Copyright ©2001 by Dorice Nelson

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Nowhere To Run!

A gust of wind came down the loch, ruffled her short hair into tiny arrows toward a target and swirled it around her face. Entranced in spite of himself, he took note of her delicate features. Her beauty was disturbing to him, as well as her proud demeanor. A storm raged inside him and its fierceness filled him with a great restlessness which he did not truly fathom, an unfulfilled need. He tried to turn away but was unable to stop looking at her.

The horse had returned to the loch. Cat inched her way over to him. The black paid little attention to her but took a long drink, sloshing the water with his tongue. She moved to the far side of him. His body separated her from the man.

Cat slogged her way from the water. The land was in front of her. Without turning to look, she ran for the forest, for the darkness there, the safety. Her wet clothes hung on her body, weighing her down, but she persevered. Near the fringe of trees, she heard the horse and its master behind her. The ground shook under her feet, but she ran on.

Breath short, feet pounding the ground, she raced for the density of the woods. She leaped over large roots spread on the forest floor, well beyond the trees they supported. Limbs smacked her face and swung their branches to entrap her. She slipped and slid on ground cover, slick from the previous night's rain.

He was gaining on her. She picked up her pace and ran faster, though the pain in her chest threatened to fell her. Her feet caught on a rash of small pebbles. One foot struck a raised root concealed by leaves. Her body vaulted into the air and collided with the trunk of a tall white birch. She was tossed backward. Her head smacked into the trunk of a large oak. Her teeth ground together with the force of the blow. Air flew from her body in labored explosions. The bark of the tree tangled with her short hair and held her prisoner on her back.

At the same moment as she slipped on the pebbles, the man tried to tackle her. A large bare root crossed his path. His frame levitated three feet off the ground. While she tried to extricate her hair from the bark, she watched his attempt to maneuver his large frame into a ball, to roll on landing. He hit the other side, smashed his ankle on an extended low branch and landed next to her. He flung an arm over her and pinned her down.

His body was as hard and sturdy as any tree in the forest. The leg he tossed across hers was like a huge branch, long and sinewy. His hand was like an iron band where it wrapped around her ribs. When he pitched himself up on one elbow, she saw the flicker of anger in his eyes. A pulse thundered in her neck.

“Don't move an inch, lassie. You're in a very vulnerable position."

Published by

NovelBooks, Inc.

P.O. Box 661

Douglas, MA 01516

This is a work of fiction. While reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the characters, incidents, and dialogs are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2001 by Dorice Nelson

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and review. For information, address NovelBooks, Inc., P.O. Box 661,

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Produced in the United States of America.

Cover illustration by Ariana Overton

Edited by Gail McAbee

ISBN 1-931696-01-2 for electronic version

ISBN 1-931696-98-5 for POD version.

To my sister
Ellen Barbara Teper
who left this earth far before she should....

And to all the men I've ever loved....

Acknowledgements

There are far too many folks to acknowledge,

but let me give a few specials thanks:

To Alice Orr
who literally browbeat me into finishing what I started

To Penny Hussey
for giving me this wonderful opportunity

To the members of the Saratoga Romance Writers
for their constant support

To my special friends, Joan, Linda and Sue
who have suffered through so many of the agonies of creation to publication

Prologue

Gunn Country—The Highlands—1632

Two days after his twelfth birthday, his mother died of a sudden stomach ailment and took with her the last thin thread of his identity. Now, on the day of her funeral, he sat stiffly on a stout oak chair in the library at Killearnan. His companion since cradle days, Dubh, a huge gray Scottish deerhound, lay stretched at Gerek Gunn's feet, large head upon paws, and gazed at his master's face. Gerek patted the dog for comfort.

The candlelight surrounding the wooden casket shimmered and swayed. The light reflected off the room's stone walls but did not soften the angles and planes of his mother's bold Scottish face. He looked at the shrouded woman, pale and motionless against the white cotton lining. She no longer resembled the spirited woman he knew. Alone, he grieved but did not weep over his mother's passing.

What was he to do? Where could he go? Back to the desolate hut at the edge of the keep? Fearful of the future, he ground his teeth and cried out to his inert mother. “How could you leave? You never told me about my father as you promised. I'm not ready to be in this world without you."

He drew in a powerful breath. It burst from him in a torrent of words. “Who was he? This father who was never father to me?” A single tear slipped to nestle at the edge of his mouth. He flicked the wetness with the tip of his tongue. He tried to halt the emotions raging through him, but her death had abandoned him, and her silence about his father had betrayed him. How could she leave him without a father, or even the name of one? He forced himself to breathe slowly. Somehow he'd get through this day, and the next. But never would he allow a woman to deceive him. His lanky body shook with despair. Trust a woman? Never!

Taps by a booted foot against the door scattered his thoughts. Dubh uttered a low growl. Gerek wiped his nose on the sleeve of his only clean shirt. “Enter."

A serving girl whom he didn't know slunk into the room without looking at him. With fitful movements, she put a cloth-covered tray on the table near the door and bobbed a curtsy. “There's nourishment for ye. To break yer fast."

She skittered out the door and slammed it shut. The smell of food turned his stomach. He went to the table where he removed the cloth, set the tray on the floor and gestured to the dog. “This shouldn't go to waste. Go ahead, Dubh. You eat,” he said, moving to the tall windows of the cavernous room.

Dubh dashed to the tray and devoured the food. Just as the great dog finished and was licking his lips, he sank to the floor, thrashing in silent spasms of agony. Within seconds, the hound convulsed and lay still.

Gerek raced across the room. He stopped in mid-step. “Dubh. Dubh. Get up. No silly tricks today.” When the animal did not move, Gerek knelt and whispered, “Dubh, please. Get up."

Nothing moved on the great dog. Gerek touched the deerhound's neck. His friend was dead. He clasped the head and thick shoulders in his arms and dragged the body over his knees. Cradling the animal, Gerek rocked back and forth, consumed by sobs.

* * * *

A day later, Harald Gunn, chief of Clan Gunn, summoned his grandson to the library. When the boy entered, Harald watched as Gerek's eyes searched the room as if looking for his dog. The lad's dark features and sturdy physique, the pure Norse stature, gave proof his grandson would surpass his own six feet. He smiled in welcome and motioned the lad toward a carved chair close to the fire.

Gerek slumped into the seat, asking, “Grandda, do you know who my father was?"

Harald hid his surprise. His self-restrained grandson suffered few of the trappings of polite society. “I'll answer ye true, child. I have suspicions but dinna’ know for sure. Because of clan business, I never knew yer mother as well as I might have. After yer grandmother died, I could not deal with either of me daughters. Yer mother was wild, willful, with many secret yearnings."

What happened to his eldest daughter? She spent nights away even when the lad was in his cradle, forcing Harald to send a deerhound pup for protection. The lad remained quiet, composed, too controlled for twelve. Had he understood the answer? Harald shook his head. It was too late to sorrow over things.

The cracking voice of a twelve-year-old intruded on his thoughts. “How could my mother leave me not knowing the name of my father?"

“She did, laddie. There's naught to be done for it now.” He hoped the brusque comment would end the conversation. “What's important now is the danger for ye here with none but meself to protect ye. Ye have enemies who might wish ye dead.

“Why? Why would anyone want me thus?” Gerek asked. “I've done nothing bad to anyone in the clan."

“Aye, but what if yer father were someone of note? Would he somehow cause trouble for the Gunns? Our clansmen fear things they do not know."

A wary expression furrowed Gerek's brow. He slouched in his chair. “But Grandda....”

“I must speak with ye as if ye were full-grown. Yer uncles are dead. Only last week, we lost me youngest in a battle with the Keiths. Yer cousin Baen and ye are the last of the male line. One of ye must become Gunn or our line will die."

Gerek's mouth opened but he closed it. His gray eyes widened and he tilted his head toward Harald.

“Laddie, I canna’ keep constant watch over ye. Ye must leave here."

Gerek flattened himself against the back of the chair. “What am I to do? Where am I to go?” His stomach muscles tightened. Sweat dampened his palms.

“Foster with a man who has recently gained his title. I've sent someone to make the arrangements."

Gerek's hands, slippery with sweat, were planted on the chair seat. He pushed himself upright and stared at his grandfather. Grandda didn't look very well. His face was gray, and white hair mixed with black. His eyes were rimmed with sorrow. Why hadn't he seen all this before? Grandda meant more to him than any other person.

“It pains me, laddie, but I will speak harsh words to ye. Ye came into this world a bastard. Ye'll need to make yer way in this world. But ye're brave and determined, a strong, towering lad for yer years. 'Tis best ye become a warrior. Forge a reputation."

Gerek scrutinized his grandda whose eyes were shiny from unshed tears, his shoulders bowed from worry. “A warrior?"

“'Tis not what I had in mind fer ye.” His grandda paused. “But if ye make yer name on the battlefield, bastard though ye be, ye'll be welcomed everywhere in Scotland.” He placed a large hand on Gerek's head and said softly, “'Tis time to leave, son, to find a place of yer own making. There's none here can do it fer ye."

Gerek cocked his head. “A warrior? Well, if you want me to be a warrior, then a warrior I'll be. A brave one. Then I will be The Gunn."

His grandfather nodded. “Also, ye are to marry before the end of yer thirtieth year. I've pledged with Angus MacFarr, the Earl of Crannog, whose wife we rescued from the Keiths.” He stood, stretched and walked to the windows.

“Marry?” Marrying meant nothing to Gerek. “I don't understand."

Glow from the departing sun streamed through the glass onto his grandda's skin. “Ye dinna’ have to marry tomorrow, son. The child is newly born.” His grandfather smiled as he approached and grasped the back of a chair. “'Tis a promise I made with MacFarr when we rescued his wife this past week, the wee bairn in her arms. Gerek, ye know how I feel about promises. A man must honor them always.” His grandda's gaze penetrated his own.

Gerek didn't care about marrying. If he was to be a warrior, he might not live to marry anyone, or be Gunn either. Head down, he vowed, If I live, I will be chief of all the Gunns. Decision made, he laughed for the first time in weeks.

Grandda laughed with him. “Ye need not concern yerself with the pledge now, son. Make yer name and all will be well, I promise ye."

* * * *

The next day, Gerek left for Kincardine Castle on the east coast of Scotland, home of James Graham the newly titled fifth Earl of Montrose. Gerek carried a small sack on his shoulder, filled with clothes and a few possessions, and a five-month-old son of Dubh gamboled by his side. They crossed the long bridge, which separated the castle from the mainland, and followed a stocky man named Niall Oliphant who would remain with Gerek until he returned to Killearnan to be Gunn.

A flat, shiny black stone nearly tripped him at the end of the bridge. Gerek bent, grasped it in his fist and faced the castle, already lost in fog. He kissed the stone, touched it to his heart then placed it in a pocket of his short jacket.

He felt lonelier than ever before in his life as he trudged away from the only home he knew, Killearnan. He dare not look back, or he'd shatter into a thousand pieces. Life as he knew it was gone forever. Nothing would ever be the same. Nothing!

Chapter One

Fairloch Castle, the Highlands—early spring, 1650

Her hands tied behind her, her feet trussed like a wild fox with a short piece of rope stretched between them, Catriona MacFarr was being led by the leash around her neck. She gagged then stumbled on the uneven flooring of Fairloch castle. William and Simon, her brothers, yanked her forward until she dug her heels in and said, “I'll go no further. I have no wish to see our father like this.”

With a grunt of pleasure, William reached up, grabbed a hank of her hair and tugged. “Och, dear Cat. Do ye think to evade yer fate?” He elbowed her and she fell, hitting grimy stones with a thump. “Ye're as dirty-looking now, after all yer fostering, as ye were when ye left.”

“There's something about Fairloch that brings out dirt and slime. Perhaps, it's the people.” She stared at him. He still treats me roughly. “Damned bully."

He wheeled around, an ugly sneer on his face. “Ye damned sow. Ye dinna’ run things. And ye never will.” He winked at Simon. “Wait until ye meet yer betrothed. The Beast!” The two brothers chuckled and clutched each other in mock fun.

All Scotland knew of her betrothed, the Beast of Battle, whose brutal courage was legend. Her fear of the man was as great as her fear of her father, so harsh and cold-blooded were the rumors of the Beast's exploits in battle.

Simon whined, “Father will be waiting. He'll be angry.” He lifted Cat from the ground and set her on her feet.

“Simon, please, untie my ankles. I would greet our father standing square on my feet.” When Simon looked at William, Cat pleaded. “Och, please Simon. I beg of you. I do not wish to face Da like an animal ready for the pot. Please!"

A sly smile on his face, Simon took his dirk from its sheath at his waist, bent and cut her leg restraints. “There. Do not ask that yer wrists be untied.” He sheathed the dirk, took her arm and dragged her around the corner through the open door into the great hall of Fairloch.

Atop a platform at the front, her father the Earl of Crannog sat on a richly carved, heavily padded chair. Terror-stricken, Cat grew weak at the mere sight of him. He was dressed in the resplendent attire of the English gentry, clothes she'd never seen him wear before, clothes that didn't suit his short, stocky build nor his growing fat belly. Lace cascaded from his collar and the ends of his sleeves.

Six churlish men-at-arms surrounded him. Several more lounged on the steps near him. A plump blond serving-girl preened and fluttered her eyelashes in the chair next to him. Cat scanned the room. Where was Mam?

“Och, my daughter comes as she left,” MacFarr croaked. “Dirty and disheveled. Why are ye tied, me dear?"

“I do not understand it myself. Let William explain. It was his choice."

William reached out and forced her forward, pinching her arm with his thumb and forefinger. Cat straightened to her full height, until she was taller than her brothers, but her eyes remained riveted on her father. Still pinching, Will hurled her to the stone flooring in front of the dais as if touching her burned his fingers. Simon stood beside him, his sly smile intact.

Her father stood and crossed his arms over a flabby chest. “How little ye've changed. Well, daughter, come. Greet your laird.” A sneer creased his battle-scarred face. “Did ye not learn yer manners during yer banishment at Stoneleigh?” His guards and the blonde snickered, but MacFarr's glare silenced them.

Cat nodded from where she was sprawled on the floor. “Milord.”

Directing his gaze to his sons, he ignored her. “William? Would ye care to explain, son?"

William moved closer to the dais. Cat watched him gaze at the floor, as if her actions had hurt his feelings. “She attacked me, Father. I had to take her dagger away, so I figured I'd best tie her hands.”

Through tight lips, Cat asked, “Then why were my neck and ankles tied?"

Simon mimicked his brother's pose and furthered it by scuffing a boot along the stone flooring. “Father,” he whimpered, “she refused to come home, even when I told her it was ye who demanded it.”

“Well, Catriona? 'Twas forever yer way to be defiant and disobedient. Tell me, why did ye attack me eldest son?”

She knew she could not defend herself against William, who was the image of her father and his pride. “Let William tell you the lies. He does it so well."

“Still blaming yer brothers for grief ye cause! Who will ye blame next? The Beast?” MacFarr guffawed and slapped his leg as if he'd made a joke. “I doubt he will allow ye to misbehave. And ye'll not do it here. At Fairloch, I forbid it!”

Unable to hide her mounting hurt, Cat pushed herself up onto all fours and countered rashly, “You forbid anything you don't understand. You always have."

William gulped and looked at Simon, who continued to study the stones beneath his feet. A smirk raced across his face and was gone instantly. The guards drew back from her father, whose scars stood out in bright, ruddy ridges. “Ye raised a hand against yer brother. Ye'll be punished for that."

Smiling with all the sweetness she could muster, but without looking at her father, she hastened to rise though her knees shook. “Isn't that why you summoned me, Sir, after years of exile? To pay for whatever caused you to banish me?”

“Catriona,” Simon cautioned, his narrow face pale.

Cat's heart pounded. Her legs wobbled in anticipation of her father's next outbreak of fury. She should know better than to taunt him. She peered about the room, looking for Mam, who always protected her against the worst of her father's wrath. Where was she? A chill shot through her. Alarmed for her mother, Cat returned her gaze to the dais and asked politely. “Sir, why hasn't my mother come to greet me? Is she ill?”

Cat noticed her father looking first at the fair-haired girl then at his men and her brothers, but she waited patiently for a reply. Her dismay grew. She needed to know if her mother was well.

Her father glanced at woman again. Her face, formerly adoring, now showed a tinge of fear. She shrank from him when he patted her head. MacFarr turned and strolled to the edge of the dais. “No one informed her of yer arrival. Ye'll see her later.” With an imperious wave of his hand, he dismissed Cat. “This is the end of our talk. For now.”

Cat's fear of her father brought a rosy flush to her face, but a pounding at the huge door of the hall released her tension. The door was flung open.

A round countrywoman, face red, charged into the room. “Cat? Catriona MacFarr?” she cried. Before anyone could respond, she shouted at the top of her lungs. “I'm here, lass. All safe and sound. I found me way jest like ye said.”

Cat heaved a sigh. “Och, Mag, 'tis glad I am to see you."

Straightening her clothing, Mag looked around, found Cat and bustled over to her, then threw a well-muscled arm across her friend's back, nearly knocking her over. “Why are ye tied? Ye've got a bruise on yer cheek. And yer arm. Where's yer Da?”

With a free hand, Mag shook her soiled cloak, scattering mud onto the dais. Chunks splattered the blonde wench, who took shelter behind a chair.

MacFarr opened his mouth in astonishment. “Who in the name of Lucifer are you?” Mud flew across his throne-like chair and he bellowed, “Do ye not see what ye're doing, ye stupid slut?” He stepped back and raised his fist in fury.

Mag's soft brown hair tumbled into her face. She bobbed a quick curtsy in MacFarr's direction. With an abrupt toss of her head, she proclaimed, “I'm Mag, yer lordship. Miss Cat's good friend."

The earl laughed scornfully and gave the women a quick look. “Friend, is it? I sent me daughter to Stoneleigh to work in the scullery, not to make friends.” He glared at Cat. “This doesn't end here, lass.”

A loathsome smile disfigured her father's face, making blotches of his ragged scars. He gestured to two of his henchmen. “Gar, Roy. Take that creature somewhere and toss her."

Two men stepped from the platform, grabbed Mag's arms and lifted her off her feet.

“Dinna’ worry, missy. I can handle these wispy men,” she shouted, twisting and turning in every direction.

The treatment of her friend made Cat's fear mount but she shouted above the tumult. “Please! Put her down."

MacFarr turned in Cat's direction and snapped, “Ye'll not be giving orders in this place, lassie. Save yer shouts and orders for the Beast. I'm sure he'll appreciate them. I don't!” He signaled his men to take the protesting maid out.

In an attempt to divert her father's attention, Cat spoke, “Father, I do not want to marry the Beast. I was never asked nor did I ever agree. You can't expect me to honor your pledge.”

The fury contained since her arrival caused MacFarr's voice to crackle. “Ye'll marry as I say, Catriona MacFarr. Ye'll not have yer way in this.” His pitch escalated with each sentence he uttered. “Gave me word to The Gunn right after ye were born.” He grimaced as if some unbidden memory came into his mind, then he shrieked, “And, me dear daughter, ye'll do as told!"

Although fright ran through her body, she no longer cared about provoking him. “I'll not marry a man you choose. I have no desire to die in my marriage bed."

“Those are brave words for a trussed up girl.” MacFarr lowered his voice. “A deed such as yer death could be done with ease.” He glowered at her and whispered in a threatening tone, “Pay heed, lass. Think to stay my words or deeds with yer feeble protests? Beware, lassie.”

Cat whispered back, “My words of protest may indeed be feeble, but my mind is not. I will not marry the Beast of Battle."

MacFarr coughed, a staccato bark filled with phlegm. “Do ye threaten me?” His muscles twitched in an effort to stay his rage. The skin around his scars turned bright purple. Pointing in the direction of the stairs, he snarled, “Go to yer room. I'll deal with that tart tongue of yers later.” He scorched her with the fire in his eyes. “Still the ingrate ye were when ye left! Ye'll be sobbing into yer pillow before this night is out."

“Left? At eleven? You forced me to leave and forced me to return.” She didn't understand why her father hated her so, other than the fact that he was hateful. She shuddered. I will not marry any man you choose for me!

MacFarr signaled to his guards. “Get her out of me sight! I can't stand to look at her.” As guards moved closer to her, her father screamed loud enough to be heard throughout Fairloch. “Dinna’ leave yer room. Not for any reason. Ye stay there until I send for ye.”

Raising her hands, Cat waited until guards cut the ropes binding her wrists. Once free, she shrugged the guards off, held her palm up to stay them and started up the stairs to her room, alone.

The door to her room was wide open, half off its hinges. The same drab burlap hung limply at the window. Her dolls were piled in the corner against the cold stone wall. Dampness had turned them green and molded them together as they had been the morning of her leaving. The feelings of familiarity were strong, so powerful that they demanded she remember.

Tortuous scenes, prior to her banishment, raced through her mind; her father's shuddering in disgust, his snorted words.

"Ye've been the bane of me existence since yer birth. One look at yer flamin’ hair, yer mother's milk soured. A lass from the village sustained ye."

"I'm sorry for displeasing ye so mightily by me verra birth."

"Ye're going away,” he had said, shoving his face into hers.

"Away? Going? Where am I going, Father. Where?"

He had roared, “T'hell, no doubt, lass."

Cat groaned and grabbed a bedpost for support. A single tear splashed onto her cheek. What horrible deed had she done so her father couldn't stand the sight of her? Years ago, she had a desperate hunger to please him, to gain his love. When he finally engineered her leaving Fairloch to serve in the scullery at Stoneleigh Castle, she knew her efforts were in vain. Her father's loathing no longer surprised, and because of it, anger festered like an open sore, for he still insisted she marry the most vicious, untamed barbarian in Scotland. The Beast of Battle. The very name sent shivers down her spine.

She felt like a misfit, a changeling, exchanged by the fairies for a real child. Her height, her fair skin and her red hair made her the supreme misfit, for she looked like no other MacFarr she had ever seen. She hadn't changed, her father had screeched at her. Well, she would surprise him. No longer was she the trusting lass he banned from Fairloch. He believed her pitiful plight today would find her wildly distraught upon her bed. He did not know her. He never had!

Revulsion at her father and the Beast he'd chosen for her husband grew within her. In all her years at Stoneleigh, the man she called father never contacted her or inquired about her welfare. Her mam had sent letters to her, in secret, but even they finally stopped coming. Whispering prayers for strength, Cat devised a plan, but she had to find her mam first. She'd talk to her about the upcoming nuptials. Then she would show the MacFarr change!

No one guarded her door, so she slipped out to search.

* * * *

Any hope of discussing a way to end her marriage plans fled when she found her mother, secreted in an unused tower room on the third floor. The room's single window lacked glass or curtain to deflect the Highland breezes that rolled in. Her mother stood by a shallow fireplace that, although lit, created little warmth. Clothes hung on her mother's emaciated body. Her red hair, streaked with gray that matched the color of her pale skin, grew wild to her waist. Her once bright eyes were almost colorless, and she seemed not to recognize Cat.

“Mam? Mam, is it you?” Cat asked in a soft voice transfused with pain.

Recognition came slowly to the woman. Her eyes came alive and she whispered, “Aye, lassie. 'Tis your Mam herself, Evina MacFarr.” Her voice was hoarse, cracked, as if she seldom spoke. Yet her next words, “Catriona! My wee Cat,” were filled with love and joy.

Cat drew the frail woman into her arms and held her close. They swayed together, clutching each other as tightly as they could. Her mother coughed and pulled away. The ache in Cat's stomach rose to her chest. “Oh, Mam. Are you ill? Has father...."

Cat's heart hammered. Her breath caught. Pictures of her formerly vital mother flooded her memory; the happy days, the stories at night, the patient, soft words and caresses. That happiness ended after her eleventh birthday party. Her father ended it.

Cat led Mam to an oak chair close to the fire. “Here, Mam, sit by the fire.” Cat knelt at her feet, hugging her Mam's legs as she had done as a wee bairn.

Mam patted Cat's head. “Don't fret, child. I did this to myself. Willfully, but 'tis a story for another time. I'll just sit here and look at you. Remember, long ago, I told you that you'd be lovely to look at, with your russet hair and those glowing amber eyes. All spit and fire like a cat, my lassie was.” Her fingers spread through Cat's long, thick hair. She sighed and kissed Cat's temple.

Cat struggled to keep tears from falling onto Mam's knees. “What has happened in my absence? Has father done this to you because he hates me?"

Mam's lower lip trembled. “Hate you? Nae, lass. 'Tis me he hates. I made it so. He gets caught up in useless feelings. About things he can't change.” Her words drifted off. A deep sadness dimmed her pale eyes.

Cat stood. Every tenderhearted feeling she possessed was directed toward her mother. Only Mam had loved and protected her during the time a strange bitterness festered at Fairloch. How could her father and her two brothers not care for this gentle woman? Suddenly, in her mind, the Beast became one with her father. Was this how marriage left one?

“Mam?"

Evina smiled, then rose to pat Cat's cheek. “You're such a pretty lass.” The gesture was vague, the pat limp, then Mam whispered to herself, “I had a red-haired lassie once. Tall for her age, she was, and slender as a reed. Younger than you. A mere bairn.” Her face contorted. “I miss her.”

“But I'm here, Mam. 'Tis me. Catriona. Wee Cat. Please, Mam.”

“Nae. MacFarr sent my Catriona away. She'll return to marry, then go away again, dragged into the wilderness with a wild monster.”

“Mam, what has happened?” Cat made a decision swiftly. She would get her mother out of Fairloch. She'd have to get out first to make provisions. Dara! Their old nurse from the village. Dara Keith would help her. The idea of leaving took a tenuous hold on Cat. She'd settle somewhere, then she'd send for Mam.

Her father said she'd be lying on her bed, crushed by his anger. How wrong he was! Infused with a new energy, she hugged her mother tightly, while mentally exploring ways of fleeing the castle, her father and the Beast he expected her to marry. She would not marry such a one, a man so brutal in battle that his enemies feared him as they feared few other men in Scotland. Never!

Lost in thought, Cat jumped when Mam shook her and delivered a fearful warning. “Lass, 'tis best you leave this place. No happiness here. Truly, 'tis best. Before the MacFarr finds you.” Mam's face flushed. “He's not a nice man with women.” Her agitation increased. “Leave! Today! Now! Flee this cavern of hell! Go, quickly.”

Tears streaming down her cheeks, Cat turned, raced down the stairs, and burst into her room. Mag, the only friend she had in the world, was bent over the small bed and placing a coverlet on it.

“Mag,” Cat gulped before continuing. “I found my mother. Rather, what is left of my mother. Things are even worse than I expected. We'll have to leave here. You'll stay with my old nurse, Dara, until I can find a way to get my mother out of Fairloch. If I stay here, I'll be forced to marry the Beast and have no say in my mother's care.” Cat gasped, “She's ill, so ill.”

Mag's round face creased into a myriad of deep lines. “Slow down, missy. Tell me what the matter is. Speak slowly, please."

Cat hesitated, breathed quickly, and then spoke. “I found my mother. She's in terrible condition. I can't do anything for her now. Mag, our conversation was bizarre. One minute, she was my mam of old, the next, she didn't recognize me. Then, all of a sudden, she shook me hard and insisted I leave Fairloch."

“Tell me what must be done,” Mag said. Without waiting for an answer, she whirled into motion, stripping sheets from the bed, folding them and tying them into sacks. “Hurry, Cat. Drag some clothes from your trunk and throw them into one of these,” she said, holding the sacks aloft.

Frantically, they stuffed necessities into the two cloth pouches. They dressed in multiple outfits to pad themselves and to take as many goods as they could. Like fat peasant women, the two tiptoed down the back stairs past the kitchen. Once outdoors, they crossed the bailey and, just before the massive gate closed for the night, left the castle. In order not to look suspicious, they waved to the guards at the gate and, once in the woods surrounding the castle walls, they bolted for Dara's home in the village.

At Dara's joyful greeting, the two runaways breathed a sigh of relief. Dara's faded red hair, peppered with gray, made her look like a sweet maiden lady, but the hair concealed a crafty brain. She quickly understood the import of their situation and took charge.

“This is what we'll do. My sons will take Mag to my family's home in Keith country. Cat, you must go in the opposite direction, toward Aberdeen, but you must be disguised even further."

Cat smiled, marveling over Dara's cleverness. “I'll do whatever you suggest, Dara. But where will I go? I cannot stay long on the roads."

Dara ruffled Cat's hair. “To an abandoned croft used by my nephew to graze his master's sheep. But first, we have other things that must concern us. Sit right here, lassie."

“What will happen to my mother? She's ill and needs attention."

“Do what I tell you, child. Sit. I'll take care of your mother. Your father will want her looking well if he intends to marry you off. Don't worry. Dara will take care of everything.” She patted Cat's shoulder. “Sit."

Clutching a sharp knife and seizing hank after hank of hair, Dara slashed Cat's long tresses and hid the bright colored remains under a cap. She wrapped a long cloth around Cat's full breasts and outfitted the girl in boy's clothing. She packed provisions for Cat, Mag and her sons. While Mag held a candle, she drew directions to the croft on the ground with a stick. Darkness covered their departure from the house. They bid tearful goodbyes and fled in opposite directions.

Cat realized her only hope of getting away safely lay in her ability to avoid recognition. She was tall enough to pass for a boy, and a boy would be safer on the country roads than a female. Cat smiled to herself as she felt her spirits lifting.

“I'll have me an adventure. A real adventure,” she said aloud, frightened but willing.

* * * *

Late the following evening, Angus MacFarr paced the dais in the great hall. His right hand balled into a fist, which he held behind him. His gaze rested on the tall door at the entrance. Impatience to confront his daughter ate at him and soured his stomach. Their disputes disrupted the entire household, yet he enjoyed those encounters. Her peppery nature riled so easily, it made him laugh.

Yesterday, he hadn't had a chance to voice his anger sufficiently before sending her to her room in disgrace, but he'd have his revenge. The Beast would see to it.

The door opened. Through narrowed eyes, he watched his only two legitimate sons walk across the grimy rushes. William, his short, stocky elder son, was a brutal bully whose happiness lay in the torture of others. Simon, who slithered four paces behind, was a taller, thinner version of his brother and an artful, scheming trickster. Their cruelty kept all around them fearful.

Angus wondered which one would stick a dagger in his back first, yet he shouted at them affectionately, “Well, lads? Where's yer sister?"

William hesitated and looked at Simon, who tottered and wrung his hands. His voice quivered when he spoke to his father from behind William's back.

“We went to fetch her as ye requested, sir.” Simon wheezed in a high-pitched nasal tone. “We knocked quite loudly. She refused to answer."

Angus scratched his belly and yawned as if bored. “And?"

William puffed out his chest. “We broke the door down, sir. With our fists.” His broad chest deflated. “She wasn't there."

“Where is she?"

The brothers looked at each other and answered in tandem, one at a shout and the other in a whine. “We don't know."

Angus couldn't believe what he heard. “Are ye telling me she left her room? After I had forbidden it?”

Anger overwhelmed him. He stamped about the platform. Had the twit really disobeyed his commands? Well, he would find her soon enough. He couldn't allow himself to be made a fool of by a child. Had she seen her mother? What would Cat have done if she had? Anyway, it was time for Evina to come downstairs, fatten up before the wedding. She needed to look good for the guests he'd invited.

He fell into his pillowed chair, breath gone. Had the girl slipped away to avoid marrying Gerek Gunn, the foremost warrior of all Scotland? MacFarr vowed to find her, force the marriage in the hopes she'd suffer all the agony the man's brutal reputation promised.

Shuffling in place and staring at his feet, Simon coughed then sniffled. “Her room was a mess. Things thrown all over."

Angus leaned back, one foot beating a tattoo on the wooden floor. A new serving wench waited for him in his chamber. Eager to get to her, he snapped,” Where's that stupid friend of hers?"

William's lips twisted in a sneer. “She's gone too, Father. We couldn't find her either, not in the castle or on the grounds."

Simon added, “Both gone. They just disappeared."

Angus leaped to his feet and shook a forefinger at his sons. They stepped back. “Think. Where might they have gone, fools?"

“To Edinburgh,” William shouted in his overly robust manner.

“Back to Stoneleigh, if my guess is correct,” Simon said.

“The folks at Stoneleigh won't keep her, if they know I want her here,” Angus countered, “but it's a clever thought, son."

A crafty smile lit Simon's face. “What if she doubled back there and asked for Highland sanctuary? Ye never know."

William shrugged in contempt. “She's not smart enough for that."

“Smarter than ye, Will,” Simon whispered, directing a wily smirk at his brother. His eyes grew large and innocent when he looked at his father again. “What would ye have us do, Da? We wish to please ye."

MacFarr gripped the arm of his chair. He leaped to his feet. “Simon, go to Stoneleigh. See if she's hiding there or in a nearby village. Stay at least a week. Maybe she'll turn up."

“And me, father?” William asked, his face crimson, his brow wrinkled in distaste. He puffed out his cheeks and glared at Simon. “What will I do?"

His inner anger boiling to the surface, MacFarr gestured wildly and screamed out orders. “Round up a dozen of our men. Scour the countryside. Go to our village. Question Cat's old nurse, Dara Keith. Torture her if ye must but get an answer.” He hesitated to catch his breath. “Nae. Take twenty men. I don't care who. Find the bitch!"

Staggering, he gasped and clutched his chest. That wretched lass would turn him into a lunatic. She'd embarrass him among his peers if this pledge were not met. He'd slay her before he let that happen. A thought occurred to him. If she were dead, then he would not have to worry about her or the Beast.

Frenzied, he screamed at his sons, who were still staring at him. “Go. Go, now! Fetch her. She'll pay for this. When ye find her, chain the ungrateful slut! Bring her to me in irons.”

His screeches filled the castle with a high-pitched whine. He fell back into his chair, his face crimson, his breath short, his fury floating in the air. “Bring her here. She'll never defy me again. I'll beat her until she marries the Beast or dies. Go! Both of ye. Find her,” he whispered hoarsely. “Bring the bitch to me."

* * * *

For days, the unusual exercise sapped Cat's strength as she climbed boulders and forded streams. The thin air, high in the mountains, added to her discomfort. She felt as if her body might crumble and roll down the mountainside. Even her ears were tired from unusual sounds she'd heard on the way, sounds she hadn't heard before.

Each time the sun peeked out from beneath the pink clouds, the sky seemed to vibrate. Her eyes burned from lack of sleep and too much sun. She raised an arm, almost too stiff to be lifted, to shade her eyes. Her head pulsated. Sweat ran from beneath her cap, over her eyebrows and down her face. Fear of meeting someone who might recognize her stopped her from removing her cap.

She panted as she climbed toward the top of this hill. According to Dara, the croft should appear on the other side of the rocky crest ahead. With a great spurt of energy, she reached it, looked into the valley and stood still, overcome by the incredible beauty below.

Heather spread in patch upon patch, stretching over piles of rocks, marking some sort of boundary. Thick woods hugged the edge of a clear loch and surrounded a meadow filled with wildflowers ready to bloom. The croft was tucked behind a small rise. Only the thatched roof and chimney were visible. The building seemed to stand guard over the meadow and loch.

“Dara was right. A hidden sanctuary in the woods.”

Across the loch, a dark, ominous escarpment was barely visible in the heavy fog that clung to its face. Intense gray and purple clouds gathered above it, giving indications an explosive Highland storm approached. In a hurry to get settled before the storm arrived, Cat moved on.

Her legs ached, but she raced down the bumpy, overgrown path to the cottage, anxious to seek refuge within its walls. She grasped the door handle and shoved the wood with her shoulder. The door flew open and she fell to her knees on the dirt floor of the main room. Giggling, she bent, kissed the ground and tossed her sack to one side.

The filth and grime she saw, and the musty smell, defeated her for a moment, but she shrugged. “I'll just have to clean—before the storm arrives.” She chuckled. “Och, Catriona, you do get into trouble. And now you're talking to yourself."

Nothing mattered. She was away from Fairloch and safe. Her spirits soared. Grabbing a bucket sitting near the door, she rushed to the loch, talking to herself the entire way. “At least my escape went well. I'll go to Aberdeen where I can find work. I'll save money and get Mam out of the castle even if I have to break down the walls, and I won't have to marry against my will.” At the loch, she scooped water into the bucket. “It's time to clean up, Catriona."

Again and again, she dragged water up the wee hill to the cottage. She scrubbed, dusted and piled logs. Each time she left the cottage to fill the bucket, she had the sensation she was being watched. The last time, she felt sure. But who? Could men from Fairloch have followed her? Picked up her trail somehow? Not this soon, she thought. But her father would never give up. Perhaps her escape had been too easy.

Premonitions spread cold fear through her and it was getting late. “I'll have to stay alert tonight.” She stamped her foot. She was unnerved, that's all. Hadn't she made it this far all by herself? Too tired to fret, she filled the pail and tramped back to the safety of the cottage.

Dusk fell. The moon came up and slid behind dark-gray rushing clouds. A fire crackled in the fireplace, and a candle glowed brightly on the lone table. The food Dara gave her had filled her stomach and calmed her down. Now, all she needed to end her day was a good wash. Exhausted and half-asleep, she shuffled outside, the bucket swinging by her side. She crooned, “One more bucket, just one more bucket, a bucket of cool water.”

The wind felt invigorating and she welcomed it after the heat inside. A rustling sound, like footsteps on leaves, came from the nearby woods, then stopped. Within seconds, the weather had shifted drastically. The wind howled, chilling her, penetrating her jacket, even the cloth wrapped around her chest.

She refused to give way to fears of being alone in such a desolate area, and dipped the bucket in the loch again. The uneasy feeling of someone watching returned, chilling her further. She shivered. The clouds overhead grew darker. Never left alone in the Highlands, Cat panicked when thunder rolled and lightning streaked the sky with color.

Her body trembled. Her teeth chattered. She dropped to her knees and prayed. “Please don't let anyone from Fairloch come here. Or some murdering thief.” She stood and tore back to the cottage, the half-full bucket tight against her chest, its water sloshing over her.

She entered the cottage and slammed the door firmly. There was no lock, only a rusted latch, which she fastened. She breathed deeply to calm herself and did the only things she could think to do. She changed out of her wet clothing. Thank goodness, her trousers were dry. Changing her clothes gave her an idea.

Using the things in her sack, she made a large mound in the corner bed and covered it with one of the blankets she'd found in the cupboard and cleaned. She took a chair from the table, placed it in the darkest corner of the cottage and with her dirk in her hand, she blew out the candle and sat. She waited.

* * * *

Moments after the hanging of the Earl of Montrose, Gerek Gunn fled the city of Edinburgh, his black stallion pounding beneath him and his deerhound, a great-great grandson of Dubh, running at his side. Covenanters chased his arse for miles into a secretive, fog-filled forest. The last of them had vanished in the mist after Dubh and he went in different directions and he continued on his way—to home.

A day later, hungry as a bear and bone tired, he paused to get his bearings and spotted the deserted croft hidden behind sturdy trees. The cottage had easy access to water and a meadow filled with tall grasses for the horse. It would be a perfect place to wait for Dubh, who had taken a different route. The dog would track him as he had always done.

Gerek hid in the woods and watched. A young lad dashed into the building, and he damned the person who had settled into the place he thought his for the taking. Well, no matter. He would make his neighbor's acquaintance in the dark of night, if necessary. In the meantime, he needed to keep the horse quiet so he let him forage in a concealed clearing.

By nightfall the weather changed, adding a new dimension to his problems. Fury had painted the sky in deep purples, grays and blacks. A tempest blew in over the cliffs, and a biting wind howled over the darkened meadow. Rain pelted sections of the loch before shifting direction and heading for the croft and the woods. Gerek placed his gear near a large tree and covered them with a heavy cloth and branches to keep out the rain. Dubh hadn't appeared but his master couldn't wait any longer. The dog would stay close to the stallion, anyway.

Darkness descended. Time to meet the lad. Gerek turned the stallion loose in the meadow and crept toward the cottage on elbows and knees, head low, shoulders moving in rhythm. The friar's robe he wore as his disguise in Edinburgh caught on a sharp rock. He yanked it loose, shredding one sleeve.

Near the building, he removed his boots and stood. He inched his way to the entrance, keeping his back to the cold stone. He slid a twig inside, lifted the door latch and caught it before it clicked back into place. He peered about, heard nothing and eased his large frame into the main room.

He waited until his eyes became accustomed to the dimness. From the glow of dying coals, he scanned the room, noticing the lumpy form on the narrow bed. His body tensed. Something didn't feel right to him. His bare feet slid along the damp floor as he approached the bed.

He reached out to touch the lad, give him a shake. “Hold fast, laddie. 'Tis a foolish habit to sleep too soundly in the dark of night.”

Chapter Two

A body catapulted onto Gerek's back, forcing the air from his lungs. A dagger pressed against his throat. Two long, slender legs, encased in breeches, circled his waist. Breasts pressed his shoulders and an accelerated heart beat against his back.

“Hold fast, ye bluidy fool, or I'll sever yer neck from yer body,” a voice growled in his ear, its intent real. Yet the breasts and the rapid beating of the heart caught his attention more than the dirk did.

Lord, it's a lass on my back.

“Aye, la....” An instant decision to fake the lad part caused him to shrug his shoulders. The movement almost unseated her. She ripped more of his disguise by grabbing the torn garment. Her lengthy legs barely fit around him. The press of her breasts when she shifted her weight to reposition the dagger made him cognizant of how long it was since he had felt a woman that close. Her hand shook and the sharp dirk scraped his days-old whiskers.

Hoping to distract her, he filled his lungs with air. His chest expanded and her legs, lightly crossed at her ankles, split apart and slipped down to his hips. Her heels dug deeply into his clenched stomach. As if that wasn't bad enough, her hand vibrated dangerously on his neck. “'Tis your contest, laddie.” He spoke softly, knowing his deep voice rumbled from his belly.

With a swift movement, he seized her dirk hand in a tight grip and wheeled her around his body until she faced him. He squeezed her wrist until the weapon dropped to the floor. Her squeal of surprise pleased him for some reason. A roll of thunder shook the cottage, accompanied by a streak of lightning, and he inspected her from under the cowl of the friar's hood, enjoying what he saw in the flash.

Her strange, light eyes, the color of dying coals, were fringed with long, dark lashes and burned with fury. Delicate cheekbones set high on her face framed a straight, finely hewn nose, almost patrician in its angles. Her pointed chin set in a square jaw gave credence to a stubborn, determined spirit.

He wondered what caused the lass to disguise herself and take shelter in a deserted croft, miles from habitation. Why would anyone take her for a lad, even with that foolish cap pulled down to her brows? In his years of traveling the continent for the Royalist cause, he had learned not to trust the faces people presented to the world. Such facades were donned and discarded with ease. A reason stood behind such outlandish behavior. What amazed him most was she hadn't shrieked in fright.

“Put me down, ye damned stupid oaf,” she demanded in a hoarse voice, scowling at him. “Put me down,” she repeated, clinging to his shoulders for balance.

He shifted so she wouldn't fall out of his arms and held her closer. She cursed him under her breath. She clasped her warm fingers and slim hands around his neck and tried to squeeze the air out of him. He grinned with sympathy.

“If ye dinna’ wish to meet yer maker, ye bluidy lout, put me down."

“And what can a skinny lad like you do?” Slowly, he let her legs slide part way down his body but kept her dangling inches above the floor. Her fingernails dug into his neck. Her shapely body stretched against his, limb for limb. When he moved to place her on the floor, he felt her stomach muscles contract and heard her almost inaudible intake of air.

“Stop.” Her mouth opened. “Stop, I say!"

“Easy now, laddie. Listen carefully.” He brought his face level with hers. “If you behave, I'll not hurt you,” he murmured.

Holding her this close made his heart pound faster and heat spread through him. Lord, have I gone that long without? Aye, it would be better to pretend she's a lad. He set her on the ground but held both her arms. He tried to speak quietly, but the words echoed in the momentary stillness around them. “'Tis all right, laddie. I'll not harm you if you give me no trouble. I just require some food and shelter from the storm outside."

Strange sensations coursed through Cat. His low, rich voice reverberated somewhere deep inside of her and mixed with a clap of thunder that crashed outside. A scream rose in her throat, but a lad wouldn't scream. She swallowed and growled instead. “And I suppose I should welcome ye? Take the word of a man who broke into me home, full ready to attack me person? Ready to steal me food, me valuables, me...."

She couldn't think of anything else to say. Was he trying to trick her? What she had been expecting, had been ready for, was not the man before her. This man was a giant. He had flicked her off as if she were a tiny insect. The impact of his size and his bass voice frightened her. Her knees were weak and it put her on the defensive. She looked about the room, trying to fathom how she might outwit this giant whose huge outline blocked the light from the fire. How could a man so mammoth sneak up on the cottage when she had watched so carefully? It was a good thing she heard the door latch click.

He hadn't responded to her questions. “Ye dinna’ answer me. Why should I trust ye? Give me a reason."

He stood examining her. Her seeming lack of fear and her combative behavior surprised him. Wariness glimmered in her eyes but no panic. She was tall for a Scotswoman, not unlike his own Viking ancestors who had settled the far north. A sneer curled her upper lip. He admired the ferocity and wondered if he could frighten her enough to pay attention. He dare not get caught, to be hanged like the Earl of Montrose.

He spoke calmly and quietly in his most normal tone. “I did not come here to rob you but to share your food and shelter for a brief spell. Besides, you have no other alternative than to trust me. I am bigger than you."

“Is that right? We'll see, won't we?” Cat yanked her arms away, dropped to the floor and rolled away from him. The hoarse Highland screech she tried to produce turned into a grunt as she jumped into a defensive posture, ready to flee. Her body refused to obey her or to control the trembling in her legs.

The man shook his head and frowned at her, his mouth set in a grim line. She watched him cross his huge, muscled arms over his chest, the widest one she had ever seen. A large hand rested inches from a holstered silver dirk. What little she could see of his broad brow, his angled jaw and straight nose made his face all hard planes and dangerous.

His voice was full, composed, when he spoke again, as if he expected complete obedience. “Don't move like that again, laddie, or shout at me! Don't try my patience,” he warned in a cold tone. “Stay calm and no harm will come to you."

His commands startled her, set her heart to beating hard. Was it because he was fearsome, monstrous like some gigantic bear? Was it the depth of his voice, the arrogance it contained? He sounded threatening and aggressive yet in control. She should be hysterical, but somehow she wasn't. In utter defiance of his instructions, she crawled on her hands and knees away from him toward the center table. She grabbed the back of a chair, pushed against it and dragged herself to her feet. Her gaze fastened on the stranger. Goaded by his calm demeanor, she casually leaned against the table.

“If ye want me to relax, to trust ye,” she said, her nerves vibrating, “then I'll have yer bluidy dirk!” She almost smiled, pleased with her ability to maintain the native dialect. It wouldn't do to have him know she was of a titled class. It was hard to tell a friend from an enemy. Deception was a way of life from one day to the next, and she dare not get involved in those war-torn religious causes now.

Cat scrutinized the man before her. His speech was that of a cultured man, obviously educated. She wondered where he came from for she had never seen such a large Scotsman. She stretched a hand toward him. “Yer dagger, if what ye be saying is the truth."

“You interest me. Who are you?” he asked.

The ridiculous statement and question surprised her, made her indignant. “Who am I?’ she said, her quick temper making her bolder. She raised a fist then pounded it on the table as she had seen her father do. It made the candlestick jump. “Who in bluidy Satan's breath are ye?” she questioned.

Remembering the candlestick on the table, she put an arm behind her to grab it. She moved her body to keep it from his view. Her fingers slid down to the base. Her gaze focused on his body, taking note of his robe. A friar? Impossible! Yet, friars from the villages wore robes like that and wandered the countryside seeking food and shelter. He could be a friar. With relief, she relaxed her grip but didn't remove her fingers from the base of the candle. Something in the intensity of his stare unsettled her.

Changing her tactic again, Cat stuttered, “I'm not here alone, ye know. I'm waiting for me Da. From the village.”

“Nae. You're alone,” Gerek said, his gaze fixed on her. “Your Da would have been here before dark. Fools travel the Highlands on a spring night. I've watched you all day.” He stretched and yawned; his hands touched the rafters.

He'd been watching her all day? No wonder she felt so uneasy. Did he realize she was a girl? His earlier words came back. He had called her 'laddie.’ She wondered just how long it would take him to figure it out. In these days of the Bishop's War, even friars were suspect.

“How did ye get here? By foot? How did ye find me cottage? Where do ye come from, Friar? What do ye want?”

He threw back his hood and looked at her, before rubbing his beard as if searching for an answer, then fingering the silver cross on his chest. “So many questions from such a young lad. I was returning from Edinburgh on church business and became lost in the mist. I saw the smoke curling from here. Figure good Highland folk wouldn't turn away a friar from St. Joseph's Priory."

His voice was sincere but Cat didn't believe the words. How could he have seen smoke if he'd been watching her all day? The fire wasn't lit until dusk. A liar. Who was he? How had he managed to be in the forest when she'd just arrived? There was something about this stranger that reeked of danger.

Suddenly, realization hit her and dread accompanied it. She was alone! With a towering bear of a man. The gravity of the situation came as the storm began to rage again. Her fright built with each roll of thunder and beat of her heart. Her stomach twisted. “Stay away.” She backed closer to the table. “Don't come any closer. I'm warning you.”

He approached her, his mammoth hand held out in front of him. Her fingers tightened around the heavy base of the candlestick holder. With a ragged cry, she hurled it at him and bolted for the door. He grunted when the flying object smashed into him and bounced to the dirt floor with a thud. Hand to his bleeding head, his long strides ate up the distance between them. He caught her from behind as she went out the door and hauled her backward. A lump formed in her throat, and she shrieked in terror. He looped a hard, muscular arm around her waist, put a hand over her mouth and yanked her into the stony wall of his body. He pulled her back into the room and closed the door.

A grievous sob stuck in her throat. She gulped air between his fingers. “Help,” she croaked. The warm feelings she had before vanished. Only dread remained. She was going to die. Right here! Now!

Trembling, she twisted in his arms and kicked back as hard as she could. Her boot heel caught him on the shin. She twirled once again and fell to her knees, scrambling toward the dirk on the floor. She had to get to it. It was the only thing that could save her. She touched it, and vaulted to her feet, her body curved and her knees bent. She brandished the blade in front of her.

Slowly, with measured steps, the friar moved closer, stalking her as he would a deer in the forest. The closer he came, the more she danced about, just out of his reach, her bent knees adding to her spring. His long arms reached for her. She grunted and hacked at him with the dirk, cutting his arm in two places, but he never uttered a sound. Warm blood dripped onto her hand. Her panic mushroomed. Might he violate her?

Calmly, he snatched her wrist and pressed it backward until she loosened her hold on the blade. This time he bent the hard steel, which broke into two pieces in his hand and fell to the floor. Cat didn't know what to do or where to go. She tried to run past him.

Gerek again grabbed her around the waist, pulling her back. “Hold still, dammit!” he demanded.

Her soft, curved bottom was tight against him. She pushed backward in her struggles to free herself. His reaction shocked him, and he almost lost control of her. Her thrashing heightened the intensity. He didn't need that kind of arousal at the moment. The unexpected response made him shake the lass with more force than necessary. At the same time, he turned her and pulled her to him again, wanting to feel those soft, warm breasts against his body.

Blood from his cuts stained the sleeve of her shirt. She clawed at his forearms. He had to subdue her, so he squeezed some of the air from her lungs. Wild, feral sounds of distress surged from her mouth. Pivoting, she kicked out at him, connecting with his ankle.

He grunted in pain. “Dammit! Hold still, now!” he ordered, tightening his hold on her and lifting her higher in the air with arms straightened, so she couldn't reach him. He ignored the blood, her kicks and her attempts to overcome him and escape. He was calm, almost serene, caring little for the consequences of his own actions as he set her on her feet. “Stop,” he shouted, shaking her harder than ever.

He was no friar! Cat had never seen a man like this, so controlled, so sure of himself, so impervious to wounds. She wrenched around in his arms. Her anger rose in a fierce red haze, and her frenzied movement added strength to the elbow she slammed into his stomach. He doubled over and let go of her. She ran for the door again, opened it and gathered herself for a searing scream. Before she released a sound his hand came across her mouth. She tried to rotate beneath it, tasting his blood and wanting to spit it out.

He forced her to the dirt, one knee pressed in her back, her scream squelched. Her strength gone, shame numbed her brain. She didn't think she could fight any more. Her breath staggered out of her in tiny bursts of air. This was the way men treated women. Then she remembered her pretense at being a lad.

He removed his knee and rolled her over. His powerful legs held her arms close to her sides. Her body shook with fear. He ripped one sleeve of the friar's robe from the garment, twisted it for use as a rope. When he ripped the other sleeve, he fashioned it into shredded cloth. He pushed a wad of it into her mouth and tied it in place with a longer piece.

Gerek doubted that their scuffle had been heard, but he would take no chances. He was damned if he was going to get caught here by Covenanters who might be roaming the area. “There. That should keep you quiet so we can talk. You cannot scream. People may be searching the area for one or both of us. You see, I do understand that you flee from something or someone. Just as I do.”

He bound her arms behind her, stood her upright and marched her to the table, retrieving the candlestick on the way and placing it on the end of the table where she couldn't reach it. “Sit down,” he said, shoving her onto a chair. “You will behave. If you kick and thrash about, I'll knock you out. Do you understand?” He shook her lightly to emphasize his threat.

She nodded, her eyes wide and filled with tears. Her skin felt warm to him and when she shuddered, he said gently, “Don't be afraid. Stay quiet and no harm will come to you. 'Tis my promise.” He walked to the window, then to the door.

A sultry dampness hung in the air like the fog it replaced, thick and heavy. The closeness made breathing difficult but deepened the rich fragrances of heather and pine. Satisfied that no one was about, Gerek moved to the table and lifted her in his arms. She was shaking her head. Unceremoniously, he dumped her on the narrow corner bed. A single streak of lightning lit the room.

Giving himself time to think, he went back to the table and lit a candle from the coals in the fireplace. In his years of battlefield experience, never had he jeopardized the life of a woman. He didn't want to start now, but he couldn't take a chance on her setting up a hue and cry. He didn't trust women. His mother's silence about his father's identity started that feeling and it was fostered on the Continent. Women were too devious for him to understand.

This woman's gallant fight against a much larger adversary mystified him. She was a strange combination of female in trouble mixed with the natural belligerence not uncommon in Scotswomen. But who was she, this lass who traveled alone in rugged parts of the Highlands? He dragged a chair from the table over to the bed and sat with an easy grace that belied his height and powerful build. He looked relaxed and comfortable, but Cat could see the restrained power that lay beneath his composed demeanor. His brows tightened in frustration. What the hell should he do with her?

He hated to speak, but when he did, he did so tersely. “Well, laddie. Let's wait until morning to sort this all out. In the light of day, we'll talk."

To Cat's ears, his deep rumbling voice blocked the sounds of thunder booming over the meadow and loch. She struggled to her feet on the bed and eyed him cautiously. Her courage gone, desperation overwhelmed her, and the very maleness of him set her nerves sizzling.

“Do I have to tie your legs, too?” he queried, his expression mocking her.

She felt as if she were rushing toward a precipice. A fall over the edge seemed imminent. She backed into the corner and shook her head. The man was too tall, too muscular, too still and much too controlled. She didn't believe he was a friar, but since he made no moves in her direction, she felt he meant her no harm.

“I'm sorry if you do not believe me, but I'll not harm you.” His hands rested on sturdy thighs as if he had not a care in the world. “If you promise to remain quiet, I'll remove the cloth from your mouth,” he said, with dignity.

Although indignation overrode Cat's fears and frustration at the distress he'd already put her through, she nodded her assent. Screaming in this wilderness would be to no avail. She would think of some other way to outsmart him. She coughed into the wad, as if choking. Her gagging sounds didn't affect him at all.

His dark eyes focused on her, his head tipped to one side. She tried to read his expression, but he seemed puzzled. He acted differently than her father and her brothers would have under similar circumstances.

“I cannot let you go. You might send an alarm to the wrong people. But I have given my promise not to hurt you in any way. Isn't that enough?” He closed his eyes, and rubbed them hard. “I need to sleep, and so I'll tie you to the bed or the chair. Your choice. In the morning we can talk things over,” he mumbled, moving to the table. “The night will give you time to make up your mind."

Cat was ready to spit out a nasty retort if he removed the cloth from her mouth, but why antagonize a man whose weight easily doubled hers, who was considerably stronger, and who was armed with a large weapon? There might be an opportunity to run away. If she could relax him by seeming obedient, her chances of getting out alive would improve. Best to play along with him.

Gerek stared at her, tipping his head to the side and raising his eyebrows, while he waited for her answer. She signaled him with motions of her head and eyes. He shrugged, picked up the candle from the table, placed it on the half-log fireplace mantle and tossed a few logs on the coals. They caught and brightened the room. “It'll get cold in the night, once the storm has passed."

She mumbled into the cloth and he turned to her. His movements had slowed. “I'll tie you to the bed. We both need some undisturbed sleep. And, I'll feel more secure if I know you're in one place.” He approached her. “Stretch yourself out,” he ordered. She drew back. “I'll not hurt you. I made that vow. Now, make yourself comfortable, for you'll stay in that position until morning."

He took more long pieces of the cloth torn from the sleeve, and when she didn't respond to him, he flipped her onto her back, securing her arms and legs to the wooden posts of the bed. Cat didn't care. Her problems would be better solved in the light of day.

She watched him search the cupboard, gather three dusty blankets, carry them to the door and shake them out, one by one. He returned to the bed and covered her with the cleanest of them. She wiggled under the blanket, trying to loosen the ropes holding her, but he had tied her well. He folded another of the blankets and tossed it on the floor near the bed. Then he wrapped himself in the third and lowered his body to the blanket on the floor. His groan rocked the bed. He lay on his back with his legs stretched out.

To Cat, his body seemed to fill the room. Within minutes, she heard his even breathing, interrupted by a tiny snort. Slowly, she twisted her head back and forth to loosen the cloth over her mouth, which he had forgotten to remove. When it fell to the mattress, she pushed the other cloth out with her tongue. Staring up at the ceiling and the grotesque shadows from the firelight, she knew nothing would be accomplished by screaming. Decisions on how to get rid of him would wait.

She thought she heard a horse neighing and a dog barking in response, but it was little but the wind and rain. Bewildered, her eyes kept closing of their own accord. The last conscious thought to challenge her was what more could possibly happen to her.

Chapter Three

The Highlands, Gunn Country

Baen Tavish disliked waiting. Impatiently he paced the long corridor in front of Killearnan's library, his foppish blond curls bouncing onto his shoulders with every step. Confident the clan elders and his grandfather, the Gunn, would name him the new chief, he pressed his ear to the door like a child. He flew backwards when the door opened and several old men filed out, arguing in the snarls and grunts typical of Highlanders.

One white-haired man, who had been an elder ever since Baen could remember, pointed to the library and, with a terse, “He wants ye,” stalked off.

Eagerness to hear the news that he had been proclaimed the next Gunn of Killearnan, chief of all the Gunns, propelled Baen into the room. His grandfather stared at the fire. His tall, muscular frame, scarred face and body and white hair gave testimony to his heavy burden as chief.

Harald Gunn glanced up. His older grandson stopped in the center of the room. His two grandsons were brawny lads with the warriors’ hearts, both devoted to the clan, but differences existed. Because of the light hair, lithe body of a fencer and blue-eyed innocence, coupled with a ready grin, Baen seemed younger than Gerek, who stood half a foot taller, was massively built, darker-skinned and gray-eyed. But the biggest difference was in their smiles. Baen smiled readily, often without cause; Gerek almost never.

Their lives had been so different. Harald had sent Gerek to the Earl of Montrose for fostering to protect him from forces inside the clan. The lad had spent eighteen years away from Killearnan, having little knowledge of his roots, while Baen enjoyed all the comforts of fine home and loving family.

Where was Baen's cousin? Harald wondered why Gerek wasn't here with Baen. The two had left Killearnan, together with Niall Oliphant, to attend the trial and hanging of the great Earl of Montrose, Jamie Graham, Gerek's benefactor and friend. Now this lad had returned to Killearnan alone.

Pointing to a chair across from him, Harald was casual, knowing how quickly Baen could take offense. “Take a tankard of ale from the table and sit. We don't have much time.” He waited until Baen settled himself into the chair and had taken a hearty gulp of the brew.

“The elders reached their decision and want no disagreements.” He noted Baen's smile. It would fade. “Gerek is to be Gunn if he honors his pledge to marry before his birthday in July. Marriage to an earl's daughter will add honor to the clan.” Baen's sharp intake of breath forced Harald to stop. The lad had paled, his face strained with a scowl of rage.

Harald frowned. What was the matter with him? "Ye will be second in command, lead our warriors. If anything happens to Gerek, or the pledge to MacFarr's lass is broken, then ye'll reverse the positions.” The designations conferred honor on both men in Harald's estimation.

Perhaps Baen reacted to an assumption that the position of chief should not be conferred on a bastard. But having a known father was no longer important to Gerek's future. As a warrior, he had made his way to a fortune, but the fame had become more like notoriety. He was a Royalist and fought for his king. Now, he was a wanted man with a price on his head, a man wanted by both the English and the Scots who opposed the King Charles.

“I will brook no battle over this,” Harald said fiercely. “The decision's made.” He lifted his glass, tipped it toward Baen and they both drank.

“Aye, Grandda. No fight.” Baen thrust himself upright, leaned forward and smiled, but his words whipped out angrily. “'Tis not often a bastard can claim such prominence.” Uttered so sharply, the words belied the playful grin on his face. “It seems the Beast of Battle has gained another title. Congratulations go to my cousin when next I see him.” He squared his shoulders and exited the room.

“Baen, wait!” Harald called after his grandson. “We haven't finished. Where's your cousin? Where's Gerek? Baen!” Harald took off after him and his anger multiplied. The lad ought to know better than to show defiance, either to clan dictum or its chief.

* * * *

Baen ignored his grandfather's calls and headed for the great hall where his band of warriors awaited the news. Smarting with disappointment, he wondered what more he could have done to secure the position of Gunn. He had discredited his cousin at every opportunity. He had divulged Gerek's location in Edinburgh, not for the first time, and sent Covenanters in hot pursuit. But no appointment would come until his cousin's birthday in July. Time left to plan.

Leading the warriors would give him more status in the clan than he already had. His men followed him readily. They enjoyed his easy jokes, his unbridled laughter and his bountiful energy for play. Yet he needed to cultivate closer friendships. Once convinced of his leadership and his valor, they'd respond to plans for Gerek.

Baen entered the hall to loud calls of greetings. Fellow warriors hailed him, the elders saluted him, and ladies came forward to fawn over him as they usually did, except for Leah, to whom he was promised. His eyes glowed at the adoration and comradeship afforded him. Suddenly, everyone's gaze focused in back of him.

Another cheer, louder than the first, resounded through the hall. He turned to find himself face to face with his grandfather, who strode past him onto the low dais and seated himself in the chair reserved for the chief. Harald Gunn smiled and nodded to those gathered in the great hall. They had served him well during his thirty odd years as chief. Except for battles with their most hated enemy, the Keiths, whose feuds with the Gunns had continued unabated since the twelfth century, the clan had prospered.

Harald raised his hand in an effort to hush the crowded room. All waited for the news. “The elders reached a decision about yer next Gunn,” he bellowed from his chair.

People shushed one another and the room quieted. So that none would mistake the importance of what he was about to say, Harald reviewed his words before he spoke. Gerek's battle experience, which brought much honor to the clan, should win him the esteem of this group. Gerek was a force in Scotland for the Royalist factions, a man who had won the respect of all men of battle.

The Gunn shoved himself from the chair and stretched to his full six feet. “My grandson, the bastard Gerek Gunn, the Beast of Battle, will be yer chief at the end of July or as soon as he returns with his new bride.”

The hall grew quieter. A few members looked at Baen, but most kept their eyes on their Gunn, who continued, “This War of the Covenant, or any war for that matter, is a time of upheaval and change. Clan Gunn must change with it. Once ye learn more of Gerek, the men will brag of his massive stature and his battle skills, and the women, his handsome face, strong arms and charm. All will praise his leadership. A man like Gerek will set a steady course for the clan until peace reigns undisturbed."

The silence broke into a tumult of noise. Cheers and grunts of acceptance filled the air. Everyone spoke at once, some in agreement, others in opposition. Harald watched factions for Gerek and for Baen develop before his eyes. Whatever had made him think it would be an easy appointment?

“Wait. I have more news. Baen Tavish, who spent his years at Killearnan with ye, will assume command of our troops in July. He will lead us to victory in our forays against the Keiths.”

Whoops of joy and more cheers followed that pronouncement as men and women flocked around Baen to give congratulations. The men gave him hearty slaps on the back, and the women offered suggestive kisses. Baen grinned. He looked to Leah, who stared at him with cold eyes.

Harald waited until the tumult died down, then casually asked, “By the way, Baen, where is Gerek? Why isn't he here to share the news with ye?"

Baen turned swiftly and glared at his grandfather. Harald knew Baen understood why the question was asked in a public fashion. The lad hesitated before answering, anger distorting his usual pleasant expression.

But he gained control of himself and smiled. “I'm sorry. I didn't hear you with all the shouting.

“Aye, ye did,” Harald mumbled, then spoke quite loudly. “I asked ye the whereabouts of yer cousin Gerek."

Baen laughed, as if the question was exceedingly amusing, and shouted to the crowd around him. “The last bit I saw of him was his arse plumped atop that black stallion of his, while they fled Edinburgh followed by a troop of Covenanters. Lord, 'twas a sight, for sure. Even his dog took off in a different direction.”

There were groans and grunts from the crowd, and a few laughs from Baen's most fervent sycophants. Older members of the clan glared at those who found this plight amusing. The younger clansmen muffled their laughter.

Harald turned, his face mottled, a fresh scar bisecting one cheek a deep red. He leaped from the dais and stalked toward Baen until the younger man was forced to move several steps backward. “Ye left him to face Covenanters, knowing full well the price on his head? How could ye do that?” he asked. “I sent ye to cover his 'arse'.” His fist slammed a nearby chair, smashing it to the stone floor. Anger at this grandson threatened to destroy the control he had cultivated during his years as chief. “Is this an example of yer strategy and skills in battle?"

Everyone in the hall grew silent. The Gunn's temper was an awesome sight. Baen Tavish was in serious trouble. Small groups huddled together to whisper but kept their eyes glued to the two locked in visual combat. Hurried movement and muttering in the crowded room made Harald realize how much his lack of control showed. Baen hated being treated like a child, particularly when his grandfather showed little concern for his safety, but Baen would brazen it out with a smile and some humor. Have we been foolish to allow this grandson to have a position of importance in the clan?

The words Baen spoke were spit out in anger. “It was Niall's job to watch Gerek's back. To the best of my knowledge, that's what Niall did. We had it arranged amongst the three of us, according to Gerek's plans. Besides, Gerek had that gray deerhound with him. He was protected. I was not."

Harald felt his gray eyes darken from anger held within. “And where is Niall now? Do ye know that, at least?” He forced himself to calm down, breathing deeply, while he glared at his too handsome grandson who grinned at him. “Gerek's yer cousin and yer chief soon. Ye know what that means to this clan!"

“Aye. Trust me. I know what it means full well.” Baen's smile grew more brilliant. “Don't worry, Grandda. If I know Niall, he's still tracking Gerek."

Baen graced the people in the hall with his smile, but they remained converged in their quiet groups. He called out. “You all know Niall Oliphant. Half bulldog, half hound! Niall will not quit until your Gerek is found, one way or....”

“Niall's only one man.” Harald spoke in a muffled tone, to Baen alone. “A single man to give chase to a horde of Covenanters.”

Baen squirmed under his grandfather's direct scrutiny, but making him uneasy gave Harald little pleasure. He wondered if the old rivalry between his two daughters still existed in their sons, however long since Gerek's mother passing. Was it a factor in Baen's decision to return to Killearnan without his cousin?

Baen continued to smile at everyone. Harald wanted to smash the smile off his face but contained himself. It was Baen's behavior during times of trial that drove the elders to lean toward choosing the bastard Gerek as the succeeding laird, instead of Baen. Trying to make Baen see the errors of his way, Harald said, “Niall is but a friend. Ye're Gerek's kin, a member of his clan. I would expect ye to see to yer cousin.”

Baen countered, “I wanted to follow him but the Covenanters got between us. Gerek himself sent me down toward the gibbet, so I could get a message of encouragement to Montrose before he hanged. Gerek's too conspicuous in size. He stayed above the crowd with Niall and the dog to watch over him. The crowd got in the way of the soldiers. I was crushed between. I couldn't see Gerek or Niall. I heard cries of 'Beast of Battle,’ 'traitor,’ 'Beast.’ Cries like that. And I was crushed in the multitude!”

Harald's grim expression showed his disbelief. “Lord, son. How could ye let that happen? Weren't ye able to read the tenor of the crowd and the soldiers?” Harald's voice lowered to a softer pitch. “Even if ye lost sight of them, ye should have stayed on Gerek's trail until ye found him.

Baen's voice steadied. He settled himself into what he must have thought an excellent defense of his actions. “No one can follow Gerek through the Highlands. How do you think he and Montrose escaped so many times over the years?” He turned and pitched his rich tenor voice a notch louder. “I came back to get more men. For a search. I need scouts, dozens of men.” Baen faced the people in the hall. “The whole countryside is in an uproar over Montrose's capture and hanging, from Edinburgh to the Highlands."

Harald stepped onto the dais again. He sat in the laird's seat and asked, “What exactly do ye expect to do with dozens of men? Raise a commotion on the trails? 'Twill not serve us well. Better to be inconspicuous."

Baen stood straighter. He raised one fist and shook it at the ceiling. “We'll ride out. Pick up the trail. Gerek and Niall couldn't have disappeared."

Sims, a tall, slim member of the Gunn's private men-at-arms, shouted out. “Gerek could if he made it into the Highlands. He's done it for years. I never could find him if he dinna’ want to be found. But I'll go search with ye, laddie.”

Parlan, a heavyset member of the Gunn's guard, called out, “I'll go with ye, too. I know some o’ the tall man's habits and some o’ his tricks."

“Me thanks to ye, Parlan and to ye, Sims.” Harald bowed his head and said, “I knew ye'd want to go. 'Tis a dangerous mission. Far from home and perhaps into territories of enemies. If ye're caught with Gerek, it could mean yer lives, but if some of ye want to join my grandson, step forward."

Slowly, somber-faced men came forward. Each grunted his acceptance of the mission. Harald smiled and nodded as each moved to the dais. The elders who had come in front of the dais also nodded to each man who approached. Men continued to draw near until every man stood in front of Harald.

“Aye,” Harald said, weary but smiling. “Baen, take a dozen. More would be noticeable. 'Tis dangerous. Men with families and farms to tend, step back. Let the single men, who need only look to themselves, step forward.”

He looked directly at Parlan, a stocky man whose chest was as big as a barrel, whose arms were exceedingly long and lined with muscles. “Parlan and Sims, follow Baen as my seconds in command."

