again and ignored his stare.

“We are glad you made it home from the fighting, Duncan,” Callum said in greeting. “There were many of our Scots who did na.”

Duncan nodded in agreement. Geordie lifted his hand to his sword and boasted proudly. “But there were many more of the bastard English whose blood soaked the Scottish
ground. I smile when I remember each one I sent to Hades.”

Katherine kept her gaze lowered, willing herself not to react. She didn’t have to. Duncan reacted for her. He tightened his grip on her hand and pulled her closer. “There were enough on both sides who lost their lives. Even one man is too great a sacrifice.”

“Has marriage to the English woman softened you so much, Ferguson?”

Duncan bristled. Katherine felt his muscles bunch beneath her hand. “Death and the loss of so many good friends has changed me. If you think to see if marriage has made me soft, Geordie, I will be glad to use my sword to prove you wrong.”

An uneasy wave of friction seeped through the great hall. Each Ferguson warrior readied his stance, moving to guard his back and gain an advantage if a fight broke out with the McGowans scattered throughout the room.

Geordie fingered the hilt of his broad sword, then slowly lifted his hand away. “I meant
na challenge, laird. We have all lost friends and family.”

Katherine listened but did not hear much regret in his voice.

Callum gave his brother a disapproving look. then took a step
forward. “We will miss your father, Duncan,” Callum said, the tone of his voice sincere. “He was a fine laird. Scotland will miss his good counsel.”

Duncan nodded in acknowledgment. “The Ferguson fight is
na finished. Bolton took Brenna with him. We will ride after her in two days’ time.”

“You can count on the
McGowans to be at your side,” Callum added. “We will meet you on our east border when you pass south.”

Geordie fingered the hilt of his sword. “It will be a pleasure to send even more of the bastard English to hell where they belong. Would that we could rid the world of every one of them.”

“Enough Geordie,” Callum warned softly.

Katherine did not react. She didn’t want them to know she understood what they were saying, but Duncan must have sensed her anger. He squeezed her hand as a gentle reminder to remain calm. She clenched her teeth until the muscles in her jaw ached, and held onto her temper with the patience of Job himself.

“Have you and your men had enough to eat?” Duncan asked, the tone of his voice strained and hard.

“Aye,”
Callum answered. “Malcolm made sure we were taken care of well.”

Duncan nodded, then led Katherine to the other side of the table.
Callum took his place at Duncan’s left, and Geordie opposite him on Malcolm’s right. Two serving girls quickly brought over trenchers with food and a pitcher of ale to fill their laird and their mistress’s goblets. The girl with the ale wasn’t fast enough to escape Geordie’s reach before he grabbed her to refill his empty tankard. She gave Duncan an apologetic look and hurried from the room.

Duncan filled his platter and Katherine put but a small portion on hers. While her husband chewed his food as if he enjoyed every bite, Katherine could do no more than shove the roasted fowl and vegetables around on her platter. The air literally sparked with tension. Soon the
McGowans would state their purpose for coming, and Duncan would state the reason they could not have the crown.

Or, he would simply tell them Katherine had it and leave them alone with her to see if they could force her to tell them where it was hidden.

Or, he could refuse to discuss the matter and before the tables were cleared, the floor would be littered with dead bodies. Duncan’s could be one of them.

A cold sweat covered her body and a chill ran up and down her spine. Whatever happened would be her fault. She gripped the handle of her two-pronged fork and prepared for the worst.

“You’d best eat, lass,” Duncan said between mouthfuls of food. He spoke in English so neither of the McGowans understood him.

Katherine jabbed a small piece of carrot, then lifted her fork to her mouth. “It’s difficult to eat when one is in the company of such an arrogant ass,” she answered, keeping her voice sweet as honey. Duncan’s hand halted in mid air as he reached for a piece of dried fruit on a platter in front of him. Malcolm seemed to have swallowed his ale wrong for he coughed most profusely.

She caught the hard look on Geordie’s face, as if to even hear English spoken offended his Scottish pride. She quickly lowered her gaze, thankful that Callum pulled his brother’s attention to more important matters.

“It’s best to get to the reason we’re here, Duncan. We’ve come for the crown.”

Duncan did not lift his head, but stabbed another piece of the roasted fowl and chewed. “You canna have it,” he announced, tearing a hunk from the loaf of warm bread and spreading it with honey.

Geordie slid back in his chair and reached for his sword, but
Callum held out his hand to stop him. The hateful look on Geordie’s face was enough to commit murder. “It was McGowan Scots that died taking the crown,” Geordie roared, shoving Callum’s hand away. “The crown belongs to us. We demand you give it back.”

Slowly, deliberately, Duncan laid down his fork and fisted his hands on either side of his trencher. He lifted his gaze and leveled each brother with a determined look that broached no compromise. His voice when he spoke, emitted a challenge that left no room for doubt. “It was some
verra foolish McGowan Scots that took the Bishop’s Crown. Not only did they lose their own lives taking it, but their stupidity caused many more innocent Scots to die for a worthless cause.”

