Chapter 24
Cait’s visit with her grandfather weighed heavily on her mind all night.
She tossed and turned with thoughts of MacGregor, which ran from irritation to regret—and thoughts of Iain, which ran from heated images of making love to irritation that she was thinking of him at all.
She was angry at herself for listening for Iain’s return, for waking up with a start, hoping the noise she’d heard, which turned out to be nothing more than the night creatures, was him.
She was wrapped up in all of those confusing thoughts as she rode the few miles to Alice Campbell’s cottage.
Alice was close to delivering her fourth child, and Cait wanted to check on her.
Also, Murtagh Campbell had a knee that was paining him, and she wanted to make a quick stop at his cottage.
She’d been trying to get him to stay off it for a bit, but like any Highlander, he was stubborn, and he refused to sit with his leg up.
It was a cool day for July. White fluffy clouds drifted lazily along a bright blue sky.
It was the kind of day that had her forgetting they were just months out of a major battle with England and there were English soldiers roaming the countryside causing mayhem.
She felt fairly safe, since the road she was on was well traveled.
So it was with some surprise that she came across a contingent of four English soldiers who jolted her out of her thoughts.
She had a weapon, a small sgian dubh that was useless against well-equipped soldiers. She immediately thought the worst, then forced herself to remember that not all of the English soldiers were bad. Halloway was an excellent example. But the reminder didn’t stop her heart from hammering.
The soldiers reined in their horses across the road, barring her from moving forward and forcing her to rein in also. They sat in silence with only the birds chirping in the background, a strangely incongruous sound.
Her shoulders were tense, her stomach was churning, and her palms started to sweat on the reins. Nervously, her horse sidestepped.
“What is your name?” the man in the middle asked. His uniform was impeccable, his coat blue, the facings red. Cait knew that meant something about his regiment, but in her panic she forgot what.
“Cait Campbell,” she said through a dry throat.
“Campbell?”
“Y-yes.” She hated that her voice wavered, showing her fear.
The other three glanced at one another. She suppressed a shiver of fear.
“Where do you live, Cait Campbell?” His voice was genial enough, but there was an undercurrent of steel that warned her not to play him false.
She had heard the stories and knew that refusing to answer him meant immediate consequences—especially for a woman alone.
She waved her hand down the road she’d just ridden.
“Over that way. I’m the healer in this area, and I’m riding out to attend to a few patients.”
One of them shifted stiffly and winced. “A healer, you say?”
He was hurt. She looked him over carefully and saw a growing spot of blood at his side and a rip in his coat. “Aye. Are ye in need of a healer?”
“Not a Scottish healer,” he said with disdain.
She shrugged, more angry now than scared. “As ye wish.”
His horse shifted and he blanched. The one who had done all the talking kicked his horse forward. Cait shifted her focus to him and watched him warily.
He looked her over, circling her, his gaze moving up and down her body.
She sat stiffly and kept her gaze straight ahead while her heart pounded and her mind told her to run as fast as her mount could carry her.
But they would give chase and inevitably catch her.
If she stayed passive, maybe they would grow bored and leave her be.
She realized she was thinking like a frightened rabbit and wished she had the power to fight back.
But no Scottish woman had that power. Scottish women were seen as second class to these men, no better than the servants who served in their fine English homes.
The man came so close that his leg brushed hers. It took everything in her not to draw away. Her breath was coming quickly as fear wrapped itself around her.
He stopped and faced her. Their mounts were almost nose to nose, and she had no choice but to look at him.
The corners of his lips were turned up in a sneer.
His nose was thin, the tip of it red. His eyes were close-set and dark brown.
He sat straight and tall, his shoulders squared.
His boots held a bright sheen, his white breeches were impeccably clean, his coat was tailored to his frame.
Only the very wealthy and noble could afford to have their uniforms tailored.
He had the look of the nobility, his expression haughty.
“I am Lieutenant Donaldson of the English Royal Horse Guards. Do you live alone, Miss Cait?”
“Mrs. Cait.”
One brow rose and the smirk deepened. “Is it, now? I’m surprised your spouse allows you to ride alone.
In England our wives always ride with chaperones.
You never know whom you will meet along the way.
” She could see the derision in his eyes that the Scottish men didn’t have control over their women.
“My husband is no’ available to ride with me, and I have people relying on me to treat them.”
“ ‘No’ available,’ ” he said, mimicking her Highland accent. “I take that to mean that your husband is dead. I assume he died at Culloden, fighting against the English, eh?”
“Nay.”
He grinned. “Come, Mrs. Cait. We know that you are alone in life as well as on this road.”
Oh, wasn’t he so clever?
He moved his mount so that they were side by side, his back to his fellow soldiers.
She’d made the mistake of thinking that the first soldier was the leader.
This man was obviously the leader, because the other three watched with bored expressions.
The one who was hurt looked pained and not at all interested in what was happening. She’d get no help from that quarter.
“I travel through this area quite often.” He pitched his voice low, and she got a sick feeling in her stomach. He leaned forward, and despite her warning to herself not to move, she leaned back. Just slightly, but enough that he saw, and his eyes narrowed. “Do I frighten you, Mrs. Cait?”
“Nay.”
He looked her up and down. “You’re shaking like a leaf, and you’re breathing as if you’ve run a long distance.” He leaned forward. “I’m not a monster, Mrs. Cait. I’m simply a man who is far, far from home.”
He let that dangle between them, waiting expectantly for her response. She continued with her silence, because anything she said would damn her.
He looked around but not at the soldiers behind him. She didn’t know what he expected to see. A band of Highland warriors coming at him? She could only hope.