Baen swung around to face his grandfather, his lips pulled tightly together. “I wish to choose my men."

Harald nodded. “Ye do that, son, but Gerek may not know the ones ye select as well as he knows Parlan and Sims. If he doesn't recognize a man, ye'll never find him or the man will be dead. Take Parlan as second. Sims will join him, to keep him in line. Split up if necessary. Now, Baen, pick ten others of yer choice."

Baen's smile grew broader and more gleeful. He pointed to men he thought would follow him without question. With the right men, he would stop at castles to break the journey and be feted in a proper manner. Parlan and Sims might be his only problems, but somehow he'd tend to them along the way.

With the chosen men gathered to his side, he shouted, “We'll find them, eh lads? Once we start out, we'll agree on a signal. Parlan must have some secret signal Gerek would understand. Right, old man?"

“Aye, I know several,” Parlan said. He glanced at the men gathered. “Heed me. We'll split up into several groups. We can cover more territory and won't be as noticeable."

“I think we'd do better to go in a single group,” Baen said petulantly, “so we don't lose anyone."

Harald stood. “Listen to Parlan, Baen. He knows how to track. Remember, men, ye're looking for your new laird, the next Gunn of Killearnan. Find him and bring him home. Be careful. I don't want him or ye caught by Covenanters."

Parlan, his brow furrowed with worry, stepped forward and lowered his naturally raspy voice, speaking only to Harald. “Is it true that if we can't find Gerek, then Baen's next in line?"

Terror struck Harald's heart. He shouted to the entire assemblage, “No one will be anointed Gunn until I have Gerek, or a body to bury in honor.” He stopped as another thought struck him and turned to Baen. “Did ye go to the girl's home on the way to Killearnan? To Fairloch?"

“Aye, that I did. I met with that weasel, MacFarr. Grandda, how can you let any spawn of that maniac enter this stronghold?” Baen asked.

Harald almost choked at the brazenness Baen used to put him on the defensive. “'Twas a pledge made during tragedy. It must be honored, as the Gunns honor all their pledges."

Baen went on, “Old Angus said he hadn't sighted Gerek but was expecting him soon. How he heard anything about Gerek is beyond me. Maybe he plans to alert the Parliamentary forces and....” Baen let the inference hang in the air.

With great surety, Harald responded, “Nae. MacFarr wouldn't. Not to kin of mine. He knows what would happen if he acted contrary."

Baen's lips curled down. “By the way, Grandda, the lass ran from Fairloch. Didn't want to marry the Beast of Battle.” He chortled, “Not that I blame her. Such a fitting name for a betrothed! They'd been scouring the countryside but hadn't found her by the time I left. The woman has spirit. Sounds like just the one for our Gerek,” he said.

Sitting back in his chair and extending his legs in front of him, Harald rested his chin on his chest. It was all too much. He was tired, tired of governing this unruly clan of wild Highlanders, tired of bowing to the different factions, none of whom he could please, even on good days. He lifted his head and stared at each of the chosen men. “Find Gerek first. Then we'll join those looking for the lass. This pledge will be met, the deed done. Go, lads!” he ordered. “Find yer Gunn!"

He looked to his other grandson, but Baen's willful smirk plunged terror into Harald's heart.

Chapter Four

After years of command, Gerek knew the efficacy of short, quick orders. Since his twelfth year and departure from Killearnan, his whole life revolved around skirmish after skirmish. Everything he garnered in life he'd earned on one field of battle or another. Silence was his friend. Conversation for the sake of pleasing another was not in him. His communication skills were poor.

He restrained his irritation with the girl. “You'll wait. We'll eat later.” He turned back to his scrutiny of the surrounding area and mumbled over his shoulder, “Ye can sit if ye want, but your hands are to stay tied until I feel I can trust you."

Cat's gruff grunt came from frustration and she moved to a chair at the table. A bitter sound emanated from her lips. She knew better than to trust a man. Her own family proved that. To gain this man's trust was the only way to escape. She'd hide her hostility behind a composed face and a laughing demeanor. “I told ye once I willna cry out nor run from ye. How much more can I tell ye? I canna’ make it more plain to ye. I'm a lad o’ me word."

Balancing the bucket on his arm, the man brought his fingers to his mouth and whistled. From across the meadow came an answering sound. An accomplice in the forest? She looked up in time to see a great black beast, head raised, nostrils flaring, race toward the cottage at a gallop. She leaped to the safety of the fireplace wall and heard the man chuckle.

He made a half-turn to her, his shoulders blocking the sun. “I'd like you to meet the Black,” he said.

Cat hesitated but stepped closer. “Aye."

“I shan't let you out of my sight,” he said, roughly pushing her toward the meadow and into a puddle of muddy water.

Wheeling around, she stamped her foot and splashed mud onto the man's robe. She stumbled and crashed into the side of the black animal. She inhaled sharply. “What are ye? Man 'r beast? Is he yer familiar? Are ye a warlock of some sort, cavorting as a man of God?” She took another step back, planting her feet in the puddle to throw more mud if necessary.

She pivoted and took a closer look at the black, a gigantic stallion sturdy enough to carry the heavily muscled man beside her. She smiled, raised trembling hands and stroked the black's neck, hoping not to be nipped. The horse sniffed at her upraised palms then his gaze fastened on the man as though waiting for a signal. An unspoken language was transmitted between them.

“He's a beauty,” she exclaimed. “I hope ye'll let me on his back."

In reply, Gerek pointed to the loch. “Precede me, laddie. I don't wish to concern myself with your possible flight."

“I willna flee. I told ye.” Cat sighed. “I have no place to go."

Her plaintive response caught his attention and he looked at her quizzically. That statement was the first honest thing she'd said to him so far. He determined to get the truth of the matter. The sooner the better.

She swept past him, head high. Her elbow accidentally brushed against his belly. Desire like a dull knife, then like a vast aching wound surged through him. He knew the gnawing ache of unfulfilled sexual desire too well. Often during his service to the crown of England, he had experienced such desires and refused to be governed by lust. Bed them and forget them had been a necessity.

The rising sun bounced off the cliffs and the loch. It repainted the soft colors of the sky into blazing brilliance. Cat shaded her eyes from the glare and moved toward the water, her back straight as a young sapling, refusing to bend in the wind. She heard a loud whinny, the trot of giant feet on the earth and stood still. The black horse moved in front of her and drank from the loch.

Of course, the horse was a warrior's steed. Her eyes narrowed and she stared. The man was no friar but a warrior, fresh from some battlefield and fearful of discovery, a warrior like her betrothed Beast, vicious and brutal. Suddenly weak, she shuddered with fear.

The man's call broke the stillness and stopped Cat's progress. “Be careful, laddie. The horse can be dangerous if you frighten him."

She slowed her pace but refused to trust the stranger's word. Holding her hands in front of her, palms up, and whispering endearments to the large animal, she approached cautiously. “Och, you're a beauty. Where did you come from? No friar could afford the likes of you. Why, you're not frightened in the least, are you? No, of course not! You're much too big and courageous for that.”

The animal flicked his ears forward and placed his soft muzzle into her palms to sniff them. She giggled from relief. His soft muzzle tickled her fingers. She rubbed his neck with the flat of her hand and keened to him. “You're such a bairn, a sweet, gentle colossus of a bairn. Not like your master at all.”

“I told you not to scare him. Don't you ever listen?” The voice was stony. It fit the man who crossed the meadow in ground-eating strides, dodging pools of water as he moved over the uneven earth.

“I dinna’ scare yer beastie. In fact, I think he favors me person,” she countered, her forehead braced on the horse's neck, her eyes on the ground. All the while, she patted the sleek hide, unafraid.

The man ran his hands over the horse, checking his hocks and hooves with particular care. “Aye, you're fine. Not a scratch on you and you've had a grand feast, I'm sure. Later, we'll get to your training. But rest easy, we'll be staying here for a time,” he muttered into the black's ear.

Gerek kept his eyes on her over the horse's neck. He seemed about to say something snappish but contained the urge, moving instead to the animal's hind end. With a cluck of his tongue and a friendly slap on the rump, he sent the stallion off. The black bucked and kicked, dodging imaginary foes. He slid on the wet grasses, playing to a corner of the meadow before lowering his nose to graze.

The man grabbed her arm and headed to a sandy area of the loch, the empty bucket swinging at his side. He bent, filled part of the bucket but stopped in mid-motion. Water sloshed onto his robe. In a swift movement, he placed the bucket on the ground and tugged his boots off, one by one, and tossed them next to it

“You managed to stamp enough mud on my garment to weigh me down. I need to bathe. Come.” He held his hand out to Cat. She shrunk back. He grabbed the cords around her wrist. “What's the matter? Are you afraid of the water?"

Cat shook her head. “Nae.” Flustered, she tried to think, but nothing came to mind except for the cords controlling her hands. She hesitated, then thrust her arms toward him. “I can swim, but not with these holding me arms. Besides, I dinna’ need to bathe. Cleanse yerself if ye must, but dinna’ drag me in."

“Come. A bath will clear your mind of troubles, if nothing else."

She moaned softly and shook her head. Her mind skittered from one thought to another. What would happen if she got all wet? Would her breasts show? Would he recognize her as a lass? What if her father's men came and discovered her predicament? Alone with a man. People would consider her to be handfasting with this man, committed to him for a year and a day. She wouldn't have to marry the Beast, but would she live to tell it? Her father would likely slay her. The friar glared at her, obviously waiting for an answer.

Words limped from her mouth. “A bath? Nae. I dinna’ think so.” She stepped back, almost slipping on small stones. The man removed the gigantic dirk from its holster on his belt. Cat gasped and leaped back, prepared to flee for her life. He surged toward her. His hand closed on her wrist.

“Stay away from me!"

With one slash, he slit the cords binding her wrists together. “Now, you'll bathe!” He replaced the dirk, unfastened its belt and let it slide to the ground. In one motion, he lifted the hem of the robe and drew it over his head.

He was bare! Cat crumpled to the sand, mortified. She tried to look away, but she couldn't help ogling the magnificence that was his body, the broad, muscular shoulders, the deep chest and the legs, sturdy as tree limbs. She peeked lower. A trim waist and narrow hips descended to nether regions covered in curly dark hair.

He seemed not to regard her open-mouth countenance as unusual for, with perfect calm, he reached down and lifted her into his arms. “You are going to bathe, with your clothes off or not. I'll not have you stink up the cottage.”

Warmth, then intense heat and strange feelings coursed through her as he threw her over his shoulder and marched into the sparkling, chilly water. Anger rose in her but the cold water sapped her breath. Her hands beat against his back and her legs kicked out at him. Held by a tight grip around her knees, she pushed herself upright, balled her hand into a fist and aimed it at his square jaw.

Before she could land the punch, she sailed into the sky, a graceless duckling, arms and legs fluttering in the air. The hat disguising the color of her hair took wing and soared into the loch, beyond her reach. Her body slapped the water with a vicious plop. She plummeted several feet into the depths of the loch. Her body fought for the surface. The water she swallowed gushed out in a stream as she reemerged into daylight.

Her sputtered curses interrupted by coughing stopped the smooth flow of her words. “Satan's spawn! Ye devil's....” She coughed. The rest of her imprecation spewed out, with the liquid rushing from her mouth, and bubbled. “Whoreson.”

“Och, such sweet talk from the lips of one so young."

Through tears of frustration she saw him watching her. She rubbed her eyes. “Did ye think to drown me, ye sod?” she asked, keeping most of her body underwater, except for her head and neck.

“Heavens above. I had no such thought.” His eyebrows raised, he appeared very appealing. “I merely said you needed to bathe. I had no intention of going into the loch myself and leaving you land-bound too far away from me. Besides, I am used to being obeyed."

“Ye're used to being obeyed, are ye? Ye're nae friar, for sure. Not that I thought any different last night."

“Aye. I assumed you had your doubts. But then, I had some as well."

“Did ye now?” Cat stayed away from the reach of his arms. How would she get out of the water without him seeing her breasts, her shirt now plastered to them?

“Aren't you going to remove your clothes, laddie? How can you bathe properly while clothes cover your frame? You must have others with you."

Cat moved closer to shore without answering him. Stones at the bottom hurt her feet but she stood with her back to him, squeezing the water from her shortened hair. Swinging her head several times, she watched flecks of fluid spray ripples in the loch. Her gaze traveled to the part of her body above the water line. Her shirt adhered to her breasts, and despite her tugging, the attempts to pull the material away failed miserably, making her breasts more obvious each time the cloth snapped back.

At that very moment, bright sun peeked from a fluffy cloud and targeted her in its rays. Her hair was dark red. Wisps curled onto her cheeks. The man's gaze focused on it. He seemed shocked. He swam to her side and stood, not concealing himself in any fashion.

“Your hair.” He looked down. Her shirt clung to her.

She wondered at the secret, unfathomable look in his eyes. “Aye.” Her hand strayed to touch her hair. “Me hair? What about me hair?”

“Your hair is the color of overripe carrots,” he said, tight-lipped.

“So what?” She had no idea what he was talking about. He grasped a stray piece. A look of distaste spread over his features. What was wrong with him?

“Are you a Keith, lassie?” he asked, scowling at her.

A shudder went through her. The way he asked the question confused her. A Keith? What did a Keith to do with their situation? Lassie! He called her, lassie! He knew! Should she fear for her life? Would he violate her? Within seconds another thought came to mind. What did the name have to do with anything?

“I do not like to repeat myself. I asked you, are you a Keith?” His arms were crossed over his chest and he stood as if he were holding back something.

“And if I am?” She put her hands on her hips and glared. Her belligerence made his eyes cloud over but she didn't care. Her true name wouldn't be revealed. Maybe she should pretend to be a Keith. Then the thought occurred to her. Dara, her nurse, was a Keith. Therefore it couldn't be bad, so she smiled up at him. “Aye, milord, that I am. A Keith. Ye guessed right.”

Struck by the beauty of her smile, Gerek groaned but spoke harshly. “I have no liking for Keiths.” In fact, the name Keith made thoughts of vengeance flood his brain like the worst Highland squall. The Keiths were an affliction, a pestilence on the land, and this lass was part of that clan.

He made a threatening move in Cat's direction. His voice was like an icicle. “I must have more information about what you're really doing here."

“Ye don't deserve information. I want ye to leave me cottage. I willna tell anyone ye've been here. Just leave.”

He stared at her. “I was brought up in a place where one's word was honor and one's deeds gave birth to that honor. Why should I believe you? I cannot abide a liar. You've already lied, pretending to be a lad.”

A gust of wind came down the loch, ruffled her short hair into tiny arrows toward a target and swirled it around her face. Entranced in spite of himself, he took note of her delicate features. Her beauty was disturbing to him, as well as her proud demeanor. A storm raged inside him and its fierceness filled him with a great restlessness that he did not truly fathom, an unfulfilled need. He tried to turn away but was unable to stop looking at her.

The horse had returned to the loch. Cat inched her way over to him. The black paid little attention to her but took a long drink, sloshing the water with his tongue. She moved to the far side of him. His body separated her from the man.

Cat slogged her way from the water. The land was in front of her. Without turning back, she ran for the forest, for the darkness there, the safety. Her wet clothes hung on her body, weighing her down, but she persevered. Near the fringe of trees, she heard the horse and its master behind her. The ground shook under her feet, but she ran on.

Breath short, feet pounding the ground, she raced for the density of the woods. She leaped over large roots spread on the forest floor, well beyond the trees they supported. Limbs smacked her face and swung their branches to entrap her. She slipped and slid on ground cover, slick from the previous night's rain.

He was gaining on her. She picked up her pace and ran faster, though the pain in her chest threatened to fell her. Her feet caught on a rash of small pebbles. One foot struck a raised root concealed by leaves. Her body vaulted into the air and collided with the trunk of a tall white birch. She was tossed backward. Her head smacked into the trunk of a large oak. Her teeth ground together with the force of the blow. Air flew from her body in labored explosions. The bark of the tree tangled with her short hair and held her prisoner on her back.

At the same moment as Cat slipped on the pebbles, the man tried to tackle her. A large bare root crossed his path. His frame levitated three feet off the ground. While she tried to extricate her hair from the bark, she watched his attempt to maneuver his large frame into a ball, to roll on landing. He hit the other side, smashed his ankle on an extended low branch and landed next to her. He flung an arm over her and pinned her down.

His body was as hard and sturdy as any tree in the forest. The leg he pitched across hers was like a huge branch, long and sinewy. His hand was like an iron band where it wrapped around her ribs. When he pitched himself up on one elbow, she saw the flicker of anger in his eyes. A pulse thundered in her neck.

“Don't move an inch, lassie. You're in a very vulnerable position."

“So ye do ken I'm a lassie?"

“I've known from the start. When you pressed into my back. A foolish move for a lass of your stature."

Not knowing how to respond, she blurted out whatever happened to come into her mind. “Well, since ye know, put some clothes on. I dinna’ wish to have sight of yer bareness in me face.” She ignored the slight grin that formed on his face. “Ye can tie me up again, since that's the only way men such as ye can control yer women. Beat 'em. Bruise 'em. Bluidy 'em 'til ye master 'em.”

“Is that what happened to you, lass?” His gaze was riveted on her.

“'Tis none’ of yer business.” She could see she needed to make up a story to fit a female fleeing.

He leaped to his feet and lifted her into his arms. “I'll not tie you, just keep you in my arms so my parts won't offend you until I'm dressed.” He chuckled intimately, then he whispered into her ear in a way that was entirely too personal. “That is, if you are a maiden.”

Although she felt secure in his arms, she lifted her hand to slap him. A warning in his eyes forced her to lower it. His words jolted her, but the warmth she felt at his tone jolted her more, producing sensual feelings.

Much to her surprise, he grabbed the hand, kissed its palm and pulled her arm to rest on his neck. Hairs at the back of hers stirred with a prickling sensation that crept up her spine. Feelings coursed through her, a tingling mixture of anxiety and arousal, not unlike those that drifted through her the night before.

Afraid of how the soft kiss had made her quiver with inner excitement, she let her breath out in an annoyed sigh. “Och.” Her words were measured, icy. “Dinna’ be afraid. I willna hurt ye, even though I be female."

His laugh rang out through the forest until he squelched it. “Poor lassie. You could not hurt me. I have size, girth and strength over you. How could you expect to harm me?”

Barely aware of his sore ankle, Gerek moved further into the woods where he had hidden his gear. He held her close but lightly, amazed at how much kissing her palm had affected him. He swallowed the knot constricting his throat. As a man whose character was of a constrained nature, he was not much given to flights of fancy and rarely responded with interest to things that made others laugh or dream. He was shocked at his own heightened emotions and their control over his body.

To change the subject, he asked, “What do they call you, lass?"

The reasonable question seemed to startle her. “Cat. Catherine. Aye, Catherine. Catherine Keith be me name."

“Then Catherine Keith, I must learn your story. I have an uncommon interest in Keiths."

“Why is that?” When he did not reply, she looked away from him. “What be yer name? I have to call ye something."

“I am called by many names. I do not answer to all of them. Call me Friar."

“But ye're no friar. No friar would own a horse such as that black."

“Aye, right you are."

“Well?"

They entered a small glade that received little light from the sun. His gear lay on the ground, covered by a dark canvas and a layer of leaves and branches. Gerek set her on her feet with her back to him, his right hand tightly on her arm. He rummaged in a sack, pulled out a pair of peasant's breeches, and single-handedly slid into them. He grabbed a saffron shirt and turned Cat around before slipping it over his head.

“Well, Catherine. You see I am dressed. Now, we'll go eat."

Cat's eyes grew wide as she looked at the depth and breath of his chest. It was the first time she'd been able to look at him without thinking of running away. She waited while he tied the breeches with a length of rope. His movements were sure and confident.

They looked into each other's eyes for a breathless moment, then each looked in a different direction. The friar took her hand and helped her over the roots that grew along the forest paths. They walked slowly, holding onto each other. Neither was prepared for a next step.

Chapter Five

Exhausted by the events of the morning, Cat was quiet. Her mind struggled to invent a story regarding her parentage and why she was here. Best to keep Dara on her mind and hope the friar didn't ask her to many personal questions.

Back at the loch, Gerek scanned the area before refilling the bucket. He gave another low whistle, different from the one for the black, who whinnied but didn't come forward. Noiselessly, he looked at the cottage whose gray stone façade and thatched roof gleamed in the fading sun of the afternoon.

With the victuals he dug out of a sack attached to his saddle and handed her, Cat created a meal. Her anxiety grew when he stared at her, as if waiting for her to start the conversation. It made her self-conscious, somehow fearful. She realized the danger she was in, possibly from him, but even more if the folks from Fairloch found her. Somehow, she must convince him she couldn't return to her home. But for what reason? Her brain labored over a series of outrageous lies, trying to decide if one might be plausible. She must stick to the truth as much as possible. A relationship to Fairloch was necessary; otherwise, she'd slip up somewhere.

She picked at her food, dreading the moment he would question her. Thinking he intended to ask questions about her marital status, fear had her formulating reasons why she never married as most girls her age. At twelve, she had learned the choice of a husband had been taken away from her and she didn't know what to say. Lost in her thoughts, his cough startled her, but a plan flew into her head, full-blown.

His face was solemn. “Well, lass?"

“Well, what?” she asked, stalling.

His voice became serious. “I wish to learn the truth about you, so I may judge our current situation. Also, I will tell you something about me."

Cat sighed in relief. The pain in her chest, where she'd contained her apprehension, subsided.

He leaned toward her. “Let me say this, first. I thoroughly dislike liars, so I insist on knowing the truth. Anything less will go hard on you."

“Why would I lie to ye? What's to be gained?” She paused, hoping to get the facts of her new yarn straight in her mind. The whole thing hinged on being a Keith, a daughter of Dara's and a peasant. She'd have to make up things as he questioned her and remember them all.

“You've already lied. By your disguise. I know other things as well. Your coloring indicates that you are a Keith. Keiths have an innate ability to paint the truth to suit the circumstances of the moment. Now, who was your mother? Your father? Quickly.”

His attitude annoyed Cat and she felt better about lying. “I never lied to ye about me name, even when ye told me ye hated Keiths. Ye asked me and I told ye, so don't be callin’ me liar. You wore a disguise and let me believe you were a friar. Men lie to suit themselves and not just Keith men."

“Enough!” He cut her short as his temper flared. He waited for her to continue. “Your mother and father?"

“Me parents were Dara and Donal Keith."

“How did you get here, so far from Keith country?"

Cat didn't know how far away Keith country was, so she made up an answer that was partially true about Dara's family. “Me father died in a skirmish. Me ma was sent here after he died to care fer the bairn of Lady MacFarr at Fairloch Castle. I never did understand, except me ma had milk enough fer two, me and the other bairn. A right rotten bairn she was, too, all spit and bites. The brat gave me ma bruises, that one did. Me poor, poor Ma.” Once she got started with the fictional fable, the rest formulated in quick and unerring darts of fantasy. She looked up at him with a smile that never touched her eyes. Her gaze fluttered downward to escape the suspicion in his. “What more would ye have me say?"

After watching her closely, Gerek wondered whether to believe her or not. It all seemed so simple, too simple. Her recounting hadn't answered the question of what she was doing here, dressed as a lad. “Tell me more. Which daughter of the MacFarrs’ cradled at your mother's breast?"

“Only one, Catriona. The rest are bastards born of maids MacFarr favors."

As soon as Gerek heard the name, Catriona, he shoved his chair away from the table and eyed the girl before him. He disliked her tone of voice when speaking about bastards. It reminded him of his clan's reaction over his own bastard status. His face remained impassive, virtually stony. He was interested in finding out more about his betrothed, this wretched Catriona. “Tell me about the MacFarrs.” He hoped to catch her in a lie. “How many in the ruling family?"

“The usual—father, mother. Only three bairns. The oldest, William, a mean, rotten bully and a wretch, as ever there was. Simon, the next son, is a sly, sniveling copy of his older brother. Both of them take after their father. Mean."

“And the lass?"

“Worst of the three. I had to wait on her all me life. No thanks did I get fer it either. She's like her father, too. Short, fat, mean and sly. They all look like him.”

“You worked for her, the daughter, this Catriona?"

“Aye. Dinna’ ye hear?” Catherine knew she had him enthralled. His interest was evident in his posture, his lean forward, so as not to miss a word. Every good Scot was interested in a well-told story.

She had been watching him throughout her descriptions, noticing the light gray of his eyes. Last night his eyes were dark, intense. They seemed softer now. Luminous.

“And?” he asked coldly.

A flush ran up her body. “Och, I lost meself in the telling. Aye, I worked for the twit. I dinna’ want to because she tormented me so, but me ma made me. Said it were the only way to protect the lady. Finally, the MacFarr sent the lass fer trainin’ or somethin'. Everything was fine for years.” The memory of her banishment almost reduced her to tears but she shook off the introspection. “But she came back a month or so. To marry! Meaner and fatter than ever. Ma sent me back to wait on her."

Unable to identify the truth from the falsehoods due to the many expressions that crossed her face as she spoke, Gerek felt foolish, yet intrigued. He started on a different tack. “Is the lass chaste?"

“Why ever would it concern ye, Friar, who is no friar? Chaste? I dinna’ think so. She's had her fill or so she brags to me. I canna’ count so high."

Abruptly, Gerek stood, walked to the door and scanned the meadow. The black grazed quietly. His head would be high if he sensed danger. He looked for Dubh. Where was he?

Crossing his arms over his chest, he stared into space and leaned against the doorframe. No sense in fooling himself, he mused. What Catherine told him about his betrothed was not what he wanted to hear, not what MacFarr had promised when the marriage pledge was signed. MacFarr had given his word the lass would be chaste. If he didn't marry MacFarr's daughter, he would never become Gunn. He distrusted women, but being Gunn was more important than any woman on earth. All he needed was heirs. What did it matter? His taste had never run to virgins anyway.

If the MacFarr girl were the price he must pay to be Gunn, he'd marry this fat, mean creature to ensure his position as leader of his clan. He wondered if the price he might have to pay for being Gunn was worth the life of misery he might suffer. Aye, it was!

Once the decision was clear, he turned to the interior of the cottage, a half-smile on his lips. Going back to the table, he placed his hands on the edge and leaned over into the girl's face, his motions definite and bold. “None of this has answered the basic question of your being here, dressed as a peasant lad. Why?"

Unsettled by his sudden belligerence, a fit of coughing overcame Cat. She said the first thing that came to mind. “'Twere the only clothes I found to hide me shape. Me brother grew out of them,” she flung at him, hoping he would stop his questioning before she said something totally unbelievable.

“Why would you flee your mother's house or a prosperous castle when you had a job most peasant women would envy?"

Cat thought fast. Obviously, a cruel mistress was not cause enough for this brute. Words slipped from between her gnashed teeth. “Because Lady Catriona accused me of stealing her jewels, jewels she never had. The MacFarr would never waste precious gems on a female. Who else would give jewels to such a nasty, wretched woman? And if ye dinna’ believe that, listen close. The sons tried to get under me skirts. It amused them, they said. Methinks they were all aligned to give me trouble.” Her face flushed and she closed her eyes, horrified at the partial truths she had just said aloud.

The next question fell from his mouth. “Did you steal from her?"

Utterly deflated, Cat murmured, “Nae. She had nothing I would ever want.” She took a deep breath. “Nae, I dinna, but they were chasing me so I ran to me mother's, grabbed some clothes and came to this shepherd's croft."

For some inexplicable reason, perhaps frustration, Cat burst into tears. It helped release the tension of telling lies. Had he believed her? Would he leave her in peace or try to take advantage of a poor peasant girl?

“Don't think to sway me with your girlish tears,” Gerek said, his gaze turning away. “They are pointless, Catherine Keith. I have never been brought to my knees by a woman's tears. Quiet yourself, girl. Now!"

Cat leaped from her chair, knocking it over. Crouched, she skirted the table and threw herself at him. “Nae. The only thing to bring ye to yer knees will be the blade of a knife or me fist,” she sobbed, raising her fist.

Gerek grabbed her, darted to the side and the two fell to the floor in a heap. In a rapid flip, he rolled Cat under him and stared deep into her eyes. His crooked grin was menacing, his words slow and soft. “Now that I've heard your story, wouldn't you like to hear mine? How much would you like to know, lass?"

“Nothing. I want naught from ye. I want ye gone."

“That's something."

She struggled beneath him. The muscles of his groin tightened. Lord, but she was beautiful, he thought. She seemed like an innocent but turned into a copper-haired she-devil when crossed. Everything faded from his mind. He was bewitched by this enchanting creature whose every curve fit the hard planes of his body.

His weight should have crushed her, but the warmth of his body enfolded her in a cocoon. Her fist opened. Her struggles ceased. Defeat showed in her eyes, but she made no sound. He bent over her and kissed the tears from her face. They looked into each other's eyes for an elongated moment, then each looked away.

His undisciplined behavior shocked him. Gerek stood, lifted Cat to her feet but refused to move away from her. Her legs seemed unsteady and she leaned into him. He wanted to keep her close, kiss her until she dropped to the floor in passion. His pledge of the marriage to MacFarr's daughter went through his mind and he set the girl away. “Can you not stand, Catherine? By yourself, I mean?"

“Aye,” Cat said, pushing against his chest to gain balance. His hands left her body, and it chilled. She brought her gaze back to his face and studied him.

“I did not hurt you, did I?” he asked gently.

A shiver shook her body. “Nae,” she said. No intelligent thoughts came to mind to comfort her. She was pledged in marriage and felt the need, a terrible need, a pressing need to distance herself from this man, this magician who turned her insides to gruel. Stiff movements carried her to a place at the table. She slumped into a chair. A great sigh issued from her mouth. “'Tis only fair that ye bare yer identity to me as I did to ye."

Gerek strolled to the table, a twisted smile on his lips. “What is it you want to know?"

Her eyes sparkled at him like gleaming copper. A half-smile crossed her face. “I know ye're a man disguised as a friar. Do not shake yer head. I have never seen a friar such as ye claim ye are. They are all of a breed, quiet, introspective and understanding. Ye have a streak of wildness in ye."

“So you figured some of it out. What else?"

“That horse is not the horse of a friar. Am I correct?"

“Aye. That is no horse for a friar.” He watched her face, wondering how much she did know. If she saw through his entire disguise, he could not let her leave, nor dare he bring her to Fairloch when he met his hateful bride.

“Did ye steal him from his owner?"

Gerek laughed but was at a loss for words. This lass noticed more than he realized, but she must not learn it all. His real name must remain a mystery. He was forced to do what he hated above most things, to be dishonest. “I am the horse master for a famous laird. I am not at liberty to reveal his name. I was sent to Edinburgh on foot to purchase that particular black stallion presently grazing in the meadow. My laird wishes to put several of his mares to the black."

“Are ye sure ye dinna’ steal him? And another thing troubles me. Ye speak too well for a mere horse master. Ye must be more."

“My laird wishes all the castle folks to speak in the tongue of the English."

Disbelieving his entire tale, Cat looked him up and down. “Ye're running from something."

The perception startled him. It might be better if she thought he was running from the horse's owner as she was running from her mistress. “Aye."

“I willna ask ye more. I'm tired. I'll take to me bed now."

“Catherine. I don't wish to tie you. Do I have your promise not to flee?"

“Aye, Friar. I gi’ ye me word. I will no’ run off into the night.”

“Well, then, I won't tie you to the bed. Just remember, lass; as fast as you can run on those long legs, I can run faster. You'll not escape me until I'm ready to let you go. Is it a bargain?"

“I told ye so once. I need no’ tell ye more,” she said before she flopped on the bed and covered herself with the blanket.

Night had fallen and the usual dampness of the Highlands wormed its way into the croft. Gerek stepped to the door and saw the stallion peacefully foraging. Closing the door quietly, he remade his sleeping place on the dirt floor next to the rumpled bed. In a hoarse whisper, he bid Catherine a good night and warned, “This is not over between us. Count on it.”

* * * *

On a narrow path through the surrounding woods, Niall Oliphant approached the closed gates of Fairloch. His thoughts were interrupted by a soft bark. He vaulted from his horse, to be bowled over by Dubh, Gerek's deerhound, which leaped onto his body, his front paws reaching Niall's shoulders.

“Och, Dubh. Ye're enough to set me heart afire. Where's Gerek?” He scanned the area, looked at the dog, watched his tail wave and groaned. “Well, dog, do ye know?” Dubh's tail wagged harder. “Dubh, find Gerek!"

The dog turned and started back down the path. He turned again and looked at Niall, barking twice. When Niall didn't follow, Dubh loped back, grabbed his sleeve, and pulled Niall off the path.

“Och, ye do know, don't ye. Well, lead me to him. I'll be having harsh words with him fer losing me in the mists,” Niall said, patting the dog's haunches.

The stillness of the day was broken by the sound of birds screeching in the treetops and horses coming at a fast clip, their hooves making the ground tremble. Niall cocked his head to one side. “There be ten or more. Dubh, hide.” Niall grabbed his horse, pulled him off the path and moved further into the woods, to hide among the trees.

* * * *

Baen Tavish rode at the head of the twelve Gunn men who accompanied him on the arduous ride from Killearnan. Dusty from days on the road, he sighed in anticipation of a hot meal, a comfortable bed and a willing woman. He believed his cousin must be at Fairloch by now, anxious for Killearnan and his post as Gunn, a thought that did not make Baen happy.

He looked down and saw horse tracks and paw prints. “Who goes there? Gerek? Niall?”

He turned in his saddle to Parlan, who covered the group's rear, and called out petulantly, “Parlan, see who's in the woods. Whoever it is, they're close by. I can smell them."

Niall climbed into his saddle and moved toward the path. “Dubh, down. Dubh, stay. Wait!” The dog retreated behind a fir that had grown at an angle and close to the ground. He lay down under it, preparing to wait.

When Niall came into view, most of the clan's men greeted him like a long-lost brother. He looked the group over, nodded at Parlan and Sims and tipped his head toward Baen. “Well, laddie, we meet again. Where were ye when all hell broke loose in Edinburgh?"

Baen pursed his lips. “Caught in the crowd, between the people and the soldiers. I couldna’ get to ye. I hope you'll join our wee group of searchers. We've been sifting through the Highlands looking for Gerek, but haven't found him yet."

“Neither have I, which is most unusual. He must be well-hidden."

Baen grinned. “He may be at Fairloch by now. I was here earlier, trying to track him by myself, but he wasn't here then. That's why we returned."

“Aye,” Niall mumbled, not believing him.

“Niall, go warn the gatekeepers of our coming. Have MacFarr prepare for our number. Tell him the Gunns have come for the wedding."

Baen knew that Niall disliked being lorded over by anyone but Gerek. He watched Niall blink and saw him force a smile although his thin lips twitched with the effort. Niall did not respond, but rode ahead to inform the gatekeepers at Fairloch of their arrival.

Baen shrugged and turned to the rest of the warriors. “Men,” he cautioned, “inspect all areas of the keep. Be sure everything is safe for our entry. And,” he said with a chuckle, “check out the serving lasses.” When his men laughed, he spurred his horse forward. The group followed quickly and joined Niall at the entrance to the castle. The gate to the keep creaked open. Baen ushered in his men. If an attack were to occur, they would be the first to know.

Niall rode back to the gate and nodded to Baen. “Everything's quiet. No armed men, just servants and such."

Head high, body erect, Baen slowed his horse's pace, until everyone within his sight was focused on him. The Gunn warriors dismounted, their horses taken by Fairloch's groomsmen. Only Baen remained in his saddle. An unnatural pall hung over the yard, making him extremely alert. He glanced around, and not seeing anyone he considered significant, he called out in his lilting voice, “The MacFarr. I wish to see the MacFarr."

A deep growl surfaced at Baen's left. “I'm standing here beside you.” A stocky, scarred man in dandified dress, arms crossed over his chest, stood beside the horse. “You were supposed to be here weeks ago.” As if he were short sighted, the earl peered at him. “You're not the Beast. Where is he?” Eyes narrowed into slits, MacFarr looked around, then stared at Baen. “Who the hell are ye?"

Baen removed his clan bonnet and swept it downward toward the gruff man who leaped back. “Baen Tavish, commander of this band of Gunn warriors. At your service, sir."

Angus MacFarr was in no mood for pretty manners laced with sarcasm. Enough had happened in the last few weeks to upset both his schedule and his stomach. Was this a trick to gain access to his castle? What would this man think of the fact his daughter had disappeared and, though avidly searched for, seemed to have ended up in some loch?

“Well, get off your horse, Baen Tavish. We'll sup inside and talk.” MacFarr turned on his heels, crossed the keep, and flung the huge castle door open. He tramped straight ahead, not looking back or waiting for his guest, but continuing on to great hall. He climbed onto the high dais, seeking the safety of his throne, his arms crossed as if protecting his protruding belly.

Baen swung off his horse in one easy motion and handed the reins to a groom. “Take good care of him. He's valuable.” Angered over the callous treatment by his host, he turned to the Gunns. “Men, come into the castle with me. I refuse to leave ye outside with this unwholesome lot."

Following the man into the castle, fury threatened to engulf Baen, and he stamped his way through to the hall, only to find the MacFarr leaning against a gaudily carved and pillowed chair. Baen approached the dais. Something in the laird's features stopped him from climbing the steps. He pivoted so that his back was to MacFarr. He pretended to scrutinize the hall.

Finally, in an off-hand manner, he queried, “Where is your beauteous daughter? Why is she not here to greet us?"

“You are not the Beast. I met him when he came to sign the pledge. And, for the sake of useless conversation, where the hell is he?"

Baen's face flushed at the crude, ignorant manners. He looked around. No Gunns had entered the hall. “Where are my men?"

“Being taken care of. Ye needn't worry. We need to speak alone.” MacFarr sat in the chair and lifted one ankle to his knee. “I've been waiting for the Beast. Why hasn't he arrived to honor the pledge to me only daughter?"

Baen's face paled. “We've lost him."

“Lost him? How could ye lose him? The man's gigantic.” MacFarr stared. “How do you lose someone that size?"

Baen blurted out, “Three of us went to Edinburgh for the Montrose hanging.”

MacFarr lowered his eyes and made a distasteful face at the mention of Montrose. Baen noticed the discomfort the name brought. Perhaps what he heard along the way was true. That the MacFarr gave Jamie Montrose over to the Covenanters! What a blow it would be to Gerek when he learned that his future father-in-law caused Jamie's death! Gerek would hate this daughter, something Baen looked forward to encouraging. Turn the lass against Gerek and Gerek against the lass. If given the opportunity, he'd do just that.

“Covenanters noticed Gerek and chased him from Edinburgh. He's gone to ground. His mentor was supposed to cover Gerek's arse, but the government forces divided us and even Niall lost sight of the big man. We were all chased. What happened to Gerek, his horse and his dog after that is unknown."

“I know Oliphant. He's a good man."

“Aye. That he is. But even he lost Gerek when Gerek and that black leaped over a five-foot stone wall outside the livery. Everyone lost him. Covenanters tried to track him but I don't think they found him. Once Gerek has that much of a lead, there's no stopping him. Went to ground in the Highlands, he did. He'll show up in good season. Ye'll see."

“We need to find him. Everything's gone askew,” MacFarr mumbled. He hated to admit failure, that his only daughter had run off, fled from her own home. He despised the red-haired witch he claimed as his own. Her flight and refusal to marry, to honor his pledge, damaged his authority.

Baen smiled at the older man, sensing how wrong everything was at Fairloch, something he might use to his advantage. His approach softened and he spoke in a silken tone. “Is there something wrong here, milord? Is it something I can help you with? It would be an honor to assist you."

MacFarr lifted his head. He wondered how to explain the events of the last few weeks. He'd tell him some of the truth but not all. “My sweet child fled our castle, in fear of marrying the Beast. I told her he would be a kind man she could love, but the very name 'Beast’ put fear into her.” MacFarr sighed as if in great distress, but continued, “Her brothers and most of our warriors are now scouring the countryside between here and Aberdeen. They'll find her soon and return her to her distraught father. Och, my poor child.”

A look of sympathy spread across Baen's face. He adored how everything fit into his plans to be Gunn. Perhaps this man might even help him accomplish that feat, but he'd have to delve deeper into the situation. “I'll send some of my own to help them.”

Niall chose that moment to storm into the hall. He stomped on the filthy rushes covering the floor. His face was mottled and it was obvious he was highly agitated. He didn't wait to get close to the men, but shouted across the hall. “Baen. A word between us."

“Nae, ye'll not,” MacFarr stammered. “Ye'll speak for me ears as well. I'll have no secrets in me hall.”

“Then listen and listen well,” Niall barked. “Gerek is not here. He's still out in the wilderness somewhere. The girl is nowhere to be found. It seems she, too, has gone. Something is wrong in this castle.”

The smile never left Baen's face. It deepened. “The laird was just now relating the problems before him.”

Niall spoke over Baen's words. “I'll take six of our men and continue the search for Gerek. MacFarr's men are already looking for the girl.” Not waiting for an answer, Niall turned and marched back toward the door, his anger evident in every thump of his feet.

Baen shouted after him. “Ye'll not take six and leave me unattended. Take Parlan and Sims with ye. They seem to know our Gerek well. They'll be enough. Do not take the others."

MacFarr stared at Baen, surprised his men talked to him in such a fashion. But when he looked closer, he noticed the bleakness in the younger man's eyes. A look passed between the two men, a look that brought them together for the future, and MacFarr realized this man would be his cohort, a man to be counted on.

“They'll be found,” MacFarr said. “I assure ye. And they will marry or pay the price of their foolishness. Me lads will find me daughter. They'll not return until they do. They know that. The girl does, too.”

The two men smiled at each other, kindred spirits with different styles.

* * * *

Throughout the hours that stretched into days, each antagonist at the croft sought the safety and companionship of the other. Each maintained suspicions and so they stood apart in a companionable way.

Cat no longer feared for her life but refused to trust the stranger, friar, horse master, with any more secrets or lies. Neither did she trust herself in his presence, a fact that puzzled her. The man was too sure of himself, too large, too masculine, and too attractive.

His beard had softened his appearance, but now, shaved, its lack magnified the broad lines of the sharply planed cheekbones and jaw. His naked face resembled a Norse carving she had seen once. Her mind stirred with visions of a dream she'd had in her early years, but had long since forgotten, of a handsome knight who would rescue her from trouble. She thought she had put that dream away forever when she was exiled from her home.

She watched. The friar, as she still called him, was not a man of words but of actions. With rocks, logs and his powerful hands, he built a shed in the meadow to shelter the black. While she saw to the fixings within the cottage, he hunted, fished, and brought food to the table, but other than sharing a few kind words, they barely talked of anything serious.

A sharp whistle scattered her thoughts. She wiped her hands on a cloth and moved to the source of the sound. Leaning against a doorpost, she saw the stallion bound from the shade of giant oak trees into the meadow. His dark hide glistened in the sun exactly like his master's short, black hair, not their only resemblance. Both of extraordinary size, their chests and shoulders were broad and muscular, their legs long and sturdy, and their devotion to one another obvious, as they careened across the field toward one another, leaping rocks, trampling heather in their excitement as her gaze followed them. Now dressed in peasant trousers and saffron shirt, the friar, his bare feet pumping, impervious to the uneven ground, reminded her of a joyful boy whose schoolmaster had just released him from his studies.

The horse stopped short of running over him. The black reared, his hooves pointing to the cloud-filled sky. Clamping both hands on the animal's mane, Friar leaped to settle himself on the horse's back. Using only his legs, he made the animal charge from side to side in a steady rhythm.

The scene captivated her and drew her to a corner of the meadow to watch. Her inordinate love of such beasts made her wish she were on the black herself. Such sentiments lured her closer and closer until she stood at the side of the large, round patch they'd made on the soft ground.

She felt the need to speak, to nettle this giant and cause him to react somehow. Anything to release the tension between them. “Why do ye squeeze him so hard? Ye'll choke the very breath from his poor body."

“To hang on and to make him turn as I wish, when I wish it,” came the spirited retort.

“Don't be a fool. Use yer body, too. Shift yer weight a bit. Use the bones of yer bum,” Cat yelled over the sound of the pounding hooves.

Gerek wanted to smile at her earnest orders. He wanted to rile her, stir her blood. Temper made her amber eyes flame and sparkle like red-hot coals, her cheeks flush with becoming shades of pink and her full lips pout. Her chin would jut out. All in all, fury made her entirely appealing. He would have liked to tease her more, to rouse her to the point of passion. In truth, he contemplated forgetting his pledge. But what of becoming Gunn? His grandfather? The clan? He couldn't!

“Bones? Which bones? Where?” he asked, pretending innocence.

“The bones where ye sit, ye fool,” she shouted. With no consideration to his teasing tone, she turned and bent over to show him what she meant. With her hand on her own rump, she pointed to the two lower seat bones hidden behind an excess of material. “Ye see? Right here,” she called.

The picture she presented, of her tight bottom covered in the snug boy's outfit, made him grin. Lord, what a perfectly formed creature she was! To hide his consideration of her tantalizing pose, he legged the black to her side. In one swift movement, he grabbed her arm and placed her behind him on the horse. Her breasts pressed against his back in the same way they had the first night. His reaction was instantaneous, so he swung his right leg over the horse's head and jumped to the ground.

Bending his head and body in a deep bow to avoid further embarrassment, he said, “Show me what you mean,”

Where he had been, between her legs, was cold and empty now. Her response to this man puzzled her. He aroused sensations never felt before. It bothered her, but she was in no position to vent those feelings. Although if she did, perhaps the Beast would refuse to marry her. Her emotions soared with that thought, then descended into the reality of her situation. In order to become Gunn, the Beast had to marry her. What would he do if he found her unchaste? Her father had warned her it might mean her life.

Her hands shaking, Cat inched her way forward on the black's wide back until she was nestled behind the protruding bony structure of his withers, close to the start of his neck. She leaned down and patted his shoulder. “Listen, laddie, I don't want you to shame me. Hear what my body is telling you and comply without fuss. You're such a beautiful beastie,” she murmured softly

She settled deep into his back, straightened her body so that her shoulders were in a line with her hips, her ankles completing the vertical line. With a cluck of her tongue, she propelled the horse forward. His response to her was amazing. With unnoticeable movement, she shifted her weight from seat bone to seat bone, never losing her position. The horse followed easily, swinging from one front foot to the other each time she asked for a change in his stride. His quiet reaction to her brought thoughts of escaping to mind. She'd take this huge beast with her to Aberdeen. He'd be worth a great deal of money, if she could part with such a magnificent animal. The more she thought about it, the more the idea firmed in her mind.

Slowly, she edged toward the rim of the meadow where it met the tree line. If she moved quickly enough, Friar would never be able to catch her. Her legs were wrapped securely around the black. She squeezed them, applied a bit of heel to his sides and headed for the forest. She got to the first set of trees and began to penetrate further into the gloom. A sharp whistle split the air into a thousand fragments.

The black turned on his hind legs, racing back through the woods in answer to the sound. Surprised at the sharp motion, it was all Cat could do to hang onto the mane, hoping to stay on as he sprung through the high grass of the meadow, dodging rocks and leaping bushes. With no warning, he stopped in front of Friar.

Cat flew into the air with an audible cry, knowing she would hurt herself when she hit the ground. Her descent was halted by rock-solid, inflexible arms. Friar scowled at her with glazed-over, smoky eyes, anger in their depth.

“Did you think to escape me on my own horse?"

Shaken, she frowned up at him. “I thought the horse wasn't yers? Or so ye told me. What else did ye lie about when ye told me yer sad story?"

The veins in his neck swelled. He gave her a keep-your-mouth-shut look. “Everything.” He ground the word out between clenched teeth.

He set her on her feet but stopped her from moving off. His eyes locked with hers. His hand scalded her arm despite the material of her shirt. She wanted to pull away and to get closer at the same time. Words, actions skittered through her brain, running in all directions. His compelling presence set her body afire with a longing she didn't fully understand. His eyes widened with surprise. She saw only a withering stare. His lips parted as he continued to regard her. It was as if they were frozen in time.

Unconsciously she stepped closer to him until his brawny form touched hers. Her heart pounded so hard it rocked her. She felt faint, dazed. She leaned in so she didn't fall. Her head nodded forward until it touched his chin.

His arms wrapped around her. They dragged her closer until the full length of her body flattened against his. A flicker of fear glowed in her eyes, but it ignited into a flame from his touch. She wanted to feel his lips on hers. But if she let him, what then? If she faltered this moment, her pledge would be broken. She felt the heat from his body boil over into hers.

She made a rough sound in her throat. A blazing fire burned her insides, sending live coals to all her extremities. There was a rushing in her ears. Her heart battered her chest wall. Her legs seemed connected to nothing. She grew more nervous with each breath, but captivated by the emotions raging through her.

The hands that gripped her back so tightly slowly released her but rose to skim her shoulders. The fingers glided up her neck in a feather-like touch and gently caressed her cheeks. The smoldering gray eyes peered deeply into hers. It was as if the man could decipher the foolish notions rumbling through her brain.

Gerek lowered his head and angled his mouth over hers, lingering for a moment above her lips to smell the sweet scent of her.

“No. You mustn't.”

“Och, yes. I must.” He sensed her fear and her excitement. His lips touched hers softly. He felt their response and continued, kissing her deeply, stealing her breath into his own mouth, and he groaned.

The sound thrilled her but her brain was frozen. Cat was without the capacity to move away. He teased her mouth with silken vigor, yet he held something of himself back. From what? She moaned lightly and felt him lift her off the ground. Disturbing male energy, more powerful because of the restraint it held, streamed into her. Her breathing became ragged. Suddenly, her mouth was as starved and greedy as his. She kissed him back with the strength of her desire. She felt free, potent, with the ability to conquer the world and all of its problems.

His hands crept around her again. He tugged her close, pushing more fire into her. Her arms stretched up his form to grasp him around the neck. She nestled herself into the embrace, trying to get closer than she already was. She felt his tongue edge the corners of her mouth, paralyzing her. Her breath grew short. Her body shook. His tongue touched the tip of hers. She shuddered and almost fell. She felt like she was drowning and clung to him.

A streak of lightning flashed across the now darkening sky, fragmenting the air around them as much as the kiss had. The friar stepped back and glanced up. Cat's legs refused to hold her steady, and she slid to the ground. She sat still, her fingers pressed against her mouth, aghast at her wanton behavior. Had she crossed a boundary to get back at her father or because the friar excited her? What would this man think of her now? Thunder rumbled around her, as if chastising her for her response to this man.

He stepped toward her. She inched back. When he came after her, she thought he was going to ravish her right there and almost looked forward to it. Instead, he lifted her up and stood her on her feet. “Go. Get into the cottage before a bolt hits you,” he shouted over the crack of thunder and another flash of lightning.

Without a word, Cat charged up to the croft, battered the door in and threw herself on the bed. Her heart pounded her chest. Her breathing was shredded and rough. Even deep gulps of air did not quiet the emotions boiling inside her. The shock of it all made her tremble, as she tried to ease the ache that twisted low in her loins.

What had she done?

Chapter Six

Niall stormed out of Fairloch in to the keep. He glanced around but saw none of the Gunns. He shouted to a thin servant carrying wood to the back of the castle. “Where are the men from Clan Gunn?"

“They're in the kitchen, milord. Being fed, I take it. They're probably waiting fer ye."

“Which way to the kitchen, man?"

“Jes’ follow me, yer lordship. That's where I'm takin’ me wood. Down the back stairway, jes’ a few paces to yer left."

A hand on his dirk, Niall followed the man into a dark, dingy hallway with no lights. Heat and humidity marked every step. Grease made the stairs slippery. The man pointed to the kitchen. Niall stopped and put a hand on the servant's shoulder. “Thank ye, good friend. I'll find me warriors now. I can hear them talking and laughing."

“Aye.” The man pointed to a separate door. “They're in there."

Niall marched into a rancid-smelling room. Great heat transmitted itself from a grimy fireplace, where a servant turned a piece of blackened meat. The Gunn men sat a table, too small for all of them to sit together. Parlan and Sims stood off to one side, looking out a steamy window and talking privately.

Niall called out. “Parlan. Sims."

From the window, a low, cheery voice called out. “After such a disastrous journey, who wants to take me from me meal?"

“'Tis Niall. I need ye and Sims. Now. It canna’ wait. Fill yer pockets with food and take some more wi’ ye. We might be a spell."

Parlan groaned and rolled his bulky body from the grimy window, with Sims behind him. Both men looked at Niall's face and followed him without comment. They traversed the stairs to the keep, Niall four steps ahead.

“Niall, stop,” Sims called. “Where the devil are we goin'?"

Niall spun around. “To the stables to get our horses. We're going after the big man, before Baen can find him. I don't trust that one, never have."

Parlan stared. “Do ye know where Gerek is?"

A smile lit Niall's face. “No, but Dubh does."

“Dubh? What are ye talkin’ about, man? Where's Dubh? I havena’ seen him since the three of ye left Killearnan fer Edinburgh.” Parlan caught up with Niall and put a hand on his shoulder. “What are ye saying, man?"

Niall grinned. “The dog's here. I saw him before I met ye. I had him wait in the woods. I dinna’ want to leave him too long. If I know him, he might just run off to get to Gerek without us."

Sims crossed the keep and proceeded into the rickety barn that served as Fairloch's stable. “Lord, what a place. I'll be glad to get me animal out of here before it falls down around his head."

Niall looked around for a groom, but no one was about, so the men saddled their horses in silence. They mounted just outside of the stable and moved across the keep to the gates.

“Gatekeeper. Open up. We have business to attend to. We're going through,” Niall shouted.

Slowly, the gate opened and the three men rode into the countryside. Once, under the cover of the trees, Niall called out. “Dubh, here. Come, boy. Dubh!”

The huge deerhound poked his head out from behind a tree and started down the path at a steady lope. Silently, the men followed.

* * * *

Every night of their stay at the croft, rain had fallen lightly, but tonight thunder roared and the lightning crackled. Heavy rain pelted Gerek's skin, but he managed to get the stallion into the shelter of the shed. He grabbed his cloak from a nearby tree where he had tossed it earlier. Totally soaked, he sprinted across the meadow to the cottage, the garment whipping in the wind behind him.

He leaped through the open doorway. Muddy water splashed onto his dusty trousers. “Dammit, lass. You forgot to close the door behind you. The wind'll blow out the candle and set the fire to rocking.”

He slammed the door and bent to brush the mud from his pants, spreading it more. He shrugged and flipped his cloak toward a hook by the door. It promptly floated to the floor, inches away from a puddle.

“Aye. That I did,” Cat replied in a soft voice. She sat at the table, her head bowed, her hands folded together. Streaks where tears had trickled down her cheeks framed her pale face, making her look sad and dejected.

“Good Lord, girl. What is the matter with you?"

“Nothin'."

“Must be something. You've tracks on your face.”

“'Tis just rain.” She shrugged her shoulders without looking at him.

He wondered what had happened in the past half-hour while he had taken care of the black. “Are you ill? Or daft?"

“I'm neither. Why do ye plague me so much? Can't ye leave me be? I dinna’ bother ye, do I?” Tears slid down her cheeks. She rubbed them away with grimy fingers, making designs on her face.

Suddenly an idea occurred to him. “Are you crying because you bent your body to me? That we kissed? 'Tis to no avail. The deed is done."

“So?"

“So, stop your tears, lassie. Nothing ill happened to you.” He paused, remembering the many displays of tears he had weathered and learned to ignore. “My mother cried her eyes out for years though it was no help to her. Nothing changed in her life. And crying will not help you either. Face your problems like a m....” He stopped. Her face had distorted and turned red.

“Like a man?” she finished for him. She stood. “Isn't that what you were going to say? Like a man?”

His anger built, and with it, his sarcasm. “Next, I suppose, you'll go into a faint or take to your bed. Isn't that part of the process? To make me feel guilty for taking advantage of a poor peasant girl who has probably had more kisses than I could ever give her in a lifetime?"

“Yer talk just overflows yer tongue, doesn't it now?” She glared at him, wiped her face again and stretched as tall as she could, her chin pointing straight ahead. “But ye're right. I think I'll take to me bed. Ye can do yer own dinner fixin'.” With shoulders erect, head high, Cat sauntered to the bed and dropped down on top of the coverings, with a sigh of disgust. “Aye. I'll do fine by takin’ to me bed.”

Gerek tramped to the fireplace, set up earlier, and restarted a blaze from the lit candle. Rattling everything he could, he sought to gain her attention. When the noise had no effect, he moved to the door, inadvertently stepping in the puddle.

“Dammit!” Suddenly, a sound penetrated his pique. His body stopped moving, his senses alert. He listened. “One.” He paused. “Two.” He tilted his head to absorb the sounds. “Catherine, rise."

“Nae. I dinna’ think I want to bother meself. I'm very comfortable here."

He saw her turn to look at him, but he focused on his count. “Three, at least. Get up, lass. Don your boots. My cloak's a bit damp, but grab it.”

She yawned. “Whatever for? I'm sure ye can fix a meal."

“Listen, goose. Horses approach. Three. Maybe more.” One long stride took him to the bed. A single motion of his arm rousted her to her feet. “Get up. You have to get out of here."

“Strangers?” She gave him a doleful look, but sat back on the bed to reach her boots. She shoved her feet into them. “Nae, nae, not strangers. They're probably coming for me. I would have left days ago if ye had let me. I'd be miles away from ye and yer precious cottage."

“What do you mean?” He wasn't surprised at the accusation. He had endangered her. The truth of it shamed him, but shame would not help the current situation. If those horses indicated Covenanters were after him, he needed to let her go for her own safety.

“It's probably folks from the castle, come to tan me hide, recover the jewels they think I took or take me prisoner to face the Laird at Fairloch."

“We can't take the chance. They might be Covenanters coming for me, to hang me like they did Montrose. We both have to leave here, much as I was beginning to enjoy it."

“Covenanters? Why are ye running from them? What have you done?"

“Nothing to speak of. Just took up with the other side."

“Covenanters or MacFarr's men. Neither matters to me. I'll never be able outrun any of them."

“Take the black. He'll outrun anything,” he countered. Gerek ran out the door and gave a soft whistle. “I'll do better on foot than you will. I'll stay to cover your tracks,” he called over his shoulder.

Within seconds, a massive black form crossed the meadow, lit by a bolt of lightning. He never wavered for an instant but skidded to a halt directly in front of Gerek, who rubbed his ears as he spoke softly to him. “Listen, my friend, I must stay. You'll have to do this for me. See the lass safely away from here.”

He ran back to the cottage. “Catherine, come quickly!” He grabbed her hands, then slid his under her arms. He carried her to the black and with a mighty swoop, he placed her on the horse's back. “Hold on to the mane. Keep your legs around him, tightly. He'll take you anywhere you want to go."

Cat looked at him incredulously. “Ye're letting me free?"

“Aye, lass. I don't want you hurt. Ride away but stay off the main roads.”

“I can't leave you here alone, if they are after you. What will you do?”

“I'll fight if I have to.” Gerek smiled up at her. This woman would haunt his dreams forever.

Cat looked down at him. How had he become so memorable to her? “You keep the horse. I'll hide in the woods."

“I'd rather you get away safely. If they catch you, I'll find a way to reach the castle and make them release you in my custody. Don't worry. I will come for you. I'll not let you down.” He slapped the horse on the rump. “Go!"

Barely able to hold onto the horse's slick mane, Cat and the black sped through the drizzle and across the meadow in semi-darkness, until they reached the density of the trees on the near side of the cottage. Once in the woods, she slowed the pace, careful to allow the horse to pick his way over logs and rocks. She bent over, laid her head on the horse's neck and patted him. They were both wet, and it would get cold at night in the Highlands. Her tears of frustration meshed with the furious rain. “We're in for a terrible ride. Och, Black. I don't even know your real name."

* * * *

Gerek heard the black race down the trail away from the approaching horses. His sword and dirk at the ready, he slid from the cottage, keeping his body low to the ground. He was drenched when he reached a boulder large enough to hide him from view. He crouched, giving his full attention to the number and cadence of hoof beats as a group drew closer to the meadow. Something in the rhythmic hoof beats of two of the horses sounded familiar to his ear. Hoarse calls of three distinct voices carried over the rain but were indistinguishable at the distance.

“Only three,” he muttered. “I can take them if necessary."

He heard the men turn left and move along the edge of the forest. They were quiet now as their horses picked their way through the fringe of trees. They followed a dog, its nose to the ground. When they started uphill from the loch, approaching Gerek's hiding place, he readied himself to do battle.

“There's been a horse here. Recently.” Niall pulled his animal up and pointed. “Come. Look. Fresh tracks."

Sims hopped off his horse and dashed to the hoof print. He examined the large indentation, putting his palm on top of it and spreading his fingers across it. He gave a single nod. “Aye. 'Tis the black."

Parlan laughed outright and mimicked the outstretched palm. “How can ye tell? Are ye some kinda’ devil?"

Sims gave him a harsh look. “The size, ye fool. I've never seen a print so big. 'Tis the black, all right.” He stopped. “Look at Dubh. He smells the horse."

Niall sidled his horse closer. “Then Gerek must be close. He'd never allow that big fellow too far from his side in a strange countryside, and I've never known anyone else who could ride him. Not for verra long, anyway.”

Parlan looked around and spotted smoke coming from the cottage. He grinned. “He's here. That lad can't fool me. I've dogged his trail for too many years. Besides, where did Dubh go?” He laughed, releasing some of the tension he felt. “Niall. Call to Gerek!"

Niall put a finger to his mouth for silence. Working the muscles of his throat, he uttered a series of cackling, gobbling sounds, then waited. When no response came, he repeated the sounds.

Gerek recognized the signal from his youth, just as the dog found him and leaped on him, barking. He held the animal with one hand and replied to the signal from behind the boulder. The cry was long and drawn-out. Slowly, he appeared over the largest of the rocks. He was laughing and pushing the dog in play. “Och, Dubh. 'Tis glad I am to see your wooly body.” The dog lapped Gerek's face with his long tongue.

Sims drew his sword. “Hold there!” He started to move forward when Niall's hand reached out and grasped him.

“Nae, friend. Stay yer arm. 'Tis Gerek.” Niall rode toward the figure. “Ho, Gerek. 'Tis me, Parlan and Sims from Killearnan."

Gerek raised one arm in greeting. “Lads, 'tis glad I am that it's you three. I expected Covenanters to have doubled back to sit on my doorstep."

Niall chuckled deep in his throat and dismounted. He clasped the younger man in strong, hard arms and swung him around. It was Niall's own special greeting, a carry-over from when Gerek was twelve.

“'Tis that happy I am to see yer big, bulky frame.” Niall laughed and slapped Gerek on the back, hard enough to knock him off his feet.

Sims joined them. “Aye. Me, too."

Gerek looked at Niall. “Where's Baen?"

Parlan tried to avoid the subject. “He's at Fairloch with MacFarr. Holding down the fortress, so to speak."

“I should have figured that. Is he flirting with the lass I'm to marry?"

Niall continued as if Gerek had not asked about Baen. “For awhile I couldn't figure it out. When we came onto the rise here, we noticed the croft at the other edge of the meadow. I saw other tracks as well. Who else is here with you?"

“Och. I forgot in my pleasure at seeing you all.”

“Well, must I dig it out of ye, lad?” Niall asked, popping Gerek on the arm.

Sims popped the other arm. “Who is it? Have you met a sweet peasant lass? The footprints are considerably smaller than your own. And where's the black?"

“The lass has him,” Gerek said, his face flushing slightly.

Niall and Sims looked startled and responded in tandem. “A lass?"

“Aye. A servant from Fairloch. Accused of thievery and hiding out."

“Ye gave the black to a lass? Where were yer senses? In yer breeches?” Astonishment over the black being gone crossed over Niall's face. “What kind of lass could ride that black devil?"

Parlan coughed. “We didn't bring a horse for ye. Ye'll need the black. There's no horse here that can carry two of us."

Gerek looked at the others closely. He saw the consternation on their faces. “The lass swore she took nothing. That members of the family accused her out of hand. I couldn't let them catch her. Dubh and I will track them down."

Niall's mouth opened. The lass could ride him?"

Parlan, his round face grim with worry, said, “She didn't pass us. We would have seen or heard her on that monster."

“Aye,” said Sims, “besides, I think ye best set out for Fairloch. There's trouble there, if I'm any judge of folks."

Parlan nodded. “Gerek, ye've got to be married in less than two months if ye want to be Gunn. The clan won't wait longer than yer birthday."

Gerek groaned in disgust. His grandfather had taught him that honor was the most worthy attribute of a man. He had given his word to marry the MacFarr chit and marry her he would, even though he now knew how repulsive she was.

Niall patted the younger man on the back. “Whistle, son. If the black's within hearing distance, he'll come back to ye."

Gerek put two fingers to his mouth and blew. A shrill whistle resounded across the meadow into the trees on the other side of the croft. He whistled a second time, louder, shriller. The sound echoed for miles.

The men stood, waiting, listening for the thud of hooves and watching for the massive black horse to come over the rise.

* * * *

Having decided to explore some of the more uninhabited parts of the Highlands, the MacFarr brothers, William from the direction of Edinburgh and Simon from Stoneleigh, met on a thick wooded mountain path far from the main roads. Both were disgruntled over not finding their sister.

William had tried to trace Cat in a city monstrous for its ill treatment of Highlanders. On the other hand, Simon enjoyed the luxuries of Stoneleigh Castle and its pert maids while he patiently awaited his sister's arrival and explored places around Stoneleigh.

After dispirited greetings, Simon cleared his throat to get his brother's attention. “Will, we'd better keep searching. We best not return home without her."

A frown of disgust roiled on William's face. “What are we supposed to do? She's disappeared. I dinna’ know where to look next."

Simon was baffled at the cleverness of the lass to hide so successfully. “Well, neither do I, but since we weren't able to find her in any of the known spots, we'd better search out these sheep trails. She must have gone off the main roads."

“We'll ride around. Stall for time while I think.” William lifted his arm to the ten MacFarr men each brother had taken with him. “We'll check out the trails around here and follow them all the way to Fairloch. Father can't be angry with us if we seem to have carried out his orders.” He turned to look at Simon. “Do ye hear a horse?"

Simon clutched his ear and twisted the fleshy part in the direction William indicated. “Aye. I believe I do. Coming rapidly, I must say."

William again signaled his men. “Take positions of security. There's a rider coming. Hide."

The men scattered from the trail, hiding behind trees along the side. Their swords were drawn, waiting for anyone foolish enough to careen down such a narrow trail. William hid behind a large oak, Simon further in the forest away from any possible danger. They waited, barely breathing in the dampness. A sharp whistle split the air from somewhere above. A signal of some sort. Simon burrowed further into the trees.

* * * *

The black's head lifted. His ears twitched from front to back. His back grew tense, as did the lass on his back. He was alert, listening. Cat heard the whistle but feared wasting any time and urged the horse forward. She hadn't gotten far enough away from the cabin yet. The horse moved off, reluctantly responding to the pressure of her legs. She put her heels into his sides in an effort to spur him to a faster pace.

When the whistle came a second time, far louder and more piercing than before, the black stopped abruptly, turned quickly and galloped in the direction of the whistle. Stay on. “Oh, stay on,” Cat whispered to herself. The words caught in her throat. The swiftness and agility of the black's movement made her lose her seat. She slid from his back and fell to the ground in a puddle. In disgust, she dragged herself to a standing position and watched the horse run back up the hill. “You goose. Now what do I so?

She heard a chuckle and looked up, into the eyes of a grinning brother William. Cat groaned, her heart hammering with fear. All her trouble for nothing. She was in worse straits than she had been before.

“Och, dear sister. We meet again.” William's smile was ugly. He turned in his saddle and called into the woods. “Ye can come out now, Simon. 'Tis only our dear, sweet sister, come for a visit.” He stared at her before he turned to his brother. “Simon, look what we have here. Our little sister all dressed up to look like a lad. Won't Da and the Beast love the sight of this?"

Simon entered the clearing and looked at his sister with distaste. “My heavens, Catriona, aren't you a sorry vision. Well, Cat, ye've caused us a great deal of trouble. This folly of yers has merely delayed yer wedding, not stopped it.” He turned to William and smiled with his mouth only. “Poor Beast! To be saddled with a laddie and a shrew. He'll be in some other bed in no time at all, but not 'til he's beaten our little sister into submission and has an heir on the way."

William glanced at his sister, licking his lips as if savoring the moment. “Well, dear sister, has a real cat got yer tongue?” The MacFarr men in the background laughed, with the exception of one.

Simon asked, “Where did ye get that dark horse? I caught a glimpse of him when he dumped ye. A magnificent beast, didn't you think, Will?"

Cat stared at her two brothers. Inside, she despaired, but her face took on a cool and calm demeanor. It would not serve her well to show them her feelings. She was different from these MacFarrs, and they deserved nothing but her enmity, except Mam.

Simon slid from his horse, stepped over a puddle and faced his sister. “Cat, I asked ye a question for which I received no answer. Where did ye get that huge horse?” When Cat did not respond, Simon slapped her face, a swift crack that landed on her mouth and split her lip. He turned to his men. “Do you see? That's how you treat a woman who blatantly defies you."

Cat's hand went to her mouth. Blood oozed from it. She glared at Simon and the men directly behind him, still astride their horses. She'd get no help from them. “I got it from a crofter's cottage. A man lent it to me."

William jumped from his horse. “What crofter has a horse like that? I dinna’ believe ye. Why would a stranger lend ye a horse? A man...?” The look he turned toward Simon was incredulous.

Simon's mouth fell open and he looked back at the MacFarr men. “At a cottage, alone with a man, were you? And he gave you an animal as magnificent as that one?” He gave a discreet chuckle. His eyes widened and his mouth pursed. “And what did ye give him? Wait 'til Da sees what you have done to yourself and learns that you've been with a man for days. Me dear sister, ye've a lot of explaining to do."

“Not to you two.” How she could explain being alone with a man? What her brothers thought of her was unimportant. Would it be better if her father thought her unchaste? Perhaps he might call off this marriage if he thought her damaged goods.

“You'll hear when you drag me before Da.” Cat tramped off in the direction of Fairloch. “I should have faced up to this problem when I was there, but I ran from the fear and hate that runs through that castle.” Ashamed of herself for even expressing that sentiment, she grumbled, “Now it starts all over again.” She moved with haste, anxious to get the dilemma in her life over with. She couldn't fight it anymore.

William ran after her. “Do not think to evade me, Cat. I will not be overlooked in yer explanations. Ye will answer to me and Simon, now.” The men on horse followed but kept their distance.

“What is it you want to hear? That I was at a cottage, alone with a man? A disguised friar?” Cat choked. She had gone too far. They had made her upset enough to blurt out the truth. Discouraged, she continued on her way, knowing serious trouble would ensue at Fairloch.

William stalked after her, waving everyone on. “Ye were with a man? No chaperone?"

Her body ached from need, her mind burned with the torment inside her. Filled with sadness, plus a modicum of guilt, she knew such a circumstance wasn't proper, but she answered the only way she knew to speak with her brothers, belligerently. “What if I was? Do you care? Nobody else does.”

Simon called after her. “Och, our father cares. And he'll make ye pay for the sins and folly ye have committed."

William cried out, “Cat, stop where ye are. We're taking no chances with ye. Father said to chain ye when we found ye. To ensure yer arrival."

