Forgiving Hearts: Duncurra 1-3 (2 page)

Even the king believed he might be saving Katherine from the humiliation of remaining unattached if he ordered her to enter a convent, leaving Ambrose with everything. He had all but agreed to do so until Niall approached him for aid. Niall assumed after seven years in exile and eleven more held captive for ransom, albeit not in depravation, the king would have some qualms about forcing a young woman into a cloister. Evidently, he had no qualms about marrying her to a financially desperate Highland Laird, who would trade her title and lands for a larger dowry in coin. Why was it, for men like Ruthven, problems had a way of disappearing if the man threw enough money at them?

As the silence grew heavy, Niall turned back around. He was pleased to see the happiness originally written on Ruthven’s face replaced with consternation. Perhaps he was questioning the wisdom of giving his niece away to a complete stranger.

With Niall’s attention on him once again, Ruthven cleared his throat a little to break the silence, then said, “Ahem...uh, Laird MacIan, it occurs to me that you and my sweet, gentle niece will be traveling for several days to reach your home, and will likely be sleeping out of doors.”

Niall arched an eyebrow and gave a slight nod, disdain etched on his features. “Yes. Well, you understand that my dear Katherine is of course innocent and might appreciate privacy.” A wiser man would have taken heed of the rising fury on the Highlander’s face, but Ambrose charged on. “I think it would be best if you wait until you reach your home to...consummate your marriage.”

“Sir, would ye willingly marry your niece to a man without honor?” Laird MacIan said with menace.

“N—no, of course not,” Ruthven stammered.

“Then ye can be assured I do not need ye to school me in decency!” he roared.

~ * ~

When she returned to the great hall, Katherine saw her uncle sitting in his upholstered chair looking oddly uncomfortable. Both Highlanders stood silently by the hearth. Father James had arrived and even his chatter about the weather and crops didn’t lessen the tension in the room. He was the first to notice her as she slipped quietly into the large room. He stopped mid-sentence, proclaiming, “My lady, you are radiant.”

Laird MacIan looked up and practically gawked at the sight of her. Katherine had dressed like the noblewoman she was, instead of as a servant. The gown she wore clung to her, revealing her womanly curves, and her hair, released from its braid, shimmered around her shoulders like a golden brown cloud.

After registering Laird MacIan’s look of awe, she kept her eyes cast down so he couldn’t read the fear on her face, but she was sure no one could miss the way her hands trembled.

“Well, we have a wedding to perform,” Father James said, motioning to the door of the great hall “Shall we go to the chapel?”

News of the wedding had spread through Cotharach and its village like a brushfire. Now, in addition to the Highland warriors, the staff at Cotharach and many villagers gathered in the courtyard to witness Lady Ruthven’s marriage. The ceremony began outside the chapel with Father James asking the assembly if anyone knew of any reason why Laird Niall and Lady Katherine could not be married. Although no one spoke, a million reasons flew through Katherine’s mind. The priest continued, “Niall MacIan, wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife? Wilt thou love her, and honor her, keep her and guard her, in health and in sickness, as a husband should a wife, and forsaking all others on account of her, keep thee only unto her, so long as you both shall live?”

She heard Niall answer, “I will,” his voice deep and melodic.

Katherine felt strangely detached as she heard the priest ask for her assent. “I will,” she answered, the reality of the situation finally sinking in.
This isn’t a nightmare
,
it’s really happening, and it is forever
.

“Who gives this woman to be married to this man?”

“I do,” answered Ambrose as he stepped away.

Katherine could all but hear him thinking
and good riddance
.

The couple then made their vows of marriage. After Katherine said, “And thereto I plight thee my troth,” Father James took the ring Niall gave him, blessed it, and returned it to Niall, who placed it on the third finger of Katherine’s left hand. She had always heard a vein ran directly from this finger to the heart and for this reason a wedding band was worn there as a symbol of love. It seemed slightly ridiculous to Katherine, given she had only just met the man who placed it there.