He leaned sideways, looking back down the road from which she’d come. “Soldiers far from home have needs, as I’m sure you’re aware, being a widow and all.”
She stared at the three soldiers in front of her. The injured one was looking off into the distance. The other two, confronted with her glare, turned their gazes away. Coming to her aid would surely land them in trouble with this numpty bastard.
He was going to rape her, and there was nothing she could do about it.
Her sgian dubh was no match against four English soldiers—three if she discounted the injured one.
The helplessness that washed over her made her angry.
She should be allowed to ride the roads unmolested in her own country.
But these bastards had been taking and taking for months and years and saw no difference in taking a plot of land or a woman’s pride.
That didn’t mean she wouldn’t fight. She would give it her all, no matter how futile it was to fight back. She wouldn’t let them leave her without a few injuries of their own.
She wanted to reach for the sgian dubh but knew that would be a fatal mistake. She eyed the sword at his side and wondered if she would be able to grab for that.
Sweat dripped down her back, and she thought of all those times when Iain and Rory and Sutherland and her grandfathers had told her she wasn’t safe out here and how often she’d discounted their warnings as ridiculous.
Even after all the death she’d witnessed at the hands of the English, she’d naively believed that she was immune to it.
“Mrs. Cait?”
Reluctantly, she met his gaze. He grinned a thin-lipped grin. “Your thoughts were far off.” He leaned forward, so close that she had to lean back; he continued to close the distance, and to lean back farther would mean falling off her mount.
And he kissed her. Not the brutal kiss that she would have expected, but a soft kiss on the lips that was far worse than brutality.
He drew back, winked at her, and adjusted his blue coat.
“It’s probably best you go to your patients.
I will come to you this evening.” He leaned forward and took her chin in his hands, his fingers biting into her skin.
“I can make things very, very good for you, Mrs. Cait. You’ll never have to worry about the English soldiers bothering you.
I am generous with my gifts. None of my past mistresses has ever had a complaint. ”
He let go of her chin and moved away. She resisted the urge to rub her aching jaw. However, she was unable to stop the tears of pain and fear that blurred her vision.
“And Mrs. Cait?”
She knew the fear was stark in her expression and that he liked that fear, because his eyes lit up in excitement.
“Don’t think of not being there,” he said. “And telling someone will not save you but will merely prolong the inevitable.”
He motioned to his men, and they rode past her, deliberately not looking at her. The injured one was pale and sweating and breathing hard. His face was flushed, and he held his arm tight against his bleeding side. For a blinding moment she hoped his wound putrefied and he suffered horribly for it.
She sat on her horse in the middle of the road, shivering so hard that her bones were nearly rattling.
Her teeth chattered and tears ran down her cheeks.
She was paralyzed with anger and fear, not able to move forward, and certainly not able to move backward.
So she just sat there and shook and cried and felt so damn helpless.
—
The housekeeper let Cait in, but it was Adair who met her in the formal sitting room. He took one look at her and said, “What’s happened?”
Adair knew of their affair, enough to fetch Iain from her cottage the other night, and she wasn’t in the mood for word games or pretending.
She was raw with fear, and after the English soldiers had disappeared, her only thought had been to get to Iain.
She had unconsciously turned her mount in the direction of the big house.
They’d been here enough times that her mount knew the way, and Cait had let her mind go blessedly blank. Now she asked, “Is Iain here?”
“He’s with Palmer,” Adair said. “Talking to Graham about the killing of the latest English soldier.”
“I see.” Her shoulders drooped.
“What happened, Cait?”
Her hands fluttered, and for a moment she thought she might be making too much of what had happened on that road.
Was she overreacting? Had Donaldson really said those things to her?
She felt silly riding all this way, but then she remembered Donaldson’s kiss and his last words.
She crossed her arms over her stomach and rubbed them.
“Do you…” She swallowed. “Do ye think I can stay here tonight?”
“Of course ye can.” Adair looked her over critically. “Are ye unwell?”
“I’m well.”
“Something happened.”
She looked away, still rubbing her arms. “Can ye do me a favor, Adair?”
“Of course.”
“Can ye somehow get in touch with Sutherland and tell him…” She didn’t know how to word her request without giving it away that she was a safe house for Sutherland.
“I’ll tell him ye’re unavailable until he hears otherwise.”
She nodded. Somehow Adair knew, and while that might be alarming at any other time, it wasn’t right now. She felt safe here, and she began shaking again, this time with relief.
Adair stepped closer with a look of concern. “Can ye tell me what happened?”
“Stay away from my cottage tonight.”
He frowned, his brows creasing. “What does that mean?”
“Just promise ye’ll stay away.”
“Very well,” he said slowly. “I’ll instruct the housekeeper to prepare a room for ye.” He paused. “Unless ye’ll be using Iain’s?”
She shook her head quickly. She definitely didn’t need that rumor circulating, although she was certain it eventually would. “I’ll be needing my own bedchamber. Just for tonight.” She couldn’t really think past tonight.
“Very well.” He still appeared concerned as he left her to instruct the housekeeper.
Cait’s knees gave out and she collapsed into a chair.
She’d always felt so safe in her little cottage.
No one bothered her. Occasionally, she’d patch up an English soldier, but they were always grateful.
Halloway was the only one she’d struck up a friendship with, and even then she didn’t consider it a real friendship, just a friendly acquaintance with a lonely young soldier.
This was the first time she’d felt frightened to be alone and the only time she’d ever felt unsafe. She hated it, and she hated Donaldson for making her feel that way.
Maybe Iain, Sutherland, and both of her grandfathers were right. Maybe it was no longer safe for her out there.