Her forward motion did not stop. Head down, she marched as if to her doom. A man rode ahead and stopped her from going further. The two brothers sped up and grabbed her. William called to the other MacFarr men. “Come. Bring chains. Our horses, too."

Simon demurred. “Do we have to do this? She's heading to Fairloch anyway. There are enough of us to surround her if she tries to bolt. Don't chain her, William. Leave her be."

“Nae. We will follow father's instructions. Simon, do ye think we should go after this man and bring him before Da as well?"

“What if he has forces at his disposal? She said he was in disguise. The chit won't tell us anything. I don't think we should take a chance. What if we get hurt in trying to capture someone and she escapes again?"

With a quick nod of his head, William agreed and turned to the MacFarr warriors, who dragged the heavy chains across the path. The rest gathered around, watching, refusing to intrude.

Only one soldier, an older, gray-haired man called Marcus, questioned the procedure. “Do ye have to do this, laddie? 'Tis only a lass. She canna’ get away from so many grown men."

William spun around, smashed the man's leg with his fist and shoved him off his horse, onto the ground. “Don't ye ever interfere with what I do. Ye can go with her when she marries, if you like. Then ye can protect her."

Marcus gave Cat a strange, wistful look. “Aye, milord. That'll be fine. I'll go with ye, milady."

The smile that lit Cat's face was filled with sorrow. “Aye, Marcus. You'll be a fine soldier for my new life. I'll be honored to accept you if the Beast will."

Simon scoffed in derision, “'Tis a fine life ye'll be having in a marriage with the Beast of Battle. He'll just love yer antics. Probably beat ye to death within a fortnight."

The chains in place, William thrust Cat over to Marcus’ side. “Here's the slut. Ye carry her on yer horse, ye sorry old fool. Maybe next time, ye'll know enough to keep yer simple mouth shut.”

Though slight of build, Marcus lifted Cat gently, chains and all. He whispered, “Dinna worry, lass. I'll protect ye from these brutes for a time. It'll be all right.” He tried to put her on his horse so she could sit up but the way the chains were fastened made it impossible. He hesitated, but spoke, showing more deference than before, “She canna’ ride like this. Unfasten one chain, milord?”

The scowl on William's face deepened. His skin turned a brilliant red. He growled menacingly at Marcus. With raised fist, he growled, “Do ye think to give me orders? Just sling her over the horse's withers. Let her ride that way. It'll do her good.” Turning his back on his sister and her protector, he remounted and motioned to Simon to do the same. “Let's move on. To Fairloch.”

Simon added, “With all speed. Riders, ho!"

Marcus held Cat while he climbed unsteadily onto his mount. “Lass, I'll stay to the back and hold ye in a sitting position 'til we get to the castle environs. I may have to fold ye over then, not to incur yer brothers’ wrath."

Her eyes filled with tears. She thought she could not shed more, but it now seemed she cried at kindness. “Och, Marcus, I appreciate it. You're the first decent man I've known related to the MacFarrs."

“I'm not a MacFarr, but part of the original clan that occupied your mother's castle. I still look after her when I'm allowed."

“Thank you for that. I can't tell you how much that means to me. Marcus, put me across the withers if you must. I can balance myself with the movements of your horse.” The tender smile Marcus bestowed on her gave her strength.

“I want to make it as easy for ye as I can. Ye were but a mere bairn when first I saw you. Ye were always a sweet, generous lass, with a kind word fer every soul that crossed yer path. Ye did nothing to warrant yer father sending ye away.” Marcus cradled her body against his own, making it easier for her to stay on the horse. “He's in a regular fury over yer leaving. Said ye made a fool of him.”

Cat leaned against the wiry chest and sighed. “Aye. I know. It's going to be bad at Fairloch, worse than it's ever been."

“I hate to tell ye lass, but it'll be bad for ye when those two ratty brothers tell their tale, a made-up tale at that, no doubt. 'Tis going to be terrible bad, lass."

* * * *

A day later, they reached Fairloch as the afternoon waned. Although bounced and jostled the entire way, Cat compelled her mind to consider things other than her capture. She couldn't erase from her mind what the friar had done.

He had gone back on his word and whistled, knowing the black would rush to him. Rancor kept her strong, ready to face her return to Fairloch.

In the keep, William leaped from his mount in a surprising display of agility. He stomped over to Cat, grabbed her shoulders, pulled her from the horse and let her fall to the ground. Marcus dismounted, picked her up in his arms and walked across the yard.

William yanked her away and made her stand on her own, causing her to shuffle in a bent position. He held one end of the chain fastened to an iron collar around her neck, and jerked it with his every footstep.

Despite her bruised throat, she leaned back, fighting the leash. Simon grabbed one arm and pushed her forward. William reeled in the chain, a sinister expression on his face. “To the hall, me dear sister. I can't wait for the excitement to begin."

* * * *

The buxom green-eyed maid, previously the mistress of the laird, placed another wet kiss on Baen's cheek and drew his face around to her. The commotion in the hall distracted him and he pulled away, his eyes on the door, hoping it wasn't Gerek. Everyone in the great hall exhibited momentary shock when the filthy, disheveled, red-haired woman, bound in chains, careened through the open door, propelled by William and Simon.

Baen looked on in astonishment. A woman, dressed in boy's clothing? The woman was beautiful, despite her twisted, fettered body and her cropped hair. Some instinct told him this begrimed woman was his cousin's betrothed, and the men who drove her, her brothers. The chains perturbed him as unusually harsh treatment for such a fragile-looking woman, but she herself enchanted him. Now he had cause to envy his cousin for another reason.

Cat raised her body, trying to stand tall. She hobbled toward the main dais, where the laird sat in his chair, surrounded by attractive maids. MacFarr paid no attention to the crowd's amazed reaction. His acknowledgement of the scene rested in the narrowing of his eyes and an upturned lip.

In the ensuing lull, William ran to the dais. “We have found our sister."

With a sneer, MacFarr countered, “About time. She's a mess."

Cat bowed her head in his direction. “With your permission, sir, I'll go to my room, bathe and change my clothes."

“Och, Catriona, will ye never change? What do ye intend to do with yer hair that sticks up like a cow's? No bathing will take that away.” The smile he turned on was pure evil. “Besides, ye have no room nor any clothing to speak of. We sent all yer clothes I haven't given away to Killearnan. They'll be awaiting yer sweet presence there. Ye dinna’ need them now, dressed as ye are."

The single nod Cat gave her father preceded offensive words. “'Tis good. The Beast will get to see your true daughter."

Still in his arms, the maid annoyed Baen. She had draped herself over him. He pushed her away and patted her shoulder in apology. He might need her again or the information she gave to him, but he continued to watch the proceedings with avid interest. Baen admired the lass more when she merely shrugged her shoulders and refused to back down from her enraged father.

Simon rushed into the breach but stood behind William. “Father, I think we have a more serious problem than Cat's appearance.” He cleared his throat before speaking further. “A more serious problem, for sure."

“And what may that be?” MacFarr blew a brief yawn at the proceedings.

The entire assemblage now hung on every word. Simon looked at William for strength. William whispered in his ear, “Ye damned fool, can't ye do anything by yerself?” Simon stepped back and turned away from William, who now was forced to continue on his own. In a loud voice, he said, “Milord, we found yer daughter riding a beautiful horse. When we asked her where she got it, she merely said someone at a croft gave it to her. But, sir, it was no crofter's animal. Such a beast was not meant for the fields."

“You had a horse, Cat? Where did ye get it?"

“Father, I told them. I got it from a man who said he was a friar."

“A friar does not usually have a horse.” Angus MacFarr stared at his proclaimed daughter. “What were ye doing at a cottage with a friar? Saying grace?” Laughter bellowed from his round body. “Ye expect me to believe that?"

Cat shrugged and the chain around her body clanked in rhythm with her movement. “You'll believe what you want, no matter what I say."

The MacFarr roared, “Ye were at an unknown cottage, alone with a man? That's it, isn't it lassie? And where did ye find this man? At Stoneleigh?"

Although frightened by her father's anger and attempt to intimidate her, Cat still took the opportunity to scrutinize the hall. The blond serving girl, who had feared her father, had been replaced by a brunette, a former milkmaid if Cat remembered clearly. She wondered if something had happened to the blond, but spied her hanging onto the arm of one of the handsomest men Cat had ever seen. He was tall, blond and slender. His white teeth were fixed into a smile and his striking blue eyes looked at her with sympathy.

She noticed several strangers. Had the Gunns arrived? Was the Beast already here? Tremors shook her and nestled in her stomach. She observed the room closely, taking note of every stranger visible but did not see her mam. Most of the strangers looked like warriors, but none so dynamic as the friar.

Only the one man was clad in garments befitting a clansman of note, the one on whom her gaze rested. The handsome blond Scot. Was he the Beast? The scourge of the war? Impossible! Her look of inquiry brought about Baen's smile. His grin lit up the hall and caused the blond to elbow him. The action made Cat smile, a smile she hid before she turned back to the dais.

Her father's face was red with contained wrath. “Have ye finished yer rude perusal of our guests?"

Her thoughts on the handsome stranger, she nodded to her father, hoping that the stranger was the Beast. He didn't look too menacing. At best, he'd be favorable to look upon. Something about him reminded her of the friar, something she could not quite place, as they shared little in either size, or coloring.

Her father's temper grew thinner. “Well, miss. Do ye now deign to gaze upon yer laird? 'Tis nice to have ye back in our midst. Did ye enjoy yer little adventure in the hills?"

His words seemed to force her back straighter. “Aye,” she said.

A fuming MacFarr stood and walked to the edge of dais. With calculated movements, he stepped down to the rushes. “Did I hear ye right?” His voice had developed a gravelly and hoarse quality. “Ye enjoyed yer sojourn?”

“Aye. The man wasn't really a friar. He looked more like a warrior."

When Baen overheard the statement, his head snapped up. The lass spoke of a warrior, masquerading as a friar. Baen saw the possibility. Gerek, dressed in the friar's habit he wore in Edinburgh, might have sought refuge in the same croft. How had he escaped the Covenanters that Baen himself had set upon him? If Gerek were alive, then Baen would have to win back his favor. He'd do what he could to save Gerek's lass.

“How many days and nights did ye spend with this friar?"

“I don't remember."

“Ye don't remember.” MacFarr glanced about the hall. “Did ye all hear this?” he asked from those who followed his every word. “Me daughter spent nights with a friar who looked like a warrior, but she doesn't remember how many.” His arms opened wide to the crowd, but he turned back to his daughter. “Am I to assume that ye are no longer chaste?"

Cat bowed her head. A mere kiss, a satisfying indiscretion for which she would not apologize. Her face flushed a color to match her hair. Slowly she raised her head. She was eye-to-eye with her father and terrified by his expression. “You will assume whatever you wish, Father.”

The laird glared and screeched, “Are ye telling me that ye're no longer the pure, chaste lass I pledged in marriage to a man of a great clan?"

William jumped into the fray. “How could she be, Father? She stayed with a man for several nights and days. That is, until she stole his horse."

Not to be outdone Simon added, “Not only is she no longer a decent lass, she's a horse thief."

“I did not steal the horse."

Her father said, “Then the man gave it to ye? Why? To what purpose? Was it in payment for favors rendered? Lassie, are ye not more cognizant of things than to give yerself like a cow in the field?"

Cat choked her quick retort and countered with, “How could I not remain cognizant to the ways of men when the men of my own family have treated me poorly my entire life?” Her voice cracked. “Until I was eleven, you three tortured me, made me feel as if I were of no importance in this house and even less to you; then, as if I were not the daughter of an earl, you threw me out to work in a scullery. What should I do? Treat you all with respect? Revere you? What do you want from me, since I am of no consequence to you?” The pleading tone that emanated from Cat with each question grew sadder and more intense.

She recognized that her father's fury strengthened with each word she uttered, each gasp she drew from him. Understanding that his anger would soon erupt, she backed up. Her chains rattled as she slid one foot, then the other. After two steps back, William came behind her, blocking her progress.

He hissed directly into her ear. “Don't go. Ye're about to get your just due.”

He nodded to Simon, who moved to her left so she couldn't move sideways. “I think not, Catriona,” Simon said, keeping his whiny voice low.

Cat drew herself up and, with all the dignity she could muster, said, “I'll go to a room now, if you don't mind. I'd like to get clean."

Something in her words seemed to annoy MacFarr more. He took several steps toward her and thrust his face into hers, forcing her to lean back against William, who shoved her away.

“Clean yerself? Clean yerself, ye dirty slut?” MacFarr's voice rose. Spittle from his mouth sprayed on Cat. “How do ye plan to do that? You've already dirtied yerself beyond reason. Ye'll never be clean again.” His fury was out of control. His hand, backed by a sturdy arm, flew to her face. The sound it made resonated through the hall. A collective gasp resounded from the people, none louder than Baen's.

Never had he seen a father treat a daughter thus, nor any man so harm a woman. His mouth dropped open. Just as MacFarr made a fist to hit the girl another time, she flew back against her brothers, who immediately shoved her forward again. When she bumped into MacFarr, he knocked her to the hard stones. Cat doubled with pain and rolled into a ball.

Baen could stand no more. “Hold fast, MacFarr.” When MacFarr acted as if he had not heard Baen's plea and reached down hit the lass again, Baen shouted louder. “Stop. Saints in heaven, ye'll kill her, man."

MacFarr bellowed, “Ye're no’ at home now, Tavish. Ye have no say here.”

Drawing his dirk, Baen signaled the rest of the Gunns who quickly drew their swords and circled around him, as he moved steadily across the room until he faced MacFarr. Softly, gently, he moved the earl away from the fallen girl. “Ye can't beat a lass to death like that."

“I can do anything I want. This is me home and she has disgraced it."

“Nae. 'Tis of no consequence."

“Och, but it is. This is only Catriona. I'll do what I want with her. She has shamed me in front of me people. The Beast will never want to marry her. No one will.” He raised his foot to kick Cat, but Baen stood in the way."

“Nae. My cousin will marry the lass anyway. He needs her to become Gunn. That is all he wants. Do not worry, the wedding will take place, I'm sure.”

Somewhat mollified, the earl nodded. “Put down your dirk. Yer men, too. Ye're not at home. My men outnumber yers. When she marries the Beast, she'll force him to treat her the same as I do. She invites that sort of behavior.”

Baen turned to his men. “Sheathe your weapons. This is between the Earl and me. Until the Beast arrives.” He bent down to get a closer look at Catriona and extended his hand. “Here, lass. Can ye stand?"

The swollen eye Cat sported hampered her vision. Her body ached, from being battered by chains and the fall to the stones. She tried to raise an arm but the movement caused pain. She moaned aloud for the first time. Who was this man? What had he to do with the Beast? Had he come on behalf of that animal?

With a grunt and great effort, Cat pushed herself onto her hands and knees but was unable to move further. Groans issued from her mouth with every movement. When the blond man.... What had her father called him? Baen. That was it. He reached down his hand to help her, but she raised hers to stop him. She must do this by herself or face more consequences. With tortuous slowness, using her arms and hands for support, she put her feet square on the floor and shoved herself to her full height.

She knew her face must have been marked from her father's hand. Her body had already discolored from the force of her fall and the chains that bound her, but she was unbowed. When he moved to hit her again, she glared at him.

“You will never strike me again. Nor will any man. Ever."

MacFarr's laugh echoed throughout the hall and reverberated against the stone walls of the fortress. Shoving William aside, MacFarr grabbed the piece of chain that dangled in Simon's hand, ripping the links hard enough to cause Simon to recoil and look at his palm.

The laird smiled as he clamped the chain back in place. “Here, gel. Let's just refasten this and see how ye like it.” Cat's body doubled over from the pull of the short attachment that ran between her neck and ankles. MacFarr waved to his men. “Put her somewhere so that I don't have to look at her. The kitchen. I don't care.” Once the order spewed from his mouth, he turned to Baen. “Do ye see what I have been forced to endure, from the day I brought her home? I'll be thrilled when the Beast takes her from here."

Baen ignored the man. Before any of the laird's retainers approached, he picked her up in his arms. Her head touched his shoulder once then stayed still. With the lass cradled close to his chest, his legs planted firmly on the rocky floor, he pivoted slowly and looked at every one. “She offers no more amusement to any, be she chaste or not. None of ye are to touch her. She belongs to the Beast. 'Tis for him to decide her fate.” He strode to the screening behind the dais, ducked behind it for an instance and deposited Cat on the floor softly.

An old man stood there. “I'm Marcus. I'll see to the lass."

Cat watched the blond man go and wondered about his tender treatment. No man had ever handled her in such a gentle manner. It wouldn't last. The expected Beast would ruin it all before she had time to recover and plan anew. With a pained grimace, she curled into a ball and laid her head on the cold stone, looking up for a moment at the old man who had cradled her on the long ride to Fairloch. “Marcus, thank you for being here."

Chapter Seven

The great hall of Fairloch had emptied but for Baen Tavish and the Earl of Crannog. The two huddled on the raised wooden platform, their heads together. Neither spoke above a hoarse murmur.

“When exactly do ye expect yer cousin to come?” Angus inquired, his tone one of irritation. “Is he doing this to provoke me ire?"

Baen withheld the grin that threatened to spread across his face. “He'll get here when it suits him, like he always does. He may have business to tend before he arrives here. In preparation for his wedding, of course.”

Puzzled, Angus continued. “He was supposed to be here a month ago. Do ye think he's changed his mind about the marriage?”

Baen had a plan in mind on how to thwart his cousin. “Perhaps. He's never had much to do with well-born lasses, what with his fighting for the Royalists and the king. His life's been too busy to devote time to the pursuit of women.” He watched the laird's expression change to one of surprise.

“He's not interested in lasses?"

Lest the laird get the wrong impression, Baen added, “He develops no serious attachments to them. He takes women as he needs them, but forms no strong emotions concerning them. I've never known him to be befuddled by love. He prefers women who have experienced more of life. I don't think I've ever seen him pay attention to young maidens. That she's experienced will serve him better."

MacFarr gazed at him, open-mouthed, disbelief written on his face.

Baen noticed the change in countenance. “I've often wondered about Gerek's lack of, shall we say, compassion? But then, he dislikes being questioned so I've avoided asking.”

Baen was surprised that he told the truth after a fashion. When Gerek and he traveled around the country together, Baen found himself drawn to the younger girls, while his cousin preferred older women of discriminating taste. In truth, the youthfulness in Gerek's betrothed already attracted him. He would enjoy taming that proud, fiery spirit of hers. The fact that she was lovely to look at only added to her charms. A strange ache worked inside of him. He wanted Catriona for his own.

MacFarr stood and paced the dais, his hands behind his back, his gaze following the lines of wood in the floor. “What will he think of the lass when he finds she's no longer pure?” He turned and faced Baen squarely. “Damn that girl. She needed to keep her wits about her. But there she goes. Spreads her legs for some crofter like a mare in heat."

Baen's smile finally broke through his reserve. The conversation was going exactly the way he wanted it to go. “Och, I think a lass who knows what it's all about is better for Gerek than one unschooled. Also, you know he's a bastard? Has no idea who his father might be, so he won't be too picky."

The earl dropped back into his chair with a heavy thud. He scraped it along the floor to get closer to Baen while he scrutinized the younger man's face. “Ye dinna’ have a great love for yer cousin. At least, none that ye've shown me. Can I trust ye with some information?"

“Aye.” Baen's forced his body to appear languid, almost bored. Perhaps, this secret was something he could use to secure the position of Gunn for himself. He could taste the position getting closer. He had no intention of doing anything too overt, but if he were able to control the situation from behind the scenes, it would be to his liking.

“I do regard my cousin with affection, but you can trust me with any news you think will help the situation. At the moment we both want the position of Gunn, but it's only a minor rivalry. One we've had since we played as children. If he becomes Gunn I will follow his dictates, as he would mine if the situations were reversed. So our differences are minor, I assure you."

The laird brought his hand to his chin and rubbed it along his jaw. He held up three fingers, palm outward. “Swear to me, Baen Tavish, that what I tell ye will travel no further than yer ears and to no other ears on earth!"

Baen couldn't stand not knowing a secret. He raised his three fingers with palm outward and bowed his head at the same time. “You have my word,” he said in a serious tone, bending his body closer to the laird's.

The laird's usual ruddy complexion turned gray. He tried to vocalize but he choked before the words left his mouth. A fit of coughing seized him.

Baen reasoned that if what MacFarr had to say brought on a spate of choking and coughing, it must be of primary importance. In a friendly fashion, he glanced at the laird and pounded him on the back. “Och, man. Don't choke on me. Your men will think I've done you an evil deed."

His coughs under control, MacFarr leaned forward. “I've already done this evil deed. For years, I've claimed that red-haired witch as my true kin."

“Aye. So?” Baen settled back in his chair, but his body vibrated with excitement.

This time the laird's words flew in a torrent of gobbled phrases, not unlike surprised pheasants in a field. “Not mine. Keith's. Wife. Rescued her. Too late. The bastard Keith."

Eager to hear the rest, Baen did everything he could to stop himself from being too obvious. He wanted everything spelled out to him in understandable terms. “Easy man. Go slow. I can't follow the path of this conversation and it plagues me. Say again."

The laird took a deep breath, groaned, and then spoke through clenched teeth. “Years ago, yer grandfather and I, along with an army of warriors, rescued me wife from Keith country. The Keiths raided yer grandfather's compound, which was smaller then. They took me wife as hostage. It took half the Gunn forces and all of mine a full year or more of constant attacks, as well as a siege, to affect a final showdown. When their supplies grew low, the Keith released me wife, Evina. I was a happy man until she staggered through their gates with a bairn in her arms, and not at all happy to see me."

Baen gasped, then chuckled to himself. “I can imagine your shock."

“I wanted to kill the bairn then and there, but yer grandfather wouldn't allow it. Instead, he pledged his bastard grandson in marriage if I took care of the child until her eighteenth birthday and told no one she was not me daughter. I kept me part of our bargain. Now it's time for yer grandfather to keep his."

“My grandfather is a most honorable man. He'll keep his word."

“The lass is eighteen now. I can no longer wait 'til she goes, any more than I can keep the truth inside me much longer. I must get rid of her or I'll be eaten up with this vicious rage. I can barely stand to look at the mother, much less the girl. I've not been kind to her over the years, but she is a fierce and independent lass. She'll get over it.” He drew in a breath. “The Gunn thought that marriage to the daughter of an earl would boost yer bastard cousin's standing in the clan."

“Ahhhh, so it has!” Baen rested his shoulders on the back of the chair, stretched his legs out in front of him and crossed his ankles. The news fascinated him. But how could he use it to circumvent Gerek's petition for Gunn? Perhaps by telling clan members the girl was a Keith.

“Tavish, did ye hear me?'

“Aye. That I did."

“What do ye think yer cousin might do if he knew the whole story?"

Baen swung his head around. “This is not to be told to him. Understand?"

The laird nodded.

“If my grandfather knew, he hasn't mentioned it to anyone, much less Gerek—or I'd know, too. It must not be told to my cousin. I don't know what he would do. He has a hatred of Keiths.” Baen held up his hand. “Go slow, MacFarr. Let me think.”

The laird remained quiet for a second or two, but his agitation got the better of him. Anguish deepened the grooves of his forehead. His heightened color turned his jagged scars to pure white. “What if yer cousin refuses to marry an impure lass? What then?"

Baen's reply came with alacrity. “A bastard can't be too particular, even if he is the Gunn."

“Aye, but—"

An idea popped into Baen's head. The thought flew out of his mouth like a bird from the nest, before he considered the consequences. “Don't worry, laird. If my cousin does not marry her, I will. I am not afraid of either my grandfather or my cousin. Besides, I've had dealing with several of the Keiths. Most are quite prosperous, generous and kind. Sooner or later, the Gunns and the Keiths must come to terms with one another or there'll be trouble forever."

“I understand. But the commitment, the pledge, signed by your cousin nine years ago is in me hands and I believe it should be honored.”

The blast of a horn trumpeted over the keep interrupted the men. The elongated blare ceased, then sounded again, louder. The laird leaped from his chair, his body tense. “Somebody approaches. I must go. Follow me."

Thinking it might be Gerek, Baen tensed as well, but maintained a posture of relaxed indifference. “Nae. Go ahead. I'll follow in a bit,” he called out to the fast disappearing earl. When he passed through the double doors, Baen murmured to himself. “You bluidy fool!” He spit in derision. “Damn it. If that's Gerek, what excuse do I give for not seeking him?” He stared at his hands. Their trembling set him off, reinforcing his belligerent attitude toward the cousin who continually got in his way. He needed some drastic measure to tip the scales in another direction.

* * * *

Outside the stone walls of Fairloch Castle, the four men, now dressed in their clan plaids, had pressed the horses forward at a frantic speed. The horses were lathered and hot air blew from their nostrils. At the forefront, Parlan carried the Gunn banner, which fluttered in the wind like the soft leaves of a willow. Dubh lay across the path, panting.

In the center, Gerek sat astride the black stallion, whose heaving sides beat against his legs. Niall rode to his left and Sims to his right. The men puffed in rhythm with the horses and the dog.

Gerek heard the horn, stopped and watched a stocky older man climb up onto the battlements. From a distance, he took the measure of the man as best he could and assumed it was Angus MacFarr, the Earl of Crannog.

Leaning toward Niall, he murmured, “Call out so they open the gates.” The command given, he sat straight in the saddle.

Niall cupped his hands around his mouth, and in a hoarse voice, shouted to the guards. “Open yer gates. 'Tis Gerek Gunn come to wed the daughter of yer earl.” Turning to Gerek, he mumbled, “Appears they weren't expectin’ ye. Almost like they're surprised ye've come. And where's Baen? No doubt up to his usual tricks!”

Gerek let out one murmur of laughter then said, “You've never had patience with Baen. I understand why, but he's harmless."

“So ye say,” Niall countered.

Gerek watched the sturdy man raced across the top of the wall to the gate. He shouted, “Show yerself, Gunn. I need to make sure 'tis ye. I have nae seen yer hide in many years."

Gerek nodded to his men, squeezed his horse between his calves and cantered forward at an unhurried pace. Dubh followed and stopped when the black did. At the gates, Gerek dropped his reins, and in an icy bass voice, he queried, “Can you see me now, MacFarr? Open the gates, man, and you will see me even better.” He picked up his reins, looked about and again spoke to MacFarr. “Where is my cousin Baen?”

A patch of blond hair materialized next to MacFarr. When his cousin could be seen in full view, Gerek directed a question to him. “Where have you been, cousin? I thought you'd be out beating the bushes looking for your dear relative."

Baen let out a hearty laugh. “I'm the only one who had faith in you. I knew you'd show up here sooner or later."

“A likely story,” Niall grumbled as he and the others rode up to where Gerek waited for the gate to open. With all the creaks and groans of ill-used equipment, the gate sprung open. The four rode through the gates and across the keep to the door of the castle. Dubh followed, practically under the heels of the black. No one came to relieve them of their horses. Parlan, Sims and Niall, taking their cue from Gerek who wore a frown of displeasure, stayed astride.

MacFarr rushed down from the wall of the battlements. Gerek slid from his stallion and handed the reins to the short, winded laird. Angus gasped and almost dropped the reins. His surprise was apparent.

The laird countered quickly by turning away and shouting to his stable grooms. “Amos, Tom, some of ye others, get over here now! Take these horses, ye fools. See that they are stabled and tended properly, or there will be hell to pay.” With a self-satisfied look on his face, he turned back to his guests, all of whom stood quietly, looking down at the stocky laird.

Gerek stared at the grooms, who approached timidly. “I'll hold you two personally responsible if any harm comes to these animals. They are my prized possessions, especially the black. Take the dog with you. He'll guard the black."

After a series of bows and scrapes, grooms took the reins from those who had dismounted. They moved away quickly, the horses slightly behind, the black dancing in a circle around them.

“Dubh, guard.” The dog followed after the horse, which calmed once the dog came into sight.

Standing a foot taller than the earl, Gerek's grim countenance added to his reputation as a ruthless man, dangerous to cross. He let MacFarr sense that the only way a smaller man might handle him effectively would be to turn his back and proceed into the castle as if nothing were strange. Consequently, the earl led the way into the castle without looking at his guests.

With a signal, Gerek waved to his cousin. “Baen, come. We'll talk. I'm curious as to your whereabouts lately.”

Everyone in the castle environs trooped after the laird and his guests. They tripped over each other and elbowed one another aside in their hurry to enter the great hall, anxious not to miss some unforeseen confrontation that might occur.

Once in the hall, MacFarr headed straight to the dais and climbed up the stairs with notable swiftness. Sweat ran down the sides of his jowls in tiny rivulets. He eased himself onto his pillowed chair and drew in a deep breath. Once settled, he regarded his guest, who leaned against the doorframe, instead of joining the earl on the dais. It kept those in back of him at a stand still.

With only a slight tinge of deference, MacFarr said, “I've been expecting ye for months now."

Gerek's right eyebrow raised. “Have you now?” he queried in an icy tone. “I can't imagine why. I gave you no notice of a possible arrival time."

The earl's eyes grew wide and he stared at Gerek for a full minute before answering. “Someone told me ye needed this marriage to be considered Gunn.” When Gerek's eyes narrowed and he looked at Baen, the laird continued. “Before the end of July, I was told. I merely thought ye'd like to be secure in the marriage before ye took yer position of Gunn."

Gerek's deep voice slowed to sound soft so that the biting remark that followed might be taken several ways. “That, sir, is not your concern. I'm here now. Produce your daughter so that I may examine my future bride."

The earl blanched. “Sir, ye leave her no time to prepare for your visit."

“I have little time for her preparations. Also, I must ask about her maid, the one she accused of stealing jewels. Then we must be on our way. I have been too long away from my home.”

Gerek didn't expect the puzzled look exhibited by his host. He assumed the man must have known about the incident, particularly an incident involving jewelry, unless there was something else wrong.

“I don't understand. Me daughter has no maid. Her one friend ran away.” He hesitated for a moment then shook his head. “Me daughter owns no jewels."

Gerek was surprised at the fury that swirled within him. The lass at the cottage had given him false information, lied about who knows what. When she was released, she abandoned him. Although he concealed it, the anger and wrath that always accompanied being lied to threatened to uproot his temper. He would not forget those falsehoods on the part of the maid. If ever a chance meeting occurred, he would exact crushing punishment.

He raised his gaze to MacFarr's face and strode into the hall to the foot of the platform. “I wish to view the lass who I will wed. Now!"

The earl leaped to his feet. He signaled two men-at-arms. He waved them closer. They mounted the dais, keeping their distance from the Beast. MacFarr beckoned them closer. When they reached his chair, he forced them to shield him from Gerek's view. He whispered, “Go to the scullery or wherever they left Cat. Find Marcus. He'll know where she is. Make sure she's cleaned up. Undo the chains. Take them off so she can walk upright. Hurry!"

The taller one whispered back to the earl. “But milord, who will clean her? The folks fear yer ire. Does Marcus have the keys to the chains?"

“I don't know. Tell one of the cooks or a scullery maid to wash off any blood,” he ordered. “No, tell Marcus. She must be presented as formally as possible.” He pointed to the kitchen stairs. “Be quick about it!” he hissed. “Having the Beast stand there and glare at me is fearsome."

The whispering and the gestures told Gerek something was amiss. He turned and looked through the crowd of people standing about, searching for his cousin. He was snuggling up to a robust blonde. Gerek crooked his finger in a beckoning fashion and sat on the edge of the platform. Baen kissed the lass and strolled over.

“What in Satan's hell is going on here?” Gerek asked in a tense manner.

“I really don't know,” Baen retorted but looked thoughtful. “Do you mean about the daughter? Catriona?"

“Who or what else?"

“From what I heard, she was missing for a short while. Returned just hours ago. Brought in by her brothers, two squirrelly creatures as ever I saw. I guess they beat her up some. But the laird did worse in the most frightening fit of pique I've ever seen. Long overdue temper, I'd say."

“He beat her? Why?” The lines on Gerek's forehead deepened with each passing word. “What could the lass have done so terrible?"

“I guess she ran away.” Baen trilled a bitter laugh. “She didn't want to marry the Beast of Battle.” Baen chortled. “Nor did she want to marry any man her father chose. I believe she has a mind of her own, with a decidedly strong will."

Gerek stared at his cousin. “No doubt. But want has nothing to do with this marriage, and well you know it. Neither the lass nor I have had any say about it. It's part of our destiny and we'll make the best of it, like it or not."

Bellowing laughs started at Baen's stomach, rose to his chest and threatened to tip him over before it flowed throughout. Everyone, who had crowded into the hall to see some action, turned to stare at him. His laughter continued until his face grew pale from his exerted effort to stop the rolling waves. Tears rolled down his cheeks and settled in the corners of his mouth.

Once he quieted, he slapped his cousin on the back and said, “Haven't you realized yet that you may control the entire Highlands, but I think you'll have your hands shortened to your elbows by the winsome lass called your betrothed."

“I don't think it's that funny,” Gerek said, but he grinned.

MacFarr stood and watched the entire proceedings. The relationship between the two men, one so light-hearted and blond, the other so grim and dark, puzzled him. His worry over the condition of the bride-to-be and her groom's reaction to it terrified him. He better make excuses, tell the story his way. The quicker the better.

“Gerek? May I have a private word with ye? There are certain things which need discussing.”

Gerek looked in the earl's direction and saw the man's troubled expression. With one stride, he leaped onto the dais almost before the laird's sentence finished. MacFarr sat heavily in his seat, a sad expression on his face. Gerek took the seat next to him. “Let us discuss this situation like men."

“What situation?” When they were both seated, the earl did not know how to begin, so Gerek took over. “I do understand the lass does not wish to marry the Beast of Battle, but as you know, that is just a name, not an action."

“Aye, I know. She does not."

“She doesn't know me. What would lead her to believe she should not consider me marriageable? The name alone?"

The earl paled, remembering how many times he threatened the girl with the name 'Beast.’ “That and the fact that I have not set the best example. She fears men, although I've tried hard to be a good father to her."

Gerek knew the man lied. Things were becoming clearer. Probably why the serving maid, Catherine, acted so fearful of the earl and his daughter. His body heated up just thinking of the young redheaded lass, but he controlled his instincts to inquire further about the maid and turned his thoughts to his present problem. He had arrived here to marry the cruel, ugly daughter of the laird as a prerequisite to attaining his goal as chief of all the Gunns. “What is it you really want to tell me, MacFarr? Tell me what is on your mind."

The earl groaned on an exhalation of stored breath. His face grew red, then paled. His voice cracked but the words dashed out on a soft whisper, just loud enough for Gerek's ears. “The child says she is no longer chaste. She has disgraced me family. I know it was part of our bargain, but I lost control of her years ago."

Gerek said nothing. Thoughts ranged through his mind. Actually, he intended overlooking issues of chastity, for his tastes no longer required sweet, virginal creatures. Being Gunn was of total importance and nothing else. With the daughter of an earl, his presence would command respect from those who wished to wrest the chief's position from him. Such an opportunity would not come his way again and he must take advantage of it while it was here. He learned long ago to embrace the twists and turns fate threw his way

He reacted with a slow smile, put on for the earl's benefit, and watched the earl's intense demeanor. “Perhaps your daughter might now embrace her marriage to a bastard with more contentment since her admission of impurity. The harm to her reputation may have shattered her vision of herself."

The sound of Cat's chains dragging on the scullery stairs made folks in the hall gasp. MacFarr cocked his ear in the direction of the stairs. “I think I hear me daughter approaching.” He waited with bated breath and dreaded the moment the girl would enter the hall itself. Hopefully the servants had cleaned her up a bit.

Gerek was puzzled. “I hear a noise, like chains rattling on stone."

MacFarr's face contained a modicum of fury. “Damn,” he groused to himself. The chains. “We had to restrain Catriona.” Anger over everything having to do with his wife's abduction, betrayal and the birth of the red-haired witch who tainted his emotions whenever he saw her paled his complexion. His major concern involved the Beast's reaction. Surely, a beast would not quiver over the punishment of a recalcitrant maid?

Bruised and bloody, with fiery red, yellow and purple marks attesting to bad treatment, Cat entered the room. Her cheekbones were stained with color, her hair plastered to her head from moisture and darkened blood. One eye was swollen closed. Purple stains surrounded both. Her shredded clothing hung to parts of her limp body. She was bowed, almost bent in half. Guards walked on each side of her, holding her up, almost carrying her.

When Cat saw the crowd of people gathered in the hall to hear more news of her disgrace, her courage dissipated to a startling desperation, overwhelming her. Tears surged to her eyes, making it almost impossible to see. She stumbled and one of the guards jostled her toward the other. She would have raised her head if only they let her stand upright, but the heavy chains stopped her.

Gerek scrutinized the apparition who needed to be dragged into the hall because of her disobedience to her laird. She looked familiar but he couldn't place the swollen, mottled face, the matted hair or the figure distorted by swinging hardware. He stood still, silent, hands resting easily on his hips, his legs apart. “Unchain the lass. Now!”

Something in his quiet tone, a mere suggestion of violence relentlessly controlled, and the men carrying her looked to the earl, who nodded his assent. They rolled Cat to her side and placed her on the cold stone floor. With much grimacing and strain, they unwrapped some of the chains. Simon rushed forward with a key and unlocked the middle chain, releasing her wrists and ankles from their cramped position. She groaned and stretched out on her back, heedless of the stony surface. Mortification painted her face a vivid red, far redder than the dirtied auburn hair plastered to her head.

Gerek was rigid with disgust. There was no softening in his outrage over the debacle in front of him. The nonsense was over as far as he was concerned. A glacial iciness lurked in his dark gray eyes and voice. “Undo all the chains and do it quickly or I'll not be responsible for my actions!”

This time the men did not look at the laird. They jumped to comply with the command, fear written in their movements. When the chains were removed, Cat lay in the middle of the floor, unmoving. Then with a prolonged groan, she turned toward the voice. It sounded familiar, but between her closed, swollen eye and the teary one, she could barely distinguish anyone in the hall.

Baen pushed himself away from the dais and the blond. “Damn it. Someone has to help her.” He moved to Cat. “It's all right, lass. The worst is over. You'll be fine from now on. I'll take care of you.” His hand reached out to help her but she shrugged him off.

She rolled to her hands and knees, then stood shakily. Unable to smile, she nodded to him. “Thank you for having them release me.” Slowly, although her gait was unsteady, she shuffled to the platform. Chin raised, she glared straight into her father's eyes. “You will never lay another hand on me. Not ever again. Be advised. If you do, I will kill you.”

The laird quailed under the fierceness of her distorted stare. “Now Catriona, ye're just angry. Ye should not fight against me so. I only do things for yer own good. Come, daughter, let us reconcile our differences."

Aghast, Cat couldn't believe her ears. “There is no chance for reconciliation where there has not been harmony. If what you do is for my own good, I'd be better off dead. You will never hurt me again. Your feelings and the way you display them mean nothing to me. I do not please you and I never will. I refuse to try."

MacFarr was elated. “Then ye will marry as ye were pledged?"

Before the lass had a chance to answer, Gerek moved in front of the earl, directly into her line of vision. “Aye. She will."

“Nae, she won't!” Cat looked closer at the man before her. A nauseating sensation seized her stomach. Without seeing clearly, she realized that she was undoubtedly looking in the direction of her future husband. The tall man, dressed in the Gunn plaid, was obviously the Beast of Battle and she had arrived home in time to marry him.

Twisting her head and tilting it slightly to see him better with her one half-opened eye, she gazed at him in genuine bewilderment. There was a taut and watchful power in his casual stance. A stillness came into her face when she recognized him. On an indrawn breath, she hissed through her sore mouth, “You! You bastard!"

Chapter Eight

A chilling current raced through Fairloch's great hall. The crowd's collective gaze focused on the players in the present drama. No one moved. No one spoke. Stillness reigned. The air surrounding the earl, Gerek and Catriona grew heavy with unremitting tension.

Bemused, Gerek stared at this lying wretch of a maid—bride—for what seemed like an unending length of time.

Cat glared at him. He had lied to her, concealed his true identity, and pretended to be a friar, then a horse master. She had believed him, responded to him in a moment of sheer madness. It shamed her. He was just another man who had abused her, this time with deceit. She cursed him viciously under her breath.

She shifted her weight, moving forward, and raised her body to stand as tall as she could under the circumstance. Absolute hatred built until the pressure boiled over. “You liar!” When his eyebrows lifted in surprise, she continued, “Aye, you. You stupid spawn of Satan!” When his eyes nearly closed in anger, she added fuel to the fire. “Aye, aye, you Friar! Or is it Beast?"

His words to her were measured and icy. “Och, lassie. You're right. Beast! It would serve you well to remember it.” He stood straight and tall, a massive, carved figure.

“Do you think to frighten me with threats, Beast?” Cat could barely stand, yet stand she would to face this giant. Her fury sustained her and met his with equal force. In a contemptuous tone, she lashed out at him. “You didn't succeed before. What in Satan's name lets you think you'll make me weep and wail in abject fear now?” Her body teetered on the brink of succumbing to her wounds, but she grabbed the edge of the dais and clung to it. “I want you to leave at once. You are a liar, a thief and no concern of mine."

A horrified gasp came from the audience who had watched with avid curiosity. Baen took several steps forward and raised his hand, palm outward, as if to stop his cousin from further speech.

Although Gerek continued to stare at the lass in disdain, the flicker of movement must have caught his eye. “Don't, cousin. This concerns you not at all. None of you, in fact,” he said, his gaze sweeping the hall.

Many folks took a step or two back. Others stood motionless, their eyes riveted on the large man. Murmurs rode in undercurrents through the gathering. It seemed to Cat that air itself had stopped moving. Only her father wore a smile, as though he enjoyed the scene before him.

She turned slightly, searching the hall for someone who might look kindly on her situation. Only Baen stood apart from the rest. A smile creased her face but came out twisted, her swollen mouth and chin distorting her features. She turned back only to peer into the shaded, ominous eyes of her betrothed, eyes like frozen rock crystals. She grimaced at the disregard she envisioned there and tried to laugh at him. Her attempt was neither insulting nor humbling but strident and grating.

When he ignored her laughter and turned to speak to her father, the further humiliation brought a shower of tears slithering down her black and blue cheeks. She brushed them away with her shirtsleeve. Her hands groped for the platform to hold her upright. Her head descended to her arms. Blood from her wounds and scrapes, dried into scab-like encrustations, scratched her. A torrent of sentiments coursed through her and she yielded to silent sobs encased in loud and unruly hiccups.

Her knees buckled. Baen dashed to her side and caught her. He cushioned her way down as they fell to the damp stone, where he sat with her encased in his arms. He smoothed her hair back; the gesture was so simple, so unexpected, Cat almost burst into bleating sobs. She leaned against him.

Baen glared at his cousin. “Have you no sympathy, no compassion? The lass can barely stand. What in hell is the matter with you?"

Gerek felt sympathy for the lass but had an abrupt surge of anger when Baen put him in a bad light. The purpose of his cousin's ploy was uncertain. Cat tried to smile up at Baen but failed. Weighing the agitation in her expression and knowing its cause full well, the retention of her original suspicions of him, Gerek puzzled over her comfort in the arms of his cousin.

Cat disentangled herself from Baen's arms and slowly angled her body so she could stand without aid. Every movement was painful. Her walk to the dais consisted of staggers and stumbles, but she forced herself to reach it. She had read something in the Beast's eyes. Restraint and domination, the hold over the enthralled audience and his intelligence and understanding blazed in the smoky gray of his pupils. Her eyes pleaded with him for justice.

In a life filled with horrible moments, Cat had never faced one such as this. Determined to remain upright, her fingernails dug into the wood of the platform. She glowered at the Beast and gave him look for look, scowl for scowl.

When he spoke, a jolt raced through her at the very sound of his voice. It was deep, dark, vibrant with power and control. “Come here, lass. Onto the dais, please.” He hunched down, his voice softened and she was captured. “Can you make it?” He held his hand out to her.

She shook her head. She couldn't move another step. He reached down and spanned her waist with his large hands. With an easy motion, he lifted her to face him and whispered in her ear. “We must talk, just us.” His hot breath caused her to shiver. His hold around her waist offered more pain than comfort.

“Aye,” was all she could mutter.

“Clear the hall,” he commanded to the mesmerized crowd.

MacFarr finally spoke. “Dinna’ order my people around. Not here, not at Fairloch."

“Don't I? Gunns, clear the hall.” His men jumped to attention, with drawn swords, scattering MacFarr's forces and moving everyone to the corridor. Gerek nodded to MacFarr and Baen. “You two as well."

MacFarr's face reddened. His breath came in short bursts. Foam dribbled from his mouth. “Ye canna’ order me out of me own hall."

“I have. And if you want me to take this lass off your hands, you'll comply with my wishes. Leave the two of us to settle this between us."

MacFarr nodded and trudged after the retreating crowd, pulling Baen with him. At the wide door, they turned. Cat was sitting in MacFarr's chair and the Beast was placing pillows behind her.

As a parting comment, MacFarr hollered across the room. “By the way, her clothes are already at Killearnan. She'll have them when you get there.” When no reaction to that statement came, he added, “I gave some of them to the women of this castle. She won't be needing but a few."

Cat growled into her chest. “Those were my bridal clothes."

“On our travels you won't be needing fancy things. When we get to Killearnan, we'll have seamstresses sew whatever you need."

“I won't be going to Killearnan with you."

“Aye. You will. It has been ordained.” He smiled gently.

“I had no say in the matter. I was given no choice."

He stood above her chair like an avenging angel, but he changed tactics. “Child, who beat you like this?"

“Who do you think? My brothers first, when you whistled and your horse dumped me at their feet in the forest, not far from the croft. Then, when I entered the castle, my father's temper got the better of him. It no longer matters.”

Gerek considered this for a moment. Never having had a father, he wondered if this was the usual treatment of recalcitrant daughters, but he doubted it. He needed a reason, some rationale that would make sense. “Why did he do this to you?"

Her eyes downcast in shame, Cat said, “He has always hated me. I don't know why. When I told him I was no longer chaste, he beat me.”

Gerek appeared mystified but not surprised. A beautiful maid like this young lass before him would be prey to anyone desirous of coupling. “Why did you tell him that? Is it true?"

In a spurt of fury, she said gruffly, “'Twas being alone with a man that ruined me, you oaf."

“Och, you swear too much. And my name is Gerek."

She leaned forward. Every muscle cried out from the pain taking over her body and her mind. The pain made her angry, the anger made her braver. “You took me captive against my will and held me thus.”

Gerek was about to sit but raised himself up with his hands on the arms of the chair. “I did? Somehow, it slipped my mind.” He was acting like a schoolboy, but he didn't know what to say to make things better for her. He had whistled the horse back, but he had thought she'd be on it. Even at the cottage, he hadn't done anything but kiss her. “I don't recall you allowing, nor my forcing, intimacies. You were too busy concocting wild, lying stories.” But he understood her doing so, her saying anything so she wouldn't have to come back to this hellhole.

“You kissed me against my will. Do you deny it?"

“You came into a stranger's arms willingly enough. I don't remember you fighting me off."

“I fought you the entire time we were at the croft. Tried to run away twice. Fought your brute strength with all my might, I did."

He was shocked. “Are you telling me that I seduced you?” Surely, she didn't believe that.

“Didn't you? You turned my head around in circles, you unmitigated flea. You louse. You swine.”

He smiled. “Name-calling won't solve our problems now, lassie."

Angered by his quiet attitude and his smile, Cat wanted to hit him, jump on his back as she did once before. Stick a dagger in him. It was the only kind of disagreement she knew after being abused as a child and again as a scullery maid. “Our problems? I can't help you. 'Tis yours now, milord Friar, Beast, Gerek. All yours!"

He walked away from her, trying to hide the slight smile that came to his lips at her intense reactions to everything. “Is that the truth of it, Catherine? Or should I call you by your real name, Catriona?"

She sensed he was making sport of her. She had seen the beginning of his smile and it angered her. “I don't care what you call me.” Anger flared into rage. Her lips came together in a tight line. She ground her teeth and growled. “You think this humorous? Well, laugh all you want. I refuse to marry you and no priest in the world will force me."

Although she paid little attention to what he was saying, he said it anyway, flinging it over his shoulder. “Really? Who will you find willing to marry such an impure girl, a girl who has been pledged to another from her birth?"

“I'll cause destruction upon your clan, so that you, the wretch who stole my innocence, will not be able to help them.”

He coughed loudly to cover his grin and turned to her politely. “You know, your father never offered me any wine to drink.” He bent over the small table that was squeezed between the two chairs, filled two tankards with amber fluid and handed one to her. “Here. This might calm your bride-to-be nerves."

Frustration at his placidity churned inside her, rose into her throat and she rose with it, acting the only way she knew how to act. “You stupid spawn of Satan!” she screamed, throwing the tankard at him. She came at him like a tiger, teeth barred, eyes half-shut, all hiss and talon, her filthy knotted hair standing on end. She threw herself at him, raining blows on his forearms and chest. It felt as if she were smashing a rock wall.

“Cease,” he bellowed, reeling back, surprised at the vehemence of her swift attack.

With grace and agility, he fended off most of the blows without hurting her bruised frame. The only sounds heard were those of slaps and groans. She pounced on him again and again, jumping at him, her arms and legs rotating madly as all sanity fled from her in an undisciplined outburst. She struck out in vengeance. She kicked him, hit him. Spit in his face.

“You spit at me!” Gerek shouted, shocked and overwhelmed by the sheer tenacity of her fury. His own anger grew when her knee hit his upper thigh, coming too close to his groin. He grabbed her waist and twisted her around. He eased her gently onto the floor and rolled her over. He pinned her legs with his thighs and held her arms above her head with one hand. He let her scream and curse until she had no more breath. Would his whole life with her be like this? It was inconceivable. “Lord, but you're a handful.”

Her energy depleted, Cat struggled one more time, to no avail. The Beast outweighed her by too many pounds of muscle. Slowly he eased his body down, until they were face to face, each breathing heavily. His belly pressed against her most intimate parts, the contact provocative.

Powerless beneath him, unable and unwilling to fight any more, she glared at him as his heavy legs trapped hers and stopped her from kicking. The heat from his huge frame leeched into her body, and with it came the memory of their last searing kiss.

Gerek met the orange fire in her eyes with the cool gray of a Highland fog. The look took from him all but the most primal throb, triggering something elemental in him. His body responded. It tightened. It hardened.

“You animal!” she grunted as she tried to move out from under him.

He brought himself under the control that was so much a part of him. His only reply was a growl. Anxious to move away from this overpowering feeling for her, he leaped to his feet.

Slowly, she stood, her breath coming in ragged puffs. A dry, broken sob tore at her throat. She was drained and in tremendous pain she could no longer ignore. Her emotions fought and tangled. Her gaze burned him with its fervor, its unadulterated heat.

When he spoke, his resonant voice set contrary vibrations inside her. “Is this enough for now, Catriona? We can do this later, you know. May we call a truce and get down to the business of figuring this situation out?"

“I will not marry you. I will not be forced to do something so against my nature. No matter what my father says. Even if he beats me more."

“He'll not beat you again,” Gerek said in a gruff voice. “I have a plan.” He lifted her from the floor and put her in her father's chair a second time. “Now this time, just sit there and hear me out."

Her response was barely above a whisper. “I'm listening.”

He considered what he had to say. He didn't want to rile this lass any more than she already was. “First, we'll both fight this marriage. I will tell your father I do not want an unchaste lass. You will tell him that you will not marry a bastard."

Her mouth opened wide. “What? What are you saying?”

He looked at her, displeased at the interruption. “You mean your father never told you I do not know who my father was? My mother never married.” My Lord, she doesn't know.

“Nae."

“Well, I do not. It doesn't matter. I have built my reputation on that which I do well. Fight for my country."

“A bastard?”

“Lass. Listen. We don't have much time. We must get this straight before we allow the others to come in. You must cry out against marrying a bastard. Do you understand?"

“Aye, I do. But why? Do you think that will have any sway over a man such as my father?"

His face was transfused with the sympathy he felt for this lost child. Why did her father intend to marry this beauty off to a bastard? It puzzled him. “Aye. Your father will listen to reason, if we both say we won't marry. It is something we must try. Agreed."

“Agreed. We'll try. But I wonder what my father has in the back of his mind. Nothing good, I'm sure."

“Time will tell us what he plans to do."

“Aye. That it will."

* * * *

Once again, in early afternoon, Fairloch's hall overflowed with humanity. People milled about, excitedly shuffling the thin rushes while going from group to group to gossip. Some huddled together in small clusters and mumbled in private, hands covering mouths. Others stood by, watching the events take place on the dais, where the Beast held court. The hall hummed with the Scots’ whispers and murmurs, producing a vibrant chant.

Shock waves simmered throughout the gathering when an emaciated lady with graying hair and a dress too large for her entered the hall on the arm of a maid, who seated her in a pillowed chair on the dais. The people of MacFarr country had not seen Evina MacFarr embrace her rightful place since Catriona left for Stoneleigh. The chair next to Evina was empty, as if waiting for another. The Beast positioned himself behind it, his massive frame shadowing both chairs.

Led by Marcus, who helped her stay erect, a still dirty Cat struggled across the dais, to reach the chairs. She fell to her knees at her mother's chair and laid her head in her mother's lap.

“Mam. Mam."

Evina leaned down, shielded her mouth and whispered, “It's all right, lass. Nothing will harm you any more. I have his promise.” She tipped her head to look at Gerek. “He decreed it.”

She kept her hand on her daughter's head and smoothed the short cap of matted hair the best she could. The girl hugged her mother's legs, holding onto their weakened life force with every ounce of energy left.

MacFarr stood near the bottom of the dais, William and Simon by his side. His soldiers-at-arms surrounded them, their hands ready on their swords. “Well, Evina, 'tis nice that ye resume yer normal place in me household, now that yer daughter is returned to ye.” His smile, directed at his wife, was contorted and evil. “I must admit I admire yer tenacity. Ye kept yer promise, never to sit there until yer sweet lass came back. She has reappeared and so have ye. I commend ye, lady. Ye have grit and perseverance."

Evina raised her head and sneered at her husband. “I will not sit here long.” She inhaled slowly. “I have another promise for you, Angus MacFarr. 'Tis a guarantee. After this day, you've seen the last of me. I leave you and your sons with all that was once mine. I depart with my daughter."

“That, too, will be me pleasure, wife, but ye will never be totally free of me. I will haunt yer days and nights.” Again his smile came readily. “Perchance, have ye come just for the wedding, milady? If so, ye'll have to wait for a priest.” MacFarr nodded, his face a mass of smiles. “We've just sent someone to summon such a one from the closest place."

A scowl marred Gerek's features. Otherwise, he took no notice of MacFarr's words.

Cat looked up at her mother when her father spoke. Cat neither grasped the depths of the terse, sarcastic words between her parents nor understood the import of their expressions. Although a response on her mother's behalf was called for, her weariness kept her words subdued.

She barely lifted her head when she spoke to her father. “I do not intend to marry. Not that man.” She pointed to Gerek. “Not ever.” She snarled at her father. “You and my brothers were all the beasts I'll ever abide.”

Evina patted her head. “There now, child. Let it go. It's going to be fine."

The laird pulled himself erect. “Ye. Gunn,” he called out in an attempt to turn the conversation in another direction and put the onus of the girl's words on Gerek. “Are ye going to let this lass dictate to ye?” He cocked his head and hesitated. “Ye'll never be chief without her."

With a slight dip of his head in the laird's direction, Gerek said, “I am interested in hearing what you feel needs to be said. About me or the lass. I'll evaluate it all at a later time, thank you."

The laird laughed. “Ye'll not take nae for answer if I know anything about ye. Ye want to be Gunn. That's all there is for ye."

An unpleasant smile turned down the corners of Gerek's mouth . “You know very little about me, but you will learn shortly.”

Cat sat up straighter and swung her body around to look at the tall man who had cut her father down in front of everyone. Grabbing onto the arms of her mother's chair, she forced herself into a standing position. Facing her father and the congregation, she spoke in a loud, clear voice. “You had no right to pledge me to a bastard. And I will not marry such a one."

Everyone gasped. MacFarr danced about like a marionette whose strings had twisted. He slapped his legs and laughed hilariously. Looking bewildered, Simon and William followed his lead and began laughing. Their laughter was short-lived. MacFarr turned ugly. He sneered and ran to the bottom of the dais. He shook his fist at Cat. “Aye, ye will. Ye'll marry as I say. And as soon as a priest arrives. Or ye'll spend the rest of yer life locked away, out of sight of all human considerations."

“I'll not marry a bastard.” Her heart beat with an erratic rhythm. She had little strength to speak any more. Her whisper came out like a groan. “I'll not marry a bastard."

Her father chuckled, his eyes narrow. “And why not, lassie? Like belongs with like. Ye're a bastard yerself.” His thin laughter floated on the air above him.

Gerek tensed but stood motionless. Tears gathered in Evina's eyes and fell into her lap unabated. Cat's mouth fell open. Baen gasped. Niall, Parlan and Sims stepped forward as one.

The room erupted. The crowd hooted and hollered, slapping each other on the back, calling out to friends in other parts of the room. They whooped and screamed their delight over the twist this spectacle had taken.

MacFarr's men drew their swords at a signal from their laird. A low call cut across the room. “Men, ho!” Men came from behind the dais and climbed up on it. Other soldiers dashed up the scullery stairs. More drifted in through the wide door. MacFarr's men-at-arms surrounded everyone in the hall.

Outnumbered though they were, the Gunns drew their swords, prepared to fight, and looked to Gerek. One quick nod of denial, and they sheathed their weapons, keeping their eyes on the man they considered their leader. In this time of trouble, none of them looked to Baen for counsel.

MacFarr puffed out his chest and strutted about the hall. The crowd moved closer together in understanding of their laird's temperament. He nodded to his men, glared at each of the Gunns and stared at his people. “Well, well, well. It seems we have everything in control now. Wouldn't ye say so, Beast?"

This time, Gerek's smile turned up the corners of his mouth. It only made him look more dangerous. He nodded and said, “So it seems, milord. But for how long? You cannot keep us prisoners forever."

“Nae. Not forever. Only until ye marry this bastard lass I've been responsible for during eighteen long years of me life. After ye marry her, ye can do what ye want with her. Slay her, for all I care."

“I don't think that will be necessary,” Gerek said as he moved to Cat's side. He bent low and whispered into her ear. “Trust me. I'll get us out of here."

His very tone of voice made her fear him. Did she trust him? Her father made it perfectly clear that the Beast only wanted to marry her to become chief of his clan. He had reasons for wanting this marriage. She had none. Nor had she any idea how to handle the situation. She had to trust him. But only for the time being.

Every person saw the Beast whisper to the girl. All stood with bated breath, including MacFarr. They expected, waited for something to happen.

Gerek took a step forward and pushed aside one soldier's sword. “The lass and I have agreed to marry if and when we reach Killearnan and I have spoken to my grandfather."

Cat's head swung around. She agreed to no such thing. She wanted to speak, but the Beast stood in front of her, totally blocking sight of her body from all the others. Denial in the shake of her head, she staggered back to her mother.

Gerek reached and eased himself over the edge of the platform until he faced the laird directly, smiling and lifting the smaller man off his feet so quickly that none of MacFarr's soldiers could respond. The laird's feet dangled a foot or more off the floor.

MacFarr struggled and tried to kick his captor. He screamed into Gerek's smiling face. “Put me down, ye fool. Me men will cut off yer head and the heads of every one of yer men, if ye dinna’ release me."

Gerek let him crumple to the floor. When MacFarr scrambled up, Gerek said, “You have a problem here, MacFarr. I believed that the child was your kin. It seems that neither your—I mean, neither Catriona nor I care to marry bastards. Certainly not until I speak with my grandfather.”

“Aye, ye will. Ye and the rest of yer people are outnumbered. Ye'll never leave here alive if ye dinna’ take the lass as ye pledged."

All were attentive to the words of the two men, one with superior forces, the other with superior strength of both mind and body. No one moved.

Gerek broke the silence. “My men and I would like to leave immediately. I have been gone from Killearnan for too long. What do you propose, MacFarr?"

All of a sudden, MacFarr changed his tactics. He grew pleasant, almost noble. “I am willing to let ye marry at Killearnan. I know yer grandfather will demand it. But, before ye leave this castle, I'd have ye handfast for a year and a day, in front of this entire assemblage."

“Handfast?"

Cat screamed from the dais. “Nae! Nae, nae, nae!"

Gerek whirled around. “Silence, lass. You need to do as you're told.”

She fell into her mother's arms and sobbed as if her life were ending. No attention could be paid to her. He'd explain his motives later. They had to get out of this castle and on the road to Killearnan, in safety. MacFarr's eyes had narrowed. Gerek knew he couldn't trust the man. “Aye, laird. I'll handfast with her. And as soon as we do, we go."

The laird smiled. “That will suit. Just take the wee bitch with ye."

Gerek leaped back onto the dais. He lifted the girl from her mother's lap and tried to stand her on her feet. She went limp in his arms, so he heaved her body onto his shoulder and stepped forward to the platform's edge. In a booming, bass voice, he made his jointure of handfast. “I promise to care for this lass for one year and a day. At the end of that period, if either of us wishes to renege on the agreement, it will be so. Then we will go our separate ways. One year and a day, from this moment onward. I yield my assent."

MacFarr shrieked. “Now, the lass. Catriona has to comply."

“She can barely lift her head. Let her just nod."

MacFarr shook his head. “Aye. But ye'll have to say the words for her."

Gerek held the girl gently on his shoulder and let her face the crowd, keeping his back to them. He pressed his lips to one of her ears. “Lass, do you hear me?” When no response came, he realized she had passed out. MacFarr wouldn't be able to tell from his position, so Gerek repeated the words. When he finished, he hitched her higher on his shoulder and yanked a hank of hair so it would appear to the crowd she had given her consent. Her head moved, then feel back to his shoulder.

“Now, MacFarr, we have the right of passage from here."

Satisfied with himself, MacFarr said, “Ye'll need to sup first."

“Nae. It is not possible. We must be on our way."

In a smooth motion, Gerek placed the girl on the wooden floor of the platform and leaped down. MacFarr's men jumped back. The lass had curled, shaped herself into a position like a newborn bairn, her hand near her cheek. She looked so young. It reminded him of the great difference in their ages. And with such an inauspicious start, how would they ever make it through a year and a day?

“Gunns. Get the horses ready. Call Dubh. We leave immediately.” Two of Baen's men saluted in instant obedience and charged through the wide door before Gerek finished speaking. “Baen. Protect the lass, while I make whatever arrangements are necessary. Do not leave her. My men, cover my cousin and my lass.” He strode to Evina. “Lady, do you really wish to leave with your daughter? We go to Killearnan, home of the Gunns, but I will take you anywhere you wish to go."

Evina looked up and saw only goodness in his eyes. He had saved her daughter. “I would go anywhere with you, but I fear I will hold you back. I am not as able to travel as I once was.

“We'll stop at the first inn we come to, so your daughter may repair herself."

Evina turned to the maid who had waited by her side. “Please, pack some of my belongings. Nothing of worth, just enough to cover me and my daughter."

The maid ran to do her biding. Evina left her chair and bent down over Cat. She felt her forehead. “She's warm. Let us try to revive her. Please."

Gerek nodded. “Baen, give her a sip of this wine. Perhaps it will help to revive her.” With that, he strode from the room in a long, easy lope.

Baen held the glass to Cat's lips. He forced a little down her throat. She coughed and choked a bit, but her eyes opened. Dazed, she looked around. Her eyes glazed over and Baen shook her gently. Startled, she glanced at him. “You have saved me again. I thank you."

Baen smiled at the compliment and helped her up. He put his arm around her and helped her to her feet. “Lass, we have to go quickly. Here. Lean on me.”

At the bottom of the dais’ stairs, she turned to her mother. “Oh, Mam, I can not leave you here. Come with me. Please, I beg you. Come."

Her mother smiled. “I have no intention of staying. When you go, my life here is done. I'm coming, child. I'm coming.” She walked to the edge of the dais and spoke to those still gathered in the hall. “I'm leaving Fairloch, which once was mine. I leave it to the two sons I bore MacFarr. I have no wish to return.” She glared at her sons. “You two may keep it forever. And may you never be content here.” With the regal bearing that befits a great lady, she drew herself up, marched down the stairs and crossed the room, her head held proud and noble. A few people patted her, but most just looked at her with awe.

Gerek returned to the hall to see Baen leading the girl across the room in her mother's wake. He moved in their direction and extended his hand to Cat. When she refused to take it, he cursed softly to himself, stepped around her to head to the closed door of the hall. He yanked it open and stepped out into the corridor. Bowing to Evina, his cousin and the lass, he ushered them through the door.

Cat pivoted slowly and faced him. With tears streaming down her face, she asked, “Are we handfasted?"

“Aye, lass.” Her head bowed. “Bear with me for the moment. We need to get us all out of here without loss of life. I do not trust your father."

“'Tis no father of mine.”

Again he held out his hand to her. Cat hesitated, then placed hers in his. His fingers closed around hers, creating warm sensations on her hand. She broke the hold to turn and peer back into the great hall. She knew she would never see it again. Lifting her head, she staggered the entire length of the long corridor to the front door of the castle. When she stumbled, Gerek held her elbow with care.

“Put your arm on mine. It will help you navigate across the keep."

Her emotions ran high. She placed her hand on his bent forearm and tried to walk across the keep without glancing down.

The horses were saddled and waiting at the gates. Most of the Gunns were on their horses. The black stood alone. No one held him but the deerhound guarded him. Gerek whistled softly.

Memory of her fall near her brothers returned and with it came her anger. “You whistled the black back to the cottage. It was because of that whistle and his eagerness to obey that my brothers caught me. You told me I could take the horse. You lied. You whistled him back. I knew I couldn't trust you. I was a fool."

Gerek stared at her with utter surprise. “I thought you'd be on him. I only came here when he came back without you. I came to save the maid who is no maid.” He saw the disbelief in her eyes. “We'll talk of this another time, not now. We have to leave before your father realizes you didn't....”

“Didn't what?"

“Later, lass. Later. Much later."

Slipping her hand from his arm, Cat moved off, looking for an extra horse. Niall stood next to a heavily muscled bay horse. He and Marcus were helping her mother on and tying a bundle behind her. Marcus climbed up behind her Mam. Cat was bewildered. What was she supposed to ride? The black nudged her in the back. She stumbled, fell but pushed herself up. She saw Gerek was astride the horse, ready to go.

Cat's eyes blinked. “You are not going to leave me here, are you?"

“Of course not. We've managed this far. I'll not leave you behind. Raise one arm.” He leaned down, and with one arm scooped her up, and set her in the saddle in front of him. “Are you comfortable, lass?"

“I am not going to ride this way. Get my horse. I brought one here when they dragged me from Stoneleigh."

“Your laird will not let you have one. He's accused you of stealing it."

“I didn't steal it. I bought the horse with my wages. Besides, MacFarr's not my laird. I never wish to look upon him or this place again."

“Ride with me until we get to an inn and can buy you a horse of your own. You're in no condition to sit a horse."

Without looking at her, Gerek squeezed the horse and moved him to the gates. “Open. Now.” He saw MacFarr run out of the castle but ignored him. When the gates opened, he ushered out Evina, then set the rest of the Gunn troop in motion. “Keep the woman in the middle. If her servant tires, one of you take her up with you. Dubh and I will lead. Niall, Sims. Protect the rear. Parlan, follow me. Baen, if you're coming, watch the mother."

The Gunns, the two women and Marcus were off in a flurry of dust. Gerek waited until his party were out of sight of the castle, then headed in the opposite direction of Killearnan, hoping to get out of MacFarr country before the man, or any Covenanters he might send, came after them.

Chapter Nine

Both Cat and her mother slept fitfully while on horse. Marcus held Evina upright, her head resting on his shoulder. Gerek held Cat close to his chest, but her head hung forward at an odd angle. It was uncomfortable riding.

The small band traveled at great speed throughout the afternoon, wishing to leave the area far behind. They had taken alternate routes, splitting up when possible, to confuse anyone following.

When it grew dark, they stopped to change from their Gunn plaids into clothing of well-traveled townsmen. They continued to ride well into the night, stopping only to water and rest the horses and themselves.

“Cottages up ahead. We must be getting near a village,” Parlan called back to the others.

The weary travelers slowed their horses to a slow walk, not wanting to create a hue and cry among the cottage residents.

Gerek peered down at the sleeping Catriona who now leaned against his chest. Her arms were crossed over her stomach and her legs hung free but nestled close to his. Her body gave evidence of being unnaturally warm, almost feverish. His anxiety to reach an inn where she could rest almost overcame his usual cautious nature.

“Some of you go around through the fields. Look for an inn and meet us on the road after we pass the cottages. So many horses might create a stir."

“Niall, see if one of the crofters is awake and can tell us if the road leads to a larger village and if there's an inn around.” He pointed at a flickering light. “There's a light under that door. Knock softly. See if anyone is awake, and agreeable."

Baen grumbled, “You're taking a chance, Gerek. Maybe these cottages are a hotbed of Covenanters."

“I doubt it. They look too poor for the people to have any interest in war."

“Nevertheless, I don't....”

“Baen, we have to take chances. Catriona's feverish. Niall, go."

Baen threw Gerek a look of pure hatred as Niall rode off to do Gerek's bidding. “So be it.”

Niall returned within minutes, dragging a wide-eyed, wide-awake shepherd lad, who had told Niall that he watched the travelers from a crack beneath a shaded window. “This youth says the nearest village is about a mile up the road to the right. There's an inn there. Also, the lad wants to accompany us. Says he's tired of sheep. Wants to curry the big laird's horse.” Niall chuckled into his beard. “Ye being the largest, he must mean ye. Right, boy?"

The lad nodded. “If ye dinna’ take me wi’ ye, I'll wake everyone in me cottage. Tell 'em, ye're stealin’ our sheep. They'll not take a fancy to it."

“What am I going to do with a small lad? I have enough to do just getting us back home safely. These are dangerous times, Niall.” The rumbling in his chest caused Cat to stir and groan. “Ssh, lass. It's all right.” He patted her shoulder until her head rested against him again.

The lad, who had been watching Gerek's every movement, looked up at Cat. “What did ye do to the lass? She seems a mite battered. Did ye steal her?”

The gleeful expression on the lad's face amused Gerek. “You're a cheeky one, you are. Do you always say what's on your mind? What's your name, lad?"

“That's a huge dog there. What's his name, milord?"

“Dubh. And yours?"

“'Tis Quarries, milord. I dinna’ know the rest of it."

Och, another bastard, like myself and the lass, Gerek thought. A bastard needs a helping hand. He had needed one himself when, at twelve, he was fostered to the Grahams of Kincardine to become a warrior. To this day, he thanked the two Earls of Montrose for giving him a home and a profession. If it hadn't been for Jamie Graham, loneliness would have led him back to the dangers at Killearnan. A moment of grief hit him as he remembered Jamie swaying on the gibbet, but he put aside his musing and directed his speech to Niall, ignoring the lad who watched him expectantly.