Father blessed the couple and led them into the chapel, followed by Diarmad and Ambrose. The bride and groom knelt before the altar while the priest prayed again. Kneeling beside her new husband, Katherine felt very small; the top of her head didn’t reach his shoulder.

There would not be a nuptial Mass, so after the prayers, Father James gave them a final blessing. When he had finished, he beamed warmly and said, “You may kiss the bride.” Niall tipped her chin up and kissed her. She had expected he would give her only a chaste peck, but once he started, she was amazed by how warm and soft his lips felt and that he held her there, deepening the kiss for a moment before pulling away. Stunned, she raised her hands to touch her lips. They tingled where his had touched her, and she hadn’t wanted him to stop.

He looked momentarily stunned as well, but rapidly recovered. “Say your goodbyes quickly,” he told her. “We are leaving.”

Her uncle approached and kissed Katherine on both cheeks. “Goodbye, my dear. I can’t tell you how much we will miss you.” He spoke blandly with an insipid expression on his face.

That is because you won’t miss me
. She didn’t know why he bothered with the farce, because Laird MacIan had already left the chapel. She managed to say, “Goodbye, Uncle,” civilly.

Lord Ruthven returned to the keep, not bothering to see them off. Father James gave her a hug and Katherine couldn’t suppress a wince.

Father looked concerned and asked, “Katherine, dear, will you be all right? Perhaps you should tell your new husband about your back. You have a long journey ahead.”

“No Father. Please don’t say anything. Nothing good can come from telling him that now. I’ll be fine.”

He shook his head but didn’t argue, and taking her arm, walked with her into the courtyard, saying, “Katherine, I’m certain you will be a wonderful wife and mother.”

She loved the old priest, so she smiled and teased, “How do you know I’ll be a wonderful wife; you’ve never been married.”

He chuckled and took both her hands in his. “My sweet girl, this world is full of people whose first concern is usually their own needs or desires. You’re one of the few who always considers the needs of others before your own. You have learned the surest way to open yourself to hurt is to love, and yet you love anyway. How could one so full of love and compassion not be a wonderful wife and mother?” He smiled, traced a cross on her forehead with his thumb, and kissed her on the cheek, saying, “Go with God, my dear one.”

Katherine squeezed his hands and smiled at him, blinking back tears. It could be the last time she would ever see this gentle man. She couldn’t speak. She took a deep breath to muster her courage, and walked toward the gray mare the stable master led. Before she reached them, Laird MacIan waved the stable master away. “Lady Katherine will ride with me.”

~ * ~

Her vehement and panic-stricken, “Nay!” surprised Niall.

She hurried towards him. “I can ride very well, my lord. Stormy is mine. My father gave her to me years ago.”

Perhaps for the first time since he’d met her, she wasn’t trying to hide the emotion she felt. While he expected to see defiance, fitting his expectations of a pampered noblewoman, instead he saw fear. On the verge of barking at her for publically challenging him, when he caught that glimpse of raw fear he hesitated.

“I’m sure ye do ride well, for a woman, but the journey will be hard, over very rough terrain. Your mare is not sturdy enough. It would be cruel.”

She laid a hand on his arm, stopping him before he turned away. Looking him in the eye, she leaned close, saying in a voice so low only he could hear it, “It will be cruel to leave her.”

Unable to ignore the beseeching look she gave him, after a moment he said, “We will take her without a rider.” The sudden warmth he felt when he saw the tension leave her body and heard her sigh of relief, surprised him. He helped her into the saddle of his huge warhorse. She put her right knee over the pommel and he mounted behind her, pulling her close. He inhaled her sweet, clean scent and her soft, round bottom pressed intimately against his groin, fanning the warmth he’d felt before into full flame. He frowned as Katherine stiffened and leaned forward ever so slightly, holding herself away from him.

Having removed Stormy’s saddle, the stable master handed the reins to one of Niall’s men and they set out. After they cleared the castle gate, Katherine said quietly, “Thank you for bringing my mare, but you don’t plan to take her the whole way, do you.”

