Not Mine to Give (26 page)

She wanted to wrap her arms around her Scot’s warm body but she couldn’t. She would first have to release the cold, metal crown in her grasp. She could not. She had taken a vow and could not break it.

Even in her sleep she could not give up the crown.

“I am fine now. You may put me down.”

Katherine lifted her head from beneath Duncan’s chin. The straight line of his lips and the deep furrows across his brow gave him a formidable look. Even with her ear away from his chest she could still hear the rapid pounding of his heart.

“You are na fine. Even a blind man can see that.” His strong arms held her fast as he took the steps to their chamber two at a time.

An angry muscle twitched in his jaw and the piercing tint of his eyes darkened. “You didn’t sleep at all last night and little the night before, and now that I think on it, I can
na remember the last meal you ate. You’ve struggled and worried until you’ve made yourself ill.”

The angry tone of his soft voice struck a harsh chord. She could not bring herself to look him in the eyes. “Where are Ian and Elizabeth? I must see to them.”

“Do na worry about your sister. She can see to herself and to her husband. You have enough to worry about right now.”

Katherine closed her eyes and hugged the crown tighter to her chest. She did not remember the last few miles of their journey home nor did she remember crossing the drawbridge into
Lochmore Castle.

“You
na longer have to protect everyone around you, wife. You na longer have to prove you do na need anyone.” He kicked the heavy door of their chamber with his booted foot and it bounced against the stone wall and came back at him. He kicked it again. Harder. “You are na strong enough to fight Bolton by yourself.” His raised voice echoed in their chamber. “Do you know how foolish it was for you to leave here to go to Ian?”

He lowered her to a chair and threw back the covers on their bed with such force she shivered from the rush of cold air that whipped around her.

“Bolton could have taken you, and you would be in his camp right now, fighting for your life.”

He lifted her from the chair and held her arms in a tight grip. “Is it possible for you put the crown down long enough to ready yourself for bed, or do you
na trust me enough to even let the crown out of your grasp?”

Anger and fury radiated from his gaze. She watched the thundering storm that brewed inside him.

She placed the crown on the table beside her and untied the laces at her throat. She couldn’t look at him. His rage was too great for her to bear.

With an angry tug, he reached for the gown and pulled it up over her shoulders. A loud rip echoed in the air. With a sigh of frustration, he threw the material on a heap in the corner. “You always think you must do everything yourself. Even in the dungeon you faced Bolton as if you stood a chance of conquering him.”

He grabbed her nightdress and dropped it over her head, then picked her up and placed her on the bed. After he jerked the covers up under her chin, he walked to the hearth and dropped another log to make a warmer fire. It fell with a loud whoosh. He turned his head toward her and spoke over his shoulder. “Did you want your crown with you in bed, wife, or do you trust me enough to leave it on the table?”

The air caught in her throat and a cold, hateful hand twisted her heart in her breast. She could not give a reply. She could not even face him.

He answered her anyway. “I will leave it where you can watch it. If you get lonesome during the night you need only to reach for it.”

Another log fell on the fire with a deafening thud. “I do
na know why you could na just trust me enough to ask for my help. I do na know why you went to Regan. I do na know why—”

“You do not know why I
can not give you the crown, Duncan. That is what you do not know.”

He hurled the last log to the floor beside the hearth and fired his words at her. “That’s right! You are my wife! You know how important the crown is to me. If you cared for me at all, you would give me the crown before Bolton or your father come.”

“You know I cannot. I took a vow.”

“You were going to ask for sanctuary, Kate. Do you know what that would have meant? Do you know what would have happened?”

Katherine turned her face away from him and closed her eyes. She would not cry. She would not let him see how his cutting words and the painful tone of his voice ripped her heart from her breast. “I did what I had to do, Duncan.”

The roar of his voice bounced off the cold stone walls and came back with a killing vengeance. “And so you chose to leave me? You chose to run to Ian and ask him for sanctuary, knowing it would separate us forever. Why?”

“Because I’m tired of fighting you. Because you still think I’ll ignore the vow I gave your priest and will give you the crown. Because I love you and a part of me will die when you don’t want me after I give the crown back to England. I can take no more, Duncan. I am not strong enough.”

He turned his back to her, then braced his hands against the wall and hung his head between his outstretched arms. The rigid muscles across his shoulders bunched beneath the loose folds of his shirt and his chest heaved with huge gasps of air. Time stretched forever in front of her and she could think of nothing else that would make what she had to do easier.

“Rest now, wife.” His strained voice sounded little more than a hoarse whisper. “I will go downstairs and make sure everyone is settled for the night. Someone will bring a tray of food up for you. Do na let it go to waste. You need to eat.”

He dropped his arms from the wall and let them hang at his side. Then he squared his shoulders and walked to the door.

“Will you come back to me, Duncan?”

His footsteps halted. His hand froze on the latch. “I do
na know,” he finally answered.

With an angry jerk, he opened the door and walked away. A cold void filled the room in his wake. Katherine stared at the empty doorway, then let her head sink back into the pillow and watched the candlelight dance around the huge wooden beams in the high ceiling. This was how she’d always known it would be. This was how she’d known it would end. This was why she’d promised herself she would never
loose her heart to him. God help her. She had not kept her promise.

A quiet knock sounded from the hallway and Katherine wiped the wetness from her cheeks.

“I’ve brought you something to eat and something to ease your stomach.” Angus walked across the room with a small platter in one hand and a goblet in the other. He shoved aside the crown on the table and set down the food.

“I don’t want anything, Angus. I’m not hungry.”

“You do na have a choice in whether or na you want to eat, milady.” Angus held out the goblet to her. “Here. Drink this first.”