“How dare you—”

Geordie had his sword only half out of the sheath when Duncan whipped his broadsword from behind his back and slammed it onto the table. The edge of the sword made a deep cut in the wood while the tip of the metal missed striking Geordie by mere inches.

“Enough!”

Geordie froze. Duncan rose to his feet and glared at the young Scot. His towering height dominated the room. He braced his hands on either side of his trencher and faced the McGowans. “When your brave McGowan lads stole the crown from the English, where did they take it for safe keeping? Home? To Fenbyre Castle? Nay! They brought it here. They brought it to Lochmore for my father to protect. For my father to take the risk.”

Katherine felt the turbulence in Duncan’s body that
teetered on the verge of erupting. She could see raw anger in every movement, hear it in every word. Never had she experienced such controlled violence, such restrained intensity as she heard in the quiet fury of his voice.

“My father, and my mother, and my sisters,
Meara and Elissa, died because of what McGowan Scots did. When you give my family back to me, alive and unharmed, I will give you back the crown.”

The great hall bristled with anger charged enough to light a fire. Katherine waited. Every warrior stood with his hand on his sword, ready to draw blood at the first sign from their laird. Her heart pounded in her breast as she watched to see how many deaths would be caused because of her vow to God.

“The crown is ours,” Geordie hissed, the tone of his voice bitter.

“Quiet, Geordie,”
Callum whispered, then slowly raised his hand in a yielding motion. One by one the McGowan warriors relaxed their stance. “You are right, Duncan. You have forfeited more. The crown is yours by right.”

Geordie slammed down his tankard of ale, and shoved his chair away from the table. He gave Duncan a hostile glance, then glared at Katherine with a look equally as hateful. Without another word, he stormed from the room, taking a half dozen McGowan warriors with him.

Katherine watched him leave and felt a relief that was indescribable. Her heart raced as if she’d just been given a reprieve from realizing her greatest fear. And yet, she knew the McGowans were but the first to come after the crown. They were but the first to threaten Duncan.

Callum
rose and held his hand out in offering. “We will meet you in two days’ time, Duncan. You can count on the McGowans to help you get your sister back.”

Duncan took
Callum’s hand, and clasped his forearm. “You are welcome to stay the night and partake of our food in the morning before you leave.”

“Nay. I think it’s best if there is some distance between Geordie and
Lochmore Castle. He’s more than set on having the crown. He has too much of our father’s temper to see things in the right light.”

Duncan nodded. “You will make a fine laird when the time comes,
Callum. Scotland will be the stronger for it.”

Callum
McGowan turned to Katherine. “You have a fine wife, Duncan. I do na ken the reason you chose an English, but whatever it is, I hope it’s worth the price you will be forced to pay. There are many like Geordie who are too filled with prejudice and hatred. They will never search for a way to bond the two countries in peace.”

Callum
bowed with respect, then left the great hall. The remaining McGowan warriors followed behind him.

“Do you want someone to follow them, Duncan?” Malcolm asked after the last McGowan had left.

“Have Balfour see that they make it past the curtain, then secure the gates and double the watch. Callum can be trusted. If he has any say, they will na come back tonight.”

Malcolm gave a sign to the Ferguson warrior sitting beside him, and Balfour quickly left the room. Duncan reached over and filled his tankard with ale, then poured an equal amount in hers. In no time, the room was bustling with talk of the near skirmish with the
McGowans and the excitement of going to fight the English in two days’ time.

“Are you all right, Kate?”

She was trembling inside. No, she was not all right. Did Duncan realize what had almost happened? Did he know how close he’d almost come to losing his life? Over a crown he did not have — and a wife he did not want.

She had to get the crown and get it to her father in England. Duncan might not escape so easily the next time someone came for it. She might not escape either if Geordie found out she was hiding it. She wondered how much Duncan would care if she didn’t.

She could not forget the words she’d heard Regan say this afternoon, and the boastful tone of her voice.
I should be the one to have your name and share your bed and bear your children. I am the one you love, na her.

Katherine glanced at her husband. She thought he had not been able to come to her just because she was English. Now she feared that was not the only reason. Why hadn’t she realized he loved someone else? Making her his wife betrayed the woman he really loved.

She could not forget the disdainful looks she’d lived with for the past two weeks. Everyone knew their laird loved another — except her.

“Are you ill, Kate?”

Katherine lifted her cup of ale to her mouth and drank. “I am fine.” She picked up her fork and shoved a tiny carrot around on her platter. There was a tightness in her throat that would not leave, a void that nothing could fill.

Duncan placed his hand over her fist, and Katherine jerked it back. Heaven help her. She could not allow herself to care
for this man. She would not let him pretend he cared for her either. He had not married her because he wanted her, but because she had the crown. He had sacrificed his happiness to get it. Before it was over, he would more than likely have to sacrifice his life, too.