She hadn’t asked it as a question; she simply made the statement. Her accurate assessment of the situation surprised him. In fact, this day and his new wife seemed to be full of surprises. “Nay, I don’t,” he agreed. “Our pace and the terrain really will be too hard on her. I assume there is some reason why ye were afraid to leave her behind?”

“Aye. My uncle is...cruel.”

The brief pause in her comment made Niall wonder what other description of her uncle she had censored before arriving at “cruel.”

“Tomorrow we will be passing through a holding belonging to one of my allies. The mare will be well-treated there.”

Katherine gave a slight nod of her head. Then her brow furrowed and she appeared worried about something else. Looking as if she was about to confess some mortal sin, she said, “My lord—”

“I am your husband now, call me Niall.”

“Niall,” she said and took a breath as if steeling herself before launching into her confession. “I have done something, and I hope you won’t be angry, but I really saw no other option.” She felt his body become tense, but she went on. “When you arrived, did you see Tomas, the young stable boy?”

“I remember a small lad,” he said cautiously.

“Tomas’ parents are dead. He lived with his grandfather, our former stable master, but that kind, old man passed away a few months ago. Tomas continued to work in the stables, under my uncle’s new stable master, but he is as bad as my uncle. So you see, I was worried about Tomas. Without me, there really is no one in any position to protect him.” She paused, biting her lower lip.

“Are ye coming to the part where ye are going to tell me what ye did?” Niall asked, not attempting to cover the frustration he felt.

Katherine cringed a little at his tone. “Aye. Well, when my uncle summoned Father James to marry us, I sent a message to Tomas, telling him to follow the northwest road from the village until he reached the tree line and to wait there for us—so we could bring him with us.”

“Bring him with us?” Niall said, completely dumbfounded by her audacity. “Bring him with us?” he repeated incredulously, “Are ye asking me to steal another man’s serf?”

“Tomas isn’t a serf. His father and grandfather were hired freemen,” she assured him hurriedly.

“And why do ye think he will fare better with me as his laird?”

She leaned a little, turned, and tilted her head up so she could look him in the eyes. “My Lord—” She paused at his stern expression and corrected herself. “Niall. If I didn’t think life with you would be a vast improvement over that with my uncle, I would not have agreed to marry you.” At his look of doubt, she added, “I know King David ordered this marriage, but I would have joined the nuns at St. Oda’s before consenting to marry a man like Ambrose Ruthven.”

Although surprised by the intensity of her statement, he knew it didn’t take much to be a better man than Ruthven. Still, he took some bit of pleasure in hearing his new wife say it.

“Diarmad,” he called to his commander, riding in the lead.

“Aye, Laird?”

“There will be a lad waiting for us as we reach the tree line.”

“Aye, Laird. I’ve already seen a lad ducking in and out from behind the trees. He looks to be the stable-boy from Cotharach.”

“He’ll be going with us.”

“Aye, Laird.” Diarmad quietly chuckled.

Niall glanced at Katherine. Almost undone by the brilliant smile she gave him, he could do nothing but stare. She blushed, dropped her head, and turned away from his gaze to face front, but that brush with delight unsettled him. He did not need a wife, he reminded himself. He believed a wife could only be a distracting nuisance. He certainly did not need a wife whose smile made him forget everything except thinking of ways to make her smile again. He had learned the hard way that a soft body and pretty face can blind a man to treachery.

When they reached Tomas, another of Niall’s guard, a young man, whom she had heard addressed as “Fingal,” called to him and pulled the lad up onto his saddle.

It didn’t take Tomas long to begin asking Fingal a never-ending stream of questions.

Katherine could hear Tomas’ chattering, but couldn’t concentrate on his words. Niall hadn’t exaggerated—they were traveling at a brutal pace. Katherine’s back became extremely painful as the day wore on. She couldn’t stand the friction created by resting against her new husband’s rock hard chest, yet holding her body forward made her muscles ache unbearably.