In a whisper, he growled, “Take the lad. He'll show us the way, then I'll decide whether he stays with us or not. You ride double until we reach the inn. There'll we'll buy extra horses, if need be, for the women, Marcus and the lad.” He yawned but let his breath out slowly, afraid to wake the lass. “How's the mother?"

“Well. She's tougher than she looks. Determined, too,” Baen said, smiling.

“Good. She'll need to be if we're going to get to Killearnan in one piece.” He motioned Niall closer. “Ask the lad about the innkeeper. Who he favors in the war? And, pass the word. Everyone is to call me Gerek. No surnames."

Niall nodded, walked his horse over to the lad, threw him up into the saddle and swung up behind him.

Gerek wanted to shift his position but refused to move the nearly unconscious girl from her perch. He placed his arm around her waist to hold her close and picked up the pace of their travel. The rest followed suit.

The mile sped by quickly. Reaching the courtyard of a small inn on the edge of some woods, Gerek turned to the group. “If there is a room, the ladies will share it. Niall, you, the lad and I will guard the door and windows. Marcus will stay in the room with the women. Obviously, they trust him, but,” he turned to Marcus, “if you stay with us, we must talk. The rest of you sleep with the horses. Do not stray from them for any reason. We may have to leave in a hurry. Dubh, guard the black."

Gerek held Cat tightly as he struggled to get off his horse with her in his arms. She groaned and began to struggle, tipping his balance. With one foot still left in the stirrup, Gerek fell to the ground, the lass still on top of him. He kicked the stirrup free from the black that had not moved. As he got to his feet with Cat in his arms, he looked down at her. “Do you never give up the fight? Is this what our life is to be, a series of battles of wills?"

“Why are you holding me so tightly? All you needed to do was to ask me to get off the horse.” Cat punched his chest. “Set me down, you oaf."

Irritated with her constant carping, he let her slide down his body to the ground. Every inch of him ached from the contact with her body when she slid down him, but he kept his face a mask. “There. Feel better?” He turned from Cat and went to the inn door.

When she stumbled and almost fell, Baen leaped off his horse and ran to her side. He slipped an arm around her waist and held her upright. “It's all right, lassie. I have you now. Don't be afraid. Lean on me."

Cat stared at him for a moment. “Are you always so gallant?"

“Nae. Only when a lass is as beautiful as you."

Cat gave him a blank look. “I have never been beautiful and I'm sure I look deformed right now.” She moved away from him, grumbling over her shoulder, her head held high in dignity. “Your comments aren't appropriate now."

Chuckling, Baen called out after her. “I still tell my mother she's beautiful. And she is, the most beautiful of all the Gunn women, since her sister died."

Having reached the door to the inn, Cat sagged against the doorpost. The heavenly aroma of wild deer roasting overrode the smell of sour ale that assailed her senses. Hunger overwhelmed her. She couldn't remember when she had eaten last. She felt light-headed and dizzy. Her legs crumpled beneath her and she collapsed to the floor in a heap. She lay too exhausted to move.

Her mother knelt beside her the best she could with Marcus holding her arm to keep her from falling over. “Cat, wake up, darling. 'Tis Mam. We're safe. You'll be fine now, child. Wake up, my sweet.” Evina gently patted Cat's face. When there was no response, she called to Gerek. “Your bride, milord! She's fallen."

Gerek, who was speaking with the innkeeper, turned slowly in mid sentence. “She just swooned. She's overtired. Baen, pick her up carefully. Take her to the second floor, second room on the right.” He looked at the innkeeper who nodded in mute response. “Evina, go with them. Baen, Marcus, guard them well 'til I return.” Turning back to his conversation with the innkeeper, he called over his shoulder, “I'll have food brought up in a moment, but I must see to the men and the horses.” With a nod of his head, he indicated the stairs. “Now, Mr. Fraser, send food and drink upstairs and to my men; also see that there's enough hay and oats for the horses. You'll be rewarded for your good care."

Gerek tromped to the entranceway and helped Baen pick Cat up. Baen slipped one hand under her knees and the other around her back. He lifted her and held her in his arms for a second.

Gerek went out the door and turned toward the stable.

“'Tis like a feather you are, for all your length,” Baen said.

The light-hearted words caused Cat to open her eyes ever so slightly. “Och, 'tis you, thank God. Where is the Beast?"

“Outside. Taking care of the men and the beasts.” Baen laughed heartily at his own play on words.

“With no thought for me, I'm sure.” She put her arms around Baen's neck. “Please, take me to my room. I'd crawl up those stairs if I had any strength left.”

Baen liked the feel of her warm body pressed against his chest. He squeezed her closer. Her head rested under his chin. Her short hair tickled his neck. “'Tis no problem, lass. In fact, 'tis a pleasure.

Holding her this way, protecting her, made him feel like a man, something only his mother ever made him feel. Everyone else in the clan thought him a boy, a light-hearted boy who never had dreams. He, and only he, knew how wrong they were. They had always underestimated him. He would soon be their leader, their chief. They would bow to him then, fawn over him, give him the riches he deserved. Nothing would stop him from securing the chiefdom. Nothing. No matter what. Gerek would never make it to Killearnan alive. He'd see to it.

He looked down at the woman in his arms. He noticed the gentle curve of her cheek, the dirty red hair. Lord, he thought, she looks like a Keith. Nevertheless, once Gerek was gone, he intended to make this woman his alone. It only needed another plan set in motion. His first two hadn't worked well enough. The Covenanters he'd set upon his cousin had not been quick enough in Edinburgh, even though Gerek stood less than seventy yards from them. This time Baen determined that Gerek would not escape a trap set for him.

His mood changed with his thoughts. He stomped up the stairs, went directly to the assigned room and kicked open the door. He unceremoniously dumped Cat onto the only large bed in the room.

“Lad, be careful. She's injured,” Evina said, admonishing the young man. “Leave her be. I'll tend to her.” She bustled about, trying to drag Cat's body into a more comfortable position. Marcus moved to help her.

Baen stared at the woman, wondering what he had done. “Sorry."

Gerek entered the room and immediately noticed the tension between the old woman and his cousin. “Baen, what's going on here?"

Evina spoke up. “He just tossed her on the bed."

“I don't think so. I was very gentle."

Gerek strode to the bed and looked down at the woman who seemed to have fainted again. He turned on his cousin. “How could you treat her badly when she's in such poor condition? If I had known you'd be reckless with her, I would have brought her up myself. The men needed orders. We have to be careful here, lest our identities be discovered."

Baen's fair skin burst into a poppy red color. His breath grew short. With increasing belligerence, he countered, “Would you do different if I ordered you to carry my woman?"

“Aye, I would. The lass is bruised and battered enough. Let her be.” He turned to Evina as Baen left the room. “How do you fare, milady? You look well enough for having ridden for hours."

Evina smiled at the large man. “I am fine. Leaving Fairloch, I feel more alive now than I have in seven long years. I will do well on our ride to your country. I only need food to counter my hunger."

“I am glad to hear that. We will have to split up for certain reasons. When we do, you'll go with Baen and most of the men. Marcus, will accompany you as your servant. You'll act as Baen's aunt, a logical circumstance. I'll take your daughter and Niall, Parlan, Sims and the new young lad with me. The dog, too. We'll meet at Killearnan."

Evina straightened. “I'd rather stay with my daughter. She suffered greatly at Fairloch and again at Stoneleigh, where she was confined to the scullery due to MacFarr's edicts. Only one letter she sneaked to me mentioned a friend, a countrywoman. She needs me after all our years of separation."

“Lady MacFarr, either Baen or I will become Gunn in the near future. We cannot travel together in case of ambush. One of us must get to Killearnan.” He glanced at Baen who nodded in agreement and took the opportunity to leave the room. “Baen, let no one up the stairs but the innkeeper or Niall."

Groans from the bed were audible. Gerek rushed over. He sat on the edge of the bed and patted Cat's shoulder. “Be at peace, lassie. Everything is being taken care of. I've ordered food and basins of warm water for washing. I'm sorry, but we don't have any clothes you can change into except some peasant skirt and blouse."

Cat extended her hand. “Help me sit up, please.” Gerek reached down and lifted her into a sitting position. “Thank you. I'll rest better this way where I can see what is going on. Where is Baen?"

“He's guarding the stairs and waiting for the food, I'm sure.” Evina sat beside her daughter on the other side of the bed. Gerek saw the lass grimace on at the bed's movement. “When the water arrives, milady, we'll bathe your daughter. Make her as comfortable as possible and let her get a good night's sleep. We'll start out first thing in the morning if nothing unforeseen happens in the night."

Cat lifted her head from its roost against the pillows. “You'll not bathe me. I'll bathe myself."

“Lass, you can barely move.”

“I have a name, dammit. You can call me Catriona, or Cat if you prefer.” Her head fell back against the pillows.

“As I intended to say, Cat.” He couldn't stop the grin from spreading across his face. “I must admit that Cat is a most fitting name for you. If you would please sheathe your claws, I'll continue.” He waited for her acquiescence. When nothing came he continued anyway. “Cat, you can barely raise your head from that pillow. I'll bathe your hair, face and neck. Your mother can do the more personal parts."

She sat straight up and sputtered, “God's breath, but you're a vulgar man. Not unlike my fa....”

Gerek's face contorted with rage. “Don't say it, lass. I am nothing like that monster your mother married."

A knock at the door interrupted what might have become another of their contests. Instantly, Gerek's sense of danger came to the forefront. He flipped the holster of his dirk and the blade sprang into his hand. He stood behind the closed door. Why didn't Baen warn me that someone approached?

“Aye? Who goes there?"

A faint voice answered. “'Tis me, yer lordship. Fraser. The innkeeper. Could ye open the door? I got me arms full."

Cat swung her legs off the bed and attempted to sit up. Only by leaning on her arms could she manage it, but the exertion made her voice breathy. “Do let him in. I can smell the food. Good, glorious food."

Gerek sheathed his knife and opened the door. When he smelled the food he realized how hungry he was. He had not eaten since the lass made off on his black. From that moment on, he had rushed through bathing in the loch, dressed in his clan colors while his body was still wet, and taken off for Fairloch.

A huge array of steaming dishes, stacked on a large tray, preceded the round belly of the innkeeper's frame. Fraser laughed, his entire body jiggling with nervousness. “I see ye settled in right proper.”

In order to get through the doorway easily, he straightened his arms, turned sideways and pushed the tray in first. Then he wriggled his body through, somewhat like a snake going into a small hole. Once completely inside, his normal, hearty nature took over.

Before the man could lay the food down, Marcus said, “I'm going down to eat with the men. I'll be back as soon as I finish.”

The innkeeper's jowls shook as he moved out of the way, then he puffed up his chest. “I've fixed ye a fine repast. I'll just snuggle it up on that there table,” he chortled, sidling over to a table by the window. He plopped the tray down with a grunt, pulled an extra chair from the fireplace to the table and laughed again. “Now sit ye down and break yer fast. I'll see to food for yer men, milord. Yer horses have already been taken care of by yer good retainers."

Evina put one shoulder under Cat's arm and struggled to raise her daughter from the bed. Fraser took one look at the girl and waddled to her side. “Here, let me help ye. My, but yer a sorry sight.” He lowered his voice to a whisper as he half-dragged the girl from the bed to the table. “That big man? Did he beat ye?"

Now seated at the table, paying no attention to what the man had said, Cat nodded. She filled her mouth with slices of deer meat, kept warm with a thick gravy. Her bruised lips labored to keep the gravy from sliding down her chin but lost the battle. She grabbed at a cloth and dabbed her chin with it but continued to stuff her mouth with food.

“Easy, Cat. Eat slowly so that it doesn't come up to haunt you.” Gerek glanced out the door to invite Baen inside to eat, but he was not there. As Gerek ushered the innkeeper out, he asked, “Where has my cousin gone? Do you know, the light-haired fellow?"

“Perhaps he went to eat in the big room or outside with your men. Should I call him?"

“Nae. We have enough food for us in this very room. I'll find others if I need someone to spell me."

“Aye, yer lordship. If I find the ones who are supposed to be with ye. I'll tell them,” Fraser said, bowing himself out the door and skittering down the hall.

Puzzled, Gerek watched him go. His intuition on high alert, he realized something was not right. He could sense it, but he had no idea what could have happened. Staying at the open door with one hand on his sword and one on his dirk, he guarded the room. The two women ate their fill. The lass stumbled back to the bed, half-asleep and her mother lay down next to her. Others would come to relieve him.

While he awaited relief, Gerek looked at the women with which he'd saddled himself, women who added more danger to that which already surrounded him. And what of the mystery of the girl's birth? Who could her father be?

* * * *

Baen accosted the innkeeper when he had retreated down the stairs. “Sir, have you some blankets that I might place upon the floor in the stable?"

Fraser jumped a foot when the man came out of the darkened hallway. “Aye, milord. Och, 'tis ye. Ye're wanted up the stairs by yer cousin. He's lookin’ for ye to eat some food."

Baen smiled. “He's such a generous man, always willing to share. I already ate with the men. I'll go up in but a minute. I'll need those blankets first."

Fraser stared at the man, suspiciously. “Aye. I'll get 'em for ye."

Baen leaned against a doorframe and spoke casually, “I'm sorry. Was my cousin a bit terse with you? Sometimes his temper rules his manners."

“Is that what happened to the lass? She's all bruised, with lumps coming up on her body even as I looked at her."

Baen smiled and said in a saddened voice, “Aye. She's been beaten. The poor lassie. There was no cause to beat her like that, but it was done nonetheless.” Through narrowed eyes, he watched the reaction of the innkeeper, who looked ill at the thought of a young lass being beaten, and still kept his eye on the door to the entryway. It would not go well if Niall discovered him having a private conversation with the innkeeper. “My cousin is always on guard for the slightest offense. He brooks no interference with what he wants done in an instant. He's a hard man."

“But to beat a poor lass like that takes a cruel man. What's he afraid of? His shadow?” Fraser gave a great belly laugh at his attempt at humor.

Baen laughed in sympathy with the man. “Nae. But when one runs from something, he has the right to be afraid."

Fraser's interest was peaked. “Afraid? That man doesn't look afraid of anything. Is he running from something?”

“Aye. How did you guess?"

The fat man patted his chest. “I've been innkeeper of this place for many years. All kinds show up here. Some dinna’ even know where they are. I can tell a man running from the law and I certainly had me suspicions of yer cousin. Who's he running from?"

Baen heaved a sigh of relief. The man had snatched the bait Baen handed him. “I need to know something before I tell you more. Are you Royalist or Covenanter, sir?"

The round belly shook with glee. “I signed the Covenant years ago and have been a good Protestant ever since. I always abide with the government."

Baen eyed the man and backed him into a corner of the dark hallway as if he were about to depart with a glorious secret. “I can't tell you. Might mean the death of my cousin."

“Ye can trust me, young sir. I'd never harm a patron. At least, not until I see his money in my fist."

“The man's the infamous Beast of Battle. Recently, at Montrose's hanging in Edinburgh, the Covenanters saw him. They've been chasing him ever since. You can't breathe a word of this to anyone. Do you hear?"

“Aye, laddie. Covenanters would be glad to get him. Other than Montrose, there's no other they'd rather hang. But I thought ye would want to protect yer cousin. What's he done to ye?"

Baen whispered his next statement. “He has done much to ruin the course of Parliament in this war. He is a terror, a blot on this land of Scotland, but you must not breathe a word of what we say here. Right?"

“Och, I won't if ye tell me not to do so."

Are there any government soldier around these parts?” Baen asked in a simple fashion.

“Not too far,” came the answer. Fraser tipped his head to one side as if considering. “But if I was to say somethin’ to the powers-that-be at the garrison not too far from here, I would be doing some good thing for me country, now wouldn't I?"

Baen laughed and slapped the man on the back in good fellowship. “See to those blankets. We'll want to roll up in them for a peaceful night sleeping on hay."

Fraser dashed off to get the blankets.

Minutes later, Baen heard the sound of a horse trotting from the inn. A moment later, Fraser was back with a pile of coverings a foot high. “Here ye go, laddie. I brought ye a bunch. Be sure to wrap up in them good, against the chill of the night."

With a farewell salute, Baen strode up the stairs, smiling. He knocked on the door of the room. “Gerek, 'tis me."

The door swung open. A deep voice grumbled, “Where the hell have you been? You were supposed to cover the outside of the door."

“There was no one about except for the innkeeper. I was only gone a moment. I saw the man bringing the food up to you, so I stepped outside, but I kept my eyes on the stairs."

“You damned fool. Stay alert, will you! Send the others up now.” Gerek stepped to the table. “Here's a plate of food Lady Evina fixed for you.” Knocking the blankets out of Baen's hands, Gerek shoved the plate into his cousin's hard stomach.

Baen wrestled it out of his cousin's hands and put it back on the table. “Och, I forgot. Blankets. Wrap yourself in one so the floor won't be too hard. See you in the morning.” After Gerek grabbed four of the blankets, Baen took the plate and left, his usual smile on his face.

Shortly after, Gerek heard Niall and the lad coming up the stairs, chatting away like old friends. As they reached the room, he tossed them two of the blankets. “If you two ate already, guard the door. According to the innkeeper, no other parties have claimed the room, so no one should be coming up the stairs."

Niall shoved a blanket at Quarries. “Here, laddie, wrap yerself in that and nod off. I'll wake ye, if necessary."

Yawning mightily, Quarries wrapped himself in a blanket, sat and leaned against the hallway wall. Slowly, his thin body slid into a prone position, a slight snore coming from his nostrils.

“That didn't take long,” Niall said.

Marcus, who had eaten in the stable with the Gunn men, tromped up the stairs. “How're me ladies?"

Niall greeted him with a drawn knife and gestured to the room. “Ye best be seeing fer yerself. And ye better explain yerself to the big man.”

As Marcus stepped into the room, Gerek swung his body around from behind the door and grasped Marcus by the throat. “We'll just sit down at the table and you tell me what you're doing with us.”

Marcus didn't seem surprised at the rough treatment. “The grub here is so much better than any I've had at Fairloch, I fear I ate too much."

“That's not what I'm interesting in hearing. What is your relationship to those women?” Gerek asked, gesturing to the two sleeping on the bed.

“I have been a servant to Mistress Evina and Fairloch since before she married that brute. Fairloch belonged to her and she lived there peaceful-like, not bothering a soul. MacFarr wrested it from her through deceit and chicanery. He forced her into marriage and she gave him two sons. That's when I left there."

“Had you always been a servant at Fairloch?"

“Nae. I had me own little croft in the mountains, but when Mistress Evina needed me, I came back to Fairloch. I gave me croft to Catriona's nurse Dara, fer Dara's lad and nephew to use fer sheep. I never went back. I've watched Catriona grow since she was a wee'un. Don't ye understand, man? The woman Evina needed me, and I have taken care of her the best I've been allowed."

“Do you know the story of Cat's birth?"

“I wouldna tell ye if I did. That's fer the women to settle, if they want to tell ye anything. Yer behavior has not been to me likin'. Ye treat Miss Cat too rough and I'll not stand fer any more of it, even though ye be years younger than meself.” Marcus shoved a leftover piece of meat into his mouth and stood. He glared at Gerek. “Ye hear me, laddie. None of yer guff to me ladies!"

Gerek's smile lit up his face. “Aye, you're right. I haven't been very kind, but I must do what's necessary to protect the women. You're a tough old man, aren't you? All right then. You'll stay with us and live out the rest of your years in Gunn country. Maybe even with a small croft of your own. Would you like that?"

When Marcus nodded, Gerek did, too, and decided to trust the man. “Listen to me, old man; I don't have a good feeling about tonight. I think something's afoot. Whatever happens, you'll take care of the ladies?"

“Aye. I be yer man, now. I pledge me fealty. Somethin’ I never did fer MacFarr. No matter what trouble ye be in, I'm with ye."

“Rest easy, Marcus. If I need you, I'll wake you."

“Aye, milord.” Marcus grabbed a blanket, wrapped himself in it and curled up on the floor near the fireplace.

Gerek paced the room, watching out the window, then turning and watching the ladies asleep on the bed. He wondered how his life with this feisty lass would be. If there was any way to convince her, they'd marry at Killearnan—before his birthday—and everything would be right with the world.

He was uneasy. Something was not right at this inn. The innkeeper was overly happy and sympathetic. And then there was Baen, who had disappeared for a time. Gerek was not unaware of Niall's distrust of his cousin. Although he had never given much thought to it, he did now. What if Niall were right, what then?

Chapter Ten

Cat had fallen asleep immediately after eating, her mother not far behind her. While the two women slept, Gerek kept a silent vigil near the window. He propped a wooden chair against the wall, wrapped himself in a blanket and dozed fitfully, his senses alert to the slightest sound.

Twice during the night he got up and cracked the door an inch or two. Quarries, arms akimbo like a bairn, lay in a deep sleep across the threshold of the door, the blanket softening his place on the floor. Niall was next to him, awake enough to signal that all was well.

Something troubled Gerek, gnawed at the base of his skull. Everything seemed much too simple and too peaceful now, after such a troubling day. He couldn't believe that Covenanters didn't roam this area. He had fought them long and hard enough to respect their resources, their spies and their troops. As far as he could tell, no warning had been given of their stay here, yet he expected the worst to happen. It often did when he was involved.

Take his bride. Who else could have been saddled with such a creature? Aye, she was beautiful, but all her passions seemed centered in fighting the world around her. Her name, Cat; how fitting! He heard her groan in her sleep as she turned in the bed. The bed creaked.

He came fully awake, his thought processes keen. Beside the noise from the bed, a quiet, crunching sound of a footpad on the roof alerted him to trouble. With his back to the wall, he tossed his blanket off, stood and listened intently. He moved on silent feet to the window, closed against the cool night air. Undoing latch and pushing the window soundlessly, he peered out a crack of the slim opening. A man crawled across the roof toward the bedroom. Darkness hid his features, but his body was silhouetted against a starry sky.

A low hoot like the call of an owl floated on the air. The man whispered. “Gerek! Are ye awake, laddie?”

Sims crept over the roof, one knee in front of the other, his hands flat against the thatched roof, until he was at the window. He tapped lightly. Gerek reached out, grabbed him by his collar and dragged him into the room before setting him on his feet.

“What the hell's going on here?” Gerek asked in a whisper, his hand still on Sims's collar. “Why are you crawling on the roof in the dead of night? What's wrong?"

“Covenanters,” Sims's rough voice was huskier for the energy he had exerted in his climb. “We have to leave here. Now!"

“Where are they?"

“In the courtyard, the front courtyard. That's why I came up the roof."

“How many?"

“Ten at least."

Gerek took stock of the two women. He hated to wake them, unless absolutely necessary. “How do I get them out of here, if there are soldiers in the front yard?"

Keeping his voice low, Sims gazed at him with disgust. “The same way I got in here. Through the window."

“The old lady will never make it. Where's the black?"

“Directly below. I'm coming with you, as will Parlan. Get Niall and that lad. We'll take the lass. Leave the lady to Baen. He'll think of some way out of all this. They're not looking for him, just ye. I heard them speaking to one another before they knocked on the door to rouse the innkeeper. They haven't see our men, never went to the stables. Parlan's hidden just beyond the back fence with enough horses and supplies. Except fer the black. We must move before anyone knows we're leavin'."

Gerek paused momentarily to totally clear his head. “Aye. Wake Niall and the lad. They're guarding the door. Get them in here before anyone sees them. Get them over the roof.” He looked at the bed. “The lady will have to take her time. She's not fit for heavy travel as yet. Neither is the lass, but she'll manage, I'm sure. I already informed her mother that she'd have to get to Gunn country with Baen and his men. She understands. We'll leave Marcus here to watch over her. He's a good man.”

He slid over to the bed and gently shook Cat's shoulder. “Lass, you have to wake. We have to go."

Cat groaned, rolled over and snuggled next to her mother, waving her arm in the air. Gerek tried again to rouse her. When she grunted over his advances and struck out at him, Evina woke with a start.

“What's wrong?” She asked when she spied the two men. She sat up and drew the blanket up to cover her as if she had been in her own bed.

“My compliments to you, Lady. You do not panic easily at seeing two men at your bedside."

She chuckled. “My mind listens throughout the night. MacFarr always saw to it that I was unable to rest for long spells."

Gerek moved over to her. “Remember what I told you earlier? My trip to Killearnan may be a very dangerous one. I cannot protect both you and your daughter. It is for your daughter's safety that we split up. You have to go with Baen."

Evina smiled at him. “Aye, lad. I remember every word. Do not worry about me, young man. Leave Marcus with me. He and I will whip your cousin into shape and have him escort me, as a gentleman should, right to your doorstep. Do not wake him now. Not until you've gone. We'll just wake my daughter.”

Niall and Quarries sidled through the room to the window, followed by Sims, who closed the door after them. Quarries and Sims went out the window onto the roof without a sound.

Niall nodded to Gerek. “We'll have to use the window. Otherwise we'll be seen by those who wait below."

Evina leaned over and shook Cat. “Catriona, you have to rise now. It's for your own safety

Cat's eyes flew open. She gasped and Gerek clamped a hand over her mouth. She slapped it away, but Evina held Cat's arms in a vise-like grip.

“Listen to me, Cat. It's Mam. You have to leave with Gerek now. There are other men here who would harm us if they found you here. You must go with no fighting. Listen Gerek. He'll take care of you. I will see you at his castle sooner than you think.”

Cat stared at her mother.

“Go now,” Evina ordered, removing her hands from her daughter's arms.

When Cat nodded, Gerek removed his hand from her mouth. She made a choking sound. “I don't want to go with you. I don't trust you. And I won't leave my Mam here alone."

Gerek looked at the girl with exasperation etched in his expression. “Cat, you have to go. If the soldiers find you, they'll bring both you and your mother back to MacFarr. Fate will seal you both in Fairloch forever. Cooperate or it will not go well for you. Trust your safety to me. Just once.”

“Trusting one man is as bad as trusting another. You and the father who is not my father are from the same side of a single coin.” She scowled at Gerek and in a husky whisper, said, “You are both beasts. One as bad as the other. I'll go with neither. That is my final word."

Evina stood by her daughter's side and glared right into her face. “Catriona MacFarr, you listen to me. Both of us must escape the doom that is about to engulf us. If you leave, I'll have a better chance to save myself from returning to Fairloch, where I shall die. I for one prefer this man to the one I've lived with all these years. Now get on your feet, hug me and be off through that window."

Tears raced down Cat's cheek, but she sat, unable to move. “Window?” She looked at her mother incredulously.

Evina gathered her daughter into her fragile arms. “Aye, darling. The window,” she whispered urgently. “There are men down the stairs."

Resistant, Cat moved from Evina's arms. “First, Mam, you have some questions to answer. If the MacFarr is not my father, who is?"

Her mother gave her a pitying glance, and then looked down at the floor. She trembled and a long shudder ran through her. “There's no time to discuss this now. At Killearnan, when I get there. You must leave. Now. Gerek will protect you. Go safely, daughter.”

Cat rose slowly, the tears coursing down her face, every muscle in her body protesting. She stretched and almost fell over. Evina caught her and threatened to hit the floor from Cat's weight.

Gerek separated them, set the mother on the bed, lifted Cat into his arms and stalked to the window. He turned. “Take care, milady. I look forward to seeing you again soon. Hide under your bed clothing. Be indignant if they wake you. We'll see you in Gunn country."

Niall sat on the roof, his arms ready to receive the girl, one foot braced against a bump, and the other curled underneath him. He reached up further and nodded to Cat. “Come, lass. 'Tis all right."

Cat stared up at Gerek. “The window?” She peered out. Her heart beat too swiftly. Her breath came in gasps. She feared high places. “Why not the stairs?"

Not responding, Gerek handed her to Niall and brought his massive torso onto the sill. He scrambled over, nearly knocking Niall and Cat down a few inches. “Niall, you go first. Give me the lass. I'll hold her between the two of us. She's frightened by the height."

“You don't have to speak for me. I am perfectly able to talk."

“If you must, then do so in whispers. I do not want to have us overheard.” He situated Cat between his legs. “Get on your belly, feet first. Do not take your eyes from mine. Quickly. We have no time to waste."

Cat complied. She flattened herself against the thatched roof and faced Gerek. Her heart beat an incredible tattoo. The Beast loomed above her like a giant bird, a cape trailing behind him. His intense look of concentration made him more fearful-looking than ever before and infinitely more attractive. What was wrong with her? Why was she thinking these thoughts at this moment? She shook her head to clear it. Looking up at him, she asked, “Why am I doing this?"

He answered promptly. “To go to a better place than you have ever been.” He held her under her arms. “I want you to inch your way down. With each movement, place your feet on Niall's shoulders. I will control your weight and your descent. When I nod, you are to slide down more. Each time do the same thing. Keep looking at me. When we get to the edge, I will hold you while Niall jumps off, then we'll go down the rest of the way. Do you understand?"

She nodded.

“Inch. Do you have a feel for Niall's shoulder?” She nodded again. “Good. Again, inch.”

She wondered if this nightmare would ever end. At each of Gerek's nods, she slid. The surface of the roof scratched her. She could see the edge out of the corner of her eye. What would she do when she got there? Gerek held her tightly, but this time she couldn't feel Niall's shoulder. She panicked and held Gerek's arms in the tightest grip she could.

“It's all right, Cat. We're at the edge. Niall has jumped onto the ground to get to his horse. Now we have to get on the black. You must let me go first. When I'm on him, I'll steady him and you come into my arms. Understand?"

She nodded, her eyes wide with fright. “How will I stay up here by myself? I'll slip. I know I will. I'm slipping."

“I'll slide you up my body. Lean on my shoulders. You'll only be by yourself for a second.” Gerek understood how frightened she was. He moved her parallel to him. The closer she got to his waist, the more short of breath he got. He couldn't believe he could get such a reaction when danger presented itself. Her warm body raked his as she moved up to face him. He bent down and slanted his lips on hers. Her lips were soft and moved in conjunction with his. “That was for good luck, lassie. My own special brand of luck.” When she drew back, he held her tighter until Niall hooted his owl sound.

He set her on the edge, her legs dangling over. He held her until he saw the black below. “Now, you'll have to hang on by yourself for just a moment until I'm on the black.”

He placed his hands on the edge, let go and shifted onto the horse's back, holding the horse between his knees and hands to dissipate the weight of his falling body. He eased into the saddle. The stallion never moved. Gerek peered upward.

“Cat. Move closer to the edge. Stay flat, on your stomach. Hold the edge with your hands."

Cat obeyed his every word. She hung over the edge, just her hands grasping the roof. “Now what?” The words came out in a croak. The strain on her hands increased, the pressure growing greater with every heartbeat. Every bone in her body ached.

“Let go. I'm directly beneath you. I'll catch you."

“I can't. I'm afraid. I can't do this. I just can't."

He spoke in a quiet, calm tone, his voice warm and sure. “Cat, listen to me carefully. I'm standing in the saddle. I can almost touch you. Ease yourself down into my arms."

She loosened her hands just a bit. She started to slip and her legs flew about, knocking into the side of the inn. They made a loud noise.

“Cat. I hear horses. Drop. Now!"

Cat let go.

Then she was in Gerek's arms and riding off out of the inn yard. Her body trembled from the danger and excitement of jumping from the roof, but it took only seconds to calm down and feel her body in tune to the horse's motion. She felt safe in this man's arms. For the first time in her life, she felt safe in a man's arms.

“Hold on. We're going over a fence."

She clutched his chest and tried to swing her legs over the saddle, but the pace of their flight was too fast. She could feel the black gather his body to take the fence. He picked up his speed slightly, rocked back onto his hocks, and in one huge leap, impelled himself up. He cleared the four-foot fence with room to spare, his forelegs tucked neatly beneath him. His front feet hit the ground and he galloped forward.

Four horses were on the other side of the fence. With a clatter, they galloped after the black.

Soldiers shouted in the front courtyard. There was a flurry of activity. Two men in uniform rushed upstairs, their heels making noisy crashing sounds on each step. One soldier shouted louder than the others. “Hurry. I heard horses in the back."

An answer came from another soldier. “They're getting away!"

A voice of authority spoke louder than all the rest. “Leave two of our men upstairs to question the ladies and their servant. The rest come down here. Mount your horses.” The pause, which came as the men mounted their horses, made the night eerier.

The authoritative voice shouted, “All up? Good. After them, men. Speed is essential. Move on! Quickly!"

Soldiers appeared around the front of the inn. The Covenanters took off in the direction of those who had gone over the back fence. The sounds of horses galloping ahead led the soldiers, but those fleeing were out of sight in the misty dark, despite the glow of a half moon.

Gerek and the black were in the lead. He could hear pounding hoofs of his enemies at the rear of the small group with him. He knew the black could outrun Covenanters, and most of his own band, but he refused to leave any of his men behind. He slowed his stallion and waited for them to catch up. “Listen carefully. We may get separated. We'll meet at the cottage on the loch, where you found me. We'll be able to hide there for a while. They'll never expect us to double back on our trail into MacFarr country. Follow me as best you can. Niall, whistle for Dubh. You'll need him. I have to see the lass to safety."

“Not at the expense of everyone else,” Cat begged. “Let's stay together."

“Lassie, don't trouble yourself. Niall can lead the group."

“Nae. We stay together. Please. We must. They'll need your arm if there's a battle. I know it.” Tears flooded her eyes and threatened to fall onto her cheeks. “Please.... Gerek.”

The soft tone of her voice and the fact that she called him by name moved him and forced his decision in favor of what she asked. “All right, lass. Calm yourself. We'll stay together.” He gave a low whistle, then turned to the rest. “From here on, no talk. Don't give away our position. Follow me closely. Dubh will track us and stay hidden from the soldiers."

Grunts all around confirmed that they would stay together, silently hereafter. Gerek took the lead again. The two men-at-arms, Parlan and Sims, sandwiched the young boy between them and Niall guarded the rear. Dubh followed.

The pounding of their hooves chased down the rutted trail, the black in the forefront of them all. They raced through the night, the breakneck pursuit giving them added energy.

Cat clutched the muscled forearms focused on the black's reins, praying for their escape. She felt warm and safe against this man's chest. As much as a lifetime of distrust could, the slight bit of trust in the man who held her gave her a sliver of hope for the future.

* * * *

Dawn broke in a deep hollow totally screened by soupy, thick Highland fog. Gerek's small band huddled together in a dense part of the forest. They had stopped, knowing the fog was their best defense at the moment. But silence was necessary. Communication was by hand signal alone, signals that could barely be seen. Unable to get far enough ahead of the Covenanters, who still chased them; Gerek could hear the sounds of their horses, going much slower in the dense fog.

Their pursuers were close. Each of the Gunns stood by his horse's snout, ready to stifle any sound the trained warhorses might inadvertently make. Niall held his own and young Quarries’ horse.

Gerek kept one arm around Cat's shoulders and pressed her body to his to keep her warm. It was torture for him. She had shivered constantly once they had slowed their pace in the darkness, yet her body was unnaturally warm. He leaned down to whisper something directly into her ear. His hot breath against her ear caused her teeth to click.

Gerek put his thumb in her mouth to still the noise. When her lips closed around his finger, a shot of heat raced through his body to his loins. He pulled her in closer but slowly withdrew his thumb. Her attitude had changed toward him. He saw it in the way she looked at him. It was probably due to her being sick and needing care. Totally at a loss as to what to do about it, he merely whispered, “Stay calm, my lady,” and kissed the top of her head.

* * * *

Nearby, just at the beginning of the thick forest, the Covenanters searched for the band they had been chasing for hours. With no notion of the stealth necessary to catch the fleeing party, they shouted to each other.

A hearty voice called out. “They can't be far. They weren't that far ahead of us an hour ago."

Another answered him. “Oh, no? They were keeping a mighty pace, from what I could tell from where I sat. I'm tired."

The hearty voice registered his superiority over the other by shouting, “Well, I think they went to the left at the fork a mile or so back. There was another trail there."

A youngster proclaimed, “I bet they went toward Edinburgh, hopin’ to lose us in the crowds. That's what I would do."

The man who had issued the orders in the front yard of the inn, the militia's captain, shouted at all his men. “Don't be fools. They'd be stupid to double back on their trail. They just came through MacFarr country, or so one of them told Fraser. That fork would have led them straight back to MacFarr's and from everything I hear, the old man is a devil against trespassers on his land."

The man with the hearty voice spoke up again. He was an old soldier, who'd been through many battles, some against Gerek. “Let's look in the woods hereabouts. There are enough of us to take them. There were only five or six of them. I couldn't tell. Surely eight of us could manage them."

The captain's harsh tone transcended all the others. He bellowed, his face red with rage. “Against the bastard Beast. I think not. If he's gone this way, let MacFarr's men deal with him. I for one surely don't want to. I'm for heading to Edinburgh. I, too, believe that's where they'll go. And if nothing else happens, we'll have a night on the town."

The Covenanters looked at each other, surprise registering on their faces.

The captain shouted to his men. “Come, men. Let's go. This way.” He turned and started down the road back past the inn.

Rowdy cheers followed his orders. The thud of hoof beats faded into the distance. They got further and further away. The men started a disorderly song in the name of good companionship.

* * * *

Young Quarries started to move when the song receded. Gerek laid a hand on the lad's arm and hissed, “Cease!” Niall and he tipped their heads and continued counting for the fifth time.

Niall spoke first. “I counted eight. That's all of them as far as I can judge."

Gazing at his mentor, Gerek allowed himself a small chuckle. “You always could count horses quicker than I could. And you're right. Eight in all.” He took the reins of the black and looped them in his hand. “Nevertheless, let's continue slowly, on foot, and as silent as possible. Keep our voice low. I don't trust those men. There was one of them whose voice I recognized. He's an old hand, likely to figure out, eventually, that we've doubled back."

Niall smiled. “I taught you well, didn't I?"

“Right. There was too much noise for my way of thinking. As if they were trying to ease us out onto a trail. We'll wait."

His mentor nodded in agreement. “We'll keep to the woods. I saw a flash of silver not long ago, just before dawn, when the moon slid in front of those clouds. That means we're not too far from the loch. What do ye say, Parlan?"

Heavyset Parlan gestured in the direction of the water. “Aye, old man. Let's head for it. That way, to our right. They certainly wouldn't expect us to go swimming.” He took up the reins of his animal and headed him toward the loch.

Sims, Parlan's boon companion, smiled and sighed. “I could use a swim. 'Tis massive dirty I am."

Niall put his finger to his lips. “Not yet. The danger's not over, for sure. Let's proceed quietly through the woods. We'll follow the loch like we did before to find Gerek."

They all grunted to indicate agreement and looked to Quarries, to be sure he understood the plan. The lad's face pressed against his gelding's long snout. Both their heads drooped. The boy was sound asleep, standing up and leaning on his horse. Sims reached over and pinched the animal's neck. The gelding drew back and Quarries slipped to the ground

Niall accorded the lad's actions a crooked grin. “Here, one of ye take the lad's horse.” He lifted the boy and placed him on his own horse with more force than necessary. He gave him a little shake.

The boy rubbed his eyes and looked around. Disoriented, Quarries cried out, “Where am I?"

“Keep yer voice down, son. Ye're with the Beast and his lady. Ye remember, the people from the inn.” Niall grinned at the lad.

Quarries’ eyes enlarged until they were like two beacons in a small pointed face. His mouth fell open. He gasped. “The Beast? The Beast of Battle? I'm wi’ the Beast of Battle?"

“Aye, lad. Unless you'd rather go back to your sheep, you're under my protection.” Gerek moved over toward the lad, and, at the same time, hoisted Cat onto the black. Her head bent and rested on the horse's neck. His arms felt empty and cold.

“The bastard Beast of Battle,” Quarries murmured to himself. Then he clutched his head between his hands. “Me Da always said I'd wind up in trouble."

Niall patted him on the back. “Ye're in no trouble, son. Ye're under the Beast's protection, so he'll guard ye with his life. I wouldn't worry, boy. Trust."

Quarries examined Gerek studiously. He couldn't turn his gaze from Gerek's face. “I never thought I'd see the likes of ye. Why did ye not tell me who ye were when I asked to go with ye?"

“Would it have made a difference?"

Quarries thought for a moment. “Nae. I would have gone anywhere to get away from those sheep.” He paused and looked at Gerek shyly. “Am I a member of yer troops, now? Should I declare me fealty?"

“If you like.” Something in Gerek's demeanor softened. “Aye, but I'll be expecting big things from you as you grow and instant obedience when we're in trouble. Do you understand?"

The boy clapped his hands together once, then clasped them together in a tight ball. He slid off Niall's horse. He jumped up and down several times, without making much noise. He twirled himself in a circle until he got dizzy. He dropped to his knees and clasped himself around his middle. “Och, but I'm havin’ me a grand time. The adventure of me life. Aye, Beast. I give ye me loyalty for now and forever.” He stood and staggered to his horse. “I'll walk wi’ the rest of the men,” he stated proudly. He grabbed his gelding's reins and pulled him up to Niall. “I'll walk a spell with ye."

Gerek saluted the two. “Niall, I think you found another child to foster."

Niall acknowledged the thought by placing one hand on Quarries’ shoulder and his other on his horse's bridle. The two followed Parlan and Sims toward the loch. Gerek touched Cat's thigh to see if she were awake and moved behind Niall.

“I think the lass has fainted dead away. She's bad off, Niall."

Niall nodded as the group moved silently and carefully in the thick woods. The fog began to lift in sporadic fashion. One moment it was clear, the next it covered their bodies in a fine mist. Huge trees gave way to smaller ones and deep underbrush. The loch gleamed a sparkling bluish-gray and shone through the trees, but it was still a long way off. Slowly, they moved toward it.

Gerek glanced up at Cat. Her eyes were closed, form seemingly relaxed. The shivering had stopped. He threw his cloak over her to shield her from the mist. Now, her body gracefully followed the motions of the horse, swaying gently with each step the black took. “Are you asleep, Cat?"

All she could force from her lips was a murmur of acquiescence as she fell forward onto the black's neck again. Her arms and legs dangled over the horse's sides, keeping her in balance. Exhaustion showed on her face and every line of her body.

Gerek hissed to Niall. “Och, Niall, she's about done for. She's feverish as well. We have to get her where she can rest and get back some of her strength, or we'll never get her back to Killearnan in time to meet with the king at Donoch Firth. He'll just have to cope with his advisors by himself. We'll reach Killearnan as quickly as possible.”

He wondered how he was going to do that with this lass on his hands. He'd have to get her well enough to travel, much less well enough to marry. And if he were ever to be Gunn, he needed to consummate their handfast, an action he looked forward to with bated breath.

“To the cottage, men,” he called. “Remount. We need to get there quickly. We have to get Cat's fever down."

Chapter Eleven

The small group of Gunns followed the sound of the rippling loch that had lulled Cat into a sound sleep. Gerek, now astride the black, kept her cradled in his arms. By the time they reached light at the end of the dense woods and rode into the meadow, the sun had hidden under a white cloud.

In the few days since they originally left the cottage, much had changed. The meadow had reached its promise of flowers blooming. It was a myriad of colors set against the dark green of the forest, the blue-green of the loch and the brilliant blue of the sky. To Gerek it seemed totally different, not as he remembered it.

He dismounted and scrutinized the area. Nothing moved except the water of the loch, which kissed the distant rocky shore with silvery waves of blue. Content that the cottage remained uninhabited, he took the reins and walked alongside the black. Dubh, who had found them in the forest, walked sedately at his side, his long neck moving in a way that indicated he, too, watched for unwelcome movement.

Cat, who had just awakened, sat drooping in the saddle, head resting on her chest, exhaustion lining the purple bruises on her face. Slowly her head tipped to one side, followed by her shoulders. Her entire body listed to the right and fell from the saddle. With a bounce, the fall stopped abruptly as she landed in Gerek's arms, unable to raise her head. Her arms and legs dangling in a decidedly feminine and sensual way, not entirely lost on the man who held her.

Gerek marched across the meadow in great strides and called over his shoulder. “I have to get her into the cottage. Niall, bring the boy. He needs rest, too.” He turned at the door of the cottage. “We'll talk of security measures in a minute. Let me get her onto the bed.”

He bent to the dog. “Dubh. Get the black.” The dog turned on his heels and, at a steady lope, went back over the blossom-filled field.

Quarries lay back on his horse's rump, sound asleep, his feet stuck out in front of him, unconsciously holding on to the horse's neck with the tips of his toes. He had given up walking midway through the dawning and allowed his horse to pick its way over logs and around trees and rocks that projected up from the forest floor. He slept through it all.

Niall handed Sims the reins and lifted the lad from the tired horse. “Hang on, laddie,” Niall said, tossing Quarries over a broad shoulder and setting out after Gerek. Calling over his shoulder to Parlan and Sims, he said, “Unsaddle my horse and the lad's. The black, too, if he'll let you. If not, I'll do him. Let them graze. Keep yer two tacked. Ye may need them.”

Parlan and Sims, holding the reins of all the horses except the black, shrugged, obeying Niall's orders swiftly. Then leading their horses and holding all the tack, they walked to the cottage to await orders from Gerek.

Herded by Dubh, the black moved into the meadow, stopping to graze on attractive edibles. A sharp whistle brought his head up and he trotted straight toward the sound, his reins flopping against the saddle where they been tied. The stirrups bounced freely against his sides. The deerhound kept pace with the horse, reacting to the same whistle with the same amount of intensity.

In the cottage, Gerek placed Cat on the corner bed. He grabbed one of the crumpled blankets still on the bed and drew it over her. He placed another under her head. “Rest easy, lass. I'll be back when I've secured our safety.”

Niall stood in the open doorway, with Quarries on his shoulder like a sack of flour. With a single tip of his head, Gerek signaled Niall to put the lad on the floor near Cat. He threw a dusty cover over him. “Let's go outside. To look around. Dubh, stay. Guard.”

The two men ducked under the doorframe and strolled into the blazing sun. The deerhound draped his long body across the door's threshold. Gerek lifted one arm to shield his eyes from the glare of the sun on the water. He stood still for a short while. The other horses loose in the meadow, Parlan and Sims had trouble holding their own mounts. Carrying all the tack on their shoulders, they moved with Gerek into the shade afforded by the bulky stone wall of the cottage.

“Toss the tack in the cottage, in a corner somewhere. Dubh, move. Let them in.” Gerek sat on the ground, crossed his legs in front of him, leaned back to stare into the distance. Turning to Niall, he said, “We need to deploy our small force. Let Parlan and Sims take one area, you and the lad when he's rested, another. Dubh and I will guard the cottage and this end of the property. What would you consider the best places for lookout?”

“We'll need men up on that escarpment across the loch. From there, you can see for miles. Parlan and Sims best go there and hide in the trees near the edge. The lad and I will cover the wooded area on the right side of the meadow,” Niall said. “But I don't like it. We'll need to spread ourselves thin this time. I don't like being that far from ye and the lass.”

Gerek considered Niall's ideas, concurring with a brief grunt of acceptance. “The lass and I will stay in the cottage with the dog. We'll be safe enough with Dubh to guard us. We'll act the part of crofters, in case strangers wander by. The clothes we had earlier are still here.”

He looked at the two men now standing before him, calmly holding their horses’ reins and awaiting his instructions. “Sims, Parlan, I appreciate your coming with us and I'd appreciate your further help.” He watched the two men, trying to read something from their rugged features.

Parlan gave a quick smile. “We're Gunn men. We stay."

Sims nodded and got down on one knee. His light hair fell onto his face; he leaned his elbow on the knee and looked Gerek straight in the eyes. “As far as I'm concerned, ye're our Gunn. I pledge me loyalty to ye at this very juncture."

Parlan watched the proceedings, his barrel chest pushed out further. He scanned the area before getting down on one knee. His face was red as if with embarrassment. “I declare me fealty to me new Laird, chief of all the Gunns."

Gerek lowered his head. The grave and subdued sentiment the men displayed surprised him. “Aye, lads. I'm touched, but I'll not be Gunn until I convince that girl-child in there to marry me. And don't sell my grandfather short. He'll want everything right and proper before he'll let me take over. You know that.” He smiled at them. “First things first. We need to secure this whole area. Lord knows what may come next. How about you two going up the escarpment and staying near the trees? You'll be able to see for miles on end and still keep out of sight. On the way, figure a route to get you to the cottage fast, if need be."

Parlan spoke first. “We'll find a place where we can jump off the cliff in relative safety, horses and all. If someone comes, we'd surprise them coming from that side across the loch."

“Aye, that we will,” Sims added. “One of us will hunt or sleep while the other watches. It'll work. We'll report back once a day, somehow."

Gerek nodded, relieved that these trustworthy men would help to guard the premises. “Och, then it's settled. Parlan and Sims will take the escarpment. Quarries and Niall will handle the woods and keep an eye on the meadow. Dubh and I will guard the cottage, the horses and the lass."

Niall yawned and stretched his sturdy body before standing. “'Tis done then.” He moved out into the sun. “I dinna’ think we'd see the sun again. Between MacFarr and the Covenanters.” He bent over and pulled up a blade of grass. He shoved it between his lips and chewed on it. “As soon as the poor lass is able, we'll travel. See if we can get as far as the Martins within the next couple of days.” He yawned again. “Lord, I'm ragged meself. I'll just take off for the woods. Should I take the lad with me now?” He gave Gerek a knowing nod.

Gerek smiled at his old friend. “Nae. I'll send him to you when he's gotten some sleep. You'll need to teach him how to go about the woods without making so much noise. He doesn't know, I'm sure, but if I'm any judge of his character, he'll be eager to learn.” He turned back toward the cottage, then paused to look at Parlan and Sims. “Before you leave, take whatever provisions we left in the cottage. Any fit to eat. Be sure to scout the cliff area before you settle in."

The two men scavenged in the cottage and returned outside quickly. “There's not much there. We'll leave it for ye and the girl. Besides, that damned dog eats more than most full-grown men. We'll hunt up there."

Gerek pointed to the edge of the loch. “We left some things down by the loch so they would stay cold. If no animal's gotten them, they'll still be there. Search for them."

Parlan and Sims hooked onto their horses’ reins and moved to the loch. They walked along the edge until they came to a package wrapped in hide and tied to a tree. They lifted it out of the water, unwrapped the moldy contents and shook their heads. Sims shouted up to the cottage. “It's bad. We'll find fresh game later.” Tossing the package way out into the loch and climbing onto their horses, the two rode off past the cottage to what looked like a trail and started the long trek up to the top of the escarpment, which overlooked everything.

Niall lowered his voice before he spoke. “The lass. Treat her gently. She's been much abused. By men, I venture. Ye be kind."

“Niall, you know I'll not abuse her. I have never abused a woman in my life. I just don't trust them with important things, but neither will I let her bury me in violent diatribes about her situation. She lied to me. I do not forgive that easily."

“You lied to her to protect yourself. Perhaps she did the same. Give her a chance. She won't lie again, I'm sure. 'Tis done. She has nowhere to go but with us.” He scowled at Gerek, turned and walked toward the woods. In the middle of the meadow, he stopped and called over his shoulder, “Leave those horses loose. Let them graze. I can catch them quick enough."

“Aye.” Gerek watched Niall pat two of the horses as he passed them in the field. Niall moved to the black that pranced about from the moment the man put a hand on the bridle. Given a sharp slap on the neck to quiet him down, Niall was able to remove the saddle. The horse refused to stand still and nearly ripped the bridle off by himself. When he was free, he roamed the perimeter of the meadow and quickly herded the other horses into a group.

Gerek shook his head as he bent to reenter the cottage. When the black neighed his commands to the others, too loudly, Gerek ordered, “Dubh, go. Guard."

The huge deerhound bounded from the cottage straight for the horses. He circled them, emitting low barks until they were quiet and began to graze in companionship. Gerek observed for a brief moment but when the girl groaned in her sleep, he turned back into the cottage.

He stepped over the small lad lying on the floor near her and put a hand to her head. She was warm. Stretching over the lad, he took the bucket from the floor where it had been thrown in their earlier haste to leave. The sleeping pair did not move, and except for the small murmurs that came from between the girl's bruised, distended lips, were quiet. He decided not to disturb either one.

He stepped back over the lad and walked down to the loch. While filling the bucket, he looked over the area again, this time to plan an escape if one was needed. He looked up at the cliffs and saw a light-colored piece of cloth waved in the breeze. Good, the lads were in place. Relieved, he signaled back and trudged up the hill to the cottage, with the bucket in hand.

Once inside, he lit a fire in the fireplace. When it caught, he lifted the lad, who never stirred, and placed him near the hearth, away from the blaze. Gerek swung a chair from the table to the small bed in the corner. Bringing the bucket over, he snatched two cloths from a hook. Wetting one and wringing it out, he placed it on the girl's forehead. With the other piece, he bathed some of the dirt still left on her arms and legs, then washed her face and neck.

They were handfasted under protest, neither wanting to become entangled with the other. What would he do with a woman who lied? He'd seen too much in his thirty years, of liars and governments; he had never been comfortable with liars. Would he have to give up his dream of being Gunn because of this lass? No, he decided. He'd marry her as soon as they reached Killearnan. That way, their future would be secure. Even as the thought it, he wondered if that was all he wanted from life. He couldn't believe that so much had happened in such a short time. He wondered what nature and life had in store for them both. He looked down at her.

Even with the swelling and discoloration from her bruises, she was beautiful, but that's not all he wanted from life. He wanted more—to be loved, admired and respected by the clan, to set right the wrongs heaped upon his mother.

War no longer appealed to him. He was tired of being the Beast. He thought about the mountains around Killearnan where the air was sweet and the living, although hard, was safe and secure. Weary of rehashing things in his mind, he stood and set about preparing for a few days’ stay at the croft.

He spent the afternoon alternating between bathing the lass to keep the fever down and fishing for their supper. After the horses grazed quietly, Dubh returned to his side and followed him for the rest of the afternoon.

Dark descended quickly, as it did in the Highlands. He was exhausted. The horses seemed content to graze through the night. He went to the door. “Dubh. Come.” When the dog bounded through the open door, Gerek pointed to the floor. “Down. Guard."

The dog settled quickly. Gerek took a blanket from the cupboard and wrapped himself in it. He lay on the floor beside the bed. Before he could turn, the dog nestled next to him, his ears up, alert. “Och, but you're a devil, my friend."

The dog was his third deerhound related to the Dubh poisoned from food meant for Gerek, shortly before Gerek was fostered. Each animal had protected him with the same fervor as the original and garnered the same devotion. Gerek swung an arm around the animal and closed his eyes, secure in the knowledge that if anything were wrong, the dog would protect him to the death.

Night slid down to the loch. Darkness and dense mist settled on the backs of the horses, as they too lay down in the field, content now that their bellies were full. Within minutes, everyone slept except Niall who dozed in the woods, one eye opened, alert to every nuance of the night. The soft glow of the flickering fire in the cottage pleased him.

“Everyone is safe, for the moment. But for how long?” Some instinct told him that things would not go easy for the two young people in the cottage whose lives were irrevocably tied.

* * * *

Dubh growled, low and deep, a warning. Gerek sat up, completely oriented to his surroundings. The dog nudged his back; Gerek leaped to his feet, dirk in one hand and sword in the other. He listened, his head tipped to one side. The only sounds heard were of the girl thrashing in her bed covers and the snores of the young boy sleeping by the fireplace. He inched his way to the door, his dagger ready to plunge into anyone who entered unannounced. Dubh moved in front of him and pressed against his leg, pushing him back toward the bed.

“What do you want, boy?"

Dubh put his muzzle into Gerek's hand, then took the hand into his mouth and pulled gently. He dropped the hand to pad over to the bed. He nudged the girl. When she didn't respond, he began to pull the blanket off.

“All right, boy. I'll be right there,” Gerek said. He could barely see Dubh in the dim light from the dying fire. Something's wrong, his instinct told him. He moved to the fireplace and threw several logs onto the coals. They caught quickly and filled the room with light. Quarries leaped to his feet, dazed. “What's all the light? Is it morning? Where am I?” He glanced around, rubbing his eyes.

Gerek patted his shoulder. “It's all right, laddie. I just threw logs onto the fire. I need to see clearly."

The lad's mouth hung slack. His gaze darted about the room. “Are we under attack?"

“Nae, lad. I need to look at the lass. She's thrashing about."

“I'll help ye. I'm good at this. Been taking care of stupid sheep most of me life,” Quarries mumbled, staggering over to the bed. Dubh growled and would not let him get near the girl. “Call off yer dog, milord."

Gerek grinned at the defiant dog and the equally stubborn lad. “Easy, Dubh, it's all right. This lad will not hurt the lass. He only wants to see what's the matter with her. Sit.” The dog disobeyed a direct command and stood in front of Cat, who twisted and turned, calling out in her sleep.

“Are you that intent on protecting her? Well, let me have a look.” Gerek marched over to the bed, but the dog still didn't move. The closer he got to the lass, the more the dog's hackles raised. “Don't be smart, fellow. I need to have a look here. Move over.” He pushed the dog out of the way and put his hand to the girl's forehead. “Lord, she's burning up.” He yanked on her arm to waken her.

“Mam. Mam. I need Mam.” Cat twisted from his grasp and called out. “Mam. Please, help.” She sat up in the bed, swung her arms about, tried to rise further, but her legs did not obey her. She fell in a crumpled heap.

Quarries howled in fright. “She's sick. I'll go get Niall. What's happened to her? Will she die? Did ye hurt her again, milord?"

Gerek stared at the wild-eyed boy. “I never hurt her, lad. I have to get her down to the water to cool her off. It's the only way I know to get fever down. Quarries, go to the woods and tell Niall what is happening. Be sure to whisper Niall's name or he'll strangle you, thinking you're the enemy. Tell him I will be at the loch and to keep guard. Be careful of the horses on your way over."

“Aye, milord,” the lad said, scurrying from the cottage. Gerek watched him dash across the meadow, dodging the horses as he ran before disappearing into the forest.

When Gerek saw him enter the far woods and knew Niall would take care of everything, he turned back to Cat. “Och, Catriona. You're sicker than you know. Don't worry, lass, we'll have you cool shortly.” He lifted her into his arms and placed the blanket around her.

In that moment she came to life. She struggled, rotated in his arms and beat at his face and shoulders. She kicked out her legs. “Don't touch me. Put me down. You're hurting me. Let me go."

He held her closer and ducked beneath her blows. “You have a fever. If we don't get it down, you'll get sicker. Have faith.”

With her still in his arms, Gerek marched out the open door and down the worn path to the loch. The mist settled on his shoulders and head. The air smelled sweet and clean after the smoke from the fireplace and the dust of the blankets. He took a deep breath.

Cat twisted in his arms. “You're going to throw me in the water like before. Please don't. I won't be able to swim. I'm too tired. I hurt too much. Och, please, please, leave me be! Let me die!"

He held the girl gently and looked down into her purple and blue swollen face. “Catriona, listen to me. You cannot shout. Someone might hear you, someone who may not be a friend. Trust me. I'll not throw you in the water this time, I promise. No one is going to help you any more except me....”

Cat moaned, as if she were sleeping still. Slowly, her head rested against his chest. She didn't move anything but her lips. “How can I trust a liar?"

“The same way I'll have to trust you. Enough, lass. You're feverish."

He took the blanket from around her and laced it around a tree limb further up the slope, where it would stay drier. He shucked his clothes and left them at the side of the tree trunk. When he removed her clothing, Cat fussed and fidgeted, her fever making her incoherent. “Easy. I have to get these clothes off you. If they get wet, they'll never dry in time for us to move on. We can't stay here for long. Men are out looking for us.”

Cat pushed his hands away. “Stand me up. I can undress myself. If you're going to ravish me here, so be it. I'll not stop you. Take your pleasure."

“Ravish you? In your condition? What must you think of me?”

What did Cat think of him? She really didn't know or understand. Few females had ever discussed men with her. She could only judge by MacFarr, her two brothers and the reputation the Beast had gotten in the courts of Europe. The way men acted, all women were sluts, to be used for their convenience.

Gerek stared at Cat, whose red hair shone pink in the moonlight. He was insulted. He had never taken an unwilling woman and he disliked being accused of such. Och, the girl was sick, that's all. “I'd not be taking you here if I were given a choice, although 'tis a perfect night for love-making. You need to be cooled off, not made warm. Just be quiet and let me attend to what I must.”

She had put the idea of lovemaking into his head. Until that moment, Gerek felt in complete charge of the situation. Now, she had him on the defensive. He had no intention of bothering her sexually in her present condition, nor would he take her against her will. If he had his way, he'd make her want him, but not now.

He pushed her hands away and slipped off her shirt. A light chemise concealed her breasts. He slipped her trousers down her legs, surprised that she had some sort of lacey garment beneath them, noticing how shapely they were. Leaving her undergarments on so no accusations would come back to him, he moved forward.

His bare feet touched the cold water of the loch. He shivered but walked into the water to his knees. Her warm body had made him ache for something he understood all too well. The coldness of the water brought him back to earth.

Her gasp as ripples of the cool tide touched her dangling legs and rump bothered him. She'd probably think he was torturing her. Easing his body down into the water, he pulled her in with him. Her slender body trembled in his arms as he waded to his waist, and then lay on his back in the water. Gently, he placed the girl face down on his bare stomach and floated with her atop him. With each flutter of his feet to keep afloat, he pushed water up onto her body with his hands.

When she didn't exclaim in anger at the coldness of it all, he assumed she had passed out. Grateful that she no longer fought him, he sculled about the loch, trying to stay as close to shore as possible in case they had to leave hurriedly.

Her skin was like molten silk. The water flowing over and about her pointed up the lush curves in her body and made heat in his. He tried to concentrate on the coldness of the loch and wondered if this had been a good idea. But there was no other way to break her fever. His muscles tensed with the effort he put forth not to react to her obvious charms.

To keep her head above water, yet clear it of all the blood and dirt, he stood and turned her on her back. He rinsed her hair in the loch, until he could smell the fresh scent of the water in it. The rise and fall of her breasts and her feminine shape turned his fancy to thoughts better left for another time, but he let his hand caress her as he placed her atop him again.

Her short hair tickled his chin and he shifted her higher up on his chest. His nipples rose and hardened from the movement of the lass when she stirred. He was in an agony of desire. For an hour, the torture of her shapely, warm body kept him in a frenzy of sensual awareness. He was thankful that the water was cold, because he wanted this woman, wanted to make her confident of herself again, to make her soft and comfortable.

He wanted to bed her.

Gerek propelled her around the loch, dousing her body until he felt the heat leave her. When she seemed cool, he headed straight for the shore. His feet touched rough stones and the sand of the beach; he stood and stretched. He lifted her and stripped her of her wet undergarments and noticed that some of the swelling had gone from her face.

He stared at her. Her breasts were round and firm, the nipples erect from the cold water. Instantly, he hardened and stumbled up the slope to the blanket. He wrapped her up in the bulk of it and took a corner of it for himself.

He patted her face and kissed her temples, muttering soothing words though he knew she couldn't hear them. “It will be all right, lass. The future, that is.” The cool night air would benefit them both, until dawn broke over the escarpment and necessitated them going back into the cottage. Gerek was asleep within minutes, Cat wrapped tightly in his arms.

Dubh, who had followed them out of the cottage, watched while they were in the water. Now, he lay down beside them, ready to guard.

* * * *

The next morning, Niall found them fast asleep in each other's arms, with sun pouring down on their limp bodies. He wondered what had gone on during the night but knew it was not his business. He reached to shake Gerek, who threw off the blanket and leaped to his feet before the hand came all the way to his body.

Niall chuckled but grew serious. “It's good to see ye so alert, friend. Do ye always run about in daylight in yer all together?"

Gerek looked down at his naked body. “Shh. Don't wake the lass. Her fever raged last night. I paddled around in the loch for what seemed like weeks, tossing water onto her.” He stretched.

His every bone ached from the strain of repressed desire and trying to stay still last night, and he wondered how Catriona might have felt. He hated to wake her, but he had to get her back to the cottage before everyone saw her naked body. He tossed the blanket closer around her and lifted her. “Lord, she's a feather. How could a grown man beat such a girl?"

Chapter Twelve

Sunlight streamed through the window of the croft and bounced off the whitewashed walls, waking Cat, who had slept well into the morning. Her aching arms and shoulders forced her to moan each time she moved and touched a sore spot. Her muscles smarted as if they were on fire, but she felt better than she had the day before. She yawned, then stretched lazily before opening her eyes.

The sun's glare stunned her with its radiance and she closed her eyes against the brightness. Rolling onto her side, she groaned but reopened her eyes a little bit at a time. Her gaze fastened on a furry shape that lay curled at her feet, yet hung off part of the bed. She recoiled in surprise and inched her feet away, afraid to disturb the huge hairy animal, who opened an eye then closed it.

Easing herself to a full sitting position against the back wall, she noticed that several of the deeper cuts on her legs, where edges of the chains had caught her, had ulcerated and oozed a noxious substance. The open sores needed cleansing. She swung her feet onto the cold dirt floor and pulled the piece of a blanket not under the dog over her shoulders.

Dizziness assailed her. She bent at the waist and held her head in her hands until the whirling passed. A slight fever kept her body warm. She recognized where she was but had no memory of how she had arrived there. A familiar whistle sounded in her head and she saw the creature on the bed move, head up, alert. The animal jumped from the bed without glancing at her, and stretched its long body, back end in the air with the tail waving, its head resting on its front feet. He yawned, his mouth the size of two large hands.

“Why you're only a dog. I don't know what I thought you were.” Cat giggled with relief. Lifting her head slightly, she addressed the dog again. “How did you get in here? Are you the same dog that I saw once? Where are you from?” She put her palm out for the dog to sniff and heard the sharp whistle again. The piercing sound triggered something in her memory, something unpleasant, but she couldn't think what.

Ignoring the whistle for the moment, the deerhound moved toward her hand. First it sniffed, then licked the fingers with its huge, moist tongue. Dubh gathered several fingers in his mouth and tried to pull Cat to her feet. Once she dragged herself upright, he padded over to the closed door, where he sat staring at her.

Her body felt as if it were filled with pine needles, each one sticking into some part of her, and she clutched the closest wall, nearly falling in the process. When she didn't move any further, the dog ambled back to her, took her fingers and again pulled her toward the door. “Och, for sure. You want to go out,” she said, staggering to the door and opening it wide.

The hound scooted out into the sunny yard, in a direct route to a tall man who stood between the cottage and the meadow strewn with colorful flowers. The man watched the dog leap across the field. Once the dog reached his side, he turned and waved. She looked behind her. Had he waved to her? She thought she recognized him but couldn't remember where she had seen him last.

Clutching the doorframe for support, she saw the man talk to the dog, then head toward the cottage. She hurried back inside, closed the door with a loud bang and collapsed on the floor, dazed and weak-limbed. The door opened and the man from the meadow filled the doorway, then ducked beneath the frame and blocked the light from outside. She stared up at him. Never had she seen a man so much larger than herself, except a friar, or rather a man dressed as a friar. Were they the same person? Aye. Nae. Her mind careened with thoughts that passed as soon as they entered.

She tried to place the tall man, but her eyes refused to focus on any one single attribute. Everything was fuzzy. He did have deep-set gray eyes and short, shiny black hair. She looked in puzzlement at the broad, well-muscled chest, with its tufts of dark hair. His shoulders had huge, tightly rounded tendons. His waist tapered to narrow hips and his legs were sturdy.

She had a vague recollection of her legs around this man. Nae, around a friar. The implications of such actions were beyond her thoughts at the moment.

“Who are you? Where have you come from? Is that your dog? Whose horses are in the meadow?” She hesitated for a moment, looking at him with fever-filled eyes, then repeated, “Who are you? What am I doing here?"

Seemingly surprised at this spate of questions, Gerek moved to her. “What you are doing on the floor is unknown, but it seems I continue to pick you up from that spot.” Lifting her easily, he gently deposited her on the bed. “You're ill, feverish.”

He bent and touched her forehead. His hand and fingers were cool, which triggered an odd memory of paddling around in the loch. Nonsense, she thought. She struggled with her mind, trying to clear it from the haze that covered it. “Are you a friar?”

“Nae, lass. Do you not remember our association?”

She shook her head, producing a light-headedness that nauseated her. “I don't think I know you. Do I?"

“Aye. You know me. You just don't remember right now. That's probably best. Unfortunately, your memory will return soon enough, I'm afraid.” He reached over, picked up a blanket and wrapped it around her. “Och, it is back to the loch you go. You're still too warm for comfort.”

Long, sinewy arms lifted her from the bed. She wanted to scream, but her strength gone, she sagged in his embrace. With her head resting against his chest, she was carted down the dirt and rocky slope to the loch. “What are you going to do to me?” She struggled and tried to lift herself as memory returned fleetingly. “Are you going to drown me?”

“Nae, lass. I only want to get your fever down."

“How did I get a fever? What fever? I have no fever."

“Aye, you do. Still too high for the traveling we'll be doing.” He removed the blanket from around her and flung it over his arm. “Now be taking your clothes off to keep them dry.

“What?"

“Be taking your clothes off. You don't want them wet. They might not be dry if we have to leave. I think riding naked would be harder than swimming bare. You'll need dry garments for riding,” he said, bending to help her.

Cat slapped at his hands. What was this crazy man doing to her? If he thought he was going to undress her, he was mad beyond reason. She tried to slap his face. All he did was turn his head from her. She kicked at him and he held her away from his body but kept the blanket around her. She scratched his neck in an effort to free herself from his grasp. The closer he got to the edge of the loch, the more frantic she became.

“Struggling will do you no good. The cool water will take the heat from your body. Get rid of your bruises. Those oozing cuts and all the swelling. Your body's fighting its own fevered corruptions. You have to help cleanse yourself. It'll refresh you."

Cat gasped when he started to lift her shirt over her breasts. “What do you think you're doing?"

He smiled at her. “If you won't do it, I will. Your clothes must come off. If you like, I'll leave on your under-garments to avoid embarrassment."

She socked him. His head swung backward from the force. With one arm holding her in a bent position, he ripped the shirt from her back. “Enough of this perverse modesty, lass. Your father told me you were not chaste. Disrobing should not be any problem."

The very mention of her father shocked her into quick submission. Her father. Angus MacFarr! He was not her father. She didn't have one. MacFarr had told her he was not her real father. “I have no father. I was exiled, then disavowed."

“You do remember some things, I take it.” He looked down at her. “Undress,” he ordered.

Cat grabbed the blanket from his arm and tossed it on the ground in a defiant gesture. Laughing and crying at the same time, she slid from his arms and fell to the blanket with a loud groan. She knew she was acting like a madwomen but couldn't stop the outburst. “I have no father. No father that I know. But I do not belong to the MacFarrs.” Her speech stopped abruptly. “Lord-a-mercy, I'm a bastard."

Gerek stared at her while removing his trousers. “Aye. Like me,” his voice reverberated in her direction.

“Nae. Not like you.” She gasped. “Now I remember. You are the Beast, the Beast of Battle. The man the MacFarr wanted me to marry. But we fooled him, didn't we? We didn't marry, did we?” Noticing his pants were off, she looked away. No response came. “Well, you didn't trick me into marriage, did you?"

“Nae. We handfasted, pledged for a year and a day. And whether it means anything to you or not, lassie, it does to me. You are my responsibility. I consider my responsibilities very seriously. And now, we are going to do something about your fever."

