Chapter 8
CHAPTER 8
T he next day, Catherine was wandering through the bustling courtyard of the fort, watching everyone going about their tasks for the day. She was near the gates, looking out over the hill, which was a patchwork of green and gold beneath the bright spring sky.
Coming up the hill, her eyes caught sight of a man who seemed a stranger to her. He rode his horse with a purpose through the gates and into the courtyard, his dark blond hair and beard contrasting against his fair skin. From where she stood, she could see his pale blue eyes held a distant quality, and his posture exuded an air of confidence that set him apart.
Catherine's curiosity piqued as she observed him. There was something undeniably handsome about him, his presence carrying an aura of distinction that set him apart from the rugged men of the fort. He seemed important, polished.
As her gaze lingered, their eyes briefly met, and Catherine felt a flush creep up her cheeks for being caught staring. Yet, his gaze turned away from her almost dismissively, as though she wasn’t worthy of his precious time. It was a bit unnerving to be dismissed in such a way.
Just then, Sally passed by carrying a basket of freshly harvested vegetables. Catherine halted her with a question, "Sally, who is that man over there? The one who just entered the courtyard. I don't believe I've seen him before."
Sally followed Catherine's gaze and frowned. "That tis Sir Kellan Campbell. He comes and goes as he pleases, dispatched by the Laird to collect the clan’s taxes."
"He's a Campbell?" Catherine queried, her interest growing. “Wait, so Clan MacDonald has to pay the Campbells taxes? Why?”
Sally nodded. "Aye, he's a Campbell and tis because the Campbells own this land. Given to them by the king,” she sneered. “That one,” her eyes flashed to Sir Kellan, “claims he’s here to keep an eye upon us. He’s a snobbish one, he is. Best stay clear of him, Miss."
With that, Sally continued on her way, leaving Catherine to contemplate the warning. However, rather than heed it, Catherine found herself drawn by the enigma of Sir Kellan. Her scholarly curiosity and her fascination with the Campbells, drove her steps toward the stables. She recalled reading about the war between the Campbells and the Donalds and how the king had attempted to destroy the resilient Donalds, but had been unable to fully eradicate them, thankfully. Still he’d taken their land and bequeathed it to the Campbells who were loyal to him. The thought of the Donalds then being made to pay for the pleasure of maintaining their home here at Fort Donald, a place they’d previously owned for centuries, was appalling, but at least they were alive.
Catherine hesitated. Here was a chance to engage with someone from another clan, a rival to the Donalds, to gather firsthand knowledge that no history book could provide. All she had was the account told by the Donalds in those tomes from the library, which she thought might just be a bit biased. Not that she thought whoever had written the accounting on the Donalds’ behalf was lying, but it was possible they’d embellished the truth. Catherine thought perhaps she could find out more about the other side of the event from this man.
She knew from the book she’d found that the Campbells were a powerful and expansive clan, who cast a long shadow over the landscape. Their connections and influence were vast, and they were known for their ambitious pursuits, which often encroached upon others' territories.
Intermarriages, she recalled, had at times occurred between the two clans, though rather than quelling the tension, these unions often ignited further animosity. The Campbells accused the MacDonalds of luring their women away, using it as one more reason to fuel their long-standing feud.
In the clash of perspectives, at least according to the writings in the text, the Campbells viewed the MacDonalds as uncultured and Fae-linked, tainting their reputation with a connection to the mystical realm. Clan Donald, however, saw the Campbells as cunning opportunists, manipulating court proceedings to wrest lands from their rightful owners by virtue of being loyal to the English king.
The Campbells' dominance over the island was unmistakable, leaving the Donalds, few as they were, with a stark choice: to pledge allegiance to the Campbells and face heavy taxes and tributes, or leave Scotland altogether, something Clan Donald was too proud to do. These pressures, Catherine understood, had driven a wedge between the two clans, breeding open hostility.