Katherine sat up in bed and took the goblet from him. “What is it?”

“Drink it. It will soothe your stomach.”

Katherine took a swallow. The warmth of the liquid spread through her body and she leaned her head back against the headboard and breathed a deep sigh. “Have all the
MacIntyre warriors been fed and found places to bed down, Angus?”

“Do
na concern yourself with what is about downstairs.”

She took another swallow and Angus handed her a platter and a metal spoon with which to eat. She stared at the thick stew, then looked at Angus, knowing he could read the doubt in her eyes.

“Take a bite of the bread first, milady, and eat the cheese and the fruit that is on the side. The ale should help and maybe you’ll even be able to eat a little of the stew.”

Katherine took a bite of bread and chewed.

“Have you told our laird you’re carrying his babe?”

Her hand stopped midway to her mouth.

“You can na keep it from him for long.”

She let her spoon drop on her plate and lowered her gaze.

“Do na stop eating, lass. You need food for the babe.”

Katherine picked up a piece of fruit and put it to her mouth. “Do you understand why I must give back the crown, Angus?”

“Aye, lass. I understand. And so does our laird. It’s just a painful struggle for him to come to terms with the fact that he may not be able to get the crown back for his father.”

“I think Duncan’s father wanted England to have her crown. I think his father sent the priest to my sister because he knew it wasn’t worth as many Scottish lives as would have died to keep a crown that didn’t belong to them.”

“Mayhaps you’re right, lass. But it will take our laird more time to believe it.”

“No. My husband will never believe it. He’s too filled with Scottish pride.”

Angus handed her the goblet again and she drank, then gave it back to him. “There’s no answer, Angus. I cannot do what he wants and he’ll hate me for what I must do. I cannot live with his hate.”

“He will
na hate you, lass. There will be the babe.”

Katherine fisted her hands in her lap and held her breath. A cold rush of emptiness washed over her. “I should never have married him, Angus.
I knew it that day, but I was so frightened and confused. I didn’t have the courage to follow my king’s edict and marry Bolton. I had planned to go to the convent and ask for sanctuary but…” Katherine took a deep breath. “I should have gone.” She looked up at her friend and held his gaze. “Angus?”

“Aye, milady.”

“Promise me you will not tell Duncan I’m carrying his child. Not yet. Not until the crown is no longer between us.”

“He will have to know. I will
na keep it from him for long.”

“In time, he will know.”

Angus fisted his hands at his side and squared his shoulders. He furrowed his brow until his thick, bushy eyebrows almost met above his questioning stare. “What are you planning, milady?”

Katherine could not hold his gaze. “I have only one choice, Angus. I’ve searched for another but there is none.”

“You can na take the Ferguson heir away from our laird. I will na allow it.” Angus’ harsh voice contained a vivid warning.

Katherine shook her head. “I would never take Duncan’s child away from him. He will have his heir.”

“And will he have his wife?”

Katherine could not stop the one tear that fell to her lap. “He will have what he wants.”

“I can na let you do this, milady.”

“You can stop it no more than I, Angus.” Another tear fell beside the first. “Do you think because of me he will hate the babe?”

“Nay, milady. He will na hate the babe.”

“Angus, will you promise me your laird’s child will always be cared for?”

“You will be here to care for the babe.”

Katherine closed her eyes. “If something were to happen and I could not be here, will you swear to me that you’ll make sure he is always cared for?”

“I will help you care for the child. That is what I will promise.”

To Katherine that was good enough. She would ask no more of Angus.

“Finish your drink, milady, and I’ll leave the platter beside your bed. Close your eyes and rest. For the babe.”

Katherine put the goblet to her lips and drank another swallow, then put it on the bedside table next to the crown. She slid down between the covers and closed her eyes and wished her Scot was here with her, holding her in his arms. She wanted just once more to feel him next to her. The memory would have to last a lifetime.

…

Duncan looked at the empty bed where his wife should be sleeping and his heart leaped to his throat. He took two hurried steps inside and scanned the room in search of her. So help him, if she had…

He took note of her slender body leaning in the shadows near the window overlooking the courtyard and breathed a sigh of
relief. Filtered moonlight streamed through the opening, illuminating her graceful features, and casting an ethereal glow to her pale cheeks. She pulled a cover closer around her shoulders and the thick mass of golden hair hanging to her waist shimmered in the faint light. His body stiffened in response. By the saints, he wanted to rake his fingers through the soft strands, then…

Duncan steeled his shoulders and stared at her, cursing himself for being so weak, cursing himself for climbing the stairs to check on her. He’d sworn he would not come back to her again tonight, but all he could think of while he sat with
Malcolm and the other warriors was his English wife.

Hell, he hadn’t even been able to drink enough to erase her from his mind. And it was not for want of trying. Instead of the ale dulling his senses, the brew only heightened his emotions. His first thought was how desperate she must have been to leave him. His second was the terror that had consumed him when he realized she was gone.

He walked over to her and stood so close he could smell the clean scent of rose soap. He should have stayed downstairs. It had been a mistake to come up here.

He would just stand beside her. There was nothing more to be said. He would only stand here and feel her near him. But he would not touch her.

A glimmer of silvery moonlight reflected on her hair and he reached out to touch the heavy golden softness. The long tresses sifted through his fingers. He bunched his fist and buried his face in the silky strands. She didn’t move. She didn’t stiffen or turn away from his touch. He wished to God she had. Then he would have stopped. But she stood still and lifted her chin, exposing her long graceful neck to him. Her eyes closed as if she wanted him to touch her, and his traitorous arm moved with a will of its own.