She wondered if Niall noticed the white-knuckled grip she had on the edge of the saddle, or if she appeared as stiff and uncomfortable as she felt. She had told him earlier that she could ride “very well,” but he was probably questioning the truth of that now.

Stopping once, only briefly, to water the horses, they travelled for hours. Finally, shortly before sunset, they stopped for the night in a clearing near a small loch. Niall lifted her off the horse and looked at her, apparently startled.

“Lass, ye look pale and exhausted. How can riding for a few hours drain ye so profoundly? Go rest,” he said, dismissing her. Then he turned back to his horse to settle him for the night.

Katherine ignored his rude assessment of her; she was used to worse. Tired and sore, she needed to move a bit to loosen her stiff joints. She looked around and, seeing Stormy, walked over to her. Her pet whinnied and tossed her head as Katherine approached. It had clearly been a hard day for the mare, too, even without a rider. She stroked Stormy’s velvet nose and leaned her head against the horse’s strong neck. Her father had given her the beautiful grey and Katherine had adored Stormy immediately. After her father’s death, her beloved horse became a refuge. When things became too difficult, she could escape, and, even if only briefly, forget her grief while flying across a meadow on Stormy’s back.

How would she be able to bear giving her away tomorrow? Her throat felt tight while unwanted tears welled in her eyes. Forcing the tears back, she whispered, “It’s for the best, my pretty girl,” as if the horse had been the one about to cry. In an effort to regain control, Katherine walked a short distance into the clearing, pulled up a large handful of grass with which to rub Stormy down, and returned to the mare. She enjoyed grooming the animal and found the simple, mindless action calming. She had barely started when she heard Niall bellow, “Katherine, I said rest! Tomas, see to your lady’s horse.”

The abrupt order startled Katherine and she lost the last little bit of her remaining control. Tomas rushed to her and took over the task. She walked to the edge of the clearing, determined not to let anyone see her cry. She had learned years ago that tears not only gave her uncle power over her, but also delighted him. In an effort to deny him this pleasure, she had learned how to control her emotions. Sometimes she couldn’t hold the tears back altogether, but she could usually master them until she found a place to be alone. Keeping her back to the Highlanders, she took a few steps into the trees and sat down on the roots of a great oak, pulling her knees to her chest. In pain, exhausted, and with an aching heart, she buried her face on her knees and wept.

She cried out her pain and the fear until her tears were spent. Then, once again in control, she sat there in the deepening gloom with her head resting on her knees, allowing the evening breeze to cool her cheeks and dry her tears. She took stock of the day. Aye, her king had all but forced her to marry a stranger. In fact, the rather large man she had married frightened her a bit, but, as she had boldly admitted to him earlier, she believed him to be a vast improvement over her uncle. Tomorrow she would lose her beloved Stormy, but Niall had assured her the gentle grey would be well cared for. She worried about those of her father’s people left under her uncle’s tyrannical rule, but she had managed to keep Tomas safe, and he the most vulnerable of them all. All things considered, she told herself she had every reason to feel hopeful.

She knew she needed to rejoin the rest, but hadn’t quite found the courage yet when Tomas slipped up beside her. “Are ye done crying?” he asked.

Horrorstruck, she said, “Do they all know I was crying?”

“Nay, just me, cuz I know ye.”

Relieved, she nodded. “Aye. I’m done crying. You won’t tell them?” she asked, smiling at him conspiratorially.

“Nay, I won’t. I know ye don’t like people to see when ye cry. Since ye aren’t crying now though, why don’t ye come back? Moyna packed supper and she put in the nut bread ye love.”

Katherine laughed, “You can’t fool me, Tomas. You love that nut bread almost more than I do.”

Tomas grinned and took her hand as they walked back to the campsite. When Katherine noticed Niall watching her, she blushed, wondering if, in the twilight, he could see her red, swollen eyes.

~ * ~

Niall had been watching Katherine discreetly from the time they dismounted. Her pallid appearance when they stopped had him convinced she bordered on collapse, but she had defied his order to rest. He watched her walk into the edge of the forest. He could just see her sitting on the other side of a large oak, finally resting as he had ordered. He hoped her earlier obstinacy did not indicate things to come. He would not tolerate defiance.