“I can't swim today. I don't have the strength. I can't even move from the ground here. Just leave me here to rest awhile. Then I'll be fine.” She laid her head on a thin patch of grass above the blanket and curled up in a ball.

Gerek leaned down and grasped her arm. He tried to pull her to her feet but she stiffened her body. “That will do you no good, lassie. You're going in the water. We can't stay here long and that fever needs to be gone.”

Holding her down with one hand, he undid the skirt he had found in the cupboard. He had dressed her in it when they returned to the cottage in the early morning. Now, he laid it on the patch of grass near her head, hoisted her up close to his bare chest and marched into the loch, trying to propel her through the water, until his feet no longer reached bottom. He held her body up before sliding onto his back

She lifted one arm, then the other. Her strokes were long but without strength. Her legs wouldn't work enough for a hard kick. “I can't. I can't do it,” she gurgled, beginning to sink.

“All right, lass. You've convinced me.” Her body was limp; her fingers gripped the flesh of his arm. He pulled her fingers off and slid her onto his stomach, much as he had done the night before. “Easy does it, Cat. You must be well enough to ride out of here with us. We need to get to Killearnan. We'll be safe there.” He spoke in a soft, soothing manner calculated to relax her, but the echoes of each word, spoken in his deep, resonant voice, beat against her breasts.

“I don't want to leave, to go anywhere. Not even to your stronghold. I want to be free. I want to be with my mam. To find my real father.” Exhausted, she laid her head on his chest. “I want my own home. Some place that's mine, mine alone."

“And you'll have that. 'Tis my promise to you,” he said in the voice that penetrated her bones. “And I keep my vows. We'll marry at Killearnan. That will be your home."

Cat sighed, long and deep. “I don't want your home. Or your promise. I want to be left here. Alone. Except for my mam.” She looked at him, her eyes pleading with him as she said, “My mam. I want her returned to my care. Together, we'll find my father."

Gerek stared at her. “We are handfasted. We signaled that in a ceremony before your kin and mine. What would your mam think if you went back on your given word?"

His last comment stopped Cat. “I don't remember giving my word.” She wondered what her mother would think of this behavior with a man. She let her arms hang on each side of his body and turned her head so it would rest on his broad chest. Water lapped at her face and hair.

Mam believed in truth and honesty to oneself. She believed that once a vow was made, it should be honored at all costs. In the years before Cat's banishment from Fairloch, her mam had often said that she stayed with the laird because a promise made was a promise to be kept. Mam never claimed to love MacFarr, but she maintained his household, remained at his beck and call and took care of his children—

Another concept came hard upon her. Had her mother loved another? My real father, perhaps? Cat's mind was muddled from her fever. She closed her eyes and drifted off into a troubled sleep.

Gerek floated in the water, thinking about the young woman that lay on top of him. A strange creature. At once a fury, then again a plaintive, sorrowful woman-child. She had a woman's body, slender but curved where necessary, and those wonderful eyes that turned from a light amber to a dark copper, depending on her mood. Most often they were the color of the fine wines he had in France when he accompanied Montrose to raise money for the Royalist cause. But when angry—and she certainly was a feisty creature, hard to handle, difficult to convince—those eyes turned the color of fire.

Having seen for himself the brutal treatment she had received from men in the MacFarr family, Gerek realized he'd have to be patient with her, but patience was not one of his strengths. He was accustomed to giving orders and having them obeyed without question. How would he ever be able to contain himself ... when this lass opposed him in such grievous degrees? He'd lose all the respect his men had for him if he catered to her whims.

Since no one is around to see right now, I'll do as I must. Gently, he splashed water over her head, rinsing out the caked blood he'd been unable to see last night. As he cleaned, the sun turned the strands shinier. They gleamed a burnished deep red, so like the hair of many of the Keiths he had known.

What was he to do about that? Everyone in the clan would assume that he had handfasted with a Keith, especially after the Gunns who were at Fairloch told the story of her not being MacFarr's daughter. Actually, he rather liked her vibrant and breathtaking coloring. It was not at all like the pale look so fancied by women of the European courts.

He surprised himself. He wanted this ferocious woman, but he knew he'd have to earn her respect somehow. As he had learned in the courts of Europe and on the battlefield, anything won easy in life was often not worth the trouble. If she were going to be a challenge to him, he'd accept it and win.

His clan believed in marriage and all its vows. Few Gunns ever handfasted. How was he to explain that? And the worst of all, what was he to do in the future about his growing attraction to this long-limbed child?

The bundle pressed against his frame shivered. He realized she was now far too cold so he sculled toward the shore. When his heels touched ground, he stood, holding the girl so she wouldn't slip to the ground. He wrapped her in the blanket and let her rest on the ground while he slipped into his trousers. He grabbed her clothing from the grass and strode up the slope to the croft. Pushing the door open with his bare foot, he placed Cat on the bed, still wrapped in the blanket, and threw another blanket over her.

He turned to leave, but she grabbed at his hand with both of hers. “Don't leave me."

“You're awake.” He smiled at her, a cozy bird snuggled into her nest. “Lass, preparations for the long journey to Killearnan await me. I have people I'm responsible for, and horses. Food must be stocked. Horses worked and muscled up for the long haul to Gunn country."

She looked at him quizzically, as if deciding what tack to take. “If you're to be my man as you have said, then don't leave me now. I'm fearful. I need someone near.” She stared at him, long and hard, before turning to the wall, her back to him, her face flushed with embarrassment. “Go then. I don't care. I will not beg."

“You don't have to beg me. Anything you desire, 'tis my job to fulfill, if at all possible.” He pushed her closer to the wall. “Move over.” He lifted the second blanket, lay down on the bed beside her and tried to take her in his arms.

She shifted away, turned onto her back and put her hands against his chest. “What are you doing? I didn't mean in bed with me."

“Lass, I'm not going to stay in this cottage, by this bed, and watch you sleep when work needs to get done. We're handfasted and I have rights, which I will not pursue until you're better."

“You'll have no rights with me unless I say so.”

“Your fever will come back if you continue to fuss so.” Gerek turned on his side, his back to her and glared at the rest of the room, his annoyance churning inside him. He waited to see what she'd do now. She did nothing, said nothing.

Speaking matter-of-factly to the cottage itself, he announced in a sonorous voice, “I've never forced a woman in my life and I have no intention of beginning with a battered, contrary child. You're safe, Catriona. Besides, you are far from attractive at the present moment. Perhaps, when your bruises and such are gone, you'll shape up better and want to be more of a woman."

“Why, you...."

“Sleep. That's what you need. That's what we all need and that's what I'm going to do in short measure."

Cat grumbled something under her breath.

“Cursing again?” He yawned, then gave one loud whistle. Within seconds, Dubh appeared in the doorway, followed by the black stallion. “Dubh. Guard. All."

The hound growled at the horse, which raced back into the meadow. Dubh settled his body in the dirt before the door. He leaned his snout on the sill and stretched the rest of his frame out in an arc, front and back paws touching.

“Good dog. Good afternoon, missy."

Cat didn't answer. He could hear her even breathing and assumed she was asleep. With slow, steady movements, he turned toward her. Her eyes were closed, each breath soft and regular. He tucked an arm under her shoulder and arranged hers over his bare chest. Gently he kissed her closed eyelids. “No doubt you'll be the end of me, but for now, sleep secure, lass. Know that soon you'll relinquish that tight hold you have on yourself. And I'll be there waiting for you.”

If she heard him, she made no response.

* * * *

Accustomed to sleeping outdoors with his men, the warmth in his upper torso choked Gerek. Heat traveled from his thighs to his shoulders and created a sweltering band around his chest. Am I dreaming? He wanted to throw the blanket off but it was wrapped tight beneath him, choking the very breath out of him.

Something tickled the underside of his jaw. He blew at it but it returned to tickle him anew. He stayed still, alert, conscious of every sound. His eyes opened slowly, and he peered through the narrow slits to check the inside of the cottage and his own body. What he saw shocked him.

The lass! She had wrapped herself around him; her face snuggled into his neck. Soft, fragrant breaths caressed his skin, her hair touched his chin, and her head nestled on his shoulder. One arm rested along his right side, the other draped across his bare chest, fingers clutching his left arm, as if she were fearful of letting him go. A black and blue leg lay across his thighs. Breasts pressed against his ribs, causing him to take short breaths.

The delicate tissue in his groin tightened and his stomach tensed in response. He grew hard, something he wanted to avoid. Lord, she made him ache with wanting. Annoyed at his own lack of control, he struggled to rise without disturbing his bed companion. She twisted closer to him, grew tense as if dreaming about something unpleasant and dug her nails into his forearm.

He pried her fingers loose and stretched the hand out, massaging it in hope of relaxing her. She groaned in her sleep, followed by an elongated and unexpected moan. The sound set his uncontrolled sensual side on edge. Even now, the heat in his groin and its rigidity made him very uncomfortable. The combination forced him to turn onto his side, away from her.

Pressed against his back, her slender fingers now curled around him and hung over his chest. He took her hand, held the palm open and placed a soft kiss in its center. The fingers responded instantly by closing around the site he had kissed. He knew he shouldn't continue, but the seductive enticement cuddled against him tempted him and overruled his conscience. Taking her palm in his, he straightened one finger after another. He deposited another kiss in the area of the first.

This time he heard a slight gasp behind him. She tugged and tried to pull her arm away. “Easy, lassie."

The response came more swiftly than he expected. “Easy? Shades of darkness! What do you think you're doing?"

“Loving my lady, I thought."

Cat sat straight up in the bed. She sputtered. “Loving? What would the Beast know about such a thing?"

Her reference to the Beast made Gerek's anger erupt. “I didn't say I loved you, just that I was about to be loving you."

“Like the beasts in the forest, no doubt."

The unfair accusation was thrown at him as if she were waiting for another response. “Aye. Like the beasts in the forest. Does that suit you better?” His slow, rich voice shook the bed, but he turned his head to watch her reaction.

Cat looked down at him from her perch at the head of the bed. Her mouth pursed into a sarcastic sneer. “Nothing about you suits me. Not your person. Not your reputation. Nothing about you.” Cat stood, her back against the wall. She tried to step over him and leap to the floor.

His hand shot out and grasped her ankle. He flipped her in the air, seized her waist, and she tumbled back on top of him. They were face to face. “You're positive. There's nothing about me that suits? Is that it?”

One arm kept her pinned to his chest. He stared into her face. “Is every single gesture worthy of a battle in your eyes?” He didn't wait for an answer, but continued in an irritable tone. “Catriona, why do you persist in this charade of rejection? What do you expect to gain?"

Words burst from between her lips in a snarl. “I hate you. I've hated most of the men I've known. They punish the women who count on them. How many have you killed in your battle to fame and fortune? How many did you kill before you deserved the name by which all of Scotland calls you? Can you recall any or some or all? How many?"

Gerek took a deep breath. He would have liked to shake her, so she could regain control, but there was more involved. The words themselves meant nothing to him. The movement of her lips caught his attention. He wanted to take command of her warm breath, her unnecessary shouts, and her ridiculous temper.

He grasped her by the nape of her neck and drew her toward him. His intention was to chastise her in a voice similar to the one she used with him. But her arms, which she had stiffened and secured to the bed on either side of him, kept him from pulling her closer. Her head dropped from the pressure she exerted to keep her arms locked. Her pouty lips grew closer. They teased him beyond measure. All he could think about was how they might taste. Her hair brushed his face, sending a breathtaking message. Closer and closer the lips came. He had to touch them with his fingers, lips, tongue.

“Don't you dare lay a hand on me,” she warned. She pressed against the hand on her neck that slowly, inexorably pulled her closer. “Don't you...."

He touched her lips lightly with his middle finger and rubbed them in a feathered touch across her whole mouth. She inhaled deeply, then exhaled in one exertion of movement. Her arms wouldn't hold her away from him. He raised his head and their lips met, strangling the words she was about to utter and claiming her breath. The meeting was so soft and slow.

Gerek barely touched her lips, wanting only to taste; but the situation reversed on him. He rubbed his lips gently over hers. At the same time he unlocked her elbows and she crashed onto him. He held her close. “Now, was that so terrible?” He turned his head slightly and covered her mouth with his own. He kept his kisses soft yet dominant.

Within minutes, she stopped resisting and gave herself to the kisses. When the tip of his tongue touched her lips, he hesitated, drawing the tip slowly from one side of her closed mouth to the other. He nipped the center of her bottom lip. She opened them slightly and drew in air. Using his tongue, he ran it to the corners of her mouth and then to the inside of her upper lip. When her tongue met his, he groaned and held her closer to him. He rolled her over but kept his grip secure. He kissed her mouth, drawing a response from her, and trailed kisses down her neck to her shoulders. His tongue caressed the same places.

Cat was acutely aware of him. The warmth and security she felt in her sleep was gone now. New sensations claimed her. Her body radiated heat, but she didn't feel feverish. What was he doing to her? She had been kissed before by lads at Stoneleigh. In fact, a half-grown horse groom had tried to continue a kiss beyond what was appropriate, and she had screamed. The horse master ran over and slashed at the lad with a whip, before sending him away in disgrace.

Never had Cat been involved in the kisses she'd received. It had been as if she were standing on the sideline and watching to see if anything untoward would happen. They hadn't affected her at all. This was something totally different.

She lost control the moment his fingers skimmed her mouth. Her lips moved back to his as if drawn by some will of their own. She moved ever closer to some concept she didn't truly understand. Nor did she understand what was happening to her when she grew overly warm. Each time his lips touched hers, he sucked all the energy and breath from her body. It was as if she had been waiting for this for a long time, even if she didn't know what it was. She paid close attention to everything he did, but, instead of watching from outside herself, she was feeling. Anger slipped away. She was mesmerized.

One elbow pushed into the hay mattress kept him slightly above her. He loomed over her. His eyes had turned a dark smoky gray and gazed at her from lowered eyelids, at once enticing but frightening. Cat pulled in a breath each time he kissed her neck and shoulders. Shivering but unable to keep the sensations from being unnoticeable, she moaned. The sound embarrassed her, yet, with eyes closed, she searched for his mouth. Her fingers touched the sides of his face. Only when they found their target, cupped around his lips, did they still.

He turned and kissed each one individually. Every touch tickled and she wanted to close her hand. The stimulation intensified, became heated. His whiskers grazed her fingertips. She sought his lips and pressed her mouth to his. Her arms crept around his neck. A sigh escaped from somewhere deep inside of her and she moaned.

They lay facing each other. Every angle of his body was taut with passion. Each of his muscles seemed to move in a rhythm. His hardness pressed against her thigh. Her body grew warm and seemed not to have a single muscle in it. She was liquid fire. She wanted to cry, to scream, to tear at his body until he came closer to her. She couldn't seem to get enough of him, big as he was. The lower part of her stomach snarled in protest for something to fill it. She was awash in the fever of the moment, and she was dizzy with wanting.

She reached for his lips yet again and wound her arms tighter around his neck as she inched closer, pulling his body to cover her own. Her legs were weighted down by one of his, or she would have opened hers. Short breaths emanated from her mouth. She couldn't get enough air into her lungs. She felt as if she were drowning.

In a quick movement, Gerek ran a hand down her body and cupped her behind to meet his hardness. Cat moved away. His other hand caressed the side of her breast with gentle searching. Her nipples hardened and stood firm. With warm fingers, he circled one nipple with a tender stroke, then kissed it. The feeling was so exquisite, Cat thought she might die. She wanted him—wanted something from him—but didn't know what to tell him.

Gerek leaped from the bed. “Is there still nothing you like about me?"

Cat couldn't believe her ears. What was he saying? What was he doing? Had she done something wrong? He had made her want something inexplicable and now he turned her away. He was a bluidy beast after all! All her defenses went up.

A chill washed over her body and her mouth curved in a sneer. “I will repeat. There is nothing about you that I care for. Your manners are crass and uncomplimentary. But I expected nothing more from the likes of you.” His smug smile grated on her. “Why don't you leave and go about getting things ready for our journey? Then I won't have to look at you."

He frowned and his head cocked to one side. “For an unchaste maid, you are singularly unschooled in the art of loving. Your response was fine, but you have not the slightest idea of how to continue. You have much to learn, my dear."

Cat's reply flew out of her mouth before she knew what she was saying. “Not from you, dear sir."

“You'll not be learning from anyone else while you're handfasted to me. You're my responsibility now and my possession."

“I think not.” Cat lay back on the bed. She clasped her arms at the back of her head and yawned. “Why don't you go make your arrangements while I rest a while? Remember, I must be fit to travel."

Gerek stared at her obvious posturing. “You'll be fit enough in the morning. We'll leave by dawn.” He stamped across the cottage to the door.

She shouted at his departing figure. “Begone, you fool.” His head nearly hit the doorframe but he ducked. “That's what you are, a bluidy fool. A clown!” Cat flopped her body on the bed so she no longer faced the door. Tears came to her eyes and she let them fall to the bedcovers.

He turned to go out, but before he tripped over the hound in the doorway, he poked his head back in. “You'll harbor those words for a very long time, I'm sure. Just remember that I am the Beast and you are my prey. Keep it in mind,” he said, stepping over the dog.

She swung around and gave him a smug smile, which made him scowl more than he already had been. His scowl contented her for the moment. “Do not expect to return to this bed tonight,” she said, still smiling, although her heart was broken.

Gerek looked at her and a hearty laugh burst from his huge body. “I have no intention of doing so. I intend to remain with my men this evening. I'll send the boy, Quarries. He'll sleep on the hearth. And Dubh will guard you, so don't think of running away."

Cat heaved a long sigh. She had baited him to hurt him as much as his actions and words had hurt her. “I have run out of hiding places. You and my so-called father have seen to that. I have no place to go. Your Killearnan is as good a place as any other.”

He glanced back at her. “Running away is what you do best. No doubt, you'll try it again someday. A liar can't be trusted."

“And well you should know,” she called out.

Gerek moved from the doorway and headed across the meadow. He whistled shrilly. Both the dog and horse came in instant response to his command. “That's the way a woman should be.” He slipped a hand to the hound's head, hunched down and held Dubh's head between his hands. “Och, poor fellow. What have I gotten us into? A fine mess, I think.” He leaped onto the horse bareback and headed for the wood where Niall and Quarries waited “Niall,” he called. “Come. We must prepare.”

Having jumped up from the bed and run to the door, Cat watched him cross the meadow at a furious pace. It should have made her feel better to know she angered him, but it didn't. She heard his whistle and saw the animals go to him quickly and joyfully. She wondered if he expected that from her. If he did, he was sure to be quite disappointed.

When he leaped onto the stallion's back and disappeared into the woods, her heart began to pound. She was frightened. Why? Didn't she want him to go? Had she really wanted him to stay with her? To complete what he had started in her? To break the tenseness in her and let that secret part of her come to the surface?

Her heart lifted when she saw a figure come out from beneath the dense trees. He was coming back. The joy she felt was indescribable. Then, when the person waved to her, she realized it was young Quarries, with Dubh beside him. He was headed to the cottage. Gerek said he would send the boy, but she had hoped he would change his mind and come back to her.

Tears clouded her eyes. What had she done? Would she never do anything right? Emptiness filled her. Other than her mother, then Mag, there had been no softness in her life. Not even during her exile at Stoneleigh. She had learned to stay as quiet as possible and live with her loneliness. Yet, for some reason, she felt safe with the man others feared. His goodness toward those he cared about, his innate sense of honesty, touched her deeply, but she had accused him of lying. It was verbal retaliation, but how could she explain this to him? With her experiences, she didn't have the right words.

Chapter Thirteen

Gerek did not return to the cottage that night. Instead, he and Niall busied themselves in the meadow and woods, in preparation for the next leg of their trip. Parlan and Sims came down from the escarpment in response to a specific, fluttering whistle. They gathered at the croft before dawn, packing supplies, discussing the possible routes and secure places to camp out.

At a signal from outside, Quarries, who had risen early and watched from the doorway, turned back into the cottage. He moved to the bed and shook Cat gently. He tossed her clothing on top of her. “Milady, ye have to be risin’ now. Everyone's ready to leave."

Cat groaned and, realizing that she was almost bare, she grasped the clothes laid out on top of her and dragged them under the covers. She struggled but managed to clothe herself somewhat respectably, tossed the covers off and looked around. “It's still dark. Where do they think they'll be going at this early hour?"

A huge grin lit up Quarries’ face. “We'll be going to the Gunns with milord."

“He's not your lord yet, laddie."

“Aye, he is. I willna work for another. Never. Just the big man and ye.” Quarries hesitated. “Well, maybe fer Niall as well. He's a good man. Good to me.” He hesitated again and puffed out his chest. “But 'tis to the big man that I give me allegiance.”

Cat smiled, but wondered how Gerek instilled such devotion from followers. “Well, it's nice you feel that way. I give my allegiance to no man on this earth. Just my mam."

“Ye dinna? Why not? Did he beat ye like that? Bruise yer whole body?” Quarries asked, gazing at her yellowing bruises.

“Nae. I'd kill him if he did. 'Twas the man who called himself my father until a few days ago. He cursed me. Said I wasn't his. I'm glad I'm no kin to him."

The boy's expression changed with every word Cat said. He smiled. He grimaced. Finally his mouth became a large gaping hole. “Och, ye pour, pour lassie. 'Tis a terrible thing when yer own father takes his anger out on ye. Me da did it to me. He left me mam, stole me from her and sold me to a sheep man who worked the fat off me bones. I dinna’ remember who me da was.”

Cat smiled down at the young boy and patted his head. “He did wrong by selling you, but you're better off now.” She chuckled, then said, “I don't know who mine is either, so we're even."

“'Tis all right.” He shrugged and rushed back to the doorway. “So, ye're a bastard. Like me and the big man. That's good,” he said, his back to her.

What was there in the Beast that this youngster saw and she didn't? Why was the boy so taken with him? “You know about him?” Cat asked, moving to the bucket of cold water sitting on the table.

“Och, aye. Niall spoke to me. In the way of a lesson, I s'pose.” Quarries shook his head up and down several times, an old man's dignified expression on his face. “Told me all about him, not wanting me to have any ... what did he say? False impressions. Besides, being a bastard doesn't hurt a good man,” he said, leaning out the door, his hand on the hound.

His remark caught her by surprise. His attitude was so adult, she could barely hold back her grin. “You're quite the little philosopher.”

“I don't know what that is, milady, but if ye say I am then I will be,” he said.

He stood just outside the door, looking at the men and horses in the meadow. Cat knew he was anxious to get to the men, so she said, “Quarries, why don't you go out to help? I have to throw things into a sack, then I'll be out. You go ahead."

Only half the words were out of her mouth before the boy left, his legs pumping as he rushed across the field.

She laughed at the boy's antics and went about preparing herself for the trip. By the time she donned the shirt and trousers and left the cottage, sack over her shoulder, everything was in readiness for the journey. Everyone was mounted except for Niall, who took the sack from her, tied it to the back of his horse and remounted. There weren't enough horses for all of them, so she assumed it was intended that she walk. It was what her brothers and MacFarr would have made her do.

Gerek settled himself further back on his saddle. “Lass, here.” He slung his arm to one side and opened the palm of his hand.

Surprise caused Cat to step back. “Am I supposed to ride with you?” She stopped.

Gerek grimaced, believing she refused his offer. “The others are carrying the supplies the men put together for the trip. Ride with me, Cat. I'm good at protection."

Still smarting over his not returning to her last night, Cat snipped, “Aye. We must protect the Beast's mistress, at all costs. How else will the man become Gunn?"

“Lassie, must I dismount and pick you up? I'm fully capable of it. And you're slowing us down. Come over here and take my hand."

Cat made a face, almost stuck her tongue out at him, but she marched over to him and raised her arms. “As you command, milord.” Gerek bent down and grabbed her around the waist. He hauled her unceremoniously up onto the saddle and sat her in front of him.

The instant Cat sat down, she felt the heat of his loins. She hadn't wanted to get this close for it triggered a response from her. He made her feel as if her body didn't belong to her. She wondered what kind of a hold he had on people. His men adored him. His horse, the deerhound and the boy did. What was wrong with her?

Gerek nodded to Niall, who started off down the trail. They went in the direction of Fairloch Castle. Cat had a momentary bite of fear, but they turned off to go up the small path that led to the escarpment, each man looking in all directions, on guard.

She sighed. Life would start all over again for her. Perhaps worse than the life she'd had during her first eighteen years. Tears dribbled down her cheeks and she wiped them with the sleeve of her shirt. Would the Gunns show her any affection or treat her as an outsider? Perhaps they would treat her as she had been treated at Stoneleigh, with the contempt a scullery receives. Would she find any peace there? Any happiness? Frightened, she shivered but leaned back against the man who held her lightly in his arm.

* * * *

Earlier that week, Baen had left Evina with a neighboring clan, claiming she needed to rest before making the trip to Killearnan. She argued with him in her desire to be reunited with her daughter. When Baen promised he would return the moment her daughter arrived at Killearnan, the neighbors prevailed upon Evina to stay until she was completely recovered. It was only a matter of days, they all had insisted.

Upon leaving Catriona's mother to recuperate, Baen and his band of ten hurried home to Killearnan. After another set-to with his grandfather, Baen was forced to leave Killearnan with only five men, under the guise of picking up Gerek's trail and escorting him and the girl to Killearnan. He picked five men whom he considered his most supportive, and convinced them to help him search for his cousin's party.

Baen had taken note of the men's reluctance to leave their firesides and lied, “We must escort them to the castle. It would not look proper if no one turned out to greet them. There's been enough controversy over his appointment."

Now, at a stone outcropping deep in a Highland glen, on the outskirts of Gunn country, the small band sat cross-legged before the low campfire. Until Baen formed a plan and something to tell his grandfather, they would go no further. Along with the constant motion of the flames, the plans Baen had in store for Gerek flickered through his mind. When he found a flaw in one, he revised it.

Also, he was not positive that all the men here would stick with him. He deemed them loyal to him but was unsure how they'd conduct themselves if faced with Gerek's prowess with the sword; Niall's as well. Would they be with him to fight the man declared to be the next Gunn? He shook his head and resigned himself to do the deeds alone.

Now he stared at them. Half drunk on ale, they were sprawled around the fire, laughing, joking and relating wild stories, mostly untrue. Their laughter irritated him.

“Don't you men have anything to do except gossip and tell lies like a bunch of old crones?” He stood and kicked at the fire.

Burning coals flew in the direction of a heavy-set young warrior, who leaped up from the campfire. “What else would ye have us do at the moment? We'll no’ find Gerek in the dark. He knows these Highlands better than any of us.”

“Aye. He does for sure, but he'll not travel at dark. Not with the lass,” said the oldest member of the group, Earnan—a man who had lived with the Gunns for years, and a man who had no loyalty to anyone except himself. Earnan had lived on the bounty received from men he supported, and he carefully evaluated every situation before jumping in with support. For now, Baen suited him; but that could change.

“You know nothing about him. You arrived just when Gerek was sent away in disgrace because of that mother of his.” Baen stamped around the periphery of the fire, his hands behind him, his head down.

“Aye, but I've heard stories,” Earnan countered, a wicked grin turning his grizzled face into mass of wrinkles. “The stories about him have traveled all of Scotland like wild, ragin’ fire."

Hearing the man's words, Baen filled with anger. He resented anything complimentary said about Gerek, whether in jest or otherwise. He stared at Earnan. “What stories have you heard, old man?"

Earnan cackled. “Ones about his daring boldness on the battlefield. And his manliness in the bedchambers of high and mighty lasses throughout Europe. Everywhere he's been, so some say. 'Tis said he's quite a swordsman with the ladies, as well as in battle.” With another sharp cackle, he looked up at Baen and slyly added, “Not unlike yerself, me young friend."

Baen smiled to allay any of the men's suspicions. “Aye. I've been known to dip my sword a few times, too. And I'm as good a swordsman as my cousin."

Earnan resumed his place at the fire, elbowing others out of the way with his thick arms. “Och, of course ye are, laddie. Come from the same stock, ye do. Nice, sturdy stock, too. And ye have more finesse in yer dealings. I imagine yer cousin to be a bit rash at times.”

Baen nodded, but for some reason, the man's speech didn't satisfy him. In fact, it chilled him, made him uncertain. He shuddered slightly, but disguised it in stamping around more, in disgust. Nothing turned out to his advantage, the way he wanted it.

The smoldering bitterness he'd always felt toward his cousin intensified when he was left to escort the ailing Evina, while the others fled and eluded the soldiers he sent after them. Everything delayed his plans, but he would make them work. Damn him, if he wouldn't.

And now, he and his men were still in Gunn country. They had searched every road and glen along the way, gone up mountains and into glades. This time of night they could go no further, for the thickness of the fog prohibited it. Instead, they camped out, ready to discuss the next day's plans.

A young man of twenty spoke up. “And the big man isn't even married yet, only handfasted. Ye know the Gunn willna approve."

Earnan looked at him from under bushy eyebrows that hid the expression on his face. “He'll wed at Killearnan. 'Tis easy enough to do. It'll be nice to have a wedding feast, a celebration."

The words rubbed Baen raw. “We'll barely have time to prepare one. He must be married before his next birthday. That's only a month away, and who knows when a priest will arrive in the area to conduct the services?"

One of Baen's closest companions, a stringy man named Mik, who leaned against a boulder, his eyes shaded by his arm, grumbled, “How the hell long do ye think it takes to make a wedding for a man who has already tasted the fruits? He'd be smart if he didn't marry her. She's used goods."

Baen laughed as if the comment were funny. “Wait until you see the lass. She'd fill your eyes with pleasure. He'd be a fool not to wed her. And lose the chance to be Gunn? I think not."

“Then we'll just have to get rid of her somehow. If he doesn't marry, ye'll be Gunn. I'd rather have ye as leader than him. For all his reputation and fancy titles,” Mik said. He spit into the fire for emphasis, the coals hissing in response. “Och, hell, it were a thought."

Baen smiled stiffly. That thought was something he hadn't even considered, but the idea was certainly worth thinking about. Get rid of the lass. He lowered his eyelids. “Well, no matter. What will be, will be.” He stirred the fire with a stick and seated himself at the head of the small circle. “We still have to plan for tomorrow. Should each of us go separately, as we did today? Or should we stick together in a group for safety? I want to find their party."

Mik yawned. “We'll be off Gunn land within an hour of travel. I think we'd be better prepared as a group."

Earnan added his comments. “We'll be limited in the amount of territory we can cover if we stay together."

Mik swiveled around onto his stomach. “So what? We'll be more protected together. 'Tis stupid to deplete our small force when we're going into regions not our own. Do ye want to get killed, man?"

Baen jumped in before an argument erupted. “You're both right. The vicinity for searching will indeed be limited, but we'll be better off as a tight knit company. Not many will attack six strong men unless they have a much larger group. If so, then we'll have to talk our way out of trouble."

Earnan cackled, loudly this time. “We'll let ye do the talkin’ fer us. Ye're a smooth one for that, laddie."

Mik agreed with a shallow nod of his head.

Baen looked at each man in a steadfast manner. “Then it's agreed. We'll stick together. If we don't find them, we'll just wait until we see them at Killearnan. Right?"

After looking at one another, all agreed to the plan with loud grunts of acceptance. They began to settle down for the night, wrapping themselves in their plaids.

Baen watched them drifted off into sleep on the hard ground. Soon he heard the snores mixed with sounds of the night and the chilly Highland wind, which had strengthened during the last hour. He wrapped himself in his plaid against the wind, turned over and pretended to sleep, going over plans of how to get rid of the lass, or attack Gerek on route, without seeming responsible. He, Baen Tavish, would be Gunn or die!

* * * *

Gerek's party of four men, a woman and a boy spent seven days and nights traversing mountains still slippery with snow, barren fields where scattered trees reached for the sun, and glens budding with colorful wildflowers and heather. No trouble developed despite the fact that they rode over territories belonging to other clans. The few people they met afforded them either a wide berth or genuine friendship and sustenance, indicating a great eagerness to hear stories of their travels.

No one recognized the Beast of Battle. And for a time, Cat looked upon Gerek as an average male, but the week of riding constantly, sleeping on the ground and sometimes hiding, stretched into a difficult trek for Cat. Last night they stopped with the Martin clan and were feted with good cheer. The generous Lady Martin gave Cat some dresses, soap and other female things she might need on the road. The chief of the Martin clan lent them a gray gelding, and a saddle for Cat. The gray responded well to Cat's gentle way with animals, but she knew she'd miss Gerek's arms around her during the days.

Unfortunately, the gray developed an intense dislike for the black, which showed temperamental stallion behavior, with much rearing, pawing and foot stamping. Gerek's temper flared and he pulled the black up. “Stand still, you fool. Do you want to toss me off your back? Settle down and behave. Catriona, you'll have to ride to the rear with that gray."

“Aye.” She stopped the gray and let the black go forward to the head of the band. She loosened the reins when Niall came up beside her. “Och, that's better.”

Once the two horses were separated, they behaved well enough, but it was difficult for Cat and Gerek to ride side by side or continue their quiet talks about the vegetation, birds and animals of this part of the Highlands.

Despite the hardships of long days in the saddle and cold nights in the open air, Cat's fever dissipated. Her general health improved steadily. Many of the cuts, bumps and bruises on her lower torso disappeared, but her face remained a bit swollen and discolored. One eye socket still sported a purple and yellow stain, but she felt almost normal.

In her extended time on horse, some of the good nature and spirit she'd seldom shown to any but her mother returned, but along with it came an unfounded anger against Gerek. She developed a theory that MacFarr, as she now referred to him, and the Beast had tricked her somehow. She sensed that some plan had been afoot from the time of her birth, some plan she didn't understand, yet. She thought to ask Gerek but was afraid to hear something she might not like. From the time she got the gray, Gerek and she rarely spoke, unless it was absolutely necessary. However, she found it easy to talk to all the others.

The men took turns riding with her, guarding her, even Quarries. The two became regular friends, along with Dubh who followed alongside them, alert. She assumed Quarries had a good impression of her, for he listened to her words and often nodded vigorously in agreement while making her laugh. Each time she did, Gerek would turn in his saddle and look at her. She wondered why.

Niall, with his deep wisdom and silent ways, became the father she never had. Parlan and Sims assumed the roles of older brothers, much different from the ones she had. The only tension in the group grew between the two who were handfasted and supposed to be in harmony.

Tonight was to be the last night of the journey. They reached the fringe of Gunn Country, but the castle was too far to reach before the deep purple darkness of the Highlands settled in. Gerek held up his hand for a stop. He sidled his black close to Niall's bay and entered into a brief conversation, which included hand waving and pointing.

Niall then herded the party into a large grove of trees. “This way. We'll keep the horses in the trees."

With a snap of his fingers as a signal for Dubh to guard, Gerek spurred the stallion forward. Cat watched him go off out of sight in the distance. Did the Beast intend to leave her and greet his people without her? She didn't trust him, but hated to admit to her feelings of safety when he was near, and the pleasure she felt in his presence. Confused, she wondered what was wrong with her. One minute she wanted him with her desperately, the next, she wished him in hell.

Obedient to his orders, Dubh stood guard at the very entrance to the grove. The rest dismounted and stood by their horses’ muzzles, ready to quiet them if it became necessary. Niall kept them hidden as far within the trees as he could in the sparse grove. “Move them closer in and keep them together. Keep your hands on them until Gerek returns."

Suddenly, heavy hooves pounded the ground not far away. Hackles rose on the dog's neck. Niall put a finger to his lips. Each person held his horse, whispering and blowing into its nostrils to distract its attention from the sounds beating the earth, when Dubh barked and wagged his tail.

Niall laughed. “It's the Beast. He's back.” A groan of pleasure floated in the air from the group.

The others visibly relaxed, released their horses’ heads and let them graze for the moment. Only Cat continued to hold her gelding's face. She kept talking to him, hoping to avoid letting anyone notice her soft sigh of joy at Gerek's return.

Gerek swung into the grove with a flourish and leaped off the black, who immediately put his head down to graze. “We're on Gunn land, all right. Just up ahead, on the other side of the hill, are the Caves of Smoo. And not far from there are trees galore. In full leaf, as if they came from a world other than ours. The stream is rising high and flowing fast. We'll camp there for the night."

Cat noticed the lightness in his voice, his excitement. Perhaps it came from being so close to his home. She wished she could feel that way about a place. All she felt was dread at meeting new folks. Another time when she would ride to a castle where she knew no one. She hoped Mam was there before her. Mam always had the knack of making friends, unlike Cat who trusted no one.

She heard movement all around her and turned to Gerek. “Can I bathe in the waters?” she queried.

“Judging from your behavior at the croft, I thought you didn't like water.” He smiled at her, then continued, “Aye, lass. But you'd best mount your horse if we're to get there before darkness catches us. I'll dam up a portion of the stream for you. Don't worry. You'll be clean."

Cat turned and studied him. His face had taken on the same sort of lightness his voice had. He appeared younger, and happy. He looked so roguish, her heart hammered against her chest, and his grin was so engaging, she could not help but smile back. He held out his palm, so she could step on it with her left foot in order to mount. His other hand on her knee, he boosted her up, until she could lower herself onto the gray's strong back.

She stared at him, and after a long pause, she teased, “Thank you, milord. That was a very gracious leg up, but you can take your hand from my knee, now. I'm quite ready.” She tipped her head and smiled.

Gerek moved to the black, put his left foot in the stirrup and swung himself over the horse's back. With a wave, he started out of the grove. “Dubh, go with Niall.”

The dog paid no attention to him. He stayed at Cat's side, walking quietly along with her horse.

Gerek look back in astonishment at the dog, then called to Cat in a playful fashion. “You have mesmerized my faithful hound. He refuses to leave your side. It's good though. He'll be protection for you. Quarries, ride with Niall."

Quarries turned his horse around and rode back to be with his mentor. Parlan and Sims followed Cat and the dog. They all rode off at a fast clip, leaving a cloud of dust behind them.

The group reached the huge boulders in a few minutes. The boulders, which lay in an uneven circle as if they had been moved by some giant's hand and deposited in that very position, towered all of them, making the horses and riders seem like wee puppets on strings. One by one, the men dismounted and knelt at the base of the gigantic rocks. They bowed their heads as if giving thanks for a safe return to familiar territory.

Parlan and Sims stood, then gathered all the horses together except the black who kept following Gerek and Dubh. Few could handle the stallion except Gerek and occasionally Niall. Cat wondered why. She had no trouble with the horse at the croft. She would never understand men, not even male horses.

Parlan said, “Let's leave them in the circle. No one will harm them in there."

Sims moved to his horse and pulled a long length of rope from the sack his horse carried. “We'll sling a rope around the stones. Parlan and I will sleep here close to them."

Niall grabbed an end of the rope and motioned to Parlan to take up the other end. Together they stretched the rope, stringing it around some of the stones and managing to tie it off, making a paddock of sorts. They ushered the horses into the circle and unsaddled them, except for the black.

Niall said, “Quarries and I will sleep outside the stones and guard the entrance to the horses. Gerek will take the black, the dog and the lass into the cavern. This will be one night Cat won't have to suffer the cold and fog."

Quickly, they made camp. Dark descended by the time they were done. Stars and a large round moon lit up the sky, hidden at times by rushing clouds.

Gerek grabbed several blankets and three sacks. He pursed his lips, gave a soft, low whistle and moved away from the group. Both the black and Dubh hurried after him. “Come, lass,” he called over his shoulder. “The stream is over this way. You'll be able to bathe in privacy."

“Does he whistle for me as he does for his animals?” she grumbled aloud. Nevertheless, she took reluctant steps in Gerek's direction. A strange lassitude overtook her. Her skin felt flushed, her breath short. She wanted to hurry and at the same time wanted to run in the opposite direction. But she was tired of running, so she squared her shoulders and whispered to herself in admonishment, “What are you afraid of? You know what may happen. 'Tis not a sin!"

Gerek had disappeared behind a huge outcropping in the mountain wall. She followed more slowly than before. When she rounded a large rock placed at a strange angle, she stopped. Before her, a rushing stream plummeted its way down the bulk of the mountain, a waterfall, the most beautiful she'd ever seen. Off to one side, a dark overhang of rock stretched out through the falling water. Gerek, lit by the moon, walked beneath it, leading the black. Cat hurried to catch up with him, afraid she'd lose her way.

A passageway beneath the overhang and under the falls led to a large, level space. Dubh and the black stood quietly as if they'd been there before. At one end, jagged steps carved out of the rock led upward to a small grotto, an alcove in the granite. Soft sediment worn from the inside of the cavern covered the makeshift floor. Light from the moon glowed through a large hole in the top.

Cat stood by the steps, watching Gerek dig several candles out of a sack and light them. “I'd like to bathe, if possible. You would not have me appear before your relatives like a slattern, would you now?"

Gerek looked down on her from the grotto. “I'm just placing our blankets for us. If you'd like, I'll start a small fire so we won't be chilled when we get out of the water.” Without another word, he bent to his tasks.

Cat's heart pounded. He meant to stay with her. What could she do to delay what would have happened days ago if not for her battered condition? Her defenses brought a sharp edge to her voice. “Do you always whistle for your animals and women? Am I expected to come at your whistle? Should I bark as well and lie at your feet?

His head popped up over the edge, and he grinned down at her. “If it suits you, yes."

“Well, it doesn't!” Cat turned and stamped out of the rocky cavern to the waterfall. Unsure of what to do next, she stood by the entrance and watched the water splash into a pool before rushing downstream. She was, at once, a little girl and an exhilarated woman. Apprehension ran up and down her spine.

Gerek came down the steps, crossed the flat expanse and stopped behind her. “The moon shines on the water. 'Tis beautiful, isn't it?"

She spun around. “Am I not to have one night of privacy with no men to gawk at me?"

His voice was low and deep. “Aye. Tonight.” The words and the sound caused her heart to beat far faster than she would have liked. He continued. “There'll be only one to gawk at you this night."

His meaning was clear, but something in her made her stall for time. “My most fervent wish is to bathe in complete privacy.”

“And your wishes command me, milady. You will be able to bathe in relative privacy. You'll only have one man and one dog to keep you from harm. That water out there is icy and swift-moving."

Cat stiffened her back. “I am perfectly capable of seeing to my own safety, now that I'm healed. I'm strong and sure in the water."

Gerek put a hand to her shoulder. “Nae, lass. Not in these waters, you're not. I would not want you hurt again. Water in Gunn Country rushes from the tops of the high peaks and tumbles down in quick flowing streams, often tearing everything before them."

“I said I'll be fine."

Gerek glared at her and shrugged. “My confrontational lassie! Well, you'd best change in here. Bring some cloths for drying with you. You'd better bring more clothes or a blanket. You'll be wanting to climb into warmth when you leave the water.” He stared at her for a moment, then wheeled around and disappeared past the waterfall.

“I'll be all right once I get into the water,” she shouted after him.

Cat put her hand out. Chilly spray bounced off the rocky walls. She turned to the black that had sneaked up behind her, still tacked up, so she undid him, tossed his gear to one side, and trudged up the steps. The sacks Gerek carried from the stone circle, containing the few peasant dresses and soap the Martins gave her, tripped her. Her hand reached for the wall and she slid down it.

Lord, she was filthy. A good wash was just what she needed. She'd feel better when she was all clean. She stood, removed her dusty clothes and wrapped a blanket tight around her, folding an end in by her breast. Her sack had opened when she fell and her hand fastened on her last piece of lavender soap. She held the thin bar to her nose and a heavenly scent assailed her.

She latched onto several of the drying cloths and yanked breeches and a shirt out. They might save her from what she felt was coming all too soon and yet not soon enough.

When she reached the outside again, the falling water's icy fingers had her shivering from the cold. Or was it from her fears? She tramped down the hill to the water's edge. The nearby pool made with several large rocks and a few logs gave her an indication Gerek was not far away.

Dubh watched from further up the shore. “Dubh. Guard,” she commanded.

He trotted over and sat beside the pool. She put a toe in the water but drew it out quickly. The water was freezing. The only one way to get in was all at once. She put the blanket, clothes and drying cloths next to the dog, waded into the water and ducked. She shrieked. Never had she been immersed in such coldness.

“Cold, eh?” The bass voice emanated from the other side of the rocks.

She crossed her hands over her breasts in modesty.

“Don't worry, lass. I've seen them before.” His tone was lighter but the words were serious. “Stay inside those rocks or you'll get swept away by the current. 'Tis fast.”

The rushing noise of the stream could not mar the heavy, languid quality of his voice. She clutched the soap in her hand and tried to ignore him by dropping down into the water. It was too cold and she stood quickly. He grinned and eased his naked body onto a part of the rocky wall. Cat's gaze followed the water that slid down him. He was beautiful in the moonlight, like a Viking god of old.

“Cold, isn't it?” he said. He rolled off the rock and splashed into the small pool.

Warmth spread through her and concentrated in her nether regions, bringing heat to her face. To distract herself, she ducked her short hair under the water and soaped it, then rinsed again and again until it ran clear of soap.

Gerek took the soap away from her. “I'll do this, milady.” He stood up in the pool. Water slithered over him.

Wildly embarrassed, Cat looked up at him, afraid to look down. She wanted to get out of the water quickly. His body was too close to hers. When he took her arm, she tried to draw it away, but he held it firmly and turned her around. Her bare breasts pressed against his broad chest, skin to skin.

Her neck and cheeks burned. “This isn't necessary,” she mumbled in a quivery voice. “I'm able to bathe myself quite well."

“But it's not near as much fun. Now, is it?” He moved the soap over her shoulders and down her back, gently, softly stroking.

She twisted, but he kept soaping her, seemingly unaware of her shy distress. He bent and tossed fresh water on her, following the water with his callused hand. He gently tugged her to him. Her behind was against him. He soaped her breasts, mildly rubbing, and moved her to the shallows, closer to the shore.

The sensations made her weak and she begged, “Don't you touch me. I can do this myself."

He whispered near her backbone, then kissed it. “It's all right. I don't mind in the least. I'm enjoying it,” he said as he kissed her neck and soaped between her thighs.

Her knees nearly folded beneath her. He pressed against her, rock hard. Cat understood. While only a child, attracted by grunting noises, she had watched couples mating in the stable yard. Ashamed by what she thought was like animals, she swore she would never allow herself to be in such a situation. Now here she was and it was all his fault. She hated him.

His soapy hand slipped down the inside of her thighs to the back of her knees. She gasped, unable to breathe easily. Resting her on his hip, he soaped her legs, lifting them one at a time. He grasped her feet and cleansed each toe until she wriggled and moaned. With dexterous strokes, he brought the soap up her legs again and let it, and his finger, slide between them. Her body went limp. A strange heaviness melted in her stomach, then she strained against the sensations.

He stood, turned her to face him and drew her closer, against his hardness. His lips came down on hers, fleetingly at first, then with a steadier pressure. Her arms crept around his neck. The soap dropped from his hands and floated away. Cat moaned. He kissed her harder, his hand stroking her back and bottom. No longer chilled, she was unnaturally warm but shivering.

Gerek lifted her in his arms, carried her to the blanket and grabbed a drying cloth. With it, he rubbed her body as he had with the soap, inch by inch, each rub followed by tender kisses. Done with that, he wrapped her in the blanket and carried her up the hill to the cavern at a run. Dubh followed them. Ducking beneath the waterfall, he kissed her mouth and ran his tongue into the corners. Not a drop of water touched her body. Her entire body was shimmering with fire.

Her breath came in gasps as the pressure of his lips moved to her chin and then to the bones between her neck and shoulder. She needed to tell him something, but what? He raced up the steps to the grotto, positioned her on another blanket and briefly fixed the fire. Once it blazed enough, he knelt down on the blanket beside her with no attempt to hide his nakedness. Her gaze raked his body. Lord, he was beautiful, like a god who stole her very breath from her.

Chapter Fourteen

Once Gerek perceived her response in the pool, his decision was made. He would have her before this night was over. While he fed the fire, he studied her and grinned. Her cap of short red hair was still wet, and curled about her face in wisps that exposed her high cheekbones and delicate nose. Her moist, full lips were swollen from kisses, and her vivid coppery eyes glistened with desire in the firelight

She had continued to astound him since the moment her breasts touched him from their first encounter at the croft. The time spent tending to her wounds and waiting for her to recuperate should have given him time to get to know her better, but whenever he was around her he was unsure of himself, like an untried lad. He wasn't sure of anything right now.

If she chose not to become familiar with him it was not his fault, for he had been kind and considerate. They had been pledged for years. They were now handfasted, soon to be married. Tonight's activities were not a matter of right or wrong, but of a man's honor or dishonor.

Whenever he was scouting or seeing to the safety of the group, she clouded his thoughts. Dubh had fallen in love with her. So had the black. Two things he hadn't counted on. If she came up behind him, he sensed her presence, smelled her fragrance. He needed to evaluate her hold on everything around her, the people and the animals. Her initial response to him indicated an interest.

She was lovely to look at, even with the purple and yellow bruises. He shook his head, bewildered at his interest in a wee lass, twelve years his junior.

Easing his large frame onto the blanket, he hesitated when she sidled away. Did she intend to play games with him? Well, he'd have none of it. Others had tried but hadn't won. He'd teach her not to play games with him. She was only a woman and would respond eventually to his ministrations. He'd take her if he had to do so.

He took her hand, kissed the palm and gently tugged her to him. His voice and his manner were smooth and low-keyed. He grinned at her as if they were co-conspirators. “You'll not escape me tonight, lass.”

Her voice was hoarse. “Escape? Where would I go? I don't know my way around here.” With a toss of her head, she continued. “I'm not going anywhere except to sleep. If you'll excuse me, I'd like to turn around.” She tried to wrench herself free.

“Aye, make yourself comfortable.” It was obvious to him that she was playing a cruel game with his emotions. Well, he'd play for a while, until it no longer suited him. Effortlessly, he drew her into his arms. “There, lassie, just stay in my arms a moment. You'll be more comfortable than on the hard ground.”

She sighed and closed her eyes. He touched her chin with the knuckles of one hand and turned her face to his. Gently, he put his mouth to hers and rubbed his lips back and forth several times, barely touching hers. Her eyes opened and she looked at him quizzically as if she were startled. She moved away slightly but then leaned back and returned his kiss.

He put the tip of his tongue to a corner of her mouth and licked her upper lip while slanting his head more. Her intake of air drew him closer. H insinuated the tip of his tongue between her lips, delicately making little thrusts. Her mouth was soft and warm, silky. The fragrance of lavender clung to her.

Not since his very first time with a woman had he felt so out of control. He was hard again, harder than before. Heat tore throughout his body in a direct line to his stomach, which tensed, and then settled in his organ. Fire raced through him and he prayed he could slow himself down.

But when her arms slid around his neck, his control slipped. He plunged his tongue into her mouth. She recoiled and tried to move away, but his hand cupped the back of her head, and she couldn't. Strange, at one moment she gave freely, and the next, total retreat. Her inconsistency was exciting.

Convinced she was leading him on, he savaged her mouth with his own. Her breathing seemed to stop and start in waves of ... distress? No, that couldn't be. He stopped and waited. She took a deep breath and shyly touched his tongue with the tip of hers, her fingers touching his bottom lip. He was going to burst from the agony and the sweetness of that fragile kiss. Remembering how she lay so quiet atop him in the water at the loch, he put his two hands around her waist and lifted her onto his stomach. Women sometimes felt more in control on top.

Cat drew her lips away, rested her hands on his shoulders and stared at him, her head tipped to one side, his hardness between her legs. Gently, she touched his face with her fingertips, tracing his features one by one in a delicate fashion, like a feather. She put her forefinger on his bottom lip, traced it with her fingernail; then, closing her eyes, she placed her mouth on his.

The sensitivity in her touch paralyzed him and he groaned, unable to stand it anymore. He rolled her over. Her arms trailed above her head in a graceful arc. He leaned on an elbow above her. Holding her loosely in one arm, he brushed his lips on hers. Her response quickened. Her arms crept around his neck and held him tightly. She kissed him back. The tip of her tongue stole into his mouth and teased the tip of his, until he felt crazy with desire.

“Och, Catriona, wee Cat that you are. You make me dizzy with wanting.” He kissed her cheekbones, her eyes and her nose, murmuring, “Come to me, lovely lady. Let me love you.” His lips sought hers, hard and tight. “Kiss me like you mean it.”

He sensed her hesitation, but she slanted her face and pressed back. Her tongue danced around his mouth, touching everywhere, skimming his teeth. He tried to catch it with his, but she twisted and turned it, throwing him off-balance. She pressed her entire body against the length of his, straining, entrancing him with her actions.

The struggle to control his ragged breathing came and left. He dropped his mouth to her neck, kissed a path to her ears and nibbled on one lobe in tiny bites. His hand covered her breast. He fondled its round firmness and strayed to the nipple that reached out for him. She held onto his shoulders and moaned. His tongue touched her nipple. She shrieked and turned, so he took it in his mouth. Drawing on it, he sucked lightly, then kissed her breast to where his hand stroked.

Cat drew back. Her fingers around him had turned into claws. “No! Don't! That's not nice. 'Tis not proper.” She slid from beneath him and cowered against the wall.

He stared at her. What happened? What had he done that upset her so? “What's not nice? Didn't that feel good to you, lass?” She frowned. “Has no one ever done that to you?"

Cat shook her head. “No man has had his mouth to my breast. It's not to be done. 'Tis not acceptable nor nice. I have been warned not to fornicate, except to bear children. And I don't want any until my life is properly settled."

Gerek sat up, his mouth open. “Lass, I don't understand you at all."

“I don't understand me either."

He smiled at her attempt at humor and drew her back into his arms. “'Tis all right, lassie.” He had no intention of stopping. After all, he was a man and was not about to coddle a grown woman, a woman who told him at the cottage that his betrothed, Catriona MacFarr, was unchaste. She had said it herself.

He kissed her again, over and over until she began to kiss him back. When her arms snaked around his neck for a third time, he strengthened his kisses, but went no further, until she was twisting and turning in his arms. He mouthed her neck and her body down to the nipples that were pushing themselves upward to his lips. Slowly he drew his tongue around one.

Letting out an agonized groan, she didn't stop him this time but kissed the top of his head and tried to reach his ears. He traveled down her curved frame and slid her onto one hip, caressing her with feather-like touches followed by kisses. He kissed a path to her bottom, then turned her over to the other side and did the same. Her tawny skin was flushed and glowing but she felt cool and smooth to his touch, except where his lips met her body. She stretched against him and kissed his back as he bent to kiss her toes.

Every part of her smelled sweet. He kissed his way back up her body and probed her mouth with his tongue. He plunged it in and out until she began to move against him with the same rhythm, her body arching to meet his. He let his hand slide down the curve of her hip. Her legs had opened slightly and her body rose to meet his. He cupped her private parts in his hand and she moaned as his fingers tentatively explored her. The warmth and slickness of her and her frantic movements told him that she was ready for him. He slid between her legs and rubbed himself against her. She whimpered through her jagged breathing. He almost lost his control.

Aware of his size, he wanted to enter her without putting his full weight on her. He placed his hands on the ground on each side of her head, but overcome with wanting, he pushed up and plunged down into her warmth. She screamed and lay still. Her head turned to the side. She wouldn't look at him.

He stopped moving, as awareness hit him. Lord, she was a virgin. He had hurt her. Never having hurt a woman in his life, the first time mattered to him. He was devastated. He felt gauche, inexperienced, like a fool.

“Och, lass. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. I thought you were well used to men. At the cottage, you told me that Catriona MacFarr was unchaste."

“It was a lie I told, to a strange friar and to MacFarr so I wouldn't have to marry you. It wasn't true.” She tried to turn away again, but he held her down with one hand and cupped her face with the other.

Gerek was embarrassed. “The pain will go away, but how can I make it up to you, lass?"

Now a totally cool Catriona MacFarr glared at him. “You can remove yourself from my body."

He mustered every ounce of control and slowly moved out of her and off. “Lass, the next time will not be so bad. You won't hurt at all. I'll be gentle you."

Her mouth moved into a thin line. “There won't be a next time, milord."

He stared. “Aye, there will, lass."

“My name is Catriona. You may call me Cat if you choose. I am not your lass. And what's more, if you ever touch me again, I'll do something cruel."

“I said I was sorry, lassie, but you misled me."

“Not lass. Cat."

“Aye, Cat. I would not have hurt you for the world. Had I but known you were never with a man, I would have....”

“What you would have done is totally immaterial. You have all ready done enough. I wish to sleep now. Go away."

“Come into my arms, Cat. Sleep there. Let me at least comfort you for the night."

Cat struggled out of his grasp. For the first time ever, her voice was pitched low. “Comfort me? I think you have done quite enough comforting for one evening. Begone. Out of my sight. I do not wish to see you right now. Leave me.”

Gerek's displeasure at being forced from her bed showed on his face, but the displeasure was for poor behavior. He deserved her contempt, having acted like an inexperienced, callow youth. Had he but known she was virginal, he would have approached the evening differently. There was nothing to be done for it at the moment.

Reluctantly, he stood and wrapped his plaid around him. “Dubh, guard.”

Without another word, he turned and went down the steps, leaving Cat alone to the misery he caused. He held his hand up to stay the black as he passed and went to the entrance of the cave. He stood by the falls momentarily, then went under them and prowled the shoreline for hours in self-disgust, chastising himself beyond measure.

* * * *

All warmth deserted Cat when Gerek moved away from her and tramped down the steps. Although naked, she had been cozy and tingling minutes before and crazy with heady emotions. What had happened? He had hurt her. Not that much. Why did she have this feeling of being deserted? She had had the same feeling at the croft when Gerek leaped from her bed at her insistence. This time she felt worse, for her body cried out for his return.

Things had progressed much faster, she realized, but she was more upset this time, because she really wanted him back. Now. She wondered if she were going crazy. She felt hot, yet more chilled than ever before.

Everything had been fine, exciting. She'd responded to his kisses and touches. She wanted more from him but wasn't sure what. The experience was breathtaking. If only he hadn't hurt her. Plagued by strange emotions, she stood, threw a light blanket around her and rushed to the stairs. She would call him back if he stood near the entrance.

He was gone. Dubh had stayed to guard her.

She sat on the top step next to the dog and put her warm, empty arms around his big, furry body. “Oh, Dubh. What went wrong? What have I done this time? What is the matter with me, that nothing ever goes right?” She laid her head on the dog's shoulder and cried her heart out as he lapped at her face.

She would never be the same. An opportunity to know Gerek had slipped from her fingers. She had cast him out, saying she would never be intimate with him again, but she wanted him with her now, needed to hold him as she was holding the dog, to be held by him, safe, until she slept. Unable to cry any more, she staggered back to the makeshift bed. Her exhaustion from long days in the saddle and the emotional currents of this night overcame her, and she fell to the blanket, pulled it around her and curled into a ball. Wrapped like a caterpillar, she fell asleep.

* * * *

Gerek followed the stream for miles until he felt the strains of exhaustion beat at him and his anger leave. When he finally returned, he walked under the waterfall, hoping she was still awake. Much as he hated to talk about personal habits between a man and a woman, he needed to explain things to her. They were handfasted, and would of necessity spend time together.

He started into the cave with purpose. The closer he got to the grotto, the slower his steps grew. Anxious, he peered over the edge. The lass; no, he reminded himself, Cat, had wrapped herself in the coverings, probably to keep him away, and if the rising and falling of her chest were any indication, she slept. He hated to wake her. She needed her strength. They'd talk in the morning.

He lay down on the blanket but kept his plaid on, embarrassed at his own partial nudity, and leaning on an elbow, he gazed at her, Cat. There were streaks on her face as if she cried herself to sleep. He felt like a foolish youth. Gently, he gathered her in his arms. The least he could do was keep her warm through the cold Highland night.

* * * *

His sleep destroyed, disturbed by pangs of conscience, Gerek woke as the first bit of sun streamed through the cave's narrow opening. The evening before had been unsatisfying, emotionally and physically. His lost control, something that never happened to him as an adult male, shamed him. Much of the night had been spent in calming a restless Cat, without waking her to his presence.

At one point, with unopened eyes, she sat straight up and flung her arms about. Each time she twisted and turned, he murmured to her as he would to a child, and she would relax and sleep for a while.

Now, with his back to her and her arm draped over his chest, he eased himself out of her grasp by holding her arm up and sliding forward. With care, he placed her arm under the covers, stood and rubbed his hands through his hair, pushing it back from his temples. The low ceiling of the cold cave closed in on him, making him feel ill made and too large.

He looked down. Cat's eyes were open and she stared, a look of unease in her gaze. He saw her stretch and heard her groan as if she hated waking. The sensuousness in her movements caused him to harden. He turned from her to gain control of himself.

During the night, he thought about the best way to explain away the sharp pain on entry. No logical thought materialized in his brain. How do you explain such a pain to an untried lass, and one who had good reasons to dislike males? His inability to understand this woman of his baffled him, but there was no help for it at the moment, so he tried to act as normally as possible.

“Good. You're awake, Cat.” He smiled down at her. “I have to get used to calling you that.” No response came, so he reverted to the warrior-like behavior of giving orders. “We need to make an early start so that we can get to Killearnan in good season, before the evening meal. So rise!” That was not what he wanted to say at all.

One hand to her mouth, she stretched again and yawned. She ran a thumb over her lips, then her tongue. “I'm wide awake. Just go about your business.” She glared at him. “I'm going to wash myself in the stream. I will follow you up to the stones right after I'm bathed,” she said, rubbing her mouth with her forefinger.

He wondered if her lips were sore or if she teased him with her actions. Getting the next order out was difficult. “Take what you want out of your sacks. I'll carry them. I'll take the black and leave Dubh to guard you.”

“Just go. I'll bring the other things up after I've bathed properly, Beast."

Gerek wheeled around and stared at her. “I am called by several names. I answer to few but Gerek, or Gunn.” His tone was lethal, but in no way did she acknowledge it. She was going to bathe properly! She infuriated him, yet the rebelliousness in her nature intrigued him and helped him make up his mind. The next time he approached her would be in a warm tub big enough for the two of them. He'd show her how to wash properly.

His false smile should show her that she tread on dangerous grounds. “I'll go now. Come quickly. We need to start for Killearnan at once.” Angered by her lack of reaction, he said in a harsher tone, “I need the light of day to discover things on my own. I don't know what awaits us at the castle."

Cat stuck her nose in the air and assumed an attitude of total disinterest. “I don't much care what's going on there. No doubt, there will be little difference from Fairloch."

Gerek frowned in disgust at her assumption that Killearnan was anything like Fairloch, but said nothing more. He had given his orders. It was up to her to follow them. Leaving the bulk of Cat's sacks, he turned on his heels and left.

Cat heard his tentative whistle and heaved a mixed sigh of relief and sorrow at his leaving. In some strange way, she enjoyed the small battles, the excitement they created. What else did she know, having dealt with the MacFarrs and the servants in control at Stoneleigh? But how was she going to get through the rest of this journey and face his clan after what he did last night? Each time thoughts of his lips on her nipples, she felt them rise and she flushed with embarrassment. Her lips felt sore and raised to her touch, like her nipples did. What was happening to her?

She wished she didn't have to face anyone with such things on her mind, wanting to stay where she was, to have time for her own thoughts. She looked about. She could learn to live in this cave, protected from the elements. She'd hunt for her meals. She'd plant a garden. She'd manage. Somehow.

“Och, shades of Satan. I hate it when you lie to yourself, Catriona MacFarr.” She stopped, mid-breath. She wasn't a MacFarr, never had been. What was her real name? She'd lost her identity. She was no one, bereft, alone, a bastard. Adding to the problem, she was handfasted to a creature she didn't know, who was another bastard. What a duo they made! Did she have a life of her own or was her life to be tied up with the Beast of Battle? And, in truth, was he really a beast?

She shivered and berated herself. “You can't figure this out right now. Do it another time. Just go along for now, Cat. You'll have your day. I'm sure of it.”

She reached down and grabbed her sacks. She put everything into them except the shirt and breeches she would wear for the ride. Before they approached the castle, she would change her clothing and make herself presentable. She loaded everything onto her back and turned to look at the dog, which followed her.

“Come, Dubh, my only friend. Come and guard my days and nights.” She bent and hugged him.

Dragging everything to the stream, she took her bath without the sweet-smelling soap and dressed slowly, reluctant to hurry, despite Gerek's words. When she finally approached the already mounted men, they were talking in low tones but quieted when they saw her. Embarrassed, she took the gray from Parlan, secured her sacks on his saddle and waited for Gerek to leg her up. She turned to look at him and Dubh's head swiveled around to follow her annoyed stares. She laughed at the dog, shrugged and lifted her leg to the stirrup.

Sims dismounted and moved to her. “I'll give ye a leg up, lassie.” In one heave, he lifted her to the saddle. “There ye are, lass. Now we're set to go."

He ran to his horse, leaped on, and, with a loud cheerful yell, galloped off, whooping and hollering. With mighty cries of glee, the others careened after him, except Gerek, who held his hand up to stop her. As the gray closed the space between, the black started

He broke the silence. “Catriona, the men know nothing of last night, nothing that is not proper and right. Their exceedingly good humor this morning is due to their being on Gunn land, close to home."

“Your home. Not mine. I have no home, as you well know.” Cat picked up her reins and touched the gray with her heels. When the gelding broke into a trot, she called over her shoulder. “What a disappointment I must be to you. How will you ever explain to your people that you are handfasted to a bastard who has no dowry or even a name to recommend her?"

“It's not anyone else's concern.” Gerek rode up beside her, but the black reared. “I need mention nothing to anyone,” he shouted across the space created.

“Your cousin knows. He was there when I told MacFarr about my supposed impurity. He will tell the others if he has not done so already. In fact, every one of the Gunns in that castle of yours will have heard the story. I'm sure you'll have some explaining to do."

“Only to the elders or my grandfather, the Gunn."

“Och, the Gunn. Isn't that what you had planned for your future, until you got saddled with me? What will your clan say to such a handfasting, where the woman is trouble and unwilling besides?” She legged the gray to a canter.

Gerek legged the stallion to match the gait of the gray but kept a safe distance away. “People will say what they will. Most know me by reputation only and few would dare to approach or question me."

“Aye. And that's none too good.” Cat spurred her horse on, wanting to get away from him and catch up with the rest. She pushed the gray into a gallop. He leaped to her command, drawn by the horses ahead. Within seconds, Gerek and the black outpaced her.

* * * *

The animals were winded and lathered. It was imperative to let them cool off, so the men ahead slowed their mounts. When Cat caught up with the group, she settled the gray into a soft canter, then into a trot and into a walk to Quarries. “Well, laddie, you just had the ride of your life, a wild Highland ride, didn't you?"

Quarries’ grin stretched across his face. “'Tis the first time I ever rode so fast without having to run from somethin’ or someone. Aye, mistress, this was the most fun I've every had.” Quarries smiled. “I knew I was right when I offered to work for the big man. This is different from the sheep. I hated them. All smelly and whatnot. Constantly blatting for nothing."

Smiling back at him, Cat stayed next to the lad and kept away from Gerek.

The group paced themselves and rode on, mostly in a companionable silence. Soon, Parlan and Sims joined them, while Gerek and Niall held the lead. Dubh walked alongside the gray.

They stopped in a huge grove of trees for the noon meal. The conversation turned to Killearnan and the Gunns’ constant warfare with the Keiths. Cat listened avidly but kept her thoughts to herself. Upset and puzzled by the conversation about the Keiths, she maintained a deep wall of resistance between herself and the men.

Gerek had said she looked like a Keith? If only her mam had told her the truth of her parentage. Might she be a Keith? If the Keiths were the enemy, and she looked like one, where would that place her amongst the Gunns? Until she knew the truth, she must stay wary of everybody in the Gunn clan.

After lunch, the closer the band got to Killearnan, the less talking the men did. Each seemed wrapped in his own thoughts. Pictures of the night before rambled through Cat's mind. The more graphic they became, the more she grew warm. She shivered and grew tense when she noticed a village ahead. The village, which was large and clean, sprawled in all directions from the center road. Even from a distance, Cat saw activity in the rutted streets.

Parlan, Sims and Quarries rode ahead into the village. Niall and Gerek took positions behind Cat and Dubh, who stayed next to the gray. People streamed from the village to greet the forward riders. Parlan and Sims pointed toward the others and the people went wild. They laughed and cheered. They ran toward the riders hanging back. Dubh growled and moved forward.

“Dubh. Stand.” Gerek's command stopped him short. The dog squared himself on four feet, ready to take on those hurrying toward him.

Cat heard the shouts. She didn't have time to react because the gray reared and turned to flee. He bucked and pranced. In trying to control him, she had her hands full and moved away from the crowd before anyone got hurt.

“He's come. 'Tis him, for sure,” one man shouted to another.

“'Tis the new Gunn!” cried another.

“Our Beast of Battle!” cried others.

Men and women swarmed around them, little heed for the excited horses. One old crone pushed forward and looked them all over. “Aye. 'Tis him. He has the look of his mother and grandfather."

A dark-haired old man stepped to the edge of the crowd. He grinned. “Gerek, 'tis me. 'Tis Kaine, yer old teacher. I've missed ye, son. That I have."

Gerek dismounted and moved to the old man. He embraced him heartily. “Och, Kaine. 'Tis good to see you still looking so fit. You don't look a bit older and 'tis years since last I saw you."

“Aye,” the old man said, “but ye never forgot yer folks. I kept track o’ ye and learned ye became a fine man. Heard everythin’ about ye. And I'm here to welcome ye and tell ye I'm ready to be back in yer service."

A girl approached Cat, paying particular attention to the breeches. “Do ye always dress like a lad?'

Cat's felt heat crawl up her neck to her face. Not realizing they were so close to a town, she had forgotten to change when the men had talked about the Keiths. Now, she felt like a fool. “Only when I ride long distances,” she said, trying to be polite. Her voice cracked. “My name is Catriona. I'd be pleased if you'd call me that,” she invited softly.

“Catriona, is it? Ain't that a fancy name fer a disguised lass?” The girl turned to her companion and whispered something behind her hand. Her friend laughed, joining her as if they had some hidden secret. The girl turned back to Cat. “Well, Mistress. What are ye doing with this troop of dangerous varmints?” She stepped back a bit, still laughing.

Smiling grimly, Gerek came around the gray on foot and stood in front of them. Niall held the black. Cat watched Gerek saunter over to the two women who were still smirking. As he approached, they drew back into the crowd.

He followed them, until he towered over them and the rest of the crowd. “Och, ladies. Are you friends of mine that I do not recognize? Do I know you?"

An older, gray-haired woman pushed herself in front of the other two and came face to face with Gerek. She puffed out her chest. “Ye don't know them, lad, but ye should remember this old woman. I nursed ye through many a cut and scrape. I be Tansy, the village nurse."

Gerek grasped her in his long arms and swung her around. “Tansy, me love. 'Tis your bonny self in my arms. I can't believe it. You haven't changed much either.” He bent and whispered in her ear, “Did you and Kaine ever make a match?

“Aye, that we did. We be wed."

He turned to Cat. “Catriona, this is Tansy, the woman who nursed my youthful bruises. We'll take her to the castle with us. She'll see to yours."