As Catherine approached the stables, the echoes of these historical tensions resonated in her mind. The chance to meet Sir Kellan Campbell, even briefly, had ignited a yearning to understand these complexities on a personal level. The clash between the Campbells and the MacDonalds was more than just history; it was a living, breathing enigma that she was determined to unravel.
"What do you want, lass?" Sir Kellan said startling her from behind as she stood in the stable’s doorway. His demeanor was cold and aloof as he stared at her.
Catherine's heart raced as Sir Kellan's voice suddenly broke the silence, his words carrying a touch of disdain that sent a shiver down her spine. Her voice quivered slightly as she replied, "I apologize, I was simply... lost in thought."
Kellan's lips curved into a half-smile that seemed to dance on the edge of mischief. "Ah, a lass lost in thought amidst the hay and the horses. Quite the picture.” Suddenly Kellan smiled a slightly wicked, but attractive smile as he said, “And one with that odd accent too, very interesting.”
“Odd accent?” Catherine questioned, unsure of how to address the issue of her own lineage.
“Aye, the same as Lady Mae and Lady Jennifer. Are you from the same area as they?”
Catherine gave a slight nod. “I am.”
“And are you here visiting?” he asked.
“I have come to stay with Mae for a while,” Catherine kept her answer vague because she didn’t know how much this Sir Kellan knew about her, Mae and Jen.”
“I suppose I should introduce myself then, I am Sir Kellan Campbell, at your service.”
“Lady Catherine Braddock.” She nodded as regally as she could, trying to keep a straight face at calling herself that.
“A pleasure to meet you,” he said, giving her another wicked smile.
"And what about you, Sir Kellan? Do you often spend your time, lurking in stables?"
His smile broadened, revealing a glint of amusement in his pale blue eyes. "Oh, I have my moments of lurking in stables, but today seemed like a good day for a bit of eavesdropping."
She straightened her posture, unwilling to back down. "Eavesdropping? And just what were you eavesdropping on, may I ask?"
Kellan's expression turned contemplative, his gaze studying her with a new intensity. "One never knows what one might learn with a little eavesdropping, lass.”
Catherine’s brow furrowed. “You know listening at keyholes you might hear something derogatory about yourself, I would not recommend it, Sir Kellan.”
Sir Kellan's gaze assessed her with amusement. “Especially here at Fort Donald, I would imagine.”
"I have been told that the Campbells and the Donalds have a long history of shall we say animosity, don't they?" she asked.
A faint smile touched Sir Kellan's lips, a glint of something beneath his reserved demeanor. "Indeed, a history as old as the land itself. But history is often woven with tales and biases, wouldn't you say?"
“Perhaps,” Catherine acknowledged. “Will you be staying with us long?”
“I couldnae say, lass, though I’ve a mind to stay much longer than I intended after meeting you.” The wicked grin was back on his face.
“Then I am sure I will see you around the castle. Have a good day, Sir Kellan.” Catherine nodded and walked away, her back straight as she felt his eyes on her.
Over the next two days, Catherine found herself encountering Sir Kellan more frequently. It was almost as if he had made it his mission to seek her out whenever she wandered into public territory.
Their interactions were marked with playful banter and heated debates, and Catherine discovered that she was both amused and exasperated by Kellan's persistent skepticism of anything mystical, not that she shared the fact she had firsthand experience of the Fae with them bringing her here, nor the fact that she barely believed in them herself. He had a way of challenging her views, especially when it came to the dynamics between the Campbells and the Donalds. Despite his occasional infuriating attitude, there was an undeniable spark between them that kept her engaged in their conversations.
On the third afternoon, Kellan's voice rang out as she was strolling by the shores of the loch, the water's gentle waves creating a soothing soundtrack to their verbal sparring. “You know, lass, for someone who's new to Scotland, you seem awfully comfortable here."
Catherine turned to face him, her eyes narrowing. "Well, Sir Kellan, one must adapt to survive. Besides, it is either acclimate or wallow in misery and what kind of life would that be?"