When the men had settled their horses, they opened the package of food sent with them from Cotharach, while Niall continued to watch her. Although she sat upright, she didn’t move. Her stillness made him wonder if she had fallen asleep. He started to cross the clearing to get her when Tomas hopped up in front of him. “I’ll get Lady Katherine, she loves nut bread.”

Niall nodded slightly, letting the lad go. When Tomas returned with her, Niall was struck again by her beauty. The priest had called her radiant when she appeared in the great hall just before their wedding, and he had silently agreed. He found her stunning. Seeing her now, holding the lad’s hand and laughing with him, took his breath away once more. He had overheard the priest’s words to her earlier, and now they echoed in his mind:
My dear, I am certain you will be a wonderful wife and mother
. He frowned, chiding himself silently for being a fool. He knew very well what master manipulators women could be. Would he never learn? He only
wanted
this illusion to be true, so the sooner he drove out these romantic notions, the better.

His men spread the food Moyna had sent on a low, flat rock, appearing to fully enjoy the change from the oatcakes and dried meat they usually ate while traveling. After selecting some food for herself and Tomas, Katherine moved to sit where Niall indicated, on a plaid spread on the ground. Tomas plopped down beside her, chattering about all the exciting things he had learned from Fingal. “Fingal says he and the other men are not just ordinary soldiers.”

“Nay?” she responded.

“Nay,” he said firmly. “They are the laird’s eeleet guard. Do ye know what eeleet means?” Without waiting for an answer, he went on, “I asked Fingal and he told me it means they are special. They are the best warriors in the clan. Ye know what else Fingal told me? The laird’s castle is called Duncurra and Fingal said it is in the middle of a loch. Cotharach is by a loch, but I wonder how ye build a castle in a loch?”

Although everything in his head screamed at Niall to keep his distance from the enticing woman, he brought his food and sat on the plaid with Katherine and Tomas.

“Laird MacIan, how can a castle be built in water?” asked Tomas boldly.

“It isn’t built in the water, Tomas. Duncurra is built on a crag that juts into the loch, so it has water on three sides,” Niall explained. Tomas continued to chatter and ask questions until they had finished eating. It seemed for every answer the boy received, he had at least two more questions, but like Fingal had all afternoon, Niall patiently answered them all.

The lad amused Niall, and Tomas’ excitement about his new home pleased him. After they had finished eating, Fingal approached. “Excuse me, Laird. It has not escaped my notice that there might be a lad hiding under the wee mound of dirt there beside ye. I thought perhaps it would be a good idea to give it a rinse in the loch and see.”

Niall smiled. “Ah, Fingal, ye might be right, because now that ye mention it, I have never heard a mound of dirt talk as much as this one.” Katherine laughed and for the second time that day she rewarded Niall with a heart-stopping smile. Raw desire rose unbidden, and once more he forced himself to remember he did not want this marriage, no matter how bonny a smile his new wife had. “In fact,” he added, “I think I will join ye.” Niall rose and walked toward the loch, accompanied by Diarmad and two other guardsmen, Alan and Keith.

Fingal scooped a squirming Tomas up under his arm and followed. “But I don’t need a bath,” moaned Tomas.

“Trust me, ye do,” Fingal said firmly.

Katherine laughed again. “Behave, Tomas,” she admonished with mock severity. The enchanting sound of her laughter followed Niall. He could not deny he desired his lovely little wife, but his wedding night would have to wait until they reached Duncurra. Niall suspected the chilly loch water would do little to cool his desire. Suddenly, he realized he had one more excellent reason to hurry home. While he didn’t need or want a wife, having his bed warmed by this lass might prove to be an unexpected boon.