Tansy looked up. “Is this yer bride, milord? It all seems a mite fast fer me. Is she with child yet?"

Gerek let out a huge guffaw. “Tansy, you are ever the same. Smart of mouth and wise. Aye, 'tis me lassie, brought to bride, but without child. We're handfasted."

A cheer burst from Tansy's mouth. “And a beauty she is, too. Handfasted, are ye? Well, ye'd better be making her yer bridey wife quick or ye'll no’ be Gunn of this group of rowdies here, and lose her in the bargain."

Gerek moved to Niall and took the black's reins. He lifted Tansy, who giggled like a girl, onto the horse. “Let's be off to the castle. I must be seeing my grandfather before I burst from wanting."

Cat was surprised at the good humor Gerek displayed with the villagers. His casualness about their handfasting surprised her as well. People crowded around Gerek, who walked alongside the black to keep him from hurting someone.

Cat let everyone go ahead. Feeling left out of the homecoming, astonished that she cared, she watched and wondered what awaited her at the castle.

Chapter Fifteen

Cat's nose and throat swelled from the soft dust that rose in clouds from the feet of the horses and the shuffling crowd. The path to the castle was narrow and worn smooth. Cliffs, giant trees and a wide finger of water that splashed over the cliffs in a torrent surrounded it. How did people get in and out of Killearnan in icy weather, she wondered; as if that were important to consider now.

Dismay over Gerek's apparent disregard surfaced and rubbed her raw. Did he consider her unimportant now that he was home? Why did he leave her at the very end of the crowd, who swarmed around him as if he were the great hero? His lack of manners caused her temper to flare to a state of utter contempt.

Riding alongside Niall, she grumbled about Gerek's attitudes. “I don't understand him."

“He's no’ easy,” Niall countered with a grin.

Cat persisted. “He has no manners. When he does condescend to talk to me, he's gruff."

Niall smiled in Gerek's direction. “Aye, lassie. I'll give ye that. He needs training about his manners.” Niall hesitated. “Ye dinna’ learn much about manners on the battlefield."

“Battlefields? Is that all he knows?"

“He was taught to give orders quickly and have them obeyed before he finished speaking."

Cat's back stiffened. “Well, I'll not do that!"

Niall chuckled into his four-day growth of beard. He grinned at her, no doubt, to cover his own harshness. “But then, child, ye've never seen him in the royal courts of the world. From the time he was a young lad 'til now, he traveled all over Europe with Jamie Graham, the Earl of Montrose. Those two scamps were the talk of the continent. At first they played, but when they got the word from old King Charlie to raise money, raise money they did. Raised enough to support Montrose's last venture against the Covenanters, and more. Damned near supported the entire Royalist cause.”

Cat drew her lips tight together. “I've heard stories of his time on the Continent, stories about ladies of the courts."

Niall's laughter beat the air until Cat laughed with him. She noticed Gerek's quick flash of surprise. Niall must have also noticed the look.

His laughter ended as quickly as it had begun. “What he did over there, he did for his sovereign. He raised money for the monarchy and fought bravely, side by side with Montrose, until the very end.” With that said, he rode forward and left Quarries to ride beside Cat.

She trotted next to Niall again, disgruntled at something Gerek growled in her direction. She tipped her head toward Niall and in a false voice said, “Och. The Beast of Battle speaks."

Niall swung around in his saddle and faced her. “A cruel name given to him by his enemies.” Niall seemed to sink deep into his own thoughts, and although he spoke aloud, he didn't appear to be speaking to anyone. “Aye, he's a ferocious warrior when riled, but he never harmed another who hadn't attacked him first in a pitched battle."

“Niall,” Cat said softly. “I didn't mean...."

“In a wee glen, with only the birch and broom for cover, something happened that I dinna’ understand. Aye, something went wrong all right. No one knew the troop was there. It puzzles me yet,” he grumbled to himself.

Cat held her breath, totally engrossed in Niall's words. “What?"

The older man turned toward her, his face a mass of frowns. “An hour after Baen left for Killearnan to secure more men, Covenanters appeared in the glen. How they found us, I'll never know. It seemed like they knew where we were."

“What happened?"

“A bluidy massacre, that's what. Although we fought them to the end, only a few escaped. Gerek and I went in one direction, toward Killearnan. Montrose had to be saved. He was the one people looked to fer leadership to continue the Royalist cause. He and two men to lead him to safety went in another."

The breath she held, while listening to the story, blew out her open mouth. “But Montrose was caught, hanged."

“Aye, lassie. He was caught. Given up when he asked for sanctuary, if the truth be known. He was tried and hanged, almost before an honest verdict was in. He was set up. Gerek was to hang with him, but the Covenanters, who weren't sure of his true identity, never found him. He was the Beast of Battle to them. We headed for Killearnan and caught up with Baen along the way. He had seen the Covenanters and hid out for a while."

“Hid?"

“Aye. There was nothing else he could do. Getting himself killed wouldn't have helped.” Niall took a deep breath before he continued. “Gerek, Baen and I went to Edinburgh as soon as we heard Montrose had been caught. It was a dangerous thing to do, but Gerek insisted he support his comrade to the end. He wasn't able to save Montrose but he was there for him, until the Covenanters spotted him."

“Where was Baen all this time?"

Niall took a quick look at her. “He was with us in the city. He managed to get near Montrose, dressed in a friar's robe, to call out to Jamie. He's not as noticeable as Gerek.” Niall laughed to himself. “Gerek's too damned big to go unnoticed. Baen is inches short of him and lighter of build. But Gerek managed to escape on that black, he did. The black took a five-foot fence and sped away. I followed well in back of the Covenanters who were chasing him.”

Cat's mouth dropped open. It was the first time anyone had spoken of Baen, since they had left the inn in such a hurry. Now, she finally understood why Gerek had taken such excessive care during their initial stay at the croft.

“What happened to Baen?” she inquired, her eyes lowered.

“He escaped, but I dinna’ know where he went or anything about his travels. I never caught sight of him until I saw him at Fairloch, after he'd been back to Killearnan.” Niall tipped his bonnet at her and rode off to Gerek's side.

Cat wondered where Baen was now and what had happened to her mam. Anxiety over Mam's fate pushed thoughts of Gerek from her mind. Her thoughts centered on her Mam and Baen. She hoped her Mam was well, and set up at Killearnan. Her thoughts drifted to Baen. His blond good looks, his gentleness with her and the fact that he had saved her from a worse beating by MacFarr colored a favorable picture of the man in Cat's eyes.

As the crowd pressed tighter around Gerek, Cat saw him glance back at her several times, and each time he looked, she turned her face as if she were engrossed in the scenery. She was sulking, but kept a constant smile on her face while pretending to enjoy herself. Once she even gave him a slight wave, but someone tugged on his sleeve. When he bent his head to talk, she lost sight of him. Riding high on the leggy gray, Cat skittered up onto her knees to see over the crowd. Some young woman looked at Gerek with adoring eyes, hugged him and seemed unwilling to let him go. She turned her head in disgust and stared off to the side at the loch, which followed the path.

The closer they came to Killearnan, the more intimidated Cat grew. Her first glimpse of the castle staggered her. She gasped at its appearance of serenity on the water, like a gigantic ship standing in a becalmed sea. Situated on a hilly island in the middle of a sparkling loch of blue water that slithered and disappeared out of sight around a curve in the trail, its environs were surrounded by a tall rock wall, broken only by the slotted windows in its side. The castle itself shone gold, pink and a greenish-blue in the waning sun of the afternoon, changing colors along with the movements of the water.

A dozen boats, whose loosely billowed sails seemed to tickle the sky, were on the far side of the loch. The men aboard must have noticed the crowd of people marching on the castle, for they hoisted their nets into the boats, took out oars and rowed sharply for the piers. Several men, fishing from a curve of the loch, brought their lines in, tossed their poles on the green banks and ran toward the castle.

Gerek looked up at the castle with an expression of great longing. Cat had never felt that way about anything or anyone, with the possible exception of Mam. Her envy that he should have so much, and she nothing, made her ashamed.

She spied the long, slatted wooden bridge that spanned the water from the shore to the castle. Its height above the loch frightened her. She didn't like being so far above the water. She rose up sharply and tensed, wondering if the gray had ever been across such wooden slats. His possible flighty behavior took her mind off other things. The rowdy villagers, their progress loud, surged onto the wood in a mass exodus from the narrow trail and stopped at the beginning of the bridge. They called out to a huge white-haired man standing on the battlements. The man waved them on and then disappeared quickly from sight.

Cat heard Gerek's cry, “Grandfather!”

He untangled himself from the crowd and ran forward toward a drawbridge, slowly being lowered. The older man came around a corner, and in one bound, jumped across part of the drawbridge still opened. He ran to Gerek, lifted him in his muscular arms and swung him around several times. Gerek pummeled the man's back. Once again solid on the wood, the two stared; then each grabbed the other and twirled in a final maddening embrace.

The drawbridge came down the rest of the way with a loud crack. The sound startled the gelding. Cat sat deep in her saddle when he began to dance and buck. Niall rode up beside her, his horse hopping in excitement as well. “Gerek said to get off your horse and walk him over the bridge if he seems reluctant. Or else ye can ride my horse if ye'd like. I'll sit the gray across this thing. Some horses act stupid the first time over. Ye should catch up. Gerek will want ye there."

“Nae. He seems quite content to forget.” She smiled at Niall, hoping he would understand her sentiments. “I'll ride the gray. If he acts up or spooks, I'll get off and walk him. I don't want him to hurt anyone."

Niall stared at her and shrugged. “Aye, lass. Have it yer own way,” he called and rejoined the boisterous crowd ahead.

As the gray drew closer to the bridge, his body tensed and his skin wrinkled in fear. She reached down and patted his neck. “It's alright, love. There's nothing on this old wooden thing to frighten you. I'm here.”

The horse planted his feet on the ground just inches from the wood and refused to move any further. Cat spurred him on. “Come on, laddie. Don't fail me now. Please.”

She squeezed him with her legs and clucked at him to move forward. Again he refused, inching back even further. She slapped him on the rump, beginning an argument she intended to win. She could not let the horse defeat her or embarrass her in a contest of wills, not now, not in front of everyone.

She dug her heels into his sides and leaned low over him. “Damn you. Go forward.”

She clucked and he went onto the wooden boards. Not feeling solid ground under his hooves, he skittered, lifting his feet quickly, one after another. His spring unseated her a bit. He danced quickly onto the middle of the bridge, away from the sides.

A beautiful older woman ran from the castle's keep and threw herself into Gerek's arms, shrieking with excitement, saying his name over and over again. At the first shriek, the gray hopped to the side of the wooden frame, close to the water. He looked down at the water below and shied. At a second shriek, he reared. With the continued babble ranging about them, he put his head down and threw his back legs into the air.

The stirrups slipped from beneath Cat's feet. She flew over the horse's head and the ridged edge of the bridge. She smelt the fish-laden water of the loch before she plummeted into it. She came up sputtering and swearing. “Och, och. Damned thing. You spawn of Satan. You fearsome beast of all beasts.”

Someone grabbed the gray's reins and hung on for dear life. The horse leaped and ducked his head to get away from the edge. Cat screamed at him from the water. “Easy boy, easy. Fool!”

Everyone in the crowd stood at the edge of the bridge, watching her progress. Their laughter floated to the loch at this unexpected entertainment. Cat felt herself blush all over even though the water was cool. Two huge shapes swam toward her in matched strokes. One she recognized as Gerek, but had no clue who the other might be.

The older man's voice had the same deep tones as Gerek's. “Well, lassie, 'tis Hell's way to meet, but meet ye I will. Me grandson has few manners, as I'm sure ye've noticed.” His grin was engaging, not unlike Gerek's. “I'm Harald Gunn, chief of this motley crew of babbling maniacs, some of whom should fall off this bridge from the press of the crowd.”

A large plop interrupted him. “Och, there goes one already. There'll be more for sure.” In seconds, four others fell into the loch, all sputtering, laughing and splashing about in remarkably good humor.

Cat's face flamed with the anguish of causing trouble. She was at a loss. Treading water, she made a slight acknowledgement with a bob of her head. “Well, I'm Catriona MacF ... I'm Catriona. Just Catriona. I have no other name.” Her face burned with shame.

Treading water, Harald smiled gently at her before swimming for the nearest shore at the base of the bridge. “I know, lass. I know,” he called over his shoulder.

Gerek frowned and swam after his grandfather. “You know? You knew? You've known all the time!” He slapped at the water with an open hand. “You knew and you didn't tell me. Of all the damned...."

“What would it have changed?” Harald asked, climbing the slope to the bridge. “Ye would have been pledged, regardless. Still would have been obligated to marry by the document ye signed in yer own hand, six years ago."

“Well, then, grandfather I have something to tell you that you won't like. I'm not married, just handfasted. For the proscribed year and a day. If the lass and I don't care for each other at the end of that time, we'll go our separate ways, according to the fashion,” Gerek said, climbing the hill after his grandda.

“Nae, ye'll marry and soon. Within a few short days. Ye'll marry or ye'll not be Gunn. That's the beginning and end of it. Now let's get out of these damned wet clothes.”

Cat lost track of their argument. She ignored them both and headed toward shore by herself. The words gave Cat a clear picture of what they both thought of the situation. She realized she was the means to an end, to satisfy Gerek's desire to be Gunn. No doubt, he would be most pleased to get out of the handfast, once the time had passed.

Disheartened at the turn of events in her life in the past month, she dragged herself out of the loch at the beginning of the bridge. Everyone looked at her as if she were some strange creature from the deep. She straightened and raised her chin. They murmured something. She ignored them and strode past the largest group, over the drawbridge and into the castle compound. The older woman who had started all the turmoil with her shrieks of delight followed behind Cat.

“Wait, lass. Wait!” The woman stumbled in her hurry to reach Cat. “Wait, child. I mean you no harm."

Cat stopped and turned. “What is it you're looking for? An excuse to laugh at my disarray?"

“Nae, child. Why would I laugh at you? Entangled as you are with that crass nephew of mine.” She looked Cat over and clucked. “My dear, let me introduce myself. I am Gerek's aunt. His aunt Jocaste. I hope we can be friends.” Jocaste bobbed a quick curtsy. “You'll need one."

Cat stared at the woman, the height, the sturdy build and the gray eyes. The resemblance between Gerek and his aunt was incredible. The woman was lighter haired and lighter skinned than Gerek. Jocaste reminded Cat of someone and she shook her head to remember. Baen.

This was Baen's mother. “I don't expect friends here. I don't expect to be here long enough.” Baen would help her get away from here. He was her friend, her only friend here.

Jocaste smiled, a rather sly smile. “Lassie, do not concern yourself with those two hard-hearted men, my father and my nephew. If you noticed, they attempted to save you from the water, only to start an argument with each other. Then as usual, they forgot what they were to be doing.”

Jocaste looked her up and down as if measuring her. “Come. You need to dry off and get comfortable before greeting everyone. Let me take you to my sister's old cottage. We'll see if some of her clothes will fit you. You're tall and slender as she was. You don't want the people in the castle to see you like this.”

Jocaste took Cat's arm firmly in her hand and hurried her off to the back of the castle itself. She didn't want the girl to live in the castle or make any friends. This way, the chit would be at Baen's and her mercy.

Along the far back wall stood a dilapidated small hut, made of rocks and mud and sadly in need of fixing. Cat stopped, stood back and stared at the neglected hovel.

Jocaste urged her forward, but when the girl didn't move, she spoke to her softly. “There is nothing to fear, child. My sister and Gerek lived in this hut for twelve years, until he was sent away. My sister was estranged from our father and refused to be in his company for a time."

“Gerek lived here?"

“Aye. After his twelfth birthday, when his mother died, he was sent away. No one has used the cottage since. It might be a bit dusty, but my father kept the outside repaired in case Gerek wanted to come back."

“So this is where my lord and master came from, this hut. This is probably where he'll return. 'Tis no wonder his behavior leaves much to be desired."

Jocaste sensed the girl's dissatisfaction and dread. What did she think she'd find? That her lover was highborn? A small chuckle almost escaped Jocaste's mouth. When the girl's first steps were tentative, Jocaste impeded any movement backward with her fingers squeezed into the small of the Cat's back. Gently, she walked her forward.

Gesturing grandly, Jocaste stepped to the side and shoved the door open. The state of disrepair surprised her; the hole in the thatched roof was worse than even she had imagined. She'd have the child struggling to make a home for Gerek, so it would be back into the hut he'd crawl.

She watched Cat through narrowed eyes and heard the girl's gasp of horror. “It's all right, lassie. There's nothing to harm you. I'm here."

Cat took three steps forward over the door lintel and one back. She groaned. Jocaste stood in the doorway. The dirt and filth within the one-room hovel made Cat gag. She wrinkled her nose, coughed and gagged again. A fetid smell of death permeated the room, as if someone had died there and was left to rot.

Only Jocaste knew the truth of that, but she had never told anyone what last transpired in this room at the end of her sister's life. “It's fine, lassie. We'll have it looking even better than it did when my sister and Gerek lived here."

Cat swung around and looked Jocaste full in the face. “You mean that no one has lived here in years? Since Gerek was twelve?”

Jocaste nodded. “Not since the boy was sent away because of his crude behavior and his insensitive accusations of everyone in the clan. None have wanted to settle here since. It's Gerek's home."

“His home?"

“Aye.”

Cat glanced around with a sense of hopelessness. “I can't do this,” she said in dismay. “I can't do this, again."

Jocaste was puzzled. What did the girl mean, again?

“Again?” she queried, hoping to learn some secret.

The tone of Cat's voice was cold and sharp, even to her. “It's a long story, one I do not wish to think about. Leave off. Please?"

Jocaste understood not to tread on this subject—at the moment. Later, it might serve her well. She stepped closer and murmured in sympathy. She patted the younger woman's back. The little chit, she thought. She'll keep no secrets from me. She'll tell me everything sooner or later.

“'Tis fine, lass. Just fine. There's nothing you need tell me, for now.” She smiled at Cat and strolled around the room as if everything in the hut belonged to her. “My son Baen told me much, when he returned from Fairloch, regarding your past, about the abuse heaped upon you by the very person that tricked you into believing he was your father.”

Cat stood in the middle of the wreckage that surrounded her. She stared at Jocaste but said nothing

“You need not be afraid here, child. None will take a hand to you. Not even the Beast. Baen will see to it.” Gingerly, she wiped the dirt off something that resembled an eating table. She blew the dirt off her fingers. It rose in the air and clouded the space over the table.

Cat coughed and held her hand to her mouth as the trail of dust floated to the floor. “And this is where they'll put the future Gunn?"

Jocaste smiled at the very idea. “Nae. Of course not. He will have to stay in the castle, where he'll be guarded day and night, as my father has always been.” It would serve Gerek right, but she knew it wouldn't happen. That old man, her father, who ruled the castle and its folks, was besotted with the lad.

Cat stood open-mouthed. “From his own people? I don't understand."

Jocaste laughed to herself. This girl-child was so easy. With her attitude toward Gerek, it would be easy to keep the two separated so they wouldn't marry before Gerek's birthday. “Some factions in this clan do not think a bastard deserves to be Gunn. He's been gone so long, he's lost the ways of his people. He's barbaric and a bastard by birth,” she said, hoping she could convince the child that her nephew was not a worthy mate. “Many favor Baen, although he is quite content to be head of the warriors. He's a born leader but is perfectly willing to have someone else take responsibility for the entire clan. Baen's trueborn, with a proper mother and father to support his claim to the chiefdom. His father's an elder of the council, has been for many years."

“You mean it's not decided yet? I was led to believe otherwise.” Cat grabbed a chair and tried to dust it off. The dust got up into her nose, streaked her face and made her cough as if she were choking, until her eyes ran with water. She licked her lips and swallowed.

Jocaste stood for a moment, patting her back. Then she removed her long scarf and threw it over the girl's shoulders. “Dear me, I hope you're not catching a chill from the cold water. The weather is still unstable. I tell you what. I'll go to the castle and bring you some of my clothes. They'll be a bit big but we'll fix that later.” She stopped at the door. “I'll also send hand servants down to help you with this wee home. They'll fix the roof and clean it up. We'll have it all neat and orderly within the hour. Just take off your wet clothes and wrap yourself in my scarf. I'll be back shortly.” She hurried out the door and ran across a tiny back courtyard that was no longer used. It held some memories that Jocaste preferred not to remember.

Cat watched the woman hurry through the remains of a garden as if the very devil was chasing her. What a strange woman. One moment she seemed tied to the earth, the next she seemed to be in a world of bitter memories, judging from the expression on her face. Cat neither wanted nor cared to interpret Jocaste's action. How could she when she could barely interpret her own.

She shivered, chilled. She pulled the wet blouse over her head and had an instant image of her shirt stuck to her breasts. She must have made a spectacle of herself when she passed all the villagers. What would the Gunns think of her? She dreaded a formal meeting with the ruling powers. What would they think of handfasting? Not all clans approved of the ceremony. Did the Gunns handfast while waiting for a proper religious person to perform the service, or did they abstain from relationships until properly wed? There was so much to think about that Cat's mind went blank.

In the next second she was in a fury of activity. She flung Jocaste's scarf around her body. She stamped about, dust lifting from the floor. What did she care what others thought? She needed to take care of herself. There was no one else to do it.

She stamped around the room, slamming her feet on the ground while searching every cranny. Her anger surged. She grabbed a broken chair, opened the door and hurled it to the outside. She dragged the filthy table to the door, creating ruts in the filth beneath her feet, and tumbled it onto the narrow stones set in front of the hut. It rolled once and fell to its side, where it obstructed the path. She ripped the tattered bed linen from the bed and tossed them through the open door. The bed and its mattress followed.

Not satisfied, she flung every dish off the shelves above the washbasin. When they fell to the floor, rolling and clattering against each other, she sighed, content for the moment. Then she sat down in the middle of the dirt floor, crossed her legs and cried. Her breeches were filthy with grime and that made her feel good. She never wanted to wear breeches again. Grabbing a handful of dirt, she rubbed it deeper into the breeches. Perhaps she should stay in these filthy clothes. It would serve Gerek right to be embarrassed in front of his clan!

A huge form filled the doorway and blocked the waning light. Startled she looked up. “Och, Dubh. My true friend. Only you have found me. If only you could talk and tell me how to leave here. I hate this place.” She clasped the dog around the neck and placed kisses along his muzzle, over his nose, into his ears. “You darling dog. My darling Dubh.” After another kiss upon his nose, he withdrew from her arms and turned to the door with a slow, warning growl.

Fear seized her. “What is it, Dubh? Why growl?” She leaped to her feet and stood behind the dog, which bared the entrance. His growls settled in his throat. Cat peeked out the door. A troop of servants came down the path toward the hut. Each carried something either to wear or to help clean. Jocaste led the group. She nearly tripped over the table and Cat giggled. The dog growled louder.

Jocaste stopped in the doorway. “What is this? What have you done? And whose beast is that?"

Cat bubbled with laughter when she noticed the upturned table, the smashed chair and the pile of bedding strewn over the path. “If I'm to live here until his lordship condescends to marry me and make me a proper wife, then I intend to fix this cottage as I see fit. I shall stay here until wed or gone from Killearnan.”

She stepped aside and let Gerek's aunt enter. Again Dubh growled.

“Tie that beast outside. I am not going to be bitten while I'm trying to help you. What a disgusting animal!"

“Come, Dubh.” Cat took the dog outside. She ordered. “Find Gerek.”

She watched the dog spring to attention and run off around the castle, then she stood and watched the activities. Servants trooped in with articles of clothing and materials with which to repair the roof. One servant bobbed a quick curtsy and scurried to a washbasin. Her round body reminded Cat of Mag, but between the overly large bonnet on the servant's head and the dim light in the hut, she was unable to distinguish any features.

Cat glanced up. The men were on the roof. It distracted her momentarily. Within moments they had the roof plugged with cloth, mud and pieces of wood. The light in the hut dimmed.

Jocaste asked, “Did anyone think to bring the candles? I told one of you to bring them.” Her imperious voice brooked no retorts or comments.

Some of the servant women trembled at her tone. The maid at the washbasin turned slowly. “I brought them, milady. In me pocket."

The voice was Mag's. Cat gasped. She moved across the room, but Mag's stern expression slowed her steps. She opened her eyes wide, concentrated on the woman's general demeanor and made note of the tilt of her head and the extra bobbed curtsy as Mag stared at the ground.

The maid took a tiny step nearer. “Here, milady,” she said, holding out the candle. She kept her eyes fixed on the floor and whispered, “Stand easy, lass."

Cat acknowledged the terse greeting by raising one eyebrow. “Why, thank you. Do we have anything to put the candle on?"

“I just cleaned a holder. 'Tis here, milady.” Mag lifted a candleholder from her apron pocket and held it out to Cat and turned to Jocaste. “Is that one all right, milady Jocaste?"

Jocaste was busy shaking out the few skirts she had brought with her. “Aye, if it suits the lass."

Cat smiled at Jocaste and turned back to Mag. “Thank you. And by the way, what is your name, missy."

“'Tis Mag, mistress. Just Mag."

“Well, Mag. I am most happy to make your acquaintance."

Jocaste strolled over to the two of them. Cat became guarded and fiddled with the candle and its holder. “Child, you don't have to be so polite to the servants. They expect to work and are glad for the opportunity. This is a new woman. We don't know much about her. But, so far, she's a good worker."

Mag bobbed another curtsy. “Thank ye, milady.” She turned and walked around the dishes on the floor to get to a long cupboard against the wall. “I'll clean this out for ye. Then ye'll be able to fit yer clothing inside it in no time.”

Cat smiled. Mag was still her old self, intent on doing her own thing in her own way and at her own time. “Tell me, Mag, do you sew?"

“Aye, mistress. I'm good wi’ a needle, I am."

“Good. Lady Jocaste, is it all right for me to choose a servant for my own? Then Mag shall be my maid. I'll need one in this hovel."

A sly smile lit up Jocaste's face. This would be a perfect solution. The two would be strangers to most of the Gunns. The serving woman had not been here long enough to make friends. Besides, she seemed to keep her own counsel. They would be two outcasts and it served Jocaste's plan well. “Aye, lass. You can do what you wish until you move into the castle. There are servants in the castle more in keeping with your status than this one. But she'll do for now, I'm sure. Later you may want someone more experienced with ladies."

Jocaste saw the two nod to one another but thought nothing of it. She shook out another garment. She had taken clothing from the peasant barrel, left for those who could not afford things of their own, and picked out the most drab colors, the largest outfits she could find. This chit would not be more outstanding than she was. In fact, she'd look downright dowdy. “Well,” she murmured. “There doesn't seem to be much left for me to do, so I will leave you to go greet my nephew with proper grace and form."

Cat looked up at Jocaste after examining some of the clothes. “Aye, milady. I think Mag and I can continue with the work here. Would you please have a servant bring me the two sacks I had on my gelding? My intimate apparel is in them. It's not much but it will suffice for the present. Also, Laird MacFarr said he sent my trunk ahead. Could someone find and bring it along?"

“Of course, my dear. I will send for the sacks right away and have someone look for your trunk.” She turned to leave. “There is a welcoming dinner for my nephew this evening. Would you like to go?"

Cat responded quickly. “I don't think so. I have much to do to get these clothes ready for meeting others. Perhaps, Mag will scour up something from the kitchen and bring it to me here."

Jocaste shook her head. “You'd best come. The feast will be in your honor as well as Gerek's. I will send Baen to fetch you when it is time.”

Jocaste left the cottage, taking with her all the servants but Mag. Outside, she gave them order to pick up all the things the girl had thrown out. “You, and you, pick up all this garbage and throw it out. My son will have to walk down this path tonight and I don't want him to trip over anything."

The servants bent and picked up as many pieces as they could. The two men who had fixed the roof hoisted the table onto their shoulders and the ground was clear of debris. Cat and Mag watched until Jocaste disappeared into the castle through some back entrance.

The two grabbed each other and danced around the hut.

“You sly fox. When did you get here? How long have you been here? Is my mam here? Tell me. Tell me, quickly, before I burst."

“Dara's sons took me to their home with the Keiths. MacFarr thought I went with the trunk, I think. By the way, your trunk came, but it's been hidden. I don't know who took it."

“I don't care about it. It will surface somewhere. Finish the story."

“The Keith sons took me to some hut in the woods and gave me the directions for Killearnan. I made my way here as fast as I could. I figured that even if you didn't arrive on time, I'd find you, sooner or later."

“Oh, Mag, I'm so grateful you're here. You can't imagine how much of a fool I made of myself when I arrived."

“I figured. You were in filthy, wet breeches when I entered this hovel. How did you wind up here when everyone else is in the castle?"

“I don't know. The Beast paid no attention to me. He was caught up in everyone's adoration. The swine."

“Aye. But understandable."

“What do you mean, understandable?"

Mag stared at her. “Just exactly that. And don't ye pull one of yer hissy fits on me. I'm too used to ye. The man's a bastard, but I'm sure you know that already. He was sent away by his grandfather when he was only twelve, for his own protection, because there were people in this clan who didn't like his prospects. Now, he's come home to honors and he's enjoying it."

“Well, he doesn't have to ignore me while he's doing it."

“If ye've been acting so high and mighty like this, he does. Besides, ye still haven't answered me question. How did ye wind up in this disgusting hut?"

Cat shook her head. “I'm not sure. Lady Jocaste just seemed to spirit me away. And I was here."

“Well, be careful of that lady. There's something about her that doesn't suit me right.” Mag began to pick up the dishes on the ground. When Cat bent down to help her, she waved her off. “Ye better get out of them wet breeches and try on some of those clothes. We'll have a sight to do on them. It looks as if they've been assembled from a rag-picker sack."

Cat sighed. “I know. I looked them over quickly when they first brought them in. There's nothing there that will fit me unless we alter them a lot."

“We'd best get started. Lady Jocaste's son will be here to get ye before ye know it. By the way, is yer man as handsome?"

“I don't think so. But Baen's kind and gentle."

Mag clucked her tongue and shook her finger at Cat. “Och, that's the way it goes. Ye better be careful, lassie. Ye'll get yerself into a pile of trouble if ye think that way.”

“I have no intention of being with either of them."

“Och, that's fer laughing. Did ye think ye'd have much to say about it? Besides, I think your Gerek is mighty handsome himself. I kinda’ have an eye fer him meself. I like me men big and burly.” Mag strutted around the hut.

Cat laughed at Mag antics. “I know. It's too bad I prefer the other."

Mag had a look of horror on her face. “Ye best not, Cat. Ye're heading fer trouble if ye continue in this vein. But for the time being, we'd better get busy if ye're to keep yer appointment with destiny.”

Cat shrugged and tossed her head. “Destiny, my foot!"

Chapter Sixteen

Servants tramped back and forth through the hut for the remainder of the day. They came in droves with tables, chairs, beds, linens and new dishes; even curtains for the windows in which they had placed heavy canvas earlier. They scrubbed everything in sight. They brought food for the larder. The hut took on a polish and a gleam as never before.

Cat and Mag worked alongside the help. They had little chance to talk but savored every minute of each other's company. When the last servant left, there was a scratching on the door. Cat, her hair falling into her eyes, her hands up to her elbows in soapy water, yelled out. “Come. Come in."

The only reply was a long, low whine and more scratching. Mag ran to the door, opened it and was nearly struck down by the tremendous animal that leaped through the doorway. He ran directly at Cat, flung himself into her arms as if he were a lap dog, pushing her to the floor.

“Och, Dubh. You came back. Are you going to stay with me in this mess I've gotten myself into? And will you come with me when I leave?” Cat thought for a moment. “I doubt that. I really shouldn't ask you that.”

Dubh's tail wagged, the back and forth thrusts, harder with each word Cat uttered. He slapped his tail against a chair, knocking it askew.

Cat reached down and patted his head. “Easy, boy. Of course. I understand, but if you're going to stay here you must have some sort of bed, a wee place you can go to when you're sick of me.” Cat looked around the room. “Mag, we have to make a bed for him. I promised."

“Ye promised. What do ye mean, ye promised? He doesn't understand yer words. He's just a huge, smelly beastie. He doesn't need a bed inside. Out."

“Aye, he does. Or else he'll share yours.” Cat giggled. Mag was so good for her. Her humorous attitude most often deflected Cat's gloomy moods and made everything seem a bit brighter than it had moments before.

Mag grabbed several of the dresses that were too far gone to be repaired for Cat. She ripped them into large pieces, plumped them and put them to one side of the hearth that was now sparkling from all the cleaning it had seen. A small fire glowed, just enough to keep the hut cozy.

Mag pointed to Dubh. “Ye. Set yerself down on this homemade beddie. This be yers. Use it well. And if ye gi’ me any trouble, it's outside for ye."

The dog looked to Cat, his mobile face a mass of confusion.

Mag frowned at him. “Och. We'll ha’ none o’ that, me fine wooly friend. Ye'll listen to this one here. Lie down on that wee beddie. Now!"

With great reluctance, the huge animal moved over and flopped down on his new bed. To show his annoyance, he groaned long and loud.

“Well, that's more like it,” she said, slapping her hands together in glee. “I've taught the wee beastie who's boss."

Cat laughed and the sound pleased her. She hadn't laughed much, not since she left Stoneleigh. Her thoughts drifted to Gerek. She'd been too busy during the afternoon to think about him, but slowly her mind sought him out. She wondered why he hadn't bothered to even look for her. Perhaps, now that he was back with his family, he had cast her off. She shook off her feeling of loneliness and turned to Mag. “I'd better get dressed or I won't be ready for Baen when he gets here."

“Aye, lassie. Put on that shirt and skirt. They're in the Gunn plaids but that's all right.

Cat was horrified. “I'll not wear that plaid, not now, not ever."

“I wish ye'd stop making those ridiculous statements. Ye'll wear it when ye're married to the Beast."

Cat shook her head. “I have no intention of marrying any man MacFarr picked for me. Not in this lifetime."

“I've always understood why ye hated yer father, but this man is...."

Cat raised her hand to stop whatever it was Mag intended to say. “Hear something from me, Mag, something you didn't know. MacFarr is not my real father. He never was. He only pretended over the years. He was quite happy when I left for Stoneleigh. There's some mystery about who my father was, and I won't know the truth until I see Mam."

“Dinna say that, lassie. It ain't fittin'. He was yer Da. For years."

Cat shuffled over to the wardrobe that contained the clothing Jocaste had brought. No one had bothered to get her two sacks. She dragged out a peasant's blouse and a skirt that was too short for her. She wheeled around and pointed a finger at Mag. “I want you to listen and listen well. I will not wear Gunn colors. I do not want to marry the Beast. And MacFarr was not my father. He admitted it. I don't know who I really am and I don't care.” Tears rolled down Cat's cheeks.

Mag rushed over and enfolded her in strong arms. “There, there, child. Dinna’ cry any more. I'll not force ye to do anything. 'Tis too much force that brought ye to this fearful crying.” She slipped the peasant blouse over Cat's head and helped her get into the short skirt. “There! That suits? Ye look like a peasant, a serving lass, but it doesn't dim yer beauty."

A look of horror crossed Cat's face. “I'm not a MacFarr. I'm a bastard and as such I intend to work for my keep. We'll go to the kitchen tonight and we'll help serve the lord and ladies. That's what I intend to do."

Mag's mouth fell open. “Ye'll do no such thing. Ye'll anger the Gunn."

Cat's chin rose. “I don't care. No one has worried about me so far."

“Catriona Mac.... Must ye irritate everyone ye come in contact with? Ye dinna’ have to do this. It will not endear ye to the Gunns."

Cat glared at Mag, who seemed to take no notice of it. “I said I don't care what they think about it. I will not be a beggar for my bed or board. I do not intend to marry the man. I'll leave here as soon as I can. But, in the meantime, I will work as a servant. I did it at Stoneleigh and I can do it here."

Mag shook her head. “All right. I'll not try to stem yer way. Ye're going to find out fer yerself.” Mag went to the wardrobe. She got out two cloaks and threw one at Cat. “Here, Mistress. Maid...."

Dubh stood and growled. Cat thought he was angry at Mag for throwing something at her. A knock at the door distracted Cat. The cloak fell to the floor. Dubh growled and faced the door. Mag went to answer it and tripped over the dog, which snarled at her.

“Shut yer teeth, ye foolish pup. I'll not hurt either ye or yer mistress.” She grumbled to herself. “But yer master might.” She flung open the door.

“What do ye want?"

Cat's delighted cry filled the hut. “Baen! Och, Baen.” She rushed over and stood just behind Mag. “I'm glad to see you. Is Mam with you?"

Mag stood in the doorway, her hands clutching her round hips. “And what is it ye're wantin, Master Baen?” She blocked the doorway.

Baen grinned at the servant. “If you'll move that rotund body of yours and let me in, I'll tell you.” With a slight shove, he pushed his way inside.

Dubh snarled at him and he retaliated by pointing his finger at the dog. “Go lie down, you mangy cur. I'll not be having any troubles with you this day.” He smiled at Cat. “This dog and I do not communicate well."

Cat smiled back at this handsome man, the man who had saved her several times. “Come in. Sit down. I need to explain some things to you.” She waited until he was seated, but before she was able to tell him anything, she noticed that he looked at her attire and frowned. “What's wrong?"

“Catriona, I don't think you should be wearing that outfit. You're the new Gunn's betrothed. You shouldn't look like a serving maid."

“Betrothed, is it now? What happened to the handfast?"

“'Tis my grandfather and the elders. This clan doesn't place much stock in handfasting."

Cat stared at Baen. “Good. Here is what I intend to do. I am going to the kitchen with Mag. Tonight we'll serve. Allow me to serve the head table."

Baen's look of shock pleased Cat. She went to the small mirror the servants had brought and ran a boar's bristle brush through her hair. She looked around for her cloak. Dubh had pulled it under the table and was now lying on it, stretched out.

Her breathy laugh ruffled the edges of her newly combed hair. “I guess that's where Dubh intends to lie, Mag. He's made his own bed."

Mag joined in the laughter. “It's probably too hot for him by the hearth. Particularly when he stretches out like that. I dinna’ care. But yer cloak?"

“There's a dark shawl in the cupboard. I'll wear it on my shoulders and turn it into an apron when I serve the lords and ladies. It will keep the skirt clean."

Baen coughed lightly, his hand to his mouth. “Catriona, I don't think Gerek will like your plan. He'll be quite annoyed. He's not a man to spite."

Her face became a mask. “This is not spite. I said at Fairloch that I had no desire to marry the man. I still don't. Nor do I wish to suffer his attentions during my stay here. I will earn my keep as a servant."

Baen's expression was unreadable. It was not the open look she usually associated with him. When he grunted and shook his head, she smiled at him and motioned that it was time to go.

Dubh stood and stretched. It was obvious to Cat that he intended to go along with her. She patted his head and bent to kiss his muzzle. “You stay here."

Someone beat on the door, and in an instant it was flung open, off the hooks on which it rested. Gerek filled the doorway, ducking to enter the room. His anger was fearsome. “So this is where you are! I scoured the castle. I've been searching for you the entire afternoon.” He turned to Baen. “What the hell are you doing here?"

Baen's anger met Gerek's head on. “I was sent here by my mother. She asked if I would escort Catriona to the great hall, since you seemed not to care."

Gerek fumed. “Why the hell didn't your mother tell me where the lass was? She knew I was looking for her. Everyone in the castle knew I was looking for her.” He rounded on Cat. “You've made a fool of me again, lassie mine. And to be quite truthful, I'm a mite tired of it."

Cat's temper flared to meet Gerek's. “You're tired? Then, let me be gone from your presence.” She stalked out the open doorway and down the path, slipping over the stone slabs that were now covered with a damp mist.

Gerek charged back through the open doorway, and in a few strides caught up with her. He grabbed her arm and turned her around to face him. “I dislike it when someone turns from me and goes off in a huff without finishing whatever it is they started in the first place."

Teeth clenched together and with slow deliberateness, she pried his fingers from her arm one by one, showing her surprise that they gave way so easily. When entirely free, she stuck her nose up into his face as he loomed over her. “What you dislike is of no importance to me, but I will finish what you claim I started."

His calculated grunt of acceptance whipped Cat's anger into fury.

“What do you mean by speaking to someone in my home in that superior tone of voice that you generally save for me? Baen was my guest, sent there by the only other person kind to me in this Killearnan of yours. The rest have behaved as if I were an unwanted encumbrance, a hindrance to their adoration of you. Well I don't need them. I don't want them. And I don't want you. So get out of my way!” She stamped past him but he took her arm again and held it so she could move no further.

He was enraged but waited until Baen and Mag caught up to them. “Baen, it seems that the lass prefers your company to mine."

Baen took a step backward. “Don't be so surprised, Gerek. It's not the first time, cousin.” He went to take another step back, but Dubh was at his heels and he almost fell over him. “Get out of my way, you filthy mongrel."

“Fancy words from a fancy man. Baen, understand me. I'll not fight you for this lass. She's mine. We handfasted before witnesses. Both Gunns and MacFarrs. You need to keep to your place in this turmoil, most of which doesn't concern you at all."

Baen's quick, flighty temper equaled Gerek's at the moment. “Since when do you give me orders? You forget, cousin. I was there. I saw how you handfasted with Catriona, moving her head when she was unconscious. I watched you. Your handfast would mean nothing were it challenged."

Gasps from both Cat and Mag halted the disagreement. Their “What?” came as one voice.

Gerek looked at the woman with Cat. “Who are you?"

The two women stared in astonishment. Mag recovered first. She turned to Cat. “First, ye told me ye were not married, yet ye traveled all this way with the man. Now, I hear that ye weren't handfasted properly. What game is this ye're playing, Miss Cat?"

“I'm not playing at games. I am no more aware of the handfasting than you are.” She glared at Gerek. “Is this true?” His growl gave her his answer. “How could you do such a thing to me? I had begun to trust you, trust your judgment.” She hesitated, then her voice rose. “You deliberately made my head bob? You coward. You Beast. You...."

Gerek touched her arm again and laced his fingers around it. “If I hadn't done that, none of us would have gotten out of Fairloch. We had to leave there. You would have died there, if I had left you."

Cat stamped her foot. “Don't give me your excuses. We agreed to convince MacFarr we shouldn't marry. No matter what the provocation, you took advantage of my faint. This will be the last time you do anything to fool me.” She turned on her heels. “Come Mag. We've chores to do."

Gerek looked at her in puzzlement. This lass knew how to attack where he was most vulnerable—in his honor. Throughout the trip from Fairloch, he felt shame for having moved her head in assent, without her permission. Baen shouldn't have mentioned it. But how like his cousin to strike back, regardless of the consequences. Gerek felt like tearing him apart, but it would upset his grandda.

Gerek looked around. Where had the two women gone? How could they have disappeared so quickly? What had the lass meant by 'chores'? What chores? The only door ahead led to the kitchen. Why would they go there?

Gerek took off at a run, disturbed at what Cat might do in her anger. He went in the door that led to the kitchen, raced down the stairs and into the kitchen, where he stopped short when his favorite cook came at him with a large spoon in her hand. “Get out of here, Master Gerek or I'll slip ye into me soup. Get upstairs where ye belong."

“Hold, Tenita. Will I not to have a say in this kitchen when I'm Gunn?"

“Not while I live. This kitchen is mine. It's been my job since ye were a bairn. It will stay mine until I keel over from the worry of it all. So, take yerself out of here. Go!"

“Have you seen a red-haired lass come in here, but a moment ago?"

“Aye, that I did. I sent her up to the hall with a platter of meat for yer table."

“Tenita, stop. You gave a platter of meat to the red-haired lass?"

“Aye, that I did. And some bowls full of parsnip greens to her companion. They're pretty enough, but they're serving wenches. Don't be causin’ the Gunn troubles wi’ maids. 'Tis time to let the lassies be. Now that ye're betrothed, that is.” Tenita moved back to the cauldron she had been stirring. “Go. Get on wi’ ye."

“That red-haired lass is my betrothed. You've helped her humiliate me, dammit.”

Tenita approached him again, her spoon raised above her head. She brought the curved end of it down on his shoulder. Others in the kitchen gasped. “Don't ye be swearing in me kitchen. Have ye nae learned manners on yer travels? How am I to know 'twas yer lassie? Did ye bring her to me fer a greeting? No, too concerned with all the lassies making fools of themselves over the likes of ye. Go find the lass now, ye hear? And love her proper."

Gerek sped from the kitchen and up the stairs three at a time. He entered the great hall of Killearnan in time to see Cat place a platter in front of his grandfather. His grandfather's look of disapproval revealed he had recognized her. To see his betrothed as a serving wench slowed Gerek's progress across the hall. Without a stir, he greeted old friends and acquaintances scattered about the hall. He moved through groups of well-wishers to the head table. By the time he reached it, Cat was nowhere to be seen.

His grandfather gestured for him to sit next to him, then leaned over to ask, “What the devil is going on, Gerek?"

“Damned if I know,” came the answer, which caused the Gunn to frown. The truth would serve Gerek best, so he whispered into the Gunn's ear. “Grandda, she hated me before she ever met me. MacFarr insisted that we keep the pledge, even though the girl is not his. He said you knew the story, but you've yet to tell me and, as you can imagine, I'm most interested."

“I'm not sure I will. Why is she serving dinner instead of sitting in her place between the two of us? What have ye done to distress her so?"

Gerek groaned. “I've done little or nothing or too much. I can't seem to converse with her. She sends me off. I don't suit her, but the pledge was honored, somewhat dishonestly, I must admit. The girl found out about it."

Harald Gunn looked up from his plate and gave his grandson a hearty slap on the back. “I'll be. Ye've taken a real fancy to each other.” He laughed loudly, but quieted when Cat returned to the hall with another platter. “There she is, laddie. Ye best make yerself known to her before the men start pulling on her apron and pinching her bottom."

Watching several men grope for Cat, Gerek rose from his seat. She sidled away from one in disgust, slapped the hands of another and spilled some hot food on a third. Gerek rounded the table as one of the men tried to slip his hand under Cat's skirt.

Cat put the long platter on a nearby table, dodged, whirled and bumped into Gerek's chest. She must have thought it was another of the men attempting to disconcert her for she punched him in the stomach. Gerek doubled over from the force of her blow but caught her around her waist and lifted her onto his shoulder.

Cat bounced in rhythm with his heavy strides and pounded on his back. He strolled most tables, smiling and nodding to all. At the head table where the family sat, he deposited Cat in the chair next to his grandfather. He kept one large hand on her shoulder to hold her down as she twisted and turned. He raised his other hand for silence.

When everyone had quieted from the signal, Gerek's voice was cheerful as he said, “I'd like to introduce you to my betrothed. This lovely lass beside me will be Catriona Gunn within a few days.”

He looked down at Cat and said through clenched teeth, “Mark my words, that's who you'll be."

The women in the hall screamed with laughter. The men called out remarks meant to discomfort the bride-to-be and to cheer Gerek on.

“Lass,” he said, pinching her shoulder between his thumb and forefinger, “if you don't want to offend them, you'll go along with their playing. They mean you no harm."

Cat didn't answer him, nor did she move at all. Her face was a furious bright pink. She raised her chin, looked straight ahead but smiled grimly.

“Well, have it your way, Cat.”

Gerek looked out into the crowded hall and raised his hand again. “Catriona, or better yet, Cat.” The men-at-arms howled over the name, with stunning suggestions to Gerek. “Let me finish. Cat is a bit shy. We were handfasted irregularly at Fairloch Castle after an altercation with the MacFarr. She will be staying in my old home until we are wed. A maid will see to her comforts and Dubh, my deerhound, will protect her.” Having given a warning, Gerek sat, feeling the fool for needing to defend his woman.

The Gunn stood to resounding cheers from the clan. “You Gunns know, as soon as Gerek marries Catriona, he will become the new Gunn.”

The cheers that followed seemed to raise the vaulted roof of the hall. Harald raised his arm. “I will look forward to hunting, fishing and beating you at cards.” Chuckles and taunts ranged through the crowd, but Harald continued, “I want ye to understand that anyone who doesn't show proper respect to my future granddaughter will answer to me. That is, after Gerek and Dubh get through with him.” He turned to Gerek. “Now, laddie, kiss your betrothed to seal your plight."

He put his arms under Cat's and lifted her to her feet. While the crowd hooted, he leaned down and whispered to her. “If ye do not wish to be humiliated, I suggest ye go along with the festivities,” he said before sitting.

Gerek leaned toward Cat and said quietly, “I'll make it a wee kiss.” He lifted her in his arms, her soft chest to his, her clouded eyes to his, her feet dangling off the floor. His lips met hers. Hers were cool but soft, almost welcoming. The fragrance of lavender filled his nostrils, and he wanted to keep her in his arms forever. His gentle kiss got away from him. He deepened it until he sensed a response; only then did he set her on her feet but kept one arm around her, fitting her body to his.

The crowd grew wild, with cheers and laughter bouncing off the stone walls. The men in the hall reached over to the nearest lady, young or old, and gave her a rousing kiss. Niall, who as Gerek's mentor sat at the head table, reached to grab the nearest serving maid, who happened to be Mag. In good fun, Mag returned the kiss, then drew back, looked him over and gave him a fetching smile, accompanied by the raising of her eyebrows.

The rest of the evening passed slowly for Cat. She was uncomfortable with the fuss made over her, fostered by the Gunn's words, especially after trying for most of her life to stay out of the sight of those who surrounded her. Surprised at herself, she found herself annoyed that every woman in the castle had eyes for Gerek. If she looked away for a moment, another was hanging on him. Was she jealous? Impossible!

All he wanted was to be Gunn and he needed her to do it. He would not jeopardize his position for any woman. It was more than she could stomach. She had to get away from here. She didn't care if he were ever Gunn. In fact, she didn't care about him at all, but if that blond draped herself around him again, she would smash her to the stone floor.

* * * *

The number of women surrounding Gerek increased with every passing day. Baen continued to dance constant attention on Cat, often making Gerek furious. If she had one chance to escape the world in which she now lived, it would be through Baen and his mother.

The more time spent with the two of them, the more she grew to understand how much they wanted Baen to become Gunn instead of Gerek. How they could arrange her release puzzled her, but she knew they would. She began to take them into her confidence without telling Mag. After the kiss in the great hall, Mag's interest in Niall flourished, so much so she did not want to leave Killearnan, and Cat needed to go quickly or she'd be married without her consent.

During the week before the scheduled wedding, Cat became increasingly fearful about the approaching festivities and their consequence. She had not been able to banish either Gerek or Baen from her thoughts and struggled to separate their distinct qualities. They were so much alike yet so very different. Each visited with her at least once a day and she saw both at evening meals.

She kept herself cold and separate. Her basically fragile nature had been damaged enough. She couldn't afford more hurt in her life, so she avoided making friends with anyone, believing she wouldn't be at Killearnan much longer.

Gerek's taciturn manner prohibited idle conversations. She was attracted to him, wanted him close, wanted him away. The very fact that he affected her so, but only wanted her so he could become Gunn, made her turn away from him. Their time together was a mixture of remarks and carping—most unsatisfactory.

Despite her weakening protestations, the days passed quickly. Her wedding was to take place on the morrow, in early evening. It was to be followed by a ceremony for the new Gunn and the pledge of fealty by all attendees. She sighed. How could she marry a man who had more consideration for his position than he did for her?

Massive preparations for the night's huge pre-wedding feast kept the kitchen busy. Tonight's fete had been prepared for the guests and relatives who had traveled from distant territories and were now camped in and around the castle. Harald ordered Jocaste to ready the castle for the guests and the great hall for the ceremonies. Jocaste did her job with seeming relish, but assured Cat that other plans were being readied as well.

Today was the last time the bride and groom would be in each other's company before the actual wedding took place. Cat felt so alone. Her mam had still not arrived, and no matter how many times she asked about her, no one would tell her where her mother was, only that she was recuperating. Time for escape diminished by the hour.

She talked to herself, in an effort to convince herself of her desire to leave. “I have to go. I'll find Mam and then my father. I'll have to leave tonight, somehow, someway.” She let a breath float between her tight lips.

Cat had an appointment with Harald, and she dreaded having to face him, knowing that she was going to run away. Accompanied by Dubh, she left Mag in the cottage sewing on her bridal outfit and made her way through the back courtyard to the kitchen. She stopped briefly for a short chat with Tenita, who seemed to enjoy the respite from her cooking for the expected crowd. Trepidation over the upcoming conversation with the Gunn hastened her exit from the kitchen but slowed her steps as she went up the stairs to the great hall.

The hall was empty except for a few servants fixing tables and benches. The gigantic stone room with its massive beams trailing across its ceiling, holding up its domed roof, was overwhelming. After the confines and coziness of the hut, the hall seemed to swallow her up whole. She felt like a wee, insignificant child in a world much bigger than she. She took a deep breath and crossed over the scrubbed stone flooring, her boot heels tapping a soulful tune.

Staring at the cleanliness and magnificence of the hall, so different from Fairloch and Stoneleigh, she watched servants place clean spread fragrant rushes under the tables. In a passing vision, she saw herself responsible for conducting the social business of this castle as its mistress, but drove those thoughts from her mind. She sat on the edge of the large dais the Gunn used, as Gerek and the Gunn enter through the huge double doors and cross the hall, stride for stride.

Her heart beat irregularly and her breathing became shallow at the sight of Gerek, so she focused her scrutiny on the Gunn. The Gunn was a handsome man, tall, fit, with a wiry musculature. His coloring was as dark and ruddy as that of the grandson who walked beside him. His hair had streaks of white in it and his features were a bit wider and coarser than Gerek's, yet the resemblance between the two men was uncanny. Even their gaits were similar. They were men to be admired.

Cat wondered if she were seeing Gerek in his later years and studied him covertly. She needed to control her instantaneous reactions to this man. Lord, but he was handsome. The sight of him coming toward her set her heart to racing. He had some kind of hold on her, clouded by his stupid fame as a beast, the fact that MacFarr picked him and his reason for marrying her—to be Gunn. She drew her hands together in her lap, to stop herself from clutching at her skirt, and looked down at her hands, while she listened to them talk to one another.

Their voices were low and of the same rich timbre. Each had a lilt and cadence that caught her attention and made her smile. Gerek met with the Gunn every morning for instructions. What had they been discussing today? Often the two men toured the castle grounds, the villages and all the neighboring farms. As many times as they pleaded with her to come with them, she had steadfastly refused, citing appointments with Jocaste and her dressmakers.

Harald stepped in front of Gerek and took Cat's hands in his large ones. “Do ye like to sit on the floor, lass? Come join Gerek and me on the dais. I have a chair set aside for ye.”

He raised her to her feet with a gentle pull and put her left hand on his arm. Together they took the single step and crossed to the chairs, set in a semi-circle on the platform. He seated her in a delicately made chair and pointed to the one next to it for Gerek. The two faced him like school children.

Gerek had not spoken a word to her, barely glanced in her direction. His brow was furrowed, his attention elsewhere. In her annoyance, Cat inched her chair over a bit to get further away from him, for the very essence of his body set her pulse on fire. She sensed her heart beating in her throat and her fingers trembling in her lap, moving of their own volition.

The Gunn cleared his throat. “Lass, I've called ye to hear about yer past.”

Gerek's voice rumbled deep within his taut body. “Cat. I told ye, Grandda. She wishes to be called Cat. Aye, Cat? Isn't that so?"

The ability to speak rippled away from her, moved by the tone and soft sentiment of his. She stammered. “Aye. Aye. 'Tis Cat.” She stared at Gerek for a brief moment, her cheeks infused with warmth.

Harald Gunn cleared his throat again. His face wore a smile that flustered Cat. “Aye. Cat. What if I prefer Catriona? Yer legal name?” He waited for her reply as if he were judging her response by some standard he'd set in his mind.

“If you prefer Catriona, I'd like that. It's the name my mam gave to me."

“Good! An excellent answer. And now that ye've mentioned yer mam, I need to tell ye what I know of her."

“Do you know where she is? Is she coming here?” Cat's heart beat in an unearthly rhythm that reverberated in her ears. She heard it, ignored it and strained to hear his answer.

“She's with a neighboring clan. She was very ill and when she could no longer travel, Baen brought her to the MacKays. She safe and has had the best care but is not well enough to travel over a great distance.” The Gunn studied her. “Catriona, you need to know about your mother and your own heritage."

“I know I need to understand her better. All I do know is the extent of her fearful life with the MacFarr. Seems 'twas so ever since I can remember.” If she kept quiet, perhaps she'd learn her mother's secret. The secret of her birth.

Harald's expression was sympathetic. “Yer mother was a grand and glorious woman, beautiful enough to take a man's breath from his body. That's where ye get yer fine features, yer Mam being small and fine-boned. But yer coloring comes from yer father's side. I met him once on a battlefield. Ye have the look of his family in yer height as well. Those of us in the Highlands who descend from the Norse or Danes attain great size and height. Ye're of that blood."

Cat smiled at his way of putting things. “What you're trying to tell me is that I have the blood of Vikings running through me and that I should be proud of it? That I am a true Highlander? Right now, I am only proud of not being a MacFarr.” She laughed to herself, a laugh of derision. “I always knew I was different from all MacFarrs, legitimate and other. Now the only similarity that remains is that I, too, am a bastard, like most of my fath ... MacFarr's kin."

Harald stared at her. “Bastard's a harsh word for a gently-reared lassie."

“What makes you think I was reared gently?” Venom poured from her mouth. “I was but eleven when I was separated from my mother by one of MacFarr's edicts and, at a time, when I greatly needed her. I went into the scullery at Stoneleigh and there I stayed until MacFarr forced me to return to marry your grandson. I am anything but gently-reared.”

Harald's wrinkled face softened into a smile. “Nae, Catriona, Gerek and I saw ye one day, playing wi’ the children. I watched ye pick up a bairn that had fallen and see to its needs. Ye can be feisty and gentle at the same time. Ye need a bit o’ tempering to understand when to do the one or the other."

“I need to make my own decisions, not to be forced or coerced into them. Like this marriage, where I have had no choice."

Gerek broke into her building anger. “Grandfather, I understand you have something of importance to tell us. Continue, please, and have done with it. I wish a word with Cat myself before this day is out."

Cat swung around in her chair and looked full into Gerek's heated eyes. “You wish to speak to me? You've seen me all week. Why couldn't you speak your mind on those occasions? Why wait until the day before our nuptials?"

Gerek's smile teased her. “I want to show you our quarters in the castle. They were not ready until today. Today is a day we shall explore."

Cat glared at him. “Do not think to amuse me with what you might consider your charm with the Gunn ladies. I am immune to you."

Gerek looked directly into her eyes. “That is something we will have to test, now isn't it?

Harald coughed and looked down at the wooden floor. Cat saw the makings of the grin he tried to hide. She turned on him. “Well, sir, do you think this a diverting tidbit? That I, a betrothed woman, am forced to watch my future husband acting the fool with the women of your clan?"

Harald looked up swiftly, his look challenging. “'Tis obvious to me that ye speak yer mind. Well, I can, too. Is the problem one ye've brought upon yerself by yer own actions? Think, Catriona. Be honest wi’ yerself, child.” He shoved his hands into the air in an expression of disgust. “Yer problems wi’ me grandson are yers to fix or no'. I have more important things to discuss."

Cat shut her mouth and sat back in her chair. She closed her eyes for a moment, so the tears that burned near her lashes would not flow. She had taken liberties with the true power in this clan, an elder more than twice her age. She opened her eyes and nodded to him to continue.

Harald saw the brightness in Cat's eyes. He was proud of the fact that she had managed to control the tears. Yet he felt sorry for this child before him, a child who had suffered through her life to such an extent that she could not see any good in her future. He needed to tell her of her mother and of Gerek so that she could evaluate, based on facts that were known.

“Child, I mean ye no harm. Ye need to know the circumstances of yer birth, so that ye may judge things."

Her eyes down, Cat responded quietly. “Aye, And I'm sorry I spoke so. I was a bit overcome."

Harald reached over and patted her hand. “Ye dinna’ speak but the truth and I appreciate yer honesty. Even if I didn't like it much.” He chuckled, then grew serious. “Yer mother often came here for a visit with me wife. They'd been good friends since they were bairns. I knew yer Mam before she married MacFarr, knew her good humor and gaiety. So I noticed the change in her behavior when she returned for a visit after her marriage. By that time, within a two-year span, she already had yer two brothers with her. She was quiet, almost to the point of being silent."

Cat passed her hands over her eyes and squirmed in her chair. She looked at Gerek, who took her hand, then returned her gaze to the Gunn. “Please."

Harald could tell she was hurt by her mother's unhappy life, yet the lass deserved the truth, as he knew it. He cast a brief look around the great hall and noticed the servants, riveted on his story. He snapped his fingers and pointed to the doors. “Go. You can come back to finish when we've gone."

When they left, he looked deep into Cat's eyes. “Ye may not like the story I have to tell, but I charge ye to listen carefully. 'Tis something both ye and Gerek need to know."

Chapter Seventeen

What Harald had to say need not be heard by others, except Gerek. Part of their turmoil had been his doing. “Heed me, Catriona. As I said, me wife and yer Mam were great friends despite the slight difference in their ages. Their feelings for one another never changed. Yer Mam changed."

“My poor Mam. When I last saw her, she barely knew me. She had altered so much in the years of my banishment. When we left Fairloch with Gerek, she tried to be strong for me.” Tears rolled down Cat's face.

Harald was shocked. Banishment? Why was he never told? Had MacFarr played him false? He saw Gerek's look of compassion.

Harald went on with his story as if he had noticed nothing unusual. “Yer Mam, who had spouted her life history in cheerful bouts of laughter, refused to speak with me, only with me Mary. They had their wee secrets. I watched because me Mary's spirits grew sadder every day of the visit. Yer Mam would jump if someone thundered about. She would gather yer brothers, clever little tykes they were, and dash off to her room."

Cat stared. “My brothers. They were clever? I never knew them in that way."

“Aye, that they were but wee devils both. If they didn't get their way of things, they'd screech. Yer mother had her hands full with the two of them."

“Aye. Nothing's different in that. They did the same while I was growing up. They still do.” Cat tried to stop the memory of the hateful day before her banishment, like stemming flood tides. Even now, her face felt crimson. She took a cloth from her wrist cuff and wiped her face, forgetting that she had used the cloth to dust the furniture in the cottage. It must have left streaks of dirt on her face, for Gerek took out a clean one to brush the streaks away. “Leave it be!"

“Aye. 'Twill be my pleasure, lassie. A great pleasure!"

The girl's facial expressions changed. She frowned and drew back in her seat at Gerek's too quick reaction. Harald's anger boiled over. “I'll be telling ye about yer mother if ye will but listen. Stop yer foolishness, the both of ye. What I have to tell ye might make differences in yer future together."

Gerek choked and spurted out, “What future?"

Annoyed, his grandfather spoke tersely. “The future ye'll both have as of tomorrow evening. That future and the future of this clan. I'll no’ have either one ruined by yer petty differences. Leave off!"

Cat turned away from both of them. She leaned on the arm of her chair and rested her head on her upraised hand. She stared at the floor. “I'll be quiet, if he will. Please. Please, continue. What went on with my Mam and your Mary?"

Somewhat mollified, the Gunn took up the tale again. “Yer Mam told her secrets to Mary. I do not know the whole of it, except what Mary told me. It seems that MacFarr was the fine warrior I knew, but not a decent husband. He was cruel to yer mother. He cheated on her with other women. Stories circulated around the Highlands, for his contact with women went far and wide. Yer mother could no longer bear it. Hence the visit."

“Lord, he was always thus. I understand better now,” Cat said, softly.

The Gunn shook his head. “Ye understand nothin’ yet. There's more."

Cat looked surprised. “What more could there be? Now I know what her life was like.” Cat sighed. “She was always so kind and generous to me."

Harald groaned, wondering how he was going to make this lass understand the full import of what he was saying. “I think ye were the love of yer mother's life, born of love and continued in that vein."

Cat bowed her head. “I hope so."

Harald reached over and patted her knee. “Me Mary was upset over yer Mam's troubles. To cheer them both, I arranged a picnic for all the children and their mothers, to take place on the other side of the loch between a large meadow where the children could play, and a dense wood where the ladies could sit out of the sun, yet watch the bairns."

Gerek raised his body up in his chair. “I remember now. A most hideous scene. Far worse than any battle in the war."

“It was the first time Gerek ever raised his hand in battle. Of course, everyone was guarded by our men-at-arms, but there were not enough of them.” The memory of that infamous day caused Harald to shudder. “'Tis a day that will stay in my mind forever. I was seeing to the walls. I heard screams from the meadow and ran for there. But I was too late. What I found chills me to this day. My men were all hacked to death. Not a one of them was standing. My daughters had gathered all the bairns and shuffled them to safety in the woods. Me Mary was dead, her head severed from her neck. Ten-year-old Gerek, sword in hand, stood over his grandmother's body."

Shivering, Cat gasped as if the scene were too graphic for her. “And my mam?"

“Stolen by the killers. She was a woman in the prime of her life, less than thirty, and a beauty to boot. They stole her.” He knew Cat would ask the ultimate question.

“Who did this? Where did they take her?"

Harald's voice became coarse and rasped his throat. “The Keiths, that's who. The damned Keiths. May they rot in hell!"

Cat's voice quavered when she asked the next question. “Am I a Keith?"

“Aye. Your height and coloring say that ye are. And yer name. Ye were already named when ye appeared from behind the Keith walls, wrapped in yer mother's arms. But let me tell you the rest."

Cat struggled with her tears, and in a strong voice said, “Aye. By all means, continue. Please.”

“MacFarr sent a contingent of men, with a nursemaid for the two boys. He seemed quite pleased your mother was gone and had no intention of going after her. When the Keiths, thinking she was a Gunn, ransomed her, I forced MacFarr to join me in securing her release. For months he did not come, then when he did, he was no’ overly anxious to start a skirmish. I thought most of seeking revenge.'

“As I do,” Gerek added.

“'Tis no’ yer battle, son. 'Tis mine and mine alone. 'Tis what I will do with my time after ye're Gunn. But let me bare my chest to ye both. 'Tis me own fault that ye're pledged into this hellish situation. We finally rescued yer mother from what we thought were the depths of Hades. She came out the Keith gate, sad, with you wrapped in swaddling and a nursemaid to boot. MacFarr knew immediately that ye were no’ his. He wanted to murder ye then and there. I wouldna let him. Nothing was yer fault. I scrutinized yer mother to see if she were hurt in any way. For the first time, she looked like her old self, happy and carefree. 'Twas then I understood that what happened to her was more pleasure than pain. Exactly what occurred in the Keiths’ Edenwyld Castle, I never learned. Yer Mam was silent about it. Ye'll only learn that from her.” Harald leaned forward, eager to finish his tale. “But when MacFarr refused to take ye home with him, I convinced him that all would go well. It was at that time that I promised my grandson to ye, providing MacFarr let everyone think ye were his daughter, the daughter of an earl. I figured it would help Gerek to become Gunn if he were wed to an earl's kin. So ye see, it were the conniving of this fool that put ye into this predicament."

Gerek spoke quickly. “What would ye have us do, Grandda?"

The Gunn stared at the floor, then looked up at them. “If 'twere me own doing, I'd say marry. It would pleasure me to see ye Gunn in me place. Otherwise, I fear fer the clan. But the decision is between the two of ye."

Gerek turned to Cat. “Catriona, the decision is yours. I would have you for wife. My mother refused to name my father, as she promised she would when I first lifted a sword in defense of my clan. She never did and died without me knowing who my father might be. Since that time, I do not break promises I make. If I think something cannot be done, I do not promise it.”

“We handfasted in deception. But we've been together in ways best not mentioned, and we'd best marry. I understand that you only wish to be Gunn. I'll not stand in your way."

Gerek frowned but said, “'Tis agreed. We shall marry at eventide tomorrow.” He stood and stretched. Looking down at Cat, he said, “'Tis agreed. Right, lassie. Cat.” When she shook her head affirmatively, he continued. “Now let me show you our quarters and begin moving your valuables there.”

He held out his hand, which she took, the warmth sending a thrill up her arm. They walked off, leaving the Gunn to his own thoughts.

* * * *

An hour later, although neither looked forward to the wedding, Gerek and Cat parted company in good spirits. She spent part of the afternoon working in the small herb garden she had started earlier in the week, and looking forward to the evening's feast and wearing clothes that fit. Her singular sorrow of the moment was her mother's absence.

Later, alone with Mag, Cat voiced her concerns. “Immediately after the wedding, I'll have Gerek take me to Mam and nurse her myself. I know my being there will help her to recuperate."

Mag stared at her, burst into laughter and held her sides. “Do ye think ye'll have time after ye're wed to run about the countryside?"

Cat's nodded positively. “Surely, Gerek will not keep me from my Mam."

Mag chortled. “He won't let ye out of his bed during the first week wed. I doubt he'll let ye gallivant around. Ye'll be lucky to show yer face at meals."

“Stop it, Mag. Don't be crude."

“Crude, is it? Sheer loveliness, I call it.” Mag continued chortling as she folded pieces of fabric.

Someone knocked at the door. Cat looked quickly at Mag. “Who could it be?” she whispered. “I expect no one."

Mag whispered back. “Ye'll never know if ye dinna’ answer the door."

In a huff, Cat walked to the door and opened it an inch. “Why, 'tis Baen,” she exclaimed. “Come in. What brings you back here? Nothing serious, I hope?"

“Nae, lassie. My mother sent me. She talked to Gerek earlier this day. He wants me to escort you to this evening's meal. He's tied up with clan affairs.” Baen laughed. “You see, I keep telling you to marry me. I'll never be too busy for you.”

Cat's giggled. “You're such a terrible tease, my friend."

Baen chuckled. “That I am, dear Cat.” His face turned grave and he lowered his eyelids. “Ye know lass, I would do anything ye asked of me."

Cat flushed at the sentiment. “There's nothing to be done for me now. It's all been settled. Not entirely to my satisfaction, but nonetheless settled."

Baen's face was crestfallen. “Then I'll bid you farewell until dusk, when I'll return to escort ye to dinner.” He turned and left.

Mag coughed loudly. “What is there about that man that I do not like? Perhaps 'tis his sly manner. He always says the right thing at the right time. His seemingly untroubled nature puts me off.”

“Och, Mag, you've not liked him from the first. Admit it."

Mag grunted and busied herself with folding clothes. She took out a plaid outfit from the wardrobe set against the wall. Tonight, Cat would wear the plaid. She shook the dress out and hung it on a hook to air. Her movement to the fireplace was quick and efficient. She stoked the coals into bigger flames and hefted a huge cauldron of water, poured the hot water in and mixed it with the rest of the water. She nodded. “Hop into the tub, lass, while the water's warm. Wash yer hair and we'll try to fix it so it looks tidy for this evening. Hurry now. Why ye ever cut yer hair....”

“Don't say that. You know full well why I cut it.”

The scent of lavender and spices rose from the tub and filled the room. Cat disrobed and slid her slender frame into the foamy water. Encircled by the warmth, a single groan of pleasure issued from her throat. She sighed. The gentle smells soothed her. With reluctance, she completely immersed herself, soaped her hair and ducked several times to rinse it. She leaned against the tub wall to soak.