He smirked, his expression taunting. "Ah, survival, is it? Is that all that keeps you here in Scotland? Or is there another reason?"
Catherine raised her chin defiantly. “I’m not sure what you’re implying, Sir Kellen, however, my being here has nothing to do with survival. I am here to learn and grow as a scholar. If you are implying that I am here for anything other than that, then you don’t know me very well at all.”
“And what is it you’ve learned?” he asked, but his tone was one of disbelief, as though he didn’t think a woman could be a scholar or learned.
Catherine’s nose flared at his insinuation. “I would have to say from both my studies and my observations, that like the Donalds, I do not see King James, nor the Campbells as the saviors of Islay nor Scotland. In fact I find their greed and need for power rather disgusting.”
Sir Kellan's gaze was full of amusement. As though he thought she was joking. "You've got spirit, I'll give you that. Not many would dare say such a thing to a Campbell."
Catherine huffed, feeling as though he’d been mocking her. "And you've got a penchant for stirring the pot, Sir Kellan," she shot back.
He chuckled, the sound low and melodic. "Aye, well, what's life without a bit of a stir now and then?"
Catherine couldn’t decide what to make of Sir Kellan. He was attractive, physically, but his attitude and tone left much to be desired. She couldn’t decide if she even liked him or not. She liked debating with him, that was for sure, but beyond that, she didn’t think she could even consider him a friend. Not really, even though he seemed to be friendly with Mae and Niall. Mae said he’d even given them a wedding gift, which, considering he was a Campbell, was unexpected.
At the end of the day, Catherine had to question what his motives were concerning her and why he was even here. Was it that he was spying upon the Donalds and using her as an excuse to stay? That was what most of the Donalds claimed. Or was there some other reason he was sticking around. Either way, Catherine was determined to figure it out.
That evening, Catherine went about seeking out Eamon. The atmosphere was alive with the hustle and bustle of the clan, the courtyard brimming with activity as people went about their daily tasks. Eamon's presence was like a beacon in this lively scene, his tall figure standing out among the others. He was finally back from patrol again and she was glad to see him. Catherine's heart fluttered as she approached him, a warm smile gracing his lips.
"There you are, lass. I looked for you when I arrived back, though I feared you had retired and I would not have a chance to see you," he greeted her with a charm that sent a shiver of pleasure down her spine.
"I apologize for not being here when you returned, I meant to be. I've made a new acquaintance, and I fear I was caught up in a debate with them," Catherine replied.
Eamon's grin widened, his gaze curious as he took her hand in his. "Ah, and who might have stolen your attention from me?"
“It was Sir Kellan Campbell.” The change in Eamon's expression was subtle but immediate. A shadow passed over his features, and his voice held an edge when he spoke. "Sir Kellan? Best you stay away from him, lass."
Catherine was taken aback by Eamon's strong reaction. She didn’t like feeling as though he was giving her an ultimatum and telling her who she could and couldn’t speak to. She pulled her hand from his. "Stay away? Eamon, I understand he’s a Campbell, and the Donalds and Campbells are rivals, but from speaking with him, I find him interesting, if a bit snobbish and somewhat rude and high-handed. Still, that doesn’t give you the right to tell me who to speak to or not to speak to."
“You dinnae know the truth of him. Sir Kellan's nae a good man. He's a Campbell. He’s here to watch us for his own clan's interests, to gather taxes, and some say, to seduce our women."
Catherine's brows arched. Eamon sounded almost jealous, but his tone held a bit of fury in it. "Seduce our women? That seems a bit sexist. You don’t own the women of this clan, Eamon. We aren’t property."
Eamon’s jaw ticked. "Lass, you know not of what I speak, please trust that I have your best interest in mind when I say this. Kellan Campbell is a man with ulterior motives, and he'll use his charm to get what he wants. Stay away from him." With that, Eamon walked away.
Catherine stood there in a state of shock. How had that conversation gone so wrong?