~ * ~

When they reached the loch, the other men stripped and dove in, leaving Fingal to deal with Tomas. Determined to scrub off a layer of dirt and the accompanying aroma, Fingal had to wrestle Tomas out of his tunic, much to the amusement of the other men. Finally able to pull it over Tomas’ head, he stopped, looking very serious. Even in the low light, Fingal saw old, dark bruises on Tomas’ thin frame, as well as two fresh, angry lash marks on his back. With a casual calm he didn’t feel, he asked, “Lad, who took a whip to your back?”

The other men fell silent as Tomas answered quietly, “Sir Ruthven.”

Niall clenched his jaw and Fingal recognized the furious expression.

“What happened?” Fingal asked, trying to keep his voice nonchalant.

Tomas looked down, embarrassed. “He was out until very late last night. Berty, the stable master, went to bed and made me wait in the stables until Sir Ruthven returned. Sir Ruthven was still out when the storm hit, and when he got back to Cotharach he was drenched and the horse was winded and lathered. I met him like I was supposed to and took the horse into the stable. He followed me, telling me he wanted me to take special care of his new saddle because it was very valuable. I said I would and I took it off the horse. I—I—I thought he would want me to take care of the horse first. Honest, I did. The horse looked bad, so I started to rub him down, but Sir Ruthven screamed at me, saying I was too stupid to live, and hadn’t he just told me to take care of his new saddle.”

“He wanted ye to take care of the saddle before the beast?” Diarmad asked in disbelief.

“Aye, he grabbed a whip from the wall and started to beat me.”

“Ye must have gotten away, ye only have two stripes on your back,” Alan said.

“Nay, I didn’t run. He would be sure to kill me then,” Tomas said seriously, “He only hit me twice because Lady Katherine got there.”

“Lady Katherine?” Niall asked, his voice deadly calm. “She stopped him from whipping ye?”

“Not exactly,” said Tomas in almost a whisper. “Lady Katherine put herself between us and Sir Ruthven beat her instead.”

Fingal glanced at Niall, who appeared to be barely able control himself as he got out of the water and pulled on his clothes. Waves of white hot anger practically rolled off him.

Tomas continued, “I tried to get her to move away, but she had her arms around me tight to keep the whip from hitting me. He must have hit her eight or nine times before the steward came into the stable and told Sir Ruthven his bath was ready. Sir Ruthven threw the whip down, screamed at me to tend to his saddle, and left. Lady Katherine let go of me and tried to get up, but she was shaking. Her dress was torn and her back was bleeding. The steward woke Berty, telling him to see to the horse, and I took care of Sir Ruthven’s saddle like he ordered. The steward helped Lady Katherine into the keep.”

Fingal asked Tomas one last question. “As we rode today, ye told me Lady Katherine was the healer at Cotharach. Who tended her wounds?”

“Lady Katherine tells her maid, Emma, what to do when she is hurt herself. She sent Emma out to the stable to put a balm on my back, too, ‘cept I didn’t need it as much as my lady, cuz he only hit me twice this time.”

Tomas had said
this time
. Those two words spoke volumes. Not only had Ambrose Ruthven beaten Tomas before, but that Lady Katherine’s maid had experience tending her injuries suggested Ruthven had very likely beaten Katherine before as well. It also explained why she had unilaterally arranged for Tomas to accompany them.

Niall strode away without speaking. Tomas looked up at Fingal and said timidly, “Is the laird mad at me?”

“Nay, Tomas.”

“Is he mad at Lady Katherine?”

“Not really. He is angry at her uncle.” Fingal thought, judging by the other men’s expressions, Niall wasn’t alone in that. Determined to give Tomas the much needed bath and, in an attempt to break the somber mood, Fingal looked at him squarely and said, “I still have to find the lad under this talking mound of dirt.” Tomas giggled and Fingal gently scooped him up again and carried him squealing with glee into the loch.

~ * ~

Katherine looked up from where she sat on the plaid and saw her husband stride angrily into camp. The men whom he had left at the camp immediately became alert, but he waved them away, telling them to go to the loch. Stopping at the edge of the plaid, he asked, “Why did ye not tell me ye were injured?”