Thoughts of her mother rose unbidden to her mind and translated themselves into thoughts of her unknown father. He was a Keith. How could she find him when the Gunns hated the Keiths? Perhaps he'd help her take care of her mother. She slapped the water with the palm of her hand. “Damn it. Why do I have to marry so soon? Och, Mag, I want to find my real people before I marry."

“Ye can't. 'Tis too late. Listen to me, missy. Count the blessing the Lord above has visited upon ye. Ye're beautiful. Ye know yer Mam is being cared for by generous, decent people. Ye're to marry the handsomest man on two legs. Ye'll have a castle of your own to fuss over and care for. If that isn't enough, ye damned well better set yer sights on something else. I've done wi’ ye, ye silly goose.” Mag dropped the drying cloth and stamped out of the cottage, slamming the door behind her.

* * * *

Mag had not returned. Cat realized that she had disturbed her friend this time. Dressed, her hair pulled back and fluffed, Cat waited by the fire for Baen to come for her. She wished Gerek would come instead. He had been in her mind since the day she met him. Why did she care? Was she falling in love with him? Impossible! She didn't have any idea what love was. She trusted him, that's all.

She turned to the dog that was lying contentedly at her feet. “What is wrong with me, Dubh, that I don't do anything right?”

Dubh grunted, sounding a great deal like Gerek, and Cat laughed. His tail wagged so hard it showered sparks in the fire. Suddenly he stood and growled.

“What's the matter? You're home now, dog. No one will hurt you.”

The dog ignored her and continued to growl threateningly. The hackles on his neck rose. There was a knock at the door. Cat reached down and patted the dog's head. “See. It's my escort,” she said, hoping Gerek had seen fit to come for her. She opened the door. Baen stood, resplendent in his plaid. Dubh growled again.

“Stop that Dubh!” Cat wagged her finger at the dog, which laid down again and put his paws over his eyes, as if he chose not to look at her visitor.

Baen stepped into the room. “Don't ye look fetching in yer plaids? Ye have the right colors on, but yer pattern's a bit off the mark."

Cat smiled but was displeased that the first thing he mentioned was how improper her dress was. The remark made her feel unsure of herself. “I know, but it was the best we could do in such a short time.”

“It doesn't matter. Ye look beautiful regardless."

She yanked her shawl off the back of a chair and twirled it onto her shoulders. “Dubh, stay. Guard.” She looked at Baen and grinned in an attempt to bolster her own spirits. “I'm excited about tonight.”

Baen grinned. “You are so attractive this evening that I am sure everyone will find you charming. Come. My mother awaits your entrance into the hall. She has a special gift for you tonight."

Cat smiled up at him. “How kind."

They stepped out the door and bumped into Gerek, who stared at Baen distastefully. “What are you doing here?” Gerek asked.

Baen stared up at his taller cousin and said spitefully. “I was told to fetch your bride to the evening meal."

“By whom? Why was I not aware of your intentions? Hereafter, before you come into my wife's company, you let me...."

“I'm not your wife yet, and you will not talk to any guest of mine in that tone of voice. Not now or after we're married. Never.”

Gerek's quick anger brought a rosy glow to his tanned skin. “That is something we'll see about, is it not?"

Cat's anger surfaced to match Gerek's. “Nae. It is not up for consideration. I have no intention of allowing you to make me a prisoner in what you say is to be my home. Or is that no longer so? Have you changed your mind already, milord?"

“Nae, lass. 'Tis your home."

“Nae, Cat,” she said. “Now are we to carry this disagreement into the hall to be witnessed by all your friends and family?"

Gerek shook his head. “Nae, Cat. We will leave it here.” He smiled down at her, leaning his head close to her ear. “You look lovely this night, my Cat.” He straightened and chuckled. “I have it. Baen and I will both escort you tonight. Come. Let's hurry. Everyone is waiting to greet you.”

* * * *

Everyone in the great hall stared at the three figures framed in the doorway. There was absolute silence when the three entered together. Suddenly, loud shouts of greeting and welcoming cheers flew to the rafters. A piper broke into a lively tune. Within minutes, the entire room was filled with boisterous, laughing folk. Some clapped a rhythm; others sat and stamped their feet in time to the pipes.

Gerek led Cat into the room to loud cheers and soft whispers made behind hands. He was immediately set upon by men and women. Cat stepped back to get out of the way.

Baen came up behind her and took her arm. “Come,” he shouted into her ear. “I'll lead you to your place at the table.” Cat let herself be shoved further from Gerek. Baen seated her at the head table, next to the Gunn and he sat to his mother's right. The place next to Cat remained empty, waiting for Gerek, who was inundated by flocks of people, mostly ladies.

Cat gazed about the hall. She saw Mag seated next to Niall, her face a shining beacon focused on the man before her. The loud voices and wailing pipes made Cat sensitive to everything going on around her. The Gunn was engrossed in a conversation with a man seated to his left. Cat looked around for Gerek, only to see ladies struggling to get close to him. He'd barely made it halfway across the room. Even though she understood she'd have to share him with his clan, she didn't want to on this night.

Her mouth turned down. Was she to be left alone again while he moved about the room, greeting one and all? How could he leave her to sit by, with no one to talk to, nothing to interest her but him? And now, he was flirting with all the women who continually called on him for attention. A young woman, who had hung onto Gerek the day of their arrival, was wrapped around him now as if she were the bride-to-be. Cat watched her lean up and kiss Gerek's cheek tenderly. She ruffled his hair. Cat wanted to scream with the jealousy churning inside her. But why? She had fallen in love with him and he didn't seem to care—as long as he became Gunn.

Gerek glanced up. Slowly he shook off the arms that surrounded him. “Leah,” he said, “'tis enough. I must get to the table. My grandfather awaits."

The woman clung to him. “Gerek, help me. I dinna’ wish to marry Baen."

“You know that I always honor a promise. You are pledged to Baen. It has always been thus. I should not interfere in your plans. 'Tis not right."

Leah grinned at him and released her hold. She took a step back. “Please try, Gerek. I canna’ stand yer cousin now, any more than I could when young.”

“Aye, I'll try,” he said with a smile as he pushed his way through the others surrounding him. He was stopped at every table in the hall. It seemed like half the evening had gone by before he was able to make his way to the head table. He knew Cat was hurt or angry in her refusal to acknowledge him and turned her face away. She acted as if the conversation she was having with his aunt was the most engrossing ever. Gerek greeted everyone at the table.

When he finally reached his seat next to Cat, her back was to him, for she had turned toward his grandfather in response to some question. She ignored him as he scraped his chair over next to hers and turned her to face him. He put a leg on each side of hers and held them steady, while he spoke a word or two to Baen and his aunt.

Cat glared at him, her face red. “Well, laddie. I see you made it to your seat of honor. Too bad it has to be next to mine,” Cat said through her teeth, while smiling at him in anger.

He stared at her. “I was hard pressed to leave those who wanted a word with their new Gunn-to-be."

With her teeth still clenched, she said, “You're not Gunn yet. It hinges on your marriage to me and we both know that. We also know that I do not wish to marry you, nor do I wish to be with you. Why don't you just return to the ladies who love you?” She wheeled around in her seat and asked, “Will someone please pour some wine for me and my beloved?” Her sneering tone made everyone at the table look at her. She raised her voice a bit louder. “Some wine, please."

Jocaste reached for two glasses. Baen pushed a wine jug over to her. Deftly, she poured two glasses of deeply colored wine. She stood, brought one to Cat and handed one to Gerek. “Why don't you two toast each other? Folks would like to see that."

Cat raised her glass to Gerek and mouthed, “To the one and only new Gunn, who has women in every corner of the world!"

Gerek tried not to take offense at her words or actions, even though he didn't understand them. “Do you intend to carp throughout this entire evening and our marriage as well?"

Cat smashed her glass onto the table. It cracked and the liquid seeped out, coloring the tablecloth dark red in a slow moving stream. “There'll be no marriage until you can leave the ladies alone. You could have at least focused your attention on me tonight.” What made her act so poorly? She was jealous. Why did she want his attention so badly? It couldn't be love ... no.

Gerek put his tankard on the table and pushed it away from him. “For some reason, I do not feel like drinking to our health or happiness. It seems a useless gesture."

Cat pushed her chair back and pointed toward the crowd who watched them avidly. “Then go to the woman who kissed you last. Drink to her health and happiness—with you."

Gerek put his hands on her knees and pushed himself up, saying, “I'll come back when you are in a better frame of mind.” He stalked off the dais to a nearby table of warriors, the noisiest table in the hall. The piper stopped playing.

Gerek grabbed a glass from one of the men. He raised it high. “Here's to a wonderful evening for all! Piper, play! A lively tune!”

As soon as the piper began, everyone spoke at once. The hall filled with laughter and cheers for the old Gunn and the new Gunn. Everyone ignored the dais and the disruption there. Warriors cheered Gerek on to bigger, fuller tankards of wine, which he downed, one after another.

Cat sat, elbows on the table, her head in her hands. Jocaste moved over to her and patted her back. “Here, lassie, don't take on so. He'll calm down shortly."

Cat moaned between her hands. “I don't care if he ever calms down. He doesn't want me. He only wants to be Gunn.” Tears rolled down her cheeks and through her fingers.

Jocaste continued to pat Cat's back. “There, there, lassie. Why should his wants bother you? Here, Cat. Take a sip of this wine. It'll help you to sleep this night away.” She lifted the glass Gerek had left and pulled Cat's hands from her brimming eyes. “Just a wee sip to dispel the horrors of tonight.” She put the glass in Cat's hand and pushed the hand to the girl's mouth. “Just a sip, lovey. You'll feel so much better.”

Cat grasped the glass and took a large gulp. “It tastes sour. I don't want any more. I just want to leave here. Now."

Jocaste nodded. “Baen, why don't you take Catriona back to her cottage and let her rest? Perhaps she'll join the festivities later."

Cat turned to the Gunn. “Sir, if you don't mind, I'll leave now."

The Gunn looked up from his close conversation with a neighboring laird. “Leave? This is a celebration of your nuptials."

Cat tried to smile but a cramp caught her. “I'm sorry. I don't feel well. I want to lie down for a bit. I'll be back later. Please."

“Aye, Catriona. Lie down for a bit. I will talk to my grandson about his behavior this evening. It will not happen again, I assure you."

Cat grabbed the back of her chair and doubled over it. The Gunn stood to help her.

“Child, what's wrong?” Jocaste asked. “Are you ill?"

Cat groaned and clutched her stomach. “I have a cramp. 'Twill pass. I want to lie down."

The Gunn called, “Baen, take the lass out of here. She feels ill. Stay with her until I can resolve this with Gerek."

“Aye, grandfather.” Baen helped Cat to release the chair. He put his arm around her, puzzled over her behavior. “Come, Cat. We'll go to the cottage. Don't worry. I'll stay with you until you sleep.” When Cat groaned and grabbed her stomach, Baen lifted her into his arms. “Grandfather, I'm going out the back way."

“Aye, laddie. Good idea. I'm sure it's nothing more than a touch too much wine.”

Baen carried Cat from the dais through the curtain at the back and down the steps to the kitchen. “Don't worry, Cat.” The girl was a lump in his arms, cramping and twisting. He heard the sound of feet following him and the whisper.

“Baen. 'Tis mother. I'll follow you. Go. Now!"

Baen heard the growls coming from inside the cottage. He called over his shoulder. “Be careful of the dog, Mother.” He pushed the door open with his foot and let his mother go in front of him.

“Dubh, be quiet,” she commanded. “Go lie down.”

The dog moved to the hearth, so trained was he to commands, but he refused to lie down. He watched what they did to his mistress as if he understood that something was wrong.

“Mother, fix the bed. Something is truly wrong. She's so pale and limp.”

As he put Cat on the bed, she writhed, moaning. Jocaste leaned over and smelled Cat's sour breath. “Lord, I think the girl's been poisoned."

Baen looked horrified. “What? Who would do such a thing?"

“The one who refused to drink his wine and pushed it away. Who else?"

Baen shook his head. “Makes no sense. He has to marry her."

“But if she were dead? How could anyone hold him to such a commitment?"

Baen looked at the girl on the bed. “Cat, can you hear me?"

She had heard every word they said. A cramp caught her again. “Get Mag,” she shouted.

Jocaste patted her. “Nae, child. You don't want anyone to know. I think you've been poisoned. And by Gerek."

“Mother, be quiet. Get cold clothes for her face."

Jocaste hurried to do his bidding, hollering to him, “Cover her so she doesn't get chills."

No sooner than she'd been covered, Cat kicked the blanket off. “I can't. It hurts me. I'm so hot. Arrrgggghhh.” She lay still for a second until another spasm wrenched her body. “I'm poisoned? How could Gerek do this to me? I would have gone away. He didn't have to do this.”

Jocaste hurried to the bed and put a cloth on Cat's brow. “Aye, child. You've been poisoned. I'm sure of it. Ye show all the symptoms. How could your betrothed do this to you?"

“My stomach is burning up. I'm going to die.” Her body was racked with another convulsion. “Gerek. Get Gerek. Please, get Gerek.”

Jocaste moved back to the bed with another cold cloth. “Nae. Not Gerek. 'Twas he that poisoned ye."

Cat howled. “No. That's not possible. Dubh. Gerek.” Cat threw off the cloth and grabbed at the covers. “I'm cold."

Dubh approached the bed while staying out of reach of the others. He sniffed Cat and growled. When Jocaste tried to grab him, he spun around and ran to the door. He stuck his nose between the slightly open door and the frame. He pushed hard and the door sprung open all the way. He raced out into the night.

“Stop, dog. Stop!” Jocaste screamed, running after him.

Dubh evaded her, ran through the open castle door, down the stairs to the kitchen and up the stairs to the hall. He knocked over a maid who was coming down with empty trays. They bounced and rattled down the stairs. She screeched, “Bad dog. Bad dog."

Dubh turned and went back the way he'd come. He flew out the back door and ran to the front of the castle, past people standing about, chatting. The doors to the great hall were closed. Dubh scratched and whined. When no one opened the door, he barked. It was so noisy, he couldn't be heard. He sat on his haunches and howled. He continued howling and barking.

Finally, a very drunk clansman crawled to the door, shouting. “Someone wants to enter. Someone help me and I'll let him in.” The man clawed his way on the wall until he was upright. He yanked the door open and was knocked over by a growling Dubh. “Shoot it. Kill it before it devours me!"

Dubh bent to smell the man. He brought his nose high in the air and howled. He ran from table to table until he found Gerek, who was sprawled across the warriors’ table, one hand grasping his wine cup. He glanced up and spotted the dog. “Me very best friend. Dubh, dog. Come here, pup.” He chuckled when the dog took hold of his leg and pulled. “Undress me here, would ye?” The dog nipped him on his leg. “Whaz the matter, fella'? Are ye mad at me, too?"

The men at the table roared with laughter. One howled like a dog. Dubh growled at him. Another joined in, until everyone at the table sat back and howled. Dubh barked and grabbed Gerek's leg again. He pulled his master off the bench. He growled at him. He pulled at his legs, first one then the other, dragging Gerek forward.

One of the warriors, more sober than the others, said, “That mutt's trying to get ye somewhere fer some reason. Ye best stand and follow him.” The man stood and helped Gerek to his feet. “Can ye walk, laddie?"

Gerek grinned. “Aye, but not well.” He staggered several feet and fell over onto the back of one of the guests, who shoved him off. “Sorry.” He could barely see the dog, with so many people milling about, but he followed him as well as he could. Several times, he was stopped by people who wished him good luck with the vixen he was to marry. Gerek wondered where she had gone. She wasn't at the head table. Neither was Baen. For a second, he had a sober thought. Had they gone off together? His jealousy that his bride-to-be preferred his cousin almost overwhelmed him. He wanted that lass all for himself.

Dubh turned, barked and evaded the people trying to catch him. He spun through the doorway and looked back. Gerek staggered through the curtain at the back of the dais, stumbled down most of the stairs to the kitchen and staggered into it.

Tenita came after them with her wooden spoon. “How many times must I warn ye against bringing that beastie through me kitchen? Ye're still no’ so big that Tenita can't bang on yer head. Now, get out of here. Fast!"

Gerek reeled up the steps to the back of the castle after Dubh. He lurched and pitched, his eyes barely open. He faltered when he realized he was at the door to the back courtyard. The cottage loomed ahead. He stopped. “Where are ye takin’ me, Dubh? I dinna’ want to go there. I've had enough trouble with that lass, for tonight."

The dog doubled back and took Gerek's hand in his teeth. Backing up, he yanked on the hand until it bled.

“Dammit, Dubh. Ye made me bleed.” Gerek could feel warm liquid dripping down his hand. “All right. Ye win. I'm coming.” He tripped over the herb stakes Cat had put in the ground, smashing them to pieces.

He weaved to the door and kicked it open. He pitched into the cottage face first. He looked up and saw Baen glaring at him. “I thought you'd be here. Why don't ye pay attention to yer own woman?” From his hands and knees, he pushed himself to his feet. He stood, lurching in one direction, then in another. Dizziness made him stagger to the table. He held on tightly. “What the hell are you doing here with me woman?"

Baen threw a fist at Gerek's face but Dubh stood between them and growled. “What did ye poison her for? If ye didn't want her, I would have taken her."

Gerek raised a fist then looked at it, puzzled. “What are ye talking about? Poison? What poison?"

“Cat's been poisoned, that's what,” Baen bellowed. “Ye've poisoned her, you jackass."

Gerek tried to think but it didn't seem to help. He put a hand on his cousin's shoulder and leaned. “Ye don't know the lass as I do. 'Tis but an act. She wants her own way. Well, she's not going to get it. She does this a lot."

Cat, who had been sleeping fitfully, woke. She heard Gerek and raised herself onto an elbow. “You finally got here. You poisoned me, you bluidy bastard. You swine!"

“I did not,” Gerek said over his swollen tongue. “I have to marry ye first."

Cat moaned as a brutal wave of pain coursed through her body. She was losing consciousness and clenched her teeth to control it. “There'll be no wedding, Gerek. Not tomorrow, not ever."

“Aye, there will.” Gerek stood straight and wondered if he had gone too far this evening in tormenting his betrothed. “Stop yer acting, Cat. Be a grown woman. There will be a wedding tomorrow, regardless.” He turned and saw the open doorway. He took three drunken steps to it and turned, raising his hand to his forehead in a salute. “I'll leave ye to me cousin for now. But on the morrow, ye'll be all mine.” He waddled through the open door. “Come, Dubh."

Dubh didn't follow. He padded over to the bed and lay down. Cat tried to pat his head but she didn't have the strength. She saw Baen and motioned to him.

He knelt at the side of the bed. “What is it, Cat? What can I do for you? How can I make ye feel better?"

Cat whispered, her voice taut with the pain. “Baen, you must get me out of here. Away from Killearnan. Please. I beg you.”

Baen was shocked. Take her away from Killearnan? Why? His dream was coming true. Why not? Gerek would have his head. “I can't, Cat. Where would I take you? Besides, you're too sick to travel."

“Listen to me, Baen. Get me to the stable and put me on the black. No one will know. Pretend you left me here to sleep. Please, Baen. I have no one else to trust."

“Cat, you're in no condition to ride a horse. The black's Gerek's horse. He'd kill you if you took that one. Take the gray."

“The gray's too skittish. I need a mount that will carry me on his back through everything. I've ridden the black. I'm used to his ways."

Baen looked at her. If she were gone from Killearnan, then no wedding could take place. Gerek would not become Gunn without this girl. He wondered if he should chance it, but realized he'd made the decision long before she asked him. “You won't have time to change and you'll not be able to carry anything. I'll lead you to a distant village but then you'll..."

Cat swallowed the moan that rose in her throat. “Just get me on that horse and point me in the direction of Keith land. I'll find my father."

Baen grabbed a dark cloak from a hook. He put it around her shoulders, tied it and peered out the door. Everybody was in the hall celebrating. Baen knew he was doing the right thing. He lifted Cat from the bed and heard her soft moan. He kissed her lips and headed out the door, carrying her gently.

He slid through shadows, pleased that there were no guards at the stable. He set Cat on a mound of hay and tried to put tack on the black, but the horse dodged out of his grasp. “Cat, he won't let me tack him up. Take another horse."

“Nae. Help me to stand. I'll do it."

Baen came over to her with the tack still in his hands. “He'll kill you. He won't let anyone touch him except Gerek and Niall."

“He'll let me,” she murmured, her voice strained. “Dubh, get black."

Baen turned and saw the dog watching him. He saw the gleam of the dog's teeth in the snarl Dubh made. But the dog circumvented him and went into the stall with the black. He prodded the horse and moved him out and up to Cat.

She grabbed his head and hung on. “Black, let me do this and you'll have all the mares you will ever want. I promise."

The horse put his head down and practically struggled into the bridle by himself. He nudged Cat and she had to cling to his neck in order not to fall.

Baen looked startled. “I'd never have believed it. I'll get the saddle."

“Nae. 'Tis better without one. Just put me up on him and turn us loose toward the Keith stronghold."

Baen was having second thoughts. What if Gerek blamed him? She didn't know the territory out here. The mountains and the heavy woods between here and the Keiths. Then he remembered. The house in the woods! There was always someone near there to prevent entry into Keith country. He'd send her in the direction of that wee house.

Realizing Baen had second thoughts, Cat begged, “Please, Baen. Don't desert me now. I've gotten this far. I'll make it."

Baen spoke quickly and with special emphasis. “Listen to me. There's a wee house in the forest. It belongs to the Keiths, one of their guard positions. I'll send you near it, then you'll have to do the rest by yourself. I can't be found on Keith land or they'll kill me, but whoever is there will take care of you."

“Och, thank you, my friend. Put me on the horse."

Baen lifted her up onto the black's back and was surprised that the horse did not dance around but stood quietly. “Cat, do you hear me?"

“I feel as if I'm going to pass out. Tie me to the horse."

Baen did as he was asked and when she was secured with her arms tied over the horse's withers and around his neck, the man whispered into her ear, “You must go out the back way and over the short bridge to the other side of the loch. There's a grove of trees there. Go beyond those and over the long hill to another huge forest. The Keith house is in that forest."

“Aye, lead me to the gate.”

Cat, tied to the horse, and Baen walked to the back gate of Killearnan. Baen opened it for Cat. Dubh flew through it. “My God, you're going to take both his animals?"

“Aye, the dog will see me through this. I'll travel this night and by dawn I should be at the hut you described. Right?"

“Aye. You're a brave lassie. It's not a journey I'd like to take by myself."

“If I don't die, I'll make it.” Cat moaned as another cramp stopped her from speaking. She took a deep breath and continued. “Do not divulge my direction. I will never forget you, Baen.” Cat clucked until the horse went forward.

Baen sat by the closed gate and listened to the sound of the horse's hooves on the wooden bridge. When the sound ceased, he knew she had reached softer ground. He was sorry she was gone yet glad that she had foiled his cousin's plan.

He strolled back to the great hall, making up a story to tell Gerek. When folks went to call her, they would find her gone. He would pretend shock and surprise. No one would blame him if he stayed at the hall, until late, with everybody around him.

“I think I'll get drunk. That way, Gerek and I will be in the same condition. He'll never suspect me of doing anything.”

Chapter Eighteen

It was the worst night of Cat's life. After spewing her guts along the trail at various places, she was so ill she could barely stay on the stallion's back, much less notice where he was going. She was lost in the darkness, and no longer cared what happened to her. Her head rested on the horse's neck, her arms hung over him on each side. She slept.

The smell of fresh balsam woke her out of a fitful sleep. She spied dense woods not far ahead and edged the black in that direction. Each time she looked to see where she was going, the ground, the trees and the sky shifted. Tree trunks seemed like fat snakes with scales flaking in the breeze. It was a giant blur to her. The black walked forward at a steady, quiet pace. Dubh tailed along behind them.

Once amongst the trees, the light failed. Cat sat up and glanced around her, bewildered. “Is it night again?” She gagged and spewed her guts. Her eyes shut, she whispered, “Dubh? Dubh. Where are you?"

A bark answered her query. The dog was still with her. Slowly, she reached around to undo the ropes that bound her to the horse, kicked her legs free of the remaining restraints and sighed in bitter discontent. The black stepped gingerly over large roots, slid on wet leaves and moved around rocks that stood in his path. His movement made her dizzy, more nauseous than she had already been.

Dubh uttered a low growl and raised his head to sniff the air. The black refused to move any further. A man tramped about in a small glade ahead. Her heart pounded with the suddenness of the vision. Her gorge rose. She was unable to speak. She laid her head on the black's neck and closed her eyes. Where had the black taken her?

The redheaded man looked up. A magnificent black horse and a fearsome

dog stood on the fringe of the clearing. “Get the hell out of here. You don't belong here. This is Keith country! Go!”

The dog had the temerity to snarl at him. He waved it away. “Get out of here, you mutt.” The dog refused to move, so the man came closer. Other than a low rumbling in his throat, the dog didn't bar his way nor seem to challenge him. The black stood still, his dark eyes focused on the man's every move. “Well then, if ye willna go, come closer so I can see what it is that you're carrying on yer back."

He approached. The black took a step backward. “So that's how it will go. I step toward you and you step back. 'Tis a foolish game even for a horse."

Soren Keith looked around for a stout stick. Although he would like to capture that black, he'd get rid of him instead. If he couldn't do it one way, he would do so another way. He examined the intruders, noticing the sick-looking lass, in Gunn plaid, flopped on the horse's back and neck.

“Ho, lassie,” he called out. “Ye dinna’ belong here, so go away.” He waited and moved toward them. Again, the black horse stepped back.

Soren turned, hoping that if he moved away from the horse, it would follow him. He headed for the small stone house on the opposite side of the glade. He heard the horse behind him and kept walking forward. The horse was in the glade now. The sound of his hoof beats changed from the muted cadence of the forest to the beat of hard earth.

The sudden light in the glade startled the horse for he whinnied. When Soren turned swiftly in the horse's direction, the huge black shied. The lass fell from the horse's back and lay on the ground in the bright sunlight, the dog standing at her side.

The sun in the open space made the hair on all three glisten. Soren noticed that the lass's hair was as red as his own. He saw her look up and watched her expression change. “I'll not harm ye, lass. Dinna’ fear!"

Cat tried to sit up. Her world wavered, tilting to one side. She saw the man in front of her, heard him speak. She was not aware of what he said. Her first thought was for the two animals. She knew that Dubh would go for the man's throat if he came to help her, but she needed help. Her stomach was sour and bile rose in her throat. She gagged and slumped to the ground in a heap. The last thing she thought before the world blacked out was to send the animals home.

“Dubh.” She dragged herself to a half-sitting position but couldn't raise her head. “Dubh. Guard black. Home. Go.”

The dog paid no attention to her. He stood in front of her, crouched, ready to spring if the man took a step toward her.

She dragged herself to a birch tree and pulled herself upright by holding onto it. Swaying wildly, she gestured back where they had come from. “Dubh, come. The black. To Gerek. Now! Go!"

She clung to the tree and watched as the dog moved behind the horse and nipped at his leg. The black backed up. Dubh turned him around and nipped at him again. The black gave a huge kick backward, but the dog evaded it. They started off into the forest in the direction from which they had come. Cat saw them disappear from view. Her heart went with them, and she let go of the tree in a faint.

* * * *

Stretched out on a table in the great hall, Gerek awoke from a drunken sleep, His head felt stuffed with wool from a sheep's underbelly, soft and thick. Hi body felt as if a horse had kicked him around. Without rising, he looked about on both sides of him. Lying around him were the bodies of many warriors, in some stage of waking. Soft moans flitted through the air.

With a huge bleat of malaise, Gerek sat up on the table, crossed his ankles over one another and leaned back. His head was too heavy to support so he curled into a ball and lay down again. He opened his eyes seconds later to see Niall staring at him from beneath a bench, his arm around Mag. “What the hell went on here last night?” Gerek croaked.

Niall made little effort to rise. “I don't think I've ever seen ye so drunk. It was a fête from the shades of Hell. An arousing send-off for ye."

Gerek grunted in acknowledgement of Niall's half-drunken speech and rolled onto his stomach, his head hanging partly off the side of the table. “What happened, though?"

Niall's eyebrows rose. “Ye dinna’ remember yer actions of the evening?"

“Nae. In fact, I don't even remember being here.” He took a deep breath. “Wait. Yes, I do. I remember walking into the great hall with Baen and Cat, angry at his fetching her from the cottage. She and I should have entered together."

Niall knocked over the bench and sat up. He held his head in his two hands. “Does my head look as big as it feels?"

A small murmur came from beneath the table. “I told ye yer head was too big, and too empty.” Mag slowly rose to a sitting position and banged her forehead on the edge of the bench. “Och. Dammit. Where am I?"

Gerek rolled himself off the table and stood leaning on it. He took Mag's face in his large hands and smiled. “You're in the great hall at Killearnan. You've been here since last night. I think ye slept in the arms of my friend Niall.”

“Och. Embarrassing!” Mag's head swiveled around the hall. “Where's Cat?"

Gerek stood quickly at the mention of Cat. The room swayed and his eyes almost crossed with the effort to keep himself upright. The room moved beneath his feet like a landslide.

He plopped onto the nearest bench. “Cat? She left the party way too early. She was angry with me again, but I don't remember why. I left the head table and sat with Parlan and Sims and the warriors for a bit. Sims gave me a mug of wine. After that I don't remember much."

Mag whimpered, clutching the bench in order to stand. “Och! Me head!” She got to her feet by pushing against the bench to lift herself. Niall helped with a hand under her elbow. When she got to a standing position, she held onto the table. “What was Cat angry about this time?"

“The women around me."

“Aye.” Mag sat down, hard, on the bench next to Gerek. “Come up here, Niall.” She patted the bench next to her. “Milord, ye've got to understand me darlin’ Cat. MacFarr roamed from one woman to another; sometimes several at a time. Most often, he was cruel to her mam. Cat knows little of men, less of good ones. Even while at Stoneleigh with the Lamonts, the decent men were off somewhere, fighting in the war. The younger lads and servants left at the castle were not of much quality. They tormented her and grabbed at her with every opportunity. She has nae experience with lads or men except for the bad in them."

Gerek studied Mag's round honest face. Her sincere interest in Cat's welfare showed through. Her rich brown eyes, although unfocused, gazed directly at him. He stared into them, gauging their response to him. “Mag, let me tell you some things. Perhaps you can tell your mistress when the time presents itself. My mother was not the most loving or respectable woman in the clan. Far from it. Ladies of the clan never gathered around me as they have this time. It is because they expect me to be Gunn. Your mistress seems to be the only woman who cares not who I am going to be. I am indebted to her for that."

“Ye're a good man, Gerek Gunn. Soon Cat will be proud she's yer woman."

“I don't think so. Not if her behavior is any indication of her feelings."

“Och, she's just jealous. I think she cares for you.” Again, Mag tried to stand. This time she managed to stay on her feet. “I'd better go back to the cottage, and see what Cat is doing."

Gerek swung his head around at the word. “The cottage. I went there last evening after Cat left the hall. She was entertaining my cousin. Aye. Baen was with her at the time. If I remember it correctly, he was angry with me, too."

Niall finally dragged himself onto the bench. “What was he mad about?"

Gerek thought for a moment. “He told me I poisoned Cat. It was a ploy to justify their being together. I avoided a fight and left. I'll take care of Baen later."

A head popped up from beneath another table. “What about Baen? I'm right here. Ye can talk to me direct. Lord, but my brains are scattered."

Gerek smiled. “Aye. I'll go along with that. I've always said you were scattered.” He grinned at the sight of Baen's face, which was mottled and gray. “Did you have a wee bit of the ale last night, cousin?"

“Aye. That I did. But I always recover quickly, as you well know."

Just at that moment, Jocaste marched into the hall. “Well. 'Tis glad I am to see you men up and about.” She went from table to table, kicking the men who were still lying beneath them. “Get up. All of you. Get up. Now! We need to set up the hall for the wedding. Get out of here, all of you. You're all a disgrace to this clan. You're behavior last evening was disgusting.” She kicked Parlan. “You, too. Get out of here.” And Sims. “You're all a disgrace, an absolute disgrace."

She tried to hit Gerek and Baen with the cane she often carried for that purpose. They ducked around her. “You two. Such behavior out of you two. I'm ashamed of my kin. You two put on a terrible display last night."

She went after Gerek. “You embarrassed your betrothed until she left the hall in poor spirits, claiming you poisoned her.” Then she rounded on Baen. “And you, taking her out of here. What are people to think? It's a good thing you came back so quickly or you'd be forced to marry the chit yourself, like your cousin's being made to do."

That comment stopped Gerek from leaving the hall. “I'm not forced. I have never been forced. The chit, as you call her, is a wee bit stubborn, but a courageous lass nonetheless. I'm proud of all she's overcome. She'll be a handsome addition to our family.” He shook his head and was immediately sorry. He looked at his aunt. “Why does everyone think I am being forced?”

Her answer was short. “Because it is a condition of your being Gunn."

Gerek's temper flashed. He stretched to his full height. “And how many times have you told the lass that?” He looked at his aunt and then his cousin, who stood next to her. Something in their demeanor told him that they had somehow colored the lass's opinion of him. “Far too many times, I suspect. Well, I'll just go see if I can straighten all this out. I happen to care about her."

Jocaste stood in front of him. “You can't go there now. You canna’ see the lass until the wedding."

Gerek made to go around her. “That's superstitious nonsense."

Mag joined them. “Nae. 'Tis no nonsense. Cat will want to beautify herself before seeing ye on this day. I'll go.” Mag retreated through the back curtain and took off toward the kitchen. There, she stopped to ask if they had anything to correct her heavy head. Tanita gave her a drink of some foul tasting herb that made Mag gag. When she managed to contain it, she continued up the stairs and out into the back courtyard.

She hurried to the cottage, expecting to see an angry Cat bustling about in preparation. Mag opened the door tentatively and peeked in. The girl was nowhere to be seen. Neither was the dog. “Cat? Catriona, stop playing. I dinna’ feel well enough for yer nonsense. Show yerself, girl.” When no answer came, Mag went outside and shouted. “Cat? Where are ye? Did ye wander off?”

Mag wondered what she should do. She thought of telling Baen or his mother, but she didn't trust those two. Actually, the only people she trusted in this household were the Gunn, Gerek and Niall. She would find Niall. Niall would know what to do. He'd find Cat.

* * * *

The Gunn ushered Niall into his private chambers. Gerek sat in an oak chair by the fire, feeding his hangover. “Come in, Niall, come in. Ye seem troubled. Anything wrong?” the chief asked.

Niall was as pale and forlorn as Gerek, but the Gunn had expected it. After a night such as the men had experienced, they should feel unwell. They deserved it. “Sit down and partake of some food. You dinna’ look as if ye'd had any."

Niall collapsed in a chair across from Gerek. “I dinna’ feel up to eatin'. Let me get straight to the point. We have a problem."

The Gunn laughed. “Don't we always? What is it this time?"

Niall looked at Gerek. “The lass. She's nowhere to be found."

Gerek tossed the scraps left from his meal into the fire and stood. “What the hell do you mean, not to be found?"

Niall took a deep breath. “Mag came to me not an hour ago. She couldn't find Cat, although she went all over the castle. She thought maybe the lass went for a ride, so I went down to the stable. The black is gone and so is Dubh."

Gerek stood, rocky on his feet. “She told me last night that I poisoned her and she was sick. Do you think she's left? How could she have gone anywhere?"

The Gunn moved to them. “Poisoned her?"

“Aye. That's what she said to me, that I poisoned her."

Harald looked at his grandson. “Did ye? I know of yer reluctance to marry her. Did ye do something that foolish, laddie?"

“Och, grandfather. You know me better than that. I fight fair. Always. Besides, poison is not my style. And you well know, Cat was reluctant to marry me. She probably ran away. 'Tis her habit when crossed. We'll find her. She can't have gotten far. 'Tis testing us she is."

Harald took command. “Niall, have the horses saddled. Round up any of the men who can ride. A lone girl in this country is bound to come to trouble. We'll go after her."

“Nae, grandfather. I'll go after her myself. Alone. It's all my fault. There are some things we need to get clear, and some I must explain to her.” Gerek was out the door before anyone could comment.

Harald turned to Niall. “Saddle up two horses. You and I will go after him. My daughter Jocaste can see to our guests. I'm more concerned with me grandson and that lonely lass roaming the countryside by herself."

Niall left the room swiftly. Harald Gunn began to pace. “Damn MacFarr.

What a damned mess this turned out to be!”

* * * *

Night and day for a week Gerek rode out, scouring the area for signs of Cat. Most of the wedding guests had left, although some had stayed to help look for Cat. She hadn't gone to the village, nor anywhere he could trace. The black had come back, so Gerek assumed she found someplace to hide. He even returned to the caverns where they had stayed.

His birthday was fast approaching, but it wasn't until the end of the week that he came upon an idea of what might have happened to her. Dubh had not returned to Killearnan yet. He must still be with Cat.

Gerek couldn't allow himself to believe she might have traveled as far as the Keiths. He'd thought of it earlier but had put it out of his mind. During the second week of no success, and in growing desperation, he called his grandfather and Niall together.

When they were seated in the library at Killearnan, Gerek spoke first. “I have a germ of an idea. I want to know what you two think of it."

“First,” Harald said, “I must ask ye a question. How come ye haven't included yer cousin in any of your searching?"

The grave expression on Gerek's face was followed by a look of condemnation. “I think he and my aunt conspired to influence Cat into doing this. Something about Baen and Jocaste not being surprised or shocked at Cat's disappearance puzzles me. I prefer to deal with just the two of you, and Mag, the few who really care for the lass. Maybe Parlan, Sims and Quarries as well, for the time being."

His grandfather blushed and Gerek was not surprised when his grandda spoke. “I don't know how ye got yerself in this situation, laddie, but it's a mess from the start. I'm nae good at politicking. I never should have trusted MacFarr."

Gerek raised a hand. “I'm glad over the arrangement, Grandda. I learned to care for the lass. In fact, I feel a deal more than just caring, but my mind is confused at the moment. I haven't had much time to sort this whole thing out. Everything happened too fast."

Niall said, “That it did, laddie. But I think ye've sorted most of it out. The blame for this rests on yer shoulders, and well ye know it."

“Niall, you're one of the few men I will accept that from. You're right, but that won't solve the present problem of how to get the lass back."

Niall stood. He strolled to the library windows. “What's yer plan?"

“Remember, we found the black grazing in the back field. We don't know how long he'd been there. It could have been hours, a day. Who knows? Dubh was not with him. That's very unusual. The dog never leaves the black alone, but he must have seen the black safe here. Now, Dubh is out there, somewhere, waiting for Cat. Let's find him. He'll know where she is."

Niall swung around in the middle of Gerek's speech and walked back to the others. He leaned on the mantelpiece. “Ye're right. I never thought of the dog. Dubh wouldna leave the lass unless...."

Gerek broke in. “Unless she were dead somewhere. I have to believe that she still lives. The hound's out there waiting for her to return to him. He'll stay there forever if we allow it. Let's find Dubh."

Harald stood. “But first, the elders meet tonight. They must decide on whether ye can be Gunn without the marriage to the lass."

Gerek smiled at his grandfather. “I know, Grandda. Ye can stay for the meeting, if ye want. I no longer care. If being Gunn is the price of this lass's life, I'll have none of it. I'm handfasted, Grandda, and I must find her. I love the lass and want her by my side."

“Cat,” his grandfather said as he waved them out of the library. “This time, you two take Parlan, Sims and that Quarries lad with ye."

* * * *

Tucked in a comfortable feather bed, Cat opened her eyes to daylight, having no idea where she was. She had faint recollections of a freckled-face, redheaded man seeing to her every need, holding her on his horse. Each time they stopped, he tried to feed her but she had no recollection of eating.

She was in an unfamiliar room, filled with elegant furnishings. The unfamiliar wood covering the walls was a dark brown with reddish undertones as was the fireplace mantel. The rugs were of the plushest, most colorful wool, unlike anything Cat had seen before, not even at Stoneleigh. Sun crept through the window glass on tiny feet, giving off a multi-colored glow.

Cat swung her legs out from under the covers and sat up. The room tilted. She fell back onto the bed, her vision a series of lightning strikes. She closed her eyes. Memories of the kind, red-haired man drifted into her mind but were shoved aside by the image of Gerek.

Cat groaned. Gerek? She had escaped him. That was what she wanted, wasn't it? Why did she feel so empty? She should be happy. Had she done the wrong thing, again? Her groan filled the room.

A woman, her rotund figure as motherly as her gray hair, appeared by the bed. “Are ye awake, me sweet bairn?"

“Dara? Dara? Is it you?” Cat examined the woman's blurry face through half-closed eyes.

“Aye. 'Tis Dara, yer old nurse, child.” The woman waddled to the bed and sat down on the side. She took Cat's hand in hers and rubbed it lightly. “Och, 'tis glad I am ye're awake, me sweet love. I feared for ye, I did. Ye were so sick when Soren brought ye here."

Cat threw her arms around Dara's ample bulk as if clutching a lifeline and squeezed her hard. “Soren? Where am I, Dara? How did you get here with me?”

Dara's old face wrinkled into a broad smile. Her eyes were almost lost in the folds of her face, but Cat thought her smile wide and happy. Her old nurse's graying red hair was in disarray, standing on end. Her apron was pleated in all the wrong spots, giving credence to the disheveled look Dara often called her own. The nursemaid must have been sitting up with her as she did in earlier times. Cat was sure of it. With her arms still around Dara, she begged her, “Please, tell me where I am."

“Ye're at home, here with me. The home of yer father, the Keith of all the Keiths.” Dara gathered the young girl closer in her arms. “The Lachland Keith at Edenwyld Castle."

“I'm what? Where? Who?"

“All yer questions will be answered soon, me love. Yer father has agreed to tell ye the truth of all that's passed. But 'tis himself who must tell the story. The Keith must do it and ye must answer the questions he has for ye. But, for now, ye must get yer rest. Ye've been verra sick."

Cat's voice lowered and filled with wonder. “I made it? I made it to the Keiths, to my father? How extraordinary!” But she looked at Dara and bowed her head. “I think ye're going to be angry with me."

“Why, love? How could I be angry with the lass that shared me heart and the milk from me breasts? You're part of me life. Why would I be angry? Ye must rest."

Cat sighed and fell back onto her pillow. She turned her face away from her old nurse. “Ye taught me to be honest and forthright in my dealings with others. But I think I used someone poorly."

“Did ye no'? How do ye mean?” Dara's old eyes stared at Cat, their general inference being that she should now tell the truth. “Who did ye use?"

Anxious to get this off her chest, emotions seethed inside Cat. As ever, she could confide her deepest secrets to Dara. “One minute I hate the man. He is the embodiment of every MacFarr I've hated. The very next moment, I am unable to stop my eyes from looking at him with love. He has me dancing on a thin line of madness with his tricks and troubles, thinking he poisoned me and knowing he didn't.” She looked at Dara. “'Tis Gerek Gunn, I mean."

“Yer betrothed?"

“Aye. Och, aye.” Tears rained down Cat's face. “I didn't keep my promise. I lied to everyone, making more of some things not important. I have no honor.” She pounded the bedding in frustration. “And now, I'm caught in a chaotic time of my own making."

Dara patted her back and pulled her into a close embrace. “Easy, love. 'Tis nothing we can't fix later. Ye have to rest or ye'll lose all yer strength."

“How long have I been here?"

Dara continued patting her back. “I'm nae good at countin'. I think a bit more than a week. Ye spent the first part throwing up the poison, along with everything we tried to put into yer body. By the end of that week, the poison had coursed through ye and out, but ye were still verra ill."

Cat sat up. “I was poisoned then. Just like I said."

Dara looked shocked. “Ye knew ye were poisoned? Who did this to ye?"

“I thought it was Gerek, but I wasn't sure. I didn't think he really wanted to get rid of me.” Cat had some niggling thought in the back of her mind but couldn't get it to surface. “Has anyone come here looking for me?"

“Nae, lass. Ye've had no callers, except Soren who rescued ye."

“Soren? Och. The red-haired man?” Disappointment that Gerek hadn't come looking for her clouded Cat's face and brought more tears to her eyes. “I want to thank Soren for saving me."

Dara laughed loud and long. “Dinna worry, Catriona. He seems much taken wi’ ye. He'll be around. Probably before this day is out.” Dara continued chortling while she settled Cat into the bed and pulled the covers back over her. She patted her gently. “Sleep, my wee precious. Sleep off yer illness.”

Cat's sighed and her eyes closed. Dara walked to the door and opened it. She stuck her head out. “Tell the laird that the child is awake. And send up some warm porridge for her."

* * * *

Three days later, an excited Cat swung her legs off the bed, feeling somewhat restored to her usual good health. Today, she was to meet with her father for the first time. It would be a private audience. What that meant she did not know, for little of what was said to her lately remained in her brain. She had spent the time at Edenwyld Castle thinking of Gerek.

On the short walks she took within the compound, she saw many people with the same coloring as hers. Red hair and freckles were a Keith family trait. Even Soren, whom she had met while fully awake, had bright red hair. She had been in his company a great deal since she was well enough to dress. She thought him a sweet, gentle man of learning, a scholar.

Dara bustled into the room, a dress flung across her arm. “Here, missy. Put this on over yer chemise."

“Another dress? Ye've brought me a new dress every day for a week. I could never wear them all if I lived to be a hundred."

“'Tis milord's wishes. He wants ye to be dressed to yer status in the clan. Ye're an earl's daughter.” Dara lifted the dress so Cat could get under it. “Duck, lassie. Me arms willna go any higher."

Once the dress was over Cat's head and smoothed down, Dara turned her around and began to button it up. Cat slid her feet into the softest leather boots she'd ever had on her feet. She twirled around the room, bobbed a curtsy, and did a modest adaptation of the fling. She ran to Dara, hugged her and forced her to dance around the room.

Breathless, Dara screamed at her between chuckles. “Lass. Lass. Stop ye no'. I'm an old woman and I can't keep up with the likes of ye."

Cat giggled. “I'm going to take you back with me when I return to Killearnan. You have to get to know Mag better. I'm sure you'll be great friends when you know each other better."

Dara stared at Cat and flopped into the fireside chair. “What makes ye think ye're going back there?"

“When I speak to my father, I'm sure he'll want me to honor the handfast. 'Tis the only honorable thing to do. I have so many things to set right. I must get back to Killearnan."

Dara stared into the fire. “I dinna’ think yer father will send ye back. Years ago, he sent yer mother back to do the right thing, and he's suffered ever since."

There was a knock on the door. Dara jumped from her chair and hurried to the door.

Soren stood at the entrance. “May I come in for a moment?"

“Aye,” said Cat. “Do."

Soren seemed ill at ease. “I must ask ye something, milady, before I take ye to yer Da. It's of a personal nature so if ye'll leave, Mistress Dara, I'd be much pleased."

With a snort of disapproval, Dara left. Cat knew she'd listen at the door.

Soren came further into the room. He took Cat's hand and led her to a fireside chair. He seated her politely then shoved his hands behind his back as she had seen MacFarr do too often. She shuddered slightly.

“Are ye chilled, Catriona?” The words were soft, as were the actions when he flipped a shawl around her shoulders.

The act of tossing a shawl over her reminded her of Gerek and the many times he had done the same when they first left Fairloch. The thoughts made her warm, and she faced Soren with a blush on her cheeks.

He paced in front of the fire. “Cat, I don't quite know how to phrase this request, but I feel I have to make it to ye before I speak to yer Da."

Cat smiled at him. She wondered what had to be said in such haste. She smiled to herself. That's the way Gerek was, hasty. “I'm sorry, Soren. I daydream."

“'Tis this, milady. I wish to marry ye. I will ask yer Da's permission today."

“Soren! You shock me. You know I'm handfasted and not free to marry."

“I'm willing to wait until yer handfast is over. But ye must stay here. Do not go back to that beast."

Cat stood, highly indignant. “What beast? Are you referring to the Beast of Battle? That is just a name! Gerek Gunn is no such thing.” She flopped back into the chair, knowing full well she was defending Gerek.

“I've been told that this handfasting was not of yer choosing."

“Aye. That is so, but things have changed.” Cat couldn't believe she was saying this to a man who wanted to honor her with marriage and was willing to wait for her. But she understood now that Gerek had freed her in the only way possible when they were at Fairloch. He had suffered too for his deed and often by her hand. “I'm sorry, Soren, but I must set things right before I make any other commitments. Please. I wish to see my father now."

Soren gave her a low, courtly bow. “I go wi’ yer wishes, sweet lady."

* * * *

The men found Dubh at the top of a hill on Keith land, his nose pointed in the direction of Edenwyld Castle. He was thin and depressed. When he saw Gerek he leaped into his arms, nearly knocking him over. He whined. He barked. He growled. He made mewling sounds deep in his throat as if he were trying to tell Gerek something.

Gerek sat on the ground and hugged the dog close to him. “I thought I lost you for good like I lost the lass.” He put his head on Dubh's broad brow. “You're such a faithful beastie. I knew you wouldn't leave too far from her side. Now if you could just talk and tell us how to get her out, I'd be most happy.” He patted the dog's chest and rump, and then pointed to the black. “Do you see your friend?"

Dubh raced over to the stallion and butted him with his head. He nipped at him. When the black kicked out, it seemed to Gerek that the dog smiled.

“Gerek, my friend, 'tis time to put together a plan.” Niall stood by him.

“How are we going to get the lass out of there, especially if she dinna’ want us to rescue her?” Sims asked with a frown.

“I don't know. Words will not affect the Keith.” Gerek stood and looked over the surrounding lands, making a good picture in his mind of the castle and its layout. A plan formed in bits and pieces. “Let's leave before we're caught on Keith land. We'll plan an attack or something. Niall?"

“Aye, laddie. Before ye speak, give me leave to speak me mind as yer friend.” When Gerek nodded, Niall continued. “The lass has continually said that she dinna’ wish to marry ye. Now, she's surrounded by riches far better than any ye can give her. She may not want to leave her father's people. Yer Grandda said she had the look of the Keiths and that's where he saw her first. The Keith is a good man, just not to Gunns. He would not harm her and might reunite her with her true father."

“I listened to you, now you understand this. I have become fond of that feisty lassie, far more than I realized. I must apologize for the rough treatment visited on her, then if she no longer wants to honor the handfast, I will release her."

Sims said in his quiet voice, “Gerek, ye're taking a huge risk for a lass that hates ye. Or so you've always said."

“I don't believe she does. We never had a chance to talk without all sorts of emotions getting in the way. All we did was react to one another."

Parlan spoke up. “I agree with ye, Gerek. I dinna’ think either ye or the lass regarded each other proper. I'll do anything ye want, man."

“Thank you, Parlan.” He turned to Niall. “Will you go along with this? Give me one more try?”

Niall stared at Gerek for a full minute before grunting. “Have I ever refused you?"

Gerek waved them over to a spot where he could draw and was joined by Dubh. As the four men huddled together, Gerek drew in the earth with his dirk. “Niall, you and Parlan are not wearing your plaids. Nothing about either of you shows you're Gunns. Get into the castle somehow. Mix with the folks there. Locate Cat, but say nothing to her. I'll come back within two weeks, either with a force of Gunn men or by myself."

Niall said, “It will be past yer birth date."

“I know. It doesn't matter any more. The lass does. Try to get me into the castle when I return, for return I will."

Neither Niall nor Parlan said a word. They handed Gerek the reins of their horses and took off down the hill, whistling the whole way.

When they were halfway down, they signaled to Gerek to be gone. Gerek mounted the black. “Dubh. Come.”

The dog didn't move.

Gerek smiled at him. “I won't force you, Dubh. If you want to stay here, you can, but you have to eat. Search for your food. I will come back, I promise you. Cat will come with us when we return. She has to or we'll not survive.”

He turned the horses around and headed back toward Gunn territory. Sims followed slowly, the dog even slower.

Chapter Nineteen

Soren Keith led Cat through the halls of Edenwyld for her first meeting with her father. Soren was even quieter than usual. Instead of leaving her at the entrance of the great hall, he entered with her.

Cat felt annoyed because Soren refused to believe her handfast important. He insisted that people handfast only if they love one another, and there was no priest near to marry them in a religious ceremony. By the time she reached the hall, she was in an unsettled mood.

This was the first time that she'd been in the room since her arrival. It was not as large as Killearnan's, or as high, but it was elegant, more like the drawing room at Stoneleigh, with dark wood paneling all around.

A sandy-haired man sat on a large chair set upon a four-step platform. His height and muscular build made the chair seem small. He was dressed in a fine wool plaid of the Keith colors, dark navy and green, a bit washed out from the sun. Cat saw gray at his temples and lines on his face. His eyes were the same amber color as hers.

She approached with trepidation. He looked stern and forbidding as he held out his hand to indicate that she was to seat herself beside him. Staring at him, she climbed the four stairs. Although he had looked big to her from a distance, she saw he had a smaller frame than Gerek, but he was equally as handsome. She sat down gracefully and waited, a smile on her face.

Her father stared at her. “You have the look of your mother. That pleases me. But your coloring is all Keith. That also pleases me."

Cat waited. When he said no more, she offered, “I'm glad that I please you in those aspects. It's the other things that I worry about."

His eyes flickered momentarily. “There is nothing for you to worry about. You are here with your family. You are a Keith, child, and as such, you'll be treated with all the respect and honor due you."

Cat's answer was quick. “I dislike having respect or honor if it is not deserved. And I prefer to earn my honor through my actions."

“Well spoken, lass.” He looked down at Soren, who stood at attention with his hands clasped behind his back. “Is there something you wish to say, Soren?"

Soren nodded his head. “Aye. There is a matter I wish to discuss before ye tell Cat the story of her birth."

Lachlan gestured to him. “Then come up, lad, by all means and say what it is you need to say."

Soren slowly mounted the stairs and stood before the Keith. “Milord, I will make this as painless as I can. I wish to marry your daughter."

Cat gasped at the temerity of this man. When her father laughed, she was horrified. Surely he knew of her handfast. He didn't seem the type of man who would dishonor a contract.

The Keith stood and faced the younger man. “I would be pleased to have you in my immediate family. There are a few things in the way at the moment, but I will clear them up shortly. I have already sent a man to contact the Gunn of Killearnan. When I receive an answer of some sort, I will allow you to court my daughter as is befitting."

Cat sucked in a great deal of air. She coughed, was unable to stop and catch her breath. “You contacted ... the ... Gunn? Wha ... did ... you ... say?”

“It is none of your concern, daughter. It is a matter for the men of two warring clans,” her father said. He nodded, dismissing Soren from the dais.

“May I wait to escort Catriona back to her quarters?” Soren queried.

The Keith studied Soren in a speculative manner. “In the corridor.”

Was her future was being decided without her consent again? Cat decided it was time to speak for herself. “I will have none of this, sir. I must return to serve out my handfast. It was done in good faith and must end properly, with dignity. Then I shall decide whom I will marry."

Her father changed his focus from Soren to her and sat down in his chair. “Dear daughter, let us not dwell on unpleasantness. I have it from a good source that you didn't wish to be married or handfasted to Gerek Gunn. That you were fearful of him from the start and was forced into it."

“Rumors do not always carry the truth.” The sound of Gerek's name all but undid her. Tears welled up in her eyes but she forced them to recede. “But I am here at this moment to learn about my mam."

Her father's voice softened. “And how is your mam? My Evina. Does she prosper with that fool she married so long ago?"

“She has left MacFarr and so have I. He is a beastly, cruel man and has no bearing on our lives any more. My mam became very ill under his rule and now resides with the MacKays until she is well enough to travel."

Her father stood and paced the floor. “She was unwell? What did that man do to her? How could she have returned to him with my child in her arms?"

“Two small sons and honor, milord. Honor. And I must honor my commitments as she did hers, regardless of the outcome. At least, mine is only for the year and a day.” She smiled at her father, hoping her appeal would convince him to send her back to Killearnan.

“Send you back to the Beast of Battle? Never. I know the man. He is a hardened warrior, not fit for a young girl. I will make arrangements for you to stay here. Wait out your year, if necessary."

Cat leaped from her chair. “Am I to be kept a prisoner in Edenwyld? By my own father?” She grabbed his arm and turned him to face her. “Would you do that to me, Father? It's been tried before and didn't work. Don't do this to me, please."

He turned away from her and went down the steps of the platform. “Soren, send a message for me. To the MacKays. Tell Evina MacFarr that I await her presence at Edenwyld. Tell her that her daughter waits with me. Go! Do my bidding now! You may return upon completion of your task."

“Nae!” Cat shouted. “You cannot do this. My mam is not well."

“Aye. I can. And I don't think you've been told the whole truth.” The Keith returned to the platform and took his seat. “Now sit down. You and I will discuss the past and some of the future."

“I can't sit. I'm too upset,” Cat countered, pacing the floor.

“Och, you have spirit, lass. Your mother did, too. She fought my guards all the way from the grounds of Killearnan to here. They could barely control her."

“It was you. You murdered Gerek's grandmother and stole my mam."

There was not a flicker on the man's face when he responded, quite calmly. “I had seen your mother through the woods separating the two territories. She was so beautiful I fell in love with her from a distance. I had to have her for my own. At the time, I did not know she was married to another."

“Yet when you found out it didn't stop you, obviously.” The scorn in Cat's voice and the wrinkle of her nose was meant to anger her father. She wanted him to suffer as much as she had during her lifetime.

Her father ignored her, so into his story he seemed to be. “Evina was so lovely. I cannot wait for her to return to me. It was a love match from the minute we set eyes on each other. It was as if it were meant to be. We never wavered in our love for one another, even after she went back to MacFarr."

“Aye. She kept her bond with you. Did you? You have sons to take your place if you should fall. She had nothing."

“When I was named the Keith, I had to have heirs to follow me. It was a necessity to the clan. I married a woman I cared about. She bore me five sons and two daughters, who have married well, and have children of their own. You are the youngest of my children. I never loved another woman since your mother took me to her bedchamber. And I never will."

Cat tipped her head. Could she trust this man? She believed he was her rightful father. There was a resemblance. And she believed that he still loved her mother. But trust? “How come you let her return to cruelty?"

“Up to that point MacFarr had not been unbearably cruel to her. He only badgered her when she refused his advances, but when she left here she stated that she would refuse them forever.” He shook himself and turned to Cat. “You were born here. You were only two weeks old when the Gunn negotiated your mother's release. She missed her small sons. All I could do at the time was acquiesce to her wishes to honor her marriage vows. I sent Dara and Marcus with her to protect her, and you. What else could I have done? Her guilt consumed her."

His voice had gotten so quiet that Cat was afraid to break to stillness. “Father,” she asked softly, “can you see your way to my return to the Gunn stronghold to honor my vows? I, too, have made a commitment that I must honor."

“A commitment that was forced upon you. I've heard news from around the Highlands. Do you think I do not know how you were used and abused? I know only too well. I will not allow my daughter to be made sport of by others.” His voice dropped. “I couldn't bear it. I couldn't stand to have my daughter subjected to the vagaries of a handfast."

Cat's slammed her fist on the arm of her chair, pulled it closer and turned it so she could face her father “Gerek Gunn wanted to marry me. We were to be wed the next evening. But, like the frightened fool I am, I fled."

“Why did you flee? Because he poisoned you, as I have been told?"

“I don't think he did.” Her voice was pensive. “I remember some things about the evening before what was supposed to be my wedding. I think someone tried to poison Gerek.” She attempted to remember that night, but some sort of veiled shadow kept it away.

“Listen, child, and listen well. No daughter of mine will live her life without a proper marriage. You should be married, have a husband who will protect you with his life. Gerek needed to marry you so he could be Gunn. That was a consideration forced on him by the Gunn elders because he is a bastard."

Cat's chest rose with a fast beat. Her anger dissipated. “Aye, I know of the restrictions of his being Gunn. Without me, he cannot assume the post."

“Nae, he cannot. He's a bastard. It's most unusual for a clan to make a bastard their chief. He has to marry you or forfeit the chiefdom.”

“Father, I am also a bastard."

Her father looked at her with sympathy. “Aye, but Catriona, you'll marry with dignity, I promise you. And you won't have to be encumbered by a beast who knows little else except how to do battle."

“Aye, you're probably right. He never said he cared for me, but then I didn't act very caring either."

Her father patted her back. “Lass, face up to the facts. You've been here for weeks. No one has come for you, or even inquired. There's no doubt in my mind that he doesn't want you. Give him no consideration."

“He wasn't like that. He really was kind to me."

“I know, child, but now you're out of his mind, or he would have drawn troops to come for you. Besides, if my figures are correct, he has passed beyond his thirtieth birthday."

“You know about that?"

“Aye, lass. I was given a copy of the very pledge he signed. It stated that he must marry you before the end of his thirtieth year. That has passed. He will be free to marry whomever he chooses now. Since he has not come for you in all this time, he's not likely to do so now. There must be a member of his own clan that he chooses to marry."

Cat sucked in air. She remembered the lass who clung to him on his arrival at Killearnan. She remembered Gerek's tender smile at the beautiful young woman. That's who he was interested in. Cat stood and walked away from her father so he wouldn't see the tears that came into her eyes. She moved across the dais, but turned to him. “I'd like to go to my room now. Please excuse me."

She started down the few steps. Her father hurried after her. He offered his arm. She placed her hand on it and raised her head. Damn it, she thought, let the tears fall wherever they wish. Her life was over without Gerek. Too late, always too late.

Her father escorted her to her chamber and left her at the door. She entered and threw herself on the bed. Damn that Gerek! Why couldn't he have been different? Why couldn't he have loved her as her father loved her mother? With passion and commitment?

If she stayed here, her life would always be pleasant. She could marry Soren and be content. But what about Gerek?

I've fallen in love with the Beast of Battle and only want to be in his arms. What have I done with my life?

She flopped back onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. Gerek where are you? I can't believe you haven't come for me. Och, Gerek. Gerek. Gerek.

* * * *

Harald motioned Gerek over. “The elders are meeting now to select the Gunn to succeed me. Go to them and present yer case."

“Nae, Grandda. 'Tis no longer important. It was a foolish thing to ever have considered it. Let it go to Baen or one of the others. They'll rule well."

“What is the matter with ye? It was yer life's dream to become Gunn. Why have ye given up on it?"

Gerek peered at his grandfather. He wondered if it was really his dream or his grandfather's. The lass had changed it all, made everything different. Now all he wanted was to get her back.

Sims came running through the great hall. “Och, there ye are. I've been looking all over for the two of ye."

Gerek got to his feet slowly. “What's wrong now?"

Sims laughed. “Nothing. Nothing's wrong. It's just that the elders want the two of ye in the library. Now!"

Gerek moved listlessly. He was in no hurry to reach the library and walked alongside his grandfather with reluctance. “I will not plead with them."

His grandfather stared at him in surprise. “No one asked ye to plead. If ye dinna’ want to be chief, that's fine with me. We'll have some time together then."

When they reached the library, the Gunn opened the door and strode in, followed by Gerek. Baen sat amongst the elders, a sly grin on his face. Gerek frowned, turning to the eldest member of the group. “What is it you want? I am busy with work so I can succeed in my endeavors to free the girl.”

The members glared at him. A tall, thin man voiced their concerns. “We do not want ye to go after the lass. 'Tis not worth it to us to lose the likes of ye for honoring a pledge to a man that lied to us. Yer grandda told me that the woman is a Keith. Let her stay with them."

“That is not your decision to make,” Gerek said, his teeth clenched.

The thin man continued as if he hadn't been interrupted. “We intend to make ye Gunn whether ye like it or not."

Baen drew in a sharp breath and looked at all the elders. His mouth was open but his eyes narrowed.

“The marriage to the Keith woman is of no importance to us,” said another clan elder. “Ye'll be Gunn anyway. Ye've earned it by yer actions."

Gerek didn't try to control his lack of enthusiasm. He glanced at Baen, who had a sulky expression.

Baen rose and addressed the elders. “I find it difficult to believe that ye decided to name a bastard to the post of Gunn. You have others who could fill the position. There are those who oppose this decision of yours. Besides, my cousin's thirtieth birthday has passed. I was not aware that you men have changed the circumstances of becoming Gunn.”

The eldest in the group of twelve shook his finger at Baen. “Ye know better than to oppose us.” He turned to Gerek. “Do ye accept the post, lad?"

“Nae. I don't want it. I have no intention of causing trouble within the clan. I intend to go after my betrothed. I have made that commitment."

The thin man butted in. “If ye go there and risk yer life, so be it. But ye'll go as the Gunn of all the Gunns. Ye'll tell the lassie of yer intentions and that the position of Gunn no longer depends on her. 'Tis only fitting."

Gerek looked at each man and as he did, each man nodded to him. He took a deep breath. All sat up straighter. “I'll think on it.”

* * * *

Weeks passed, far too slowly for Cat. Every day she looked for Gerek, then couldn't believe he hadn't come for her. Now, she waited for the arrival of her mother. The entire population of Edenwyld Castle was excited over the prospect of a wedding after her mother's appearance on the scene.

The Keith had convinced her Gerek was not coming for her. She knew it was so and didn't blame any of the Gunns. Her behavior had been atrocious. She had treated Gerek abominably. Yet, some part of her refused to let her dream die. What dream? She had sworn she wouldn't marry any man MacFarr chose. Never before had Cat felt so blue and depressed. Was Gerek her dream? He'll come, she told herself. He'll come for me. He had committed himself to her for a year and a day. Gerek had to come for her.

Soren kept her company during her wait. She knew he thought she waited only for her mother. But her true feelings, the feelings that stirred her blood at night in her sleep, were all about Gerek. She liked Soren well enough and thought that marriage to him would be pleasant, but what about the singing sensation she had in her veins when Gerek touched her?

Cat heard a carriage come down the path leading to the castle. Her rooms faced the outside walls and she was able to hear much of what was happening outside. The squeaky gates to the compound opened and closed. The carriage stopped outside the doors to the castle proper. Her heart pounded and the blood rushed to her face

Dara rushed into her bedchamber. Cat was halfway across the room. “'Tis yer Mam. 'Tis my Evina. She's come! She's here! Come, lass."

Cat pushed past Dara and ran through the hall so quickly she almost fell down the main staircase. She slipped and slid down the stairs, as ungracefully as possible, in the rush to see her mam. At the main hall, she stopped. A tall, stately woman stood near the entrance, exquisitely gowned and groomed. The woman looked around as if she owned the place.

Cat assumed it was an invited guest and she half turned to go back up the stairs. The doors of the great hall flew open. Her father sped to the entrance. He took the woman in his arms and swung her around. When he set her down on her feet, their kiss was long and passionate.

Memories of Gerek flew into her mind. She bent her head and hurried back up the stairs. A voice stopped her progress.

“Catriona. Catriona, lass. Are you not going to greet your mam?” The woman stood, her arms akimbo.

Cat wheeled around and almost fell down the entire length of the staircase. “Mam! Och, Mam!” Tears streamed down her face. She flung herself into her mother's arms and cried her heart out.

“Why, daughter, is that the way to greet your mother?” her father asked, his grin totally infectious.

Cat held Mam away from her. She let go of her, so that she could walk around her several times, but fell back into her arms. “Och, Mam. You're so beautiful. My father told me of your beauty until I could no longer stand to be in his company.” She laughed gleefully but cut it short. “Are you well?"

“Aye, lass. Just seeing the two of you—together—makes me happy. I have not felt this well in many years. Lachlan, you were the one who made me happy here. Cat, you were the thing that made me happy at Fairloch. When MacFarr sent you away I thought I would die. The only reason I stayed alive was to see you settled. Now I am here."

The Keith took Evina and Cat into his arms. “I have my family with me again. Evina, hear this. I will never let you go away from me, not ever. You are to stay by my side. I will deal with MacFarr."

Cat's heart hammered with an unsteady beat. Would those words ever be said to her?

“I think you'll have no trouble with MacFarr. He has Fairloch for his own now. He won't be going far from it."

Lachlan led them both into the library and seated them. “We have things to discuss. Evie, I would not trouble you the first moment you're here but we must talk. Let me say this first and foremost. I love you, woman. You have no obligation to MacFarr. He has treated you and Catriona badly. The Keiths will have Fairloch returned to you. It is to be part of my daughter's inheritance, her dowry."

Evina spoke with great dignity. “Let MacFarr have Fairloch. I don't wish to return there. I doubt that our daughter does either."

Cat nodded her head in agreement.

“I understand,” her father said. “But if you have sons, Cat, and I hope that you do, they will want to share in the things that are yours. Even lasses need living space away from their mothers.” He chuckled. “And I have the feeling that you and Soren will have many bairns to care for."

“Lachlan, I am tired. I wish to lie down a bit.” Evina stopped. “Who is Soren?"

“Och, Evie. I have not told you all of it. Our daughter is to be married to Soren Keith on the morrow. I have decreed that it shall be done on the day after your arrival. I knew you'd come here.”

Evina looked from one to another. “Soren Keith? But my daughter is handfasted to another. I was there when it happened."

Cat patted her mother's hand. “So much more has happened, Mam. Why don't you lie down for a rest from your journey, then my father and I will tell you what has occurred."

Again Evina looked from one to another. “Aye. Perhaps that's best. Can we three have a private dinner together tonight?"

“Aye, love. Aye. Go rest now. I'll have the servants bring up your luggage. You seem to have brought enough for a long visit."

Evina chortled, a sound that Cat had not heard in many years. “I brought everything I could lay my hands on. I intend to stay forever."

“And that you will. Go rest."

* * * *

Evina slept for five hours. When the three gathered for dinner in the laird's chamber, they were quietly content to be together. No one spoke while the servants brought the food, but when the servants left the conversation began innocently enough.

“Catriona, tell your Mam how long you've been here. I was delighted when I heard that you had come for a visit with your father. I knew Harald Gunn would tell you what happened and see to your needs. He's a fine man.” Evina smiled.

Cat nearly choked on her food. She coughed. “I must tell you the truth. The Gunn did not see that I got here. I ran away from Killearnan and found my way here by some stroke of the Lord."

Evina looked puzzled. There were small furrows in her brow. “Harald did not bring you here to your father? Who did?"

“I ran away. I got here by myself. On a big, black stallion and with the help of a deerhound."

Evina made a moue of surprise. “The Gunns let you come here alone? Let you find your own way? That doesn't sound like the Gunn I knew. Tell me more, Catriona. I must digest this along with my meal."

Suddenly Cat was at a loss for words. “I ... got ... here about four weeks ago. I fled from Killearnan. I thought Gerek had poisoned me and—”

Her mother stood up, dropping the cloth covering her lap. “Poisoned you?"

Cat stared at her mother. “Aye. I thought Gerek had poisoned me, but I'm sure now that he didn't. It was someone else, someone who wanted to kill him—not me."

Evina turned to Lachlan. “You knew of this but didn't tell me?"

He smiled at her. “My dear, there was no reason to tell you until you got here. Catriona was well by the time I learned where you were."

Evina's next words were terse. “If you know Gerek didn't poison you, why did you run away?” She picked up the cloth from the floor and sat down again.

“For a while I thought he had. Besides, we weren't getting along too well and I didn't want to be forced into a marriage so that he could become the Gunn. Mam, it's all confused. Gerek signed an agreement with MacFarr, thinking MacFarr was my father. We did not know who my real father was. The Gunns and the Keiths have always been enemies, so when the truth was out, I didn't think Gerek wanted to go against his clan and marry an enemy."

Tears rolled down Evina's cheeks. “Och, Lachlan, our love has created this entire mess. How could we have been so foolish?"

Lachlan stood and lifted Evina from her seat. He embraced her and looked deep into her eyes. “I don't want you to worry. What Cat says is true. Gerek doesn't want to marry her. He has made no attempt to rescue her from here. If he cared for her, he would have torn down the gates or stolen her as I stole you. No Gunn wants to marry a Keith, and I will not have my daughter in a handfast."

“She's not just your daughter. She's mine as well."

Cat stood and walked to the nearest window. She stared out at the darkness and looked up at the stars. She kept her back to her parents. “Mam, it's true. No effort has been forthcoming to have me released. Not by word or deed,” she said, looking out the window. “I was even handfasted without my consent."

Her mother came to her at the window. “I saw you nod during the ceremony."

“I was unconscious. Gerek pulled on my hair to make it look as if I said yes. MacFarr had us all captive. It was the only way to get us out of Fairloch without blood being spilt, yours, mine and the Gunns. The handfast wasn't quite legal."

Lachlan joined them at the window and put his arms around them. “The man who saved Cat and brought her here was Soren Keith. He's only a few years older than Cat. He cares for her a great deal. In fact, he's besotted.” He turned them both around in his arms so that he faced them. “Soren's a kind, gentle man and he'll treat Catriona well. She'll never have to worry whether he has found another woman or whether he will treat her badly. He won't. Plus, they'll be here where I can protect her, get her property back and see to her future welfare."

“Catriona, my sweet, darling lass. I don't know.” Evina shook her head. “If what you say is true, then your obligation to the Gunns is forfeit."

Cat hugged her mother. “Aye, 'tis forfeit. I have agreed to marry Soren. He knows the entire story. And I do believe he cares about me."

Lachlan chuckled. “Aye. The wedding will take place tomorrow. Let's finish with our repast."

* * * *

Gerek paced the great hall to get his thoughts in motion. He had wanted to be Gunn ever since he left Killearnan at the age of twelve. It was what he desired more than anything, why he had become a warrior and received the other titles King Charles had conferred on him; titles that would do him no good until this bluidy war was over. Did he really want to be Gunn and have the desires of the clan come before his own?

As an adult, he had signed a paper to marry the daughter of the Earl of Crannog, Angus MacFarr. He needed to marry well in order to make up for being a bastard. When had he decided that he didn't care? At the cottage? When he first met the lass? Nae, I didn't care about her then. When? At Fairloch? When she was willing to stand up for what she believed in?

That was the beginning! Cat had been ready to fight the world. She fought him every way she could think to fight, resisting to the end. He admired her. Aye, he did. Did he love her?

Sims entered the great hall from the kitchen. He looked upset and moved to Gerek. “Mag is crying. She wants to go to Edenwyld. Cat's been gone for four weeks, and Mag doesn't know whether the lass is alive or dead."

“Och, Cat's alive. I can feel it in my bones. She doesn't want to come back. I drove her away with my bullishness. She has little regard for me."

“Mag says she did have feelings for ye but was unable to express them. Mag told me numerous times of how angry Cat would get at ye for nothing at all."

“She did that."

“Ye needn't go after the lass. The elders dinna’ want ye to go. We think ye should stay here, safe. Ye're a wanted man and if the Keith got a hold of ye, he'd sell ye to the Covenanters."

“I'm not afraid of the Keith. Other than clan rivalry, he's an honest man. It's the lass. If she's wanted to, she would have found her way back, I'm sure. I will raise a troop of men, if necessary.”

“She's with her father now and her mother left the MacKays on her way to the Keiths.” Sims moved away from Gerek. “The decision is all yours, laddie.”

“She thinks I poisoned her. I think I know who did; the wine was not for Cat. It was for me.” He stared at Sims. “Do you think the lass has any feeling for me? Even if she doesn't, I owe her an apology."

Sims looked him up and down. “As I said, laddie, the decision is yers to make. Ye're the Gunn now."

Gerek stared at his friend. He paced several more steps and stopped. “My decision is made. Round up the elders and my grandfather. Tell them to bring ale and meet me in the library."

Chapter Twenty

The day dawned a beautiful golden color, shiny and new as an unused coin. Not a cloud in the sky marred the perfection of the day. Shortly after first light, Edenwyld's hall began filling with guests from the surrounding countryside at the rate of two coaches per hour.

Cat woke when the sun streamed in the windows and someone pounded on the bedchamber door. Dara and her Mam entered, racing around the room, opening the curtains wider, setting up a table for Cat's breakfast, pulling items out of cupboards and examining them.

The activity was too much for Cat. Cranky and disgruntled, she dragged herself out of bed, crossed the room and sat down at the table. “Please, give me time to waken. I need a few private minutes to myself."

Evina spoke gently. “Catriona, you don't seem happy this morning. Is anything wrong?"

“Nae, Mam. I just want to be alone for a bit. Let me have my breakfast and I'll be fine. I'm probably hungry, that's all."

Dara said, “Ye'll call me, child?"

“Aye. I'll call you both. Just give me time."

The two women left the room reluctantly, both glancing back at her. Cat pushed away from the table and wandered the room. She stared at the hearth. “Dubh, I wish you were here. With me. I hear you howling for me in my dreams and I try to go to you. But I can't, sweet puppy. Och, Dubh.” She leaned against one of the windows and gazed at the array of flowers outside, the carriages lined up in the keep.

She watched servants run from one building to another, heard them shout and curse when something fell from their hands. She opened the windows wide and breathed in huge gulps of fresh air. The smell of balsam rose to the window and lingered in her memory of Killearnan.

She slammed the window shut. “Ahhhh. You are a bastard after all, Milord Gerek. I bet you're married by now.” She talked to the closed window. “And I'm getting married this day. To the man of my choosing.” Then why do I feel so terrible? “Bastard. Bastard, bastard,” she chanted. She choked on the words and threw herself on top of the bed.

Cat clutched the sheets in her fists, dragged them to her stomach and curved into a ball. Rolling back and forth, she sobbed, “Gerek, my Gerek. What am I doing here, when I want to be in your arms, to have you kiss away my troubles! Why didn't you come for me? I would have welcomed you.”

She sobbed into knotted sheets until she had no more tears. She took a deep breath and stood. Her jaw tightened and squared. “Well, there's nothing to be done for it. The pot is already on the fire.”

She controlled herself and lurched to the bathing bowl to wash her face in water Dara had brought. Cat patted her face dry, sat down at the table and forced cold food down.

She wiped her mouth, went to the door and called, “Dara. Mam. Come in now. I know you're around the corner.” She left the door opened a bit.

Her mother peeked in. “Are you ready to talk to me, Catriona?"

“Aye, Mam. Come in. Where's Dara?"

“I sent her to prepare your bath. I want to talk to you alone."

“Aye."

“Are you happy to marry, wee Cat? I have the impression you're out of sorts. Do not force yourself into a marriage you do not want. Don't. The decision is yours. I'll support you. You need happiness. You've had so little."

Cat hugged her mother and walked back to the windows. “I am happy. I've learned to care for a father, and my love for you has never wavered. Do not fret. Soren challenges my intelligence with his knowledge, and I am very fond of him."

“Do you love him, lass? Do not make the mistake I did. I had not found anyone suitable before my parents died. I had a castle falling to pieces before my eyes. Men wouldn't work for me without them wanting more than I cared to give. I thought no man would ever love me so it didn't matter when I married MacFarr. He was the best of those who showed interest in me. I knew he married me for my property. For Fairloch."

“You never told me this, Mam."

“It wasn't important. MacFarr and I were happy for a while, but his coarse ways put me off. I never knew of love until I met Lachlan, an instantaneous attachment that grew stronger each day."

“It's good that you love each other so much. I don't want to harm that love."

“Nothing ever will again. But more important now is you. Do you love this Soren? I met him last evening after dinner and we had a fine chat. He cares deeply for you, Cat. He'll try to make you happy. But do you love him?"

Cat sighed. “I don't know what love is. I don't know much about men and those I've known were not too admirable ... or didn't seem so at the time."

“I told that to Soren when we spoke.” Mam stared at her.

“He understands almost all. I told him everything about my banishment, my time at the cottage, at Fairloch, at the Gunns. Mam, I've told him everything I could think of, including my feelings. I've hidden only a little from him. It wouldn't be fair. I truly enjoy his friendship."

“You're a bonny child, my wee Catriona. I'm proud of you and your fight against this world. I have but one question. Are you in love with the Beast?"

Cat smiled down at her petite mother. “Och, Mam, that's an unfair question to ask a bride on her wedding day. But to answer you, I don't know what love is supposed to be.” She chuckled. “You always got to my innards, Mam.” She turned to avoid her mother's eyes. “I'm getting chilled."

“Right, I think you've answered my question.” She paused. “Dara will bring your bath. Then you have to dress. I'll see you in a bit.” Evina swayed over to her daughter's side. She clasped her in her arms, kissed both her cheeks and left the room without another word.

Cat stared after her. She heard her mam's footsteps going down the hall and Dara's voice directing the servants carrying the tub.

* * * *

Niall and Parlan, dressed in bulky clothing to cover their clan plaids, stood next to the gatekeeper whose clothing was somewhat the same, except for the capes the two younger men had wrapped around themselves. The three watched a huge man, also caped, stride down the path, an equally huge dog at his side.

“'Tis only me friend, come fer the wedding, he has,” Niall said. “Tis a bit late he is, but open for him. I see him comin'down the path."

The old gatekeeper, who was partially blind, smiled at his friend Niall. “I see him, too. Big fella'. Come here, one of ye. Help me wi’ this rusted thing. 'Tis heavy and cumbersome."

Parlan moved to help the old man. Gerek strode closer in his Gunn plaid, as befitted the Gunn of Killearnan. He was in full battle dress, sword and targe at his side. Brushed and shiny as the black stone that hung around Gerek's neck, Dubh walked beside Gerek, his carriage proud. The two made a fitting picture, Parlan thought.

Slowly, Niall and Parlan stripped themselves of their extra clothing and their capes, down to their Gunn plaids. Both stood straight and tall. They waved to Gerek, who waved back and picked up his pace, flinging his cape to the side.

The old gatekeeper's mouth pursed into an 'o'. “Ye be Gunns. Ye ha’ nae business in this quarter. Get ye gone from this keep!"

“We can't go, old man. We have private business with the Keith."

“Ye told me ye and yer friend was tae go to the weddin'. No Gunns were invited. Me Laird would ha’ told me."

Niall feared that the old man would notify the Keith and a battle would begin. “Old man, listen to me and listen carefully. Ye have two choices. One, I tie ye up, or two, ye say nothing. What can three men do? Fight off the whole Keith clan. Be reasonable."

Gerek had slipped through the gate and stood next to the old man, who stared up at him.

“Lord, but ye're the biggest man I ever did see.” The old man's features changed. His eyes shaped into slits and he frowned. “Be ye the Beast of Battle? I heerd somewhere that he were a big 'un. Are ye that man? I'd like ta shake yer hand. Ye be fighting fer our king like our laird."

Gerek looked down. “I am The Gunn of Killearnan.

The two shook hands and the gatekeeper said, “Pardon, yer lordship, but the word o’ that has nae traveled o'er the mountains to us yet."

“Good."

The old man shook his head. “Go ahead, laddie. I mean milord. There's no’ much three men can do inside with the place crawlin’ with Keiths and their guests. I will nae gi’ ye up. Besides, it should add a bit o’ excitement to the festivities.”

“I didn't think you would. I'd like you to leave the gate partially open. One of my men is bringing my stallion and my friends’ horses to the keep. He'll leave after the horses are tied to the gate."

“'Tis fine, laddie. Do ye know where the weddin’ is?"

Niall answered, “Aye. We'll go directly there."

“The bridal party just passed minutes ago. The lass is a beauty.” The old man chuckled. “The Beast of Battle! I'll be. Ha'a good time, lads.” He waved them off then called after them. “There're yer steeds now. I'll take care of 'em."

Gerek and Niall hurried across the keep. The old man was giving orders to Sims about the horses. Gerek turned to look at Sims, who nodded.

Gerek said, “Our forces are all in order. Sims just nodded that everything was in place. Niall, we'll keep the dog between us. He'll divert a lot of attention from us."

“Right. Gunn, what do ye intend to do?"

Gerek smiled, but the smile was cold. “I intend to take the lass with or without her approval. She will honor her handfast, like it or not. If I'm given time, I'll make sure she likes it.” A grin displaced his coldness.

Niall countered, “Ye dinna’ need her now. Ye're Gunn now, aren't ye?"

“Aye. The elders appointed me Gunn without the benefits of that marriage vow. Catriona is no longer important that way, but the wee scamp has gotten into my vitals. I'll have her however I can. Even if I'm no longer Gunn."

Niall's face glowed. “I thought that was the way of it."

The men stopped talking. The castle was before them. They slid in the front door, which had been left unguarded, and headed for the side that housed the house of worship and the bridal party. The noise surrounding the chapel hallway gave an indication the wedding ceremony had just begun. People stood in the warm hall, ignoring the words the priest shouted from his pulpit as they struggled into the chapel, leaving the door open wide. Dubh growled.

“Dubh. Nae.” Gerek place a hand on the dog's ruff and patted him. “'Tis all right, fellow. There's none to harm us.” He turned to Niall and Parlan. “Once the folks are inside, we wait by the door before showing ourselves."

The few guests in the hall paid little attention to them, engrossed as they were in the ceremony. Gerek was able to see Cat at a flowered altar. She had made the sign of the cross, risen from her knees and turned slightly to face the man she was to marry. The wedding was to be short, the wedding celebration long. The priest said words for them to repeat. Each responded with “I do."

The priest turned to the congregation and in a loud voice asked, “Before I pronounce this couple as man and wife, are there any here who have reason to believe this couple should not marry?"

Everyone looked at his neighbor and smiled. Gerek took the opportunity to whisper to Dubh. “Dubh. Get Cat.” He pushed several people who crowded the doorway aside and stood tall. “Go, Dubh. Get Cat.”

Gerek shouted, “He does!"

The animal sprang through the open door and bounded up the aisle, his eyes on his prey. The chapel exploded with noise. Unaffected, the dog continued on his way. He sighted his quarry, moved to the altar and leaped into the air, knocking Cat into the pulpit.

The animal whined and cried. He licked her face. She threw her arms about him. “Och, Dubh. My darling Dubh. You've come.” They rolled on the ground together. Cat's wedding dress grew dirty and torn.

Soren tried to stop them. He tried to get a hold on the dog, but Dubh snarled. Lachlan stood, his sword drawn. He looked about. “What in hell is going on?"

Soren called. “Help me get the damned beast off Catriona."

Lachlan ran over to the rolling pair. He tried to stab the dog, careful not to stick the point of his dagger into Cat. “Get off her."

“Nae. Nae. Leave him. He does not hurt me.” Cat's laugh filled the room and rose over all the commotion.

From the back of the room, a deep voice proclaimed. “Priest, the dog and I have cause why those two people should not marry."

There was an instant hush. Heads craned in Gerek's direction. No one spoke. It was as if all the wedding attendees held their collective breath. There was not a sound. The guests understood they were witnessing a grand Highland tale that could be embroidered in the retelling and told over and over until it became legend.

Cat stood up, the dog beside her. “It took you long enough to get here."

No one in the chapel moved. The guests sat in a state of suspension. No Highlander liked anything better than watching a good story unfold. This wedding was proving to be an exciting affair. Suddenly, the spell of muteness ended. Whispers ran throughout the chapel, in varying degrees of volume. People turned to those in neighboring pews, chattering behind hands that hid their mouths. The noise level rose and fell, minute by minute, overpowering the main participants.

The priest stormed about the pulpit, banged his fists on it several times, then raised his arms. He shouted over the tumult. “Quiet! Quiet yerselves down!"

Everyone hushed as if afraid they would miss something. And they turned to stare at the tall, handsome man in Gunn plaid leaning nonchalantly against the doorway, his muscular arms crossed over his broad chest. Several women tittered and fluttered their eyelashes. Men frowned at the women and the man who filled the doorway.

Lachlan Keith spun around to face the doors, his sword pointed at Gerek's belly. “Who the hell are you?” he asked in a menacing tone.

“I am Gerek Gunn. Didn't you recognize the plaid? You've seen it often enough.” Lachlan's face turned white, then slowly reddened. “I am the man handfasted to the lass who's trying to marry before the time proscribed by Highland law. I seek my rights."

Between clenched teeth, Lachlan exclaimed, “I consider it unfortunate that a member of the Clan Gunn should interrupt a wedding on Keith land or to attend my daughter's wedding without an invitation. Allow me to suggest that you're taking a great chance, laddie."

“'Tis no chance, milord. I have all the arms I need stowed on my person. And your castle is surrounded by Gunns. Plus, as an added benefit, my dog would tear your body before you ever reached me.”

The formidable, serious voice reverberated through the chapel. Again the wedding guests whispered and gasped.

And again, the priest pounded on the pulpit and raised his arms. He screeched, “Stop. Stop this! This is a church of God. I will not have threats and bloodshed within the walls of my chapel. This is a place of worship. It is not for swordplay. Cease yer threats and yer foolishness.”

Gerek said, “I have no wish to use my sword against any man, much less my woman's father. I want my lass. I'll leave as soon as she comes to me to fulfill a promise made only months ago."

Cat stood, one sleeve of her dress hanging loose. Dubh jumped to his feet, ever alert. “Come to you? Come to you? Why should I? So you can become Gunn? I am not a piece of chattel that you can pull and push. I am my own woman. Leave me be. I intend to marry. Go!"

The thunderous voice transcended all others. “If you've gotten all your screeching and bad temper out of your wee body, we'll be leaving here.”

Cat stared at him. “Do you really believe I'd run off with you to suit your purposes? To be Gunn of all the Gunns? Think again, kind sir."

Evina rose and stood at the head of the first row. She moved gracefully in front of Cat and turned to Gerek. “I remember you now, Gerek Gunn. When first I laid eyes on you at Fairloch, I was feeling poorly, but I do remember you. Why don't you describe the ceremony you say took place, the handfasting. Describe it so everyone will understand your claim."

Gerek bowed to Evina. “I see milady's health has improved and she is restored to the beautiful woman I remember from my youth.”

Evina asked him in a dignified manner, “The story?"

Gerek let his voice ring through the chapel. “Allow me to begin at the beginning, milady. My being born with no knowledge of my father's identity, my grandfather thought it would enhance my position in the world to be wed to the daughter of an Earl. Lachlan, I was pledged to your daughter when I was young, only weeks after Catriona was born, or so my Grandda told me when I was twelve. After becoming a warrior for the monarchy, I visited Fairloch. I was not allowed to see your daughter nor was I apprised of her glorious temper. I signed a pledge of marriage, as a grown man, to marry your daughter before my thirtieth year."

“But you handfasted instead. Am I correct?” Why is that?” Evina asked.

Somehow her questions led Gerek to finish his tale the way she seemed to want him. “MacFarr, surrounded by his armed men, insisted."

Cat shouted. “You handfasted to get your Gunn men out from under MacFarr's dominance. He had your men at sword point."

Gerek stared at her but spoke quietly. “It was that, or all of us, you and your Mam included, might have died."

“Nae. It was that you had to marry me before the end of your thirtieth year, in order to become Gunn.” Cat laughed, too loudly, then stopped. “If my calculations are correct, your birthday has come and gone.” Cat turned her back on Gerek and looked at her father.

“Will you not let me finish, Catriona?” Gerek asked in the softest voice his deep tones would allow.

Lachlan must have seen something in the girl's eyes, for he stepped over to her. “Och, lass, don't fret over it. You'll leave this castle as a woman wed to a man of your choice. My daughter shall not handfast to any man on this green earth. Although I must admit, I'd not like a Gunn clansman as a son-in-law, I will abide by Catriona's decision.” He held his hand out to the girl.

Evina smiled at Lachlan, her love for him shining in her eyes. She put her arms around Cat. “Aye, Catriona. The choice is yours. You've two men waiting on your word. Choose, child. 'Tis not fair to keep them thus. Choose, my darling!"

Cat looked at Soren beseechingly. “What do I do? You're so fine and you've told me of your undying love. I cannot bear to hurt you.”

She lowered her eyes and sat down on the first step of the altar. She raised her eyes and glowered at Gerek.

“What have you ever done for me?” Her despair hung in the air. “You handfasted with me despite my protests. You dragged me around the countryside, bruised and ill, because you were being hunted. You hauled me to your clan, had me left in a hut not fit for a pig and went about your business."

Gerek ambled up the aisle. Everyone drew back. He picked Cat up from the step and stood her on her feet. “Aye, I did all that, trying to save you and make arrangements for what I thought would be a happy life amongst the Gunns. First, I had to explain your flaming red hair and that you might be a Keith, a sworn enemy. Second, after I had repaired that damage, I spent my days standing before the elders trying to explain why we had been forced to handfasted instead of marrying."

With each word he muttered and the more annoyed he got, the lower his voice became, until it was a growl. “Third, you were obviously so anxious to get away from Fairloch that you agreed to the handfast.” He lowered his voice a notch. “Did you think I would let you go? I honor my promises."

Cat tried to slap his face, but his hand came up and caught her wrist. “I honor my promises, too."

Nostrils flaring, Gerek pushed his face in hers. “Then honor this one!"

When he loosened his hold on her wrist, she sank to the altar steps again. “I can't. I don't know what to do and you don't help me much. Have you ever, ever said or done anything kind for me?"

Gerek's jaw worked as his teeth ground together. “What a convenient memory you have, Catriona Keith! Your mother remembers many things you have forgotten so readily."

“Do not bring my mother into this. 'Tis between Soren and me and you, I suppose. Although why should I consider marriage to a man who only wants me for a purpose, to legitimize himself? So that he won't be called the bastard of his clan."

The crowd moaned over Cat's words of condemnation. The attendees took one side then another in this battle, which delighted them.

Evina turned on her daughter. “Catriona, those are nasty, harsh words you have uttered. Have you no kindness in you either, child?”

Upset by her mother, Cat struck back. “When have I ever had time to learn kindness? When I was growing up, I was abused by my brothers and the man I called father, and by every man I've ever known well, except Soren."

Lachlan took a step forward. “I have not treated you poorly, lass. I have tried to look out for your good.” He turned to Evina. “I would never harm a hair on her head. You know that. I am not a harsh man."

Evina nodded.

Cat rounded on her father. “But you pushed me to marry within your clan. You kept me prisoner, just as they did at Fairloch, Stoneleigh and Killearnan. You didn't trust me not to leave the castle grounds. You've given me no choice until now. We could have avoided this madness if you had trusted me enough."

“You're right. I did the things you say, and I'm sorry for them. When you came here you were unwell, fragile. I thought to protect you.” Her father bowed his head. “I give you full choice now. Whom do you wish to marry? Soren or Gerek? Do you want a man that loves you or do you want a man that uses you to seek his position in life? It's your choice."

Gerek stood straight. He'd watched the verbal battle and decided to tell the one thing left. “I no longer have a position to seek, nor a name to earn. I am Gunn of Killearnan, without the marriage. The elders knew of my intentions to come after Cat and that I might die in my effort. I am Gunn, and I expect Catriona to fulfill the tenets of the handfast she agreed to at Fairloch. If within the year and a day I don't convince her to love me, I will bring her back here."

Lachlan straightened out of his crouched position and raised his chin. He was not as tall as Gerek, but his words were as deep and filled with love. They resounded throughout the room. “My daughter will be a married woman. She will not handfast. And I have conditions I must insist on if her choice is the Gunn."

Gerek smiled. “Play your hand, milord Keith. Provide your conditions, man, and let's settle this for all time,” he said in agreement.

Lachlan leaped to the pulpit. “First, although my daughter is unaware of this, she is an heiress with property here and in England. I want all her dower rights to remain with her and her alone, to disburse however she chooses."

“I have no need of her money or her property.” Gerek laughed with outright glee. “A man who visited my clan for a brief two weeks, some nine months before my birth, is suspected of being my father. It no longer matters as I have made my own life a worthwhile one. My years spent in the cause of the monarchy have made me wealthy. The King has deeded me rights to castles and property in Scotland, England and Wales. Cat may keep whatever she has and add my wealth to it. I only want the woman."

Soren, who had stayed in the background until now, interrupted with apologies to all. “I'm sorry to have remained silent for so long, but I have always felt that the choice is Catriona's. I am aware that Catriona is an heiress, but I want nothing that is hers. I am a scholar and secure my funds through diligent work. I only want the woman I love."

A dirty and disheveled Cat sat hugging Dubh, her head pressed against his neck. Tears rolled down her cheeks and stained the already filthy ivory gown she wore. She looked up at the three men who were now standing in a row, her two suitors and her father. “The choice is mine?” She waited until the three nodded. “What if my choice is not to marry anyone, but to be free instead? To come and go as I please? To live my life as I wish?"

Her father held up his hand and spoke first. “No woman can roam about Scotland during such troubled times. You would not be safe. Choose one of these men or neither. If you chose not to marry, stay here with your mother and me until you find the man who pleases you.”

Evina went to Cat and kneeled in front of her, her hands braced on Cat's legs. “Child, if you want neither of these two men, I will abide by your decision. I want you happy. A strangeness in your eyes tells me your decision is made.”

She turned to Lachlan with a gentle smile. “Let our guests repair to the great hall, and let us eat and drink our fill. Let's give the lass the opportunity to weigh the three choices, to go off with Gerek, marry or stay with Soren, or stay here without marrying at all. It is not a decision to be made lightly."

“An excellent idea.” Lachlan turned his attention to his guests, who were entranced by the unfolding tale. “The Laird and his lady invite all of you to the hall to break your fast.” He turned to the daughter he had known for such a short time. “Lass, go where you will to think on things. Work them out to your liking."

* * * *

Cat trudged up to her room, taking the dog with her. Allowing no one to enter, she moped, rocking in the chair by the hearth, staring out the window. The she stood and paced the floor. When Dubh whined after following her about the room for over an hour, she fell to her knees and wrapped her arms around him. “I can't make a decision in order to keep you. Now, can I?” The puzzled look on his face and the tilt of his head made her laugh aloud, but only momentarily.

She stood by the fireplace. Soren had professed his love in front of all the guests in the chapel. Why hadn't Gerek said that he loved her? All he did was talk about honor and promises. Would he ever say the words she longed to hear above all other words? Would she spend her life without man she loved? Would she go through life as her Mam did, living with one man and loving another?

She shrugged her shoulders, angrier more with herself than the two men who awaited her choice, but her decision was made. She brushed her hair into some semblance of neatness, then crossed to the bowl that held her scented water and splashed her face. The cool water was delicious on her skin. She noticed the tear in her gown and its filth. She would never wear it again. She removed it and donned something more fitting.

Leaving for the great hall, she felt more light-hearted and secure than she had in months. Dubh followed her. When she and the dog entered the hall, a great cheer rose within the crowded room. Cat smiled and nodded to everyone as she passed. For the first time in her life, she wasn't running away. She held herself as a woman of worth and strolled to the head table.

She addressed one and all. “I have made my decision, but before I tell anyone else what that decision is I must talk to both men.” Strangely enough, Soren and Gerek sat together and were deep in conversation. Cat coughed. “Are you two willing to meet with me?"

Both Gerek and Soren stood and grunted in agreement. Cat smiled, the first sincere, happy smile she'd ever made. “Let me eat something first. To gather my strength and my wits.”

The entire room burst into cheer and applauding. They had fallen under the spell of this tall red-haired lass.

Chapter Twenty-One

For the first time in her life, the choice was hers. Determined to take responsibility and live with it, Cat sped from the hall, the men following slowly and the dog racing after her. She headed for the safety of her bedchamber, the surroundings more familiar, and sat in Dara's rocking chair, rocking back and forth in rhythm with her heartbeats. Each man pulled a chair from the table to the hearth to face her.

“If either of you wishes to say anything, I'm willing to listen. If not, I hope you'll listen to what I have to say. And the way I must say it.” Cat looked from one man to the other as if weighing her choice.

Gerek smiled at her. “Speak, lass. We'll abide by your decision."

Soren nodded, his demeanor grave. “Aye."

Dubh, who been watching the proceedings, evidently felt that everything was calm for he sat on Cat's feet and spread his long body straight out. Cat giggled at the dog's obvious disregard of his master, but quickly grew serious.

“Let me go back a bit. MacFarr and my half-brothers picked on me unmercifully up until I was eleven. At that time, MacFarr banished me from the only home I'd ever known, to the scullery of Stoneleigh Castle. My half-brothers dragged me back to Fairloch, which was in disrepair and more depressing than I remembered it. My Mam was ill and MacFarr was forcing me, against my will, to marry a man who carried the most fearsome of reputations.” Tears dribbled from Cat's eyes from the memories, but she wiped them away with her sleeve.

“Here, lass, use the cloth,” Gerek said, unable to hide the grin on his face.

“Thank you, milord."

“Cat, never address me as milord. I've had so many titles in my life that I've forgotten most. They matter little. 'Tis time to tell us your decision."

“Let me finish first. My Mam, the only one I could count on, was lost to me. I ran, fled Fairloch and went to a shepherd's croft where I met a disguised Gerek. When I left him, I ran into my brothers, who chained me and returned me to Fairloch where MacFarr beat me. Gerek arrived. When I learned that this was the man I was to marry, I was angry for all the lies he told me at the cottage. I refused to marry. MacFarr took us captive and forced us to handfast. I could offer no resistance at that time."

Soren's face was a mass of frowns and quite red. He pulled on his ear. “Catriona, you've said this before and I'm sure Gerek knows.”

“Gerek, I'm sorry if I shamed you in the chapel. You did see to my welfare at the croft and on the way to Killearnan. I thank you for that."

“Cat, you neither shame me nor bother me when you shriek your despair. It helps me to understand you better. In that, I've been lacking,” Gerek said softly.

Soren looked at Gerek with surprise written on his face. “Didn't you already know that Catriona is a gentle person who deserves only the best of care?"

Cat answered. “Nae. There was no way he could know what I had suffered at Fairloch and Stoneleigh. Although he witnessed the results of my suffering, I don't believe he's ever understood fully until now.”

“You need not defend me, Cat. I am often my own worst enemy.” Gerek nodded to her. “Go on. I would hear the whole story in your words."

Cat bowed her head and twisted the cloth she still held in her hand. She looked up. Words formed in her mouth but her throat refused to open to emit them. She rose, trudged to the window and stood looking out. Dubh followed her.

“At Killearnan, I was thrown into a world I didn't know and left to fend for myself. Were it not for Gerek's aunt and cousin and my friend, I would have been ignored by all but the children who played in the courtyard."

Gerek broke his silence. “I don't wish to defend them but the Gunn women, thinking you an earl's daughter, believed you wouldn't want their friendship because you thought them beneath you. If you remember, Cat, several of them approached the head table to engage you in conversation. You kept your eyes down, looking into your plate. What were they to do?"

Cat shuddered and turned from the window to look at Gerek. “I thought they were only interested in your attention. Later, I thought they had poisoned me, but remembered they weren't around at the time. So I thought you did it."

Gerek stood and leaned on the mantel. “Why would the women of my clan want to incur the anger and hatred of the woman they thought would be the next Lady of the Castle? They were vying for position in your court, so to speak. And why would I try to harm you?"

Cat looked at Soren, who had maintained his usual quiet demeanor. Slowly she walked toward him and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Soren, I have done many things wrong in my life.”

Soren stared at her, his expression soft and yielding. He took her hand in his and patted it. “Do not dishonor yourself. I was afraid you might come to regret Lachlan's forceful ways. I know what you are going to say and it's all right."

Cat leaned down and gave Soren a gentle hug. “You're right. I cannot dishonor myself. I asked my father to return me to Killearnan so that I could fulfill the terms of my handfast. He refused. I also know that you tried to convince him to send me back. But as you said, he's forceful."

Gerek stared at Cat but made no move toward her. “Then you are willing to continue our handfasting?"

Cat still had her hand on Soren's shoulder. “Aye. 'Tis best."

Soren stood. “It's no longer as easy as that. Your father will not let you leave this castle without a proper marriage. If you leave here, it will be as a bride. Perhaps it's best if you married no one, and stayed with your parents until the term of the handfast is over."

Gerek spoke quickly. “I cannot stay here. I have responsibilities now that force me to return to Killearnan as quickly as possible. If your father will not allow us to leave, we'll marry. It's as simple as that."

Cat's clenched her teeth, trying to speak quietly and calmly. “Gerek Gunn, do you feel that you have the solution? If we marry, there's no escaping you."

“I thought you were tired of escaping? The decision is yours.” Gerek stretched his legs out in front of him, a picture of the relaxed male.

“Why, you—you self-satisfied ... Do you think to lay this problem on my shoulders without any commitment yourself?"

Gerek put his arms behind his head and leaned back in his chair. “Isn't that what you wanted? To be able to decide things for yourself? I'm perfectly willing to let you decide our future or its lack."

“My decision is made.” She stood. “I will apprise everyone downstairs, shortly. But first, I have a few words to share with Gerek."

Soren got as far as the doorway before he turned around. “Catriona, don't make your decision in anger.”

When he had gone, Cat rounded on Gerek. “Are you trying to tell me that you care not what decision I make?"

“Whether I care or not is unimportant. This decision must be yours. Listen to Soren. Do not make this decision in anger."

Cat put her hands on her hips. “If you care so little for me, Gerek Gunn, I have no choice but to marry Soren. And that's what I'm going to do.” She sped through the doorway with Dubh on her heels and Gerek close behind. She flew down the stairs, ran to the open door of the great hall and proclaimed her intentions to all. “Where's the priest? A wedding must take place."

From behind her, she heard, “Aye, that it must!”

The rumbling at her back forced her to wheel around. She bumped into Gerek. She hissed, “You shut your mouth. You have nothing to say in this anymore. Not now. Never!"

Gerek whispered in her ear. “You're wrong, lassie. I have everything to say about it.” He bent as if to kiss her, caught her waist on his shoulder and marched the rest of the way into the hall with Cat hanging over both sides of him, pounding his back and kicking his stomach.

Lachlan stood at the head table, his expression gleeful. “Where's the priest?” he shouted. “I have another condition to make, Gunn."

“Name your condition. I'm ready for it. I think I know what it will be and I grant it to you with thanks."

Lachlan smiled. “A pact between our two clans to support each other.”

Gerek bowed his head. “'Tis yours, milord. I'll sign on it as Gunn as soon as I get this chit off my shoulder.”

The little fat priest who had conducted the ceremony in the chapel rushed forward, one arm raised. “I'm here. Here I am, yer lordship.” He waddled onto the platform to face the back end of Cat, who was trying to wiggle off Gerek's shoulder. “Do ye want to put the lass down?"

Gerek smiled at the obviously perplexed man. “I don't think I'd better. Just say the words over us."

Cat stopped fighting him. “Gerek, I'm getting dizzy. I'm going to throw up."

“It will be a pity. You'll destroy my ceremonial clothes. Continue, priest."

Nervous, the priest repeated the words he had said earlier in the chapel.

Gerek said his “I do.” When the priest asked Cat the same question, Gerek turned around so that Cat's face was to the priest. He reached up and pulled on her hair. Her head bobbed up and down. Holding her backside down, he turned back to the priest. “The lass gets nervous in grave situations and loses her voice."

Cat's voice came muffled from against his broad back. “You're a bastard, Gerek Gunn."

“Aye, and so are you, Catriona Keith.” He looked at the priest. “Are we married?"

“Not quite,” came the answer. “Is there another here that believes this marriage should not take place?”

The priest looked at Evina and Lachlan. Both smiled. He looked to the guests seated below. They were all smiling, including the previous groom. No one said anything. He shrugged. “This has been a most unusual day! The most unusual wedding I've ever performed. I now say that ye two are man and wife. Be kind to one another, for heaven's sake."

Gerek laughed, tossed Cat into the air and caught her in his arms so she faced him. “May I put you down now, Mistress Gunn?"

The priest called out. “Ye may kiss yer bride now, milord."

“Och, but I'll like that.” Gerek bent his head. Her lips met his. His kiss was gentle, meant to seal the bargain.

But Cat was more than he bargained for. Her arms went around him and her body pressed against him as tightly as it could. He let her slip through his arms until she was standing. Her arms never left his neck. The kiss deepened. The crowd hooted. Within moments, the hall broke into an uproar of rousing cheers of blessings on the bride and groom.

* * * *

It seemed like years since Cat first trod the wooden bridge to Killearnan. It was different this time. Now she was in Gerek's arms.

“Are you cold, lass?” His arms snaked around her and her reaction was instantaneous. She snuggled against his warm body and raised her mouth to his.

“Are you ever going to call me by my name?” she asked, putting her arms around him and kissing him lightly.

“Aye, sometimes.” His smile turned her stomach to mush. “Are you nervous about coming back here?"

“A bit. Won't they question why I was gone so long?"

“We'll just tell them you were ill. Your mother was sent for and you had to wait for her appearance, which is partially true. If you tell most of the truth, they'll not bother you for the rest."

Cat chuckled to herself. “I'll remember that and I'll remember who said it to me. That person will just have to pay the consequences of any more lies."

Niall, who rode in back of them, pulled up alongside. “Something's wrong.”

Gerek's body tensed. “What?"

Niall pointed to the loch. “Nobody's fishing. No one about anywhere. Why is the drawbridge down? Where's the man guarding it?"

Gerek held up his hand. He turned in the saddle. “Men, there's no guard. The drawbridge is down, and the gates are open. It may be a trick to get us all inside. Prepare for battle. Some go around to the back gate. I'm going straight in.”

As the men drew their swords and split into groups, Gerek motioned for Niall to come closer. “Take Cat. Protect her with your life. I'll take Dubh and ride in with Parlan and Sims.” He held Cat briefly, kissed her forehead then her mouth. “Go, Catriona. Please. Go with Niall. I don't want you harmed."

“Nae, Gerek. I'll stay with you."

“You can't until I find out what's going on inside. I'll signal Niall shortly."

Cat lifted her arms to Niall. She could feel Gerek's intensity. She'd convince Niall to go inside and help him.

Gerek spurred the black into a gallop. He and the men behind him sped into the keep and pulled up. Not a soul could be seen, not a servant, a warrior or a villager. Gerek leaped off his horse and the others followed. They crouched and moved forward slowly.

“Gerek,” Parlan said, “the door is open. What the hell's going on here?"

“I don't know.” Gerek turned slightly. “Men, be careful."

The warriors raced from outbuilding to outbuilding until they were able to get to the great doors of Killearnan. The closer they got, the more anxious Gerek became. On silent feet, they entered the castle and moved down the long hallway leading to the great hall, past several opened doors. Where was everyone? Gerek moved along the hallways, then heard a wailing from inside the great hall.

He signaled the men to follow him and threw open the doors. He and his men shot through. The hall was crowded with people, all milling about as if they had nothing to do. People started to cry when they saw him. They all spoke at once, shouting to him.

“Gunn. Thank heaven you're here,” screamed an old man.

“We're saved now,” one thin woman called to her family.

“He's here. He'll help us,” another cried.

He raised his arms and the tumult ceased. “What's wrong? Why are you inside? Why has the castle been left unguarded?"

A tall, gray-haired man, Baen's father James, stepped forward. “Listen, lad."

“I am no longer a lad. I am the Gunn. Where are Baen and my grandfather?'

James looked at Gerek with respect and sorrow. “Baen and Jocaste are upstairs with your grandfather. He's been ill. We don't know what's wrong."

“Where?"

“Abed in his suite,” James said.

Gerek strode to the dais and stepped up. He raised his arms and everyone fell silent. “I understand my grandfather is ill.” Groans and cries broke out in different areas of the hall. “Stop! That will do us no good. First we must set this castle to rights. Those of you who are supposed to be on the gates and the drawbridge, get there at once. The protection of all in this castle depends upon our abilities against intruders.” He watched as men poured out of the hall. “Everyone here who has a chore to do, attend to it. Now!"

There was another exodus from the hall. All that were left were the villagers. “You people may stay here, but I suggest you help the others in some way. Set up the tables. Something. I will see to my grandfather."

People began to take the tables that were stacked close to the walls and place them in the great hall. Gerek turned to James. “My bride awaits outside the back gate with Niall Oliphant. Send a maid to fetch them and make Cat comfortable, Uncle. I go to join your wife and son."

Gerek's heart was heavy. That his grandfather was ill upset him far more than he realized. He mounted the stairs to his grandda's suite. When he entered the front room, Jocaste jumped up in what seemed like surprise at seeing him. Had she thought or hoped he wouldn't return from the Keiths? She ran to him and threw her arms about him.

“Och, Gerek. My father is so sick. I don't know what is the matter.”

“Who's with him now?"

“That awful maid of Catriona's. That Mag. She refused me entry to my own father. Can you believe it? She guards the door with a dirk."

He patted his aunt on the shoulder. “Don't worry. I'll take care of it. Where is Baen?"

Jocaste settled back into the chair. “I sent him to get something to eat. The poor child has been so attentive. He guards this door from everyone but that witch in there. She refuses to leave the old man's side.”

Gerek stared at his aunt for a moment. He wondered why the old fool was going on about Mag. Jocaste's ranting did not seem right. “Aunt, you go eat. Folks are preparing food for everyone. I'll take up the vigil.”

He watched her go from the room and shut the door. Then he opened his grandfather's bedroom door to face a wild-eyed Mag, dagger in her hand, its blade about to enter his stomach.

“I told ye, no one.” She looked up and recognized Gerek, an instant before she would have thrust the dagger home. “Och, milord Gunn. 'Tis ye. I'm so glad to see ye. It's been awful here, but I protected the man from the likes of her and yer cousin."

Gerek took the dagger out of her hand and tossed it on a bureau top. “Mag, what is going on here? Where's my grandfather? He's not in his bed."

“Where's me Cat? She's not in her proper bed either."

He smiled down at the feisty countrywoman for whom he had a great deal of affection. His grandfather, Niall and she were the first ones to support his going after Cat. “She'll be here in a minute. Do not fret so, Maggie. Your mistress and I are married. Now, tell me about my grandfather."

Mag sighed. “Married. It's about time. But I'm so glad ye're home to set this all right. Your grandfather was poisoned, but he's fine. Nobody knows he's fine. They all think he's in his bed. That's why I have been protecting this door from one and all.” She shook her fist at Gerek. “Ye know, laddie, ye and yer friend Niall left me and yer grandda to handle the whole damned clan. Well, we did a good job for a while, but then they poisoned him."

“Who poisoned him? And where is he?"

“He is in the cottage me and Cat fixed up. Remember the three warriors ye gave the hut to when Cat left? Well, he's with them, but nobody but yerself knows it.” Having gotten most of her story out, Mag flopped into a chair and put her head into her hands. “I dinna’ want to tell ye the rest. Ye won't believe me."

Gerek crouched down in front of her. “I know you won't lie to me. Tell me all that you know."

Mag put both her hands in his and stared directly into his eyes. “Listen to me, Gunn, and listen closely. Ye took me Niall away. Cat was gone so I had no one to fuss over. I worked it out with Tenita that I would wait on the head table at the dinner meals. That's where everything happened to my Cat. I figured it might happen again. This time I saw it. I saw her put somethin’ into yer grandfather's cup. I pretended to reach for a plate and knocked the cup over, but he'd already taken a big swig o’ it. I couldn't get there any faster without raisin’ someone's suspicions. Who would believe a maid, newly come to the castle?"

Gerek stopped her. “Mag, you still haven't told me who did this."

She looked at him in a hard way. “'Twas yer own aunt, the old man's daughter. Can ye believe it, milord?” She covered her face with her hands.

“Aye, I can. Poison's a woman's weapon.”

Mag stood and paced in front of the bed. “I stuffed the bed with all the pillows I could find. Yer grandfather's a big man. But laddie, there's more to tell ye and little to me liking."

Gerek sat on the edge of the bed. “You best tell me all, woman."

She put her hand on his shoulder. “That woman out there and her son. They conspired to harm ye. It was not me Cat they were after. It was ye. I found out a lot of things after ye left, things I wouldna have known if ye'd stayed. I played up to some of yer cousin's friends. It seems that he's been trying to get rid of ye for a long while; aye, it's somethin’ that's been going on since yer childhood."

Gerek stood and paced the room in angry strides. “What? What are ye telling me, lady?"

Mag didn't move. “Remember the first Dubh ye had when ye were a mere lad?” When he nodded, she continued. “That dog were poisoned by stuff meant fer ye. Niall and I found all this out from one of Baen's men, a man who had been friendly with him since childhood but lost faith when he saw the results of Baen's plans."

Gerek nodded to her. “Aye. Continue...."

Once given full permission, the words flew from Mag's mouth. “Then the time that ye fled the battlefield with Montrose and all. It were Baen that done ye in. He told the Covenanters where to find ye. And again in Edinburgh, when ye went to give solace to yer comrade-in-arms. Niall thought he saw him talking to the soldiers that were after ye. Another of Baen's men said Baen convinced MacFarr to make ye handfast so ye wouldn't be eligible for Gunn. And he sent the Covenanters after ye at the inn. Me and Niall figured that one. And if he had found yer hidey-place, he would have sent them there. He helped Cat out of this castle and then left her. He's the bastard, not ye.”

She crumpled into a heap at his feet just as Cat flew through the doorway and threw herself into Gerek's arms. “I was afraid you had gotten hurt somehow when you didn't come to get me.” She looked around. “My Lord, is that Mag? Mag? Mag, darling.” Cat rushed to the woman on the floor and placed her arms around her. “What have you done to her?”

Mag struggled within Cat's arms. “Dinna fret so. I'm fine. I just need some food. I've been without for a few days."

Cat was indignant. “Why? Why haven't you eaten?"

Gerek kneeled beside the two women on the floor. He heard sounds in the other room. “Cat, close the door and I'll explain everything. Please, lass, do it and don't ask questions yet."

Cat rose and went to the door. Jocaste and Baen poked their heads in, but Cat held the door partly closed. They were not able to see in.

Baen looked at Cat. “I'm so glad you're back, Catriona. I've missed you.”

Jocaste came right behind him. “Och, my wee darling. I'm so glad you've returned to the fold. How is the old man?”

Cat looked back into the room. Gerek shook his head and put a finger to his mouth. Cat looked puzzled but drew herself up. “I'm sorry, Jocaste. He's out right now. I'll call you when he's back with us.” Cat closed the door in her face and turned to Gerek and Mag. “What is going on here?"

* * * *

Cat and Gerek sneaked down a hidden stairway that led from his grandfather's room; Mag stayed behind to continue the ruse. They wound their way to the kitchen, told Tenita to send food up to Mag and went up the back stairs to the hut.

The two men-at-arms greeted them and led them inside. Harald sat at the table looking fit. He settled them in chairs and told them the story. When he finished, he smiled at Cat. “I'm glad of yer marriage to me grandson. Ye picked right. By the way, that's a damn fine friend ye've got, Catriona. Why, if I were younger, I'd steal her away from Niall."

Gerek stood and stretched his long body. “Well,” he said, “I'd better see to all this.” He stared at his grandfather for a long time. “I'm glad you're fine, old man.” He poked him on the arm. “Is this why you made me Gunn?"

Harald let loose a belly laugh. “Aye, laddie. 'Tis my time to go fishing from the shore and enjoy me life a little."

Gerek grew serious. “Grandfather, they cannot stay here any more. They'll have to go away. The elders will surely agree."

“Ye're Gunn now, Gerek. Ye'll have to lead the elders from here on. I'm sure when ye tell them the story, ye'll all figure a way to do it in a seemly fashion. Go now and see to it."

They left the cottage but got no more than a few feet. Gerek pulled Cat into his arms and his lips found hers with ease. Her breath was soft and fresh on his mouth. Her response left no question in his mind about her feelings for him. His kiss deepened until she was trembling in his arms. He wanted to take her there.

“Well, isn't this a pretty picture! My woman in the arms of her lover.”

Gerek broke away from her reluctantly.

“I have never been your woman, Baen. What put that idea into your brain?"

Gerek saw the drawn sword and the round targe his cousin always carried in battle. He put Cat in back of him.

Baen snarled at him. “How long did you think you could keep me out of my grandfather's room? I had to knock over that maid of yours, Catriona, but my mother and I got in. What have the two of you done with Grandda?"

Harald stepped out of the hut and stood with his hands behind his back. “I'm here. And safe. What baffles me is why ye've taken on so, Baen?”

A sneer crossed Baen's face, which surprised Gerek. He had never seen his cousin so virulent, so angry. Baen staggered forward a few feet and shouted at his grandfather. “Your constant preference for my cousin. Gerek the great. Gerek, the new Gunn. Gunn of all the Gunns. Soon to be the dead Gunn, and buried with all the honors I can bestow on him."

Harald stepped forward. “Ye'll do no such thing. Put down yer sword, lad. This is not the way to solve yer problems. Come with me to the hall. I'm famished and in need of food. We'll talk over vittles and see if we can't settle it."

Baen's countenance grew ugly with hatred. “You think to trick me, old man. I'm not so easy. I'll run you through. I will be Gunn before this is ended."

Harald smiled at both his grandsons. “If this is all it's about, then come with me to the hall. We'll settle it once and for all. Come, lads.” Harald's voice was calm and quiet. He moved forward slowly, taking Gerek's arm with one hand and Baen's with the other. The three of them headed around the castle to the front doors and on to the great hall. A trembling Cat trailed behind.

“Bring food to the table, someone,” Harald cried out to the folks in the hall, who cheered when they saw him up and about.

“We thought ye died, old man,” cried one of the villagers.

Another chimed in. “He's too mean for that. I told ye the old bird would be fine. But no, ye didn't believe me, ye old fool."

Much cheering and laughter coursed through the room. People rushed to Harald from all directions. Before long, the entire hall was filled with castle folks and villagers, converging on the old Gunn and the new one.

Gerek looked over at Baen, whose sword was lower than it had been outside; but he hadn't put it down.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Jocaste pressed through the crowded hall. Mounting the dais, she stopped short when she saw her father sitting there, a grandson on each side. She took a seat next to her son and frowned as Gerek stood, his hand on the back of his grandfather's chair. When Cat sat next to Gerek, Jocaste glanced at the crowd, puzzled by the cheering.

The elders moved to their seats at the head table. The people whispered. Gerek raised an arm high above his head. The crowd grew quiet.

“I appreciate your cheers of good will, but I have several important things to tell you. First and foremost, I negotiated a pact with the Keiths.” Grunts and groans of amazement, of disgust and of disbelief filled the hall over the news. “We will graze our sheep or cattle on their land within boundaries and they will use some of our land. The boundaries will be established when the Keith visits his daughter, Catriona. 'Twill be done in equal shares. We need no longer fear for our people who wish to traverse their territory. They pledged to help us in case of trouble and we will assist them."

A voice from the back of the room shouted, “They get into more trouble than we do."

“Aye, being right on the coast like that,” cried another.

Gerek recognized the voices of Baen's men, men who had accompanied Baen to Fairloch. “Aye, but most of their trouble is with us. If we refrain, few problems can occur between us.”

A cheer followed the announcement. The villagers stood the most to gain. They would be able to trade freely with the Keiths. Several of the maids had been keeping secret company with Keith men but would not marry out of their clan for fear of reprisals. Now they could.

Again Gerek raised his hand to quell the sounds of multiple bodies crammed into one space. “I have more to tell you. Although Catriona and I were handfasted before, we are now married by proper clergy in the presence of her mother and father. I give you Lady Catriona Gunn of Killearnan."

The crowd applauded and raised an even greater roar than before, obviously happy with their Gunn's choice. They clapped and stamped their feet so loudly that Gerek lifted Cat to stand beside him. No one seemed to care that Baen had leaped to his feet, his sword drawn and his targe held to his chest.

He screamed at Gerek. “You married that slut? You actually married her? She pledged herself to me before she left here for greener grasses."

As soon as he heard the work “slut,” Gerek's entire body wrapped in a fury he could no longer contain. He reached for the sword he had laid on the floor next to his seat. His dagger was in his unencumbered hand.

He spoke in a lethal tone. “Baen, before you get more offensive, I suggest you leave the hall.” He turned to his aunt and muttered. “If you want your son to live, take him out of here. You can eat later, if you wish. Do it! Now!"

Jocaste staggered to her feet, pushing against the table. “Father?"

Harald looked at her. “Do what yer Gunn tells ye, daughter.”

Jocaste took Baen's arm but he thrust her away. She grabbed at his arm again, flailing in panic. “Come, son. We'll come back later."

Baen shook off her hand, shoved her to the ground and left the platform. “Get away from me, you old hag. This is the fault of your twisted nature."

Gerek put his dagger down and lifted his aunt from the floor. “Go, aunt.” He addressed the gathering. “We seem to be in the midst of a tale that will be told by our story-tellers for years to come. Let me start it.” He heard the grunts of approval. “Early in my youth, before I left for fostering, my dog was poisoned by food meant for me. My grandfather thought to protect me, so I was forced to leave you and Killearnan, the home of my heart. Most of you have followed my career with the Royalists, so I will let you make up your own stories as you go along."

There was not a sound in the hall. Many of the scullions had crept up the stairs, not wanting to miss their new Gunn. They huddled at the back curtain.

Gerek gestured to them to join everyone else and continued. “Here is the most important part of my life now. Some days ago my lady wife, angry with me for good cause, drank some poisoned wine that was meant for me. She became ill on the road to find her family. That's why she's been gone for so long. More recently, my grandfather was poisoned. I believe it all came from the same person.” Everyone nodded, turning to others to discuss the implications.

Gerek smiled at them. “The rest of the story I will let play out by itself, and you may all be witnesses to the events.”

Jocaste, who had been waiting for Baen at the door to the hall, approached the head table, her eyes flashing fire. Every eye turned in her direction. Gerek gestured to a seat. “Sit down, aunt, and eat,” he muttered, before he spoke to those assembled.

“We will begin a short ceremony to declare fealty soon. I want no prolonged rites at this time. We'll have a more formal setting in several days, when we can call everyone from the outlying districts and farms. Those of you who do not wish to declare their fealty to me may leave, unmolested. I do not want anyone to stay who does not wish to be a loyal clan member.” Gerek watched carefully to see if any would leave. No one did.

Harald stood and faced the people he had ruled for so long. “Let me be first. I pledge my heart, my sword and my loyalty to the new Gunn of Killearnan."

Cheers followed. Men rushed to the dais, declarations of loyalty on their lips. Niall approached and kneeled. Gerek spoke to him rather than give him a mere nod or grunt of acceptance. “I welcome you, my friend and protector. You will be a Gunn member and my second, forever, into our dotage."

Man after man, family after family, single persons, servants, everyone in the hall crowded close to the dais, proclaiming their willingness to pledge to the new Gunn and his wife. Several of the warriors, those who conspired with Baen, did not come forward. They raised their glasses and shouted, “To the Beast of Battle.”

Gerek would have to take them by force, and sooner than they expected, he thought. The evening would not end well for Baen or his followers.

Harald turned to Jocaste and Baen. “It's time to pledge your loyalty.” Baen sprang from the table, drew his sword and pointed it directly at his cousin. “I will not declare loyalty to a man who steals my position and the woman to whom I had given my love."

Jocaste pulled on his arm. “Baen, child, do not do this. Pledge. It means nothing in the long run."

Baen shrugged off his mother's hand and backed off the dais onto the stone flooring. His followers stood at their table, their hands on their swords. Gerek slowly rose, reached down and grabbed the sword he had replaced beneath his chair. Niall tossed him a targe, which Gerek caught in mid-air and held lightly in front of him.

He walked to the edge of dais and peered at Baen. “Is this something you really want to do?” he inquired.

The reply was buried in a deadly fury, its heat transcending the room. “Aye. I do. I've hated you since we were boys, as my mother hated your mother.”

Gerek smiled at him. “You've hidden your hatred well all these years. I was unaware that's how you felt.” He leaped from the dais to face his cousin. Baen's followers were captured by those whose loyalty was not in question: Niall, Parlan and Sims. Gerek noticed the boy Quarries. He, too, held a man at sword point. The boy had matured into a warrior. Gerek grinned in honor of his friends.

While he looked elsewhere, Baen made a feint to one side. The flat side of his sword struck Gerek's shoulder. Gerek saw the flash of steel and parried. A loud clang of swords resounded throughout the hall. The two were a good match; Gerek's reach was longer, but Baen was the more agile.

Few moved in the hall, except to clear a space for the fighters, pushing back tables and benches to the wall. People rushed to spots to view the action.

Other than an initial gasp, Cat never uttered a sound. She could barely swallow. Her heart pounded hard enough to bruise her ribs. She watched Jocaste who stood near her slip a dagger out of her pocket and into her hand. Cat reached under her dress to her stocking and pulled out the small dirk she had hidden there; then she stood on her chair to see better.

With the crowd around the participants, Harald could not see well. “Clear a path for me,” he shouted above the clash of swords. The crowd moved to one side. Harald jumped from the dais and stood at the top edge of the crowd, his own sword ready to intervene if necessary.

The combatants were between a large group of Gunns and the dais. They slashed at one another, leaped about, creating general havoc. The crowd moved with them, backwards and forwards. The swords rang with each touch. Between the clash of the two blades, there were shouts of encouragement for Gerek, for Baen. Baen nicked him lightly several times but was unable to get close enough to hurt him. The two men puffed, and sweat dripped from faces red with exertion. The tip of Baen's sword tweaked Gerek's, making it fly from his hand. He whirled and caught it in a fist.

“Baen, tell me. Why have you done all this?” Gerek asked, ducking under Baen's sword.

Baen came forward. “Because I've always hated you. You thought you were superior, even though I'm older.” He slashed hard to one side.

Gerek twisted and missed the edge of Baen's sword. He lifted his own for a slice and a nick. “Why poison my mother? She did nothing to anyone."

Baen leaped forward like a dancer. “I didn't do it. I was too young.” His thrust missed again. He fought with a desperation born of his hatred.

Gerek stood tall for a moment. He lunged forward and caught the edge of Baen's targe. Baen fell to the floor and Gerek stepped back to wait.

Jocaste jumped from the platform. She came between the two men, facing Gerek, her dagger held before her. Her face was wreathed in a snarl. “I did it. I poisoned your mother and tried to poison you but your damned dog ate the food instead. I hated both of them, my sister and the dog you had to protect you. I wanted you dead but they sent you away too quickly or I'd have accomplished the deed. I knew my father favored you above his legitimate grandson.” She reached backward to pull Baen to his feet. “Get up, son.”

She glared at Gerek “I poisoned your wife, but the wine was meant for you. My son should be Gunn. He lived with the clan, obeyed their rules all of his life. You took it from him.” Tears rolled down Jocaste's face. “Baen's older than you. He should lead the clan."

Gerek's concentration was absorbed in Jocaste's fury. He wondered how anyone lived with such hate.

Jocaste turned on Harald, waving her dagger in the air. “And you, old man. You should have died years ago when you allowed those dirty Keiths to kill my mother. I tried to save her. My sister did nothing but see to the children. She left me all alone there, to die or be captured."

Harald stared at his daughter. “Gerek stayed to help ye. He protected ye. Ye're still here, aren't ye? Ye wouldn't be, were it not for Gerek."

“What could a child do? Nothing, old man. You came too late. You created all this. I've hated you since that day. And now, you allow a daughter of a Keith to marry the Gunn. I hate all of you.” She threatened with her dirk. “All of you back off. Leave my son alone. I will allow no one to harm him."

Gerek listened coldly to his aunt's confession. As a Highlander, he understood great anger, but it couldn't go on. He reached over, twisted the dagger from his aunt's hand and let it fall to the stone, where it clattered twice. He turned and called to his uncle, Jocaste's husband, “James, come get your wife. I'll deal with her later."

As he turned back, Baen caught his arm with the blade of his sword and ripped Gerek's sleeve in a jagged line, piercing the skin. Blood dripped from the slice. Gerek threw his sword into his other hand.

He stalked Baen. “Och, cousin. You made a mistake, punishable by death. You have touched your chief when his back was to you.” Gerek crouched on the balls of his feet, his blood falling to the stones, making them slippery. “I wish I had a claymore in my hand, but this is not a battle worthy of it."

An enraged Baen charged, his sword pointed at Gerek's heart. Cat gasped and jumped from the chair. She ran to the end of the dais, fear on her face.

Gerek saw her from the corner of his eye and called out, “Don't worry, lass. This will be over quickly.” He slashed at Baen's sword.

Baen shrieked, the screeching yell of the Highlander. He charged again but retreated. Gerek charged back, sword swinging, swishing the air in mighty drafts. Gerek moved in at a steady pace. He forced Baen into the crowd, which gave way to the fighters. His sword met Baen's. The sounds of steel against steel rang through the hall. The hall was quiet, except for the heavy breathing of the fighters.

Baen danced around the fringes of the crowd, clearly searching for an opportunity to stick Gerek through the heart. Baen lunged. Gerek parried. The two men were locked as one, their swords upright, and their wrists together. Gerek shoved Baen back. Baen leaped forward, his sword straight in front of him.

Cat screamed. Gerek turned at the scream and slipped on his own blood to the uneven stone flooring. He hit his head.

Baen stood over him, his sword pointed downward. Cat vaulted from the dais and leaped onto Baen's back. She pressed her dagger to his throat and growled, “Lift a finger to him and you're dead!"

Baen tried to shake her off, but he was smaller than Gerek and Cat's arms and legs were able to grasp him tightly. “Get off me, you whore."

Cat pressed the dagger harder. Blood welled and settled on the knife. “If you think I fool with you, take another step in my husband's direction.”

Baen stiffened. “You've bloodied me."

“Aye. And I'll slit your throat unless you drop your sword."

The crowd, shocked into stillness, finally moved. Niall took the sword from Baen's hand and flung it away. Harald lifted Cat from Baen's back.

Someone grabbed Baen's arms and held them. “Never swordplay wi’ yer Gunn if ye want to keep yer life.”

Cat tossed the dagger to the floor and knelt by Gerek. He was unconscious and covered in blood. She put her ear to his mouth. “He lives. He lives. Please, someone. Take him to our chamber. Get Mag."

Mag moved out of the circle that now surrounded the swordsmen. “Lass, I'm here at yer side.” She knelt down and felt the pulse in Gerek's neck. “Dinna fret, lassie. The heartbeat's strong. He hit his head. Knocked him right off his feet, it did.” She turned to Niall. “Niall, get yer big paws off that idiot. Give him to someone else. Ye, there, tie that man's hands behind his back.” She turned to Harald. “Is there a room we can lock the two of those wretches in?” she asked, pointing to Baen and Jocaste.

Harald looked at the maid in utter stupefaction. A booming laugh burst from his belly and through his lips. It broke the tension in the room. Everyone began talking, gesturing and laughing.

Mag stared at Harald. “Are ye no’ going to answer me question? It were put nice enough."

Harald controlled his laughter and breathed easy again. “Aye, lass. The storeroom has a stout lock and no window."

“Well, then, toss the buggers in there. Lock the door. The Gunn will deal with them when he's no’ feeling so poorly.” She glanced back at Harald. “Is there breathing space in the room? I don't want those two to miss their punishment."

Harald chuckled. “Aye, mistress. There be plenty of air from slits in the walls. And places to sit or lie down, if necessary. They'll be fine."

Several men lifted Gerek. Parlan and Sims took the bound Baen by the shoulders, shoved him forward and left the hall. Quarries ran after them.

James followed his wife and son. “Dinna fret, wife. Ye and our son done wrong to yer family, but ye've been a good wife to me. I'll stay wi’ ye. I willna leave ye tae suffer.” He bowed his head and departed the room silently.

Mag turned to Cat. “See, mistress, that's how ye ha’ to deal with these Highlanders. They're fine if following directions."

Cat started to laugh and slid to the floor. She brought her hands to her face and sobbed between each bubble of her laughter.

Leah came to her and lifted her from the floor. “Come, milady. Ye need to see to yer husband. I'll help ye up the stairs."

Cat stared at the girl as if she couldn't see her properly. “Leah? Leah, I offer you an apology."

Leah tipped her head. “Ye owe me nothing. Ye barely know me."

“Aye, but I thought you were Gerek's true love from years past. I was jealous of you."

Leah smiled. “Och, ye had it all wrong. I was begging him, because of our friendship as children, to break off my upcoming nuptials with his cousin. Now it seems the cousin has taken care of it all by himself. Come, milady. Let's go upstairs."

“Please, call me Cat, or Catriona, if you prefer."

Feeling hundreds of years old, Cat trudged up the stairs with Leah, who left her at Gerek's room. Reluctant to enter, his welfare brought her over the lintel.

Her body bent over Gerek, hiding him from view, Mag wiped the last of the blood from his face. “That should make ye more presentable, ye blackguard. I'm sure ye have no idea what ye have put that poor lass through."

The reply was muffled. Cat was unsure that she heard anything. She rushed to the bed. Gerek was stretched out, his eyes closed and his breathing labored.

Mag patted her shoulder. “Dinna worry, lass. He'll be fine long before ye want him to be."

Gerek groaned and mumbled, “Go away."

Cat rose but Mag held her to the bed.

“I think 'tis me he wants gone. I've been fussin’ at him, trying to clean him up to look somewhat presentable."

“Mag, don't go. Don't leave me alone with him."

“Not leave ye alone? 'Tis yer husband, child. See to him yerself. Ye know as much about bandaging as I do. See to his arm. 'Tis only a scratch that needs tendin'. Everything's on that table there.” Mag pointed to the table at the head of the bed. “I havna had me a chance to see Niall. I would go greet him properly."

Cat smiled. “Devil that you are. Go. I'll manage."

Mag waddled to the door, where she turned “Be gentle with him."

Cat couldn't think straight. So much had happened since they arrived at Killearnan. Now, the descending dusk gave a glow to the room. Cat sighed, took some candles from the tabletop and lit them. She took the white cloths from the table and, believing Gerek unconscious, she spoke throughout her ministrations.

“Right now, you don't look like the brigand I met at the croft when you attacked me. Or did I attack you? It seems so long ago.” She folded a scrap of cloth around his arm and tucked in a corner. “Lord, but you're a big man. The largest man I've ever seen. Yet, you're gentler with me than any man ever was. Have you been fooling me all these months, milord? Are you really the gentle bear?”

Cat pulled two strings from the table and tied off the bandage. Gerek's arm hung limp. He had yet to make a sound. She sat beside the bed and held the hand that flopped off the bed. “You're a rare man, Gerek Gunn. You've taunted me, made me laugh and made me angrier than I've ever been in my life."

She let go of his hand. Rising and wandering to the window, where a Highland storm was brewing, Cat drew the curtains so Gerek would not be awakened by the storm. She turned. He was now lying on his back. She rushed over to the bed but his eyes were still closed. “You moved. At least you're alive."

Tiredness overcame her and she sat on the bed. “You know, I think I love you. How MacFarr would laugh. Then he would hate himself for making me happy!” She yawned and turned to watch her husband sleep.

His eyes were wide open. “MacFarr might laugh, but I will not."

“Och, Gerek, you're awake.”

“Aye, wee Cat, that I am. And alive. Come here, lassie. Lay your head on my shoulder."

“Nae, I'll harm you. You should rest.” She propped herself on her elbow.

“Rest? 'Tis my wedding night. I'll rest my own way, thank you.” He rolled over onto his side, one arm above his head, his bandaged one resting on his hip. “Could you not give me a wee kiss or two before I sleep?” His teeth shown white in his tanned face.

Cat smiled shyly. “Aye.” She leaned over to press her lips onto his.

“Och, but that tastes better than wine. Here, now, don't draw away. Do it again.” This time as she prepared to kiss him, he slid his good arm beneath her shoulders and drew her close to him. “Did you think a wee wound would keep me from your side this evening?” He took her lips in his, and kissed her deeply until he felt her breath grow short.

Cat kissed him back with all the fervor she had previously used to get away from him. She pressed her body to his, careful not to further disturb his arm. Her arms crept around his neck, her body stretched against his.

Gerek used the tip of his tongue to slide around her lips. He tasted the salt from her earlier tears, as his tongue darted to and fro. He sucked in his own breath when he felt her tongue mimic his. His hardness made him uncomfortable. He slid her underneath him and proceeded to ravish her mouth with his tongue. “Och, Cat, my wee Cat. How wonderful you feel."

“As you do, milord. Will you teach me how to please you?"

“Don't fret, lass. Let me please you and you will learn, day by day, experience by experience. Trust in your own good senses."

Cat let her gaze fall to his nether regions. “Gerek, may I touch you? You know. There.” She pointed.

He almost laughed. Her delicacy tore a hole in his heart. He wanted her in a way he never had before wanted a woman. “Catriona Gunn, let me tell you something which may be said between us for the first time."

“Aye?” Her response was as quick as her heartbeat.

“From the moment you leaped on my back at the cottage, I knew you were a brave lass. It took a certain amount of courage to attack a man so much larger than yourself. You did not disappoint me with all your fighting back. It just verified my original thought that you were a strong woman."

“Aye, I have a fiery temper. I hope that some day you don't come to despise what you call my bravery. It is sometimes foolish, Gerek."

“But when I heard you had jumped on Baen to protect me, my feelings rose up to smote me with how much I care for you, my wee Cat. You are a woman to cherish."

When her mouth opened, he smiled down at her. “I think we've both been at fault. The lies about your chastity worked poorly for us both. I'm sorry for that pain and misery I caused you that evening, but it's something most virgins go through. I would have been gentler had I but known."

“If you hadn't drawn away so quickly and gone away, it would have been all right. Mag told me long ago of how the first time might be.” Cat closed her eyes. “She also told me how it could be after that."

Gerek rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. He grunted his approval of her words. “Cat, keep your eyes shut tight. I want to tell you something before I lose my nerve.”

A soft sigh indicated her acceptance of whatever he was about to say.

“Catriona Gunn, I am deeply in love with you."

Cat sat straight up, then fell over his chest. “I never thought to hear that from anyone but my Mam.” She rolled on top of him, and straddling his body, sat up again. “Och, Gerek Gunn. Look at me."

Tears were rolling down her cheeks. “I have loved you from the first moment I saw you at the cottage. Even in the dark, there was something about you that made my heart race and my breath come short. I cannot believe that we have found each other. I love you, I love you, I love you.”

His mouth captured her as he mumbled, “You talk too much.”

* * * *

Their lovemaking continued through the night. By morning, Cat felt replete and renewed. It was first time she had awakened happy with the world. She whispered to herself. “We have made a marriage of love. To secure it more deeply, we have forged a bond between two warring clans.” She looked at the man sleeping so soundly next to her. All the tenderness in the world infused her mind. “And to the man who made it all possible, I pledge a lifetime of love, respect and loyalty. I love you, Gerek Gunn."

Gerek responded, “Nae. I love you, wee Cat.” He gathered her in his arms and mumbled, half in sleep. “We made it, didn't we, lassi ... Cat,” he groaned as her lips came down on his.

THE END