Chapter 10
CHAPTER 10
C atherine walked with a brisk steps to the stables. Sally had knocked on her door early that morning to let her know that Eamon had requested her presence at the stables.
The morning sun cast a golden glow over the fort as Eamon stood by the stables, a sturdy horse at the ready. Catherine approached with a mix of anticipation and excitement, her heart dancing within her chest to see him.
"Good morrow, lass," Eamon greeted with a warm smile, his eyes lighting up as they met hers. "I see Sally delivered my message. Care to join me on a ride?"
"Good morning, Eamon, and yes, I'd like that," Catherine replied, her voice laced with a touch of nervousness.
“Would you like to ride with me, or would you prefer your own horse?” he questioned.
“I’ll ride with you. It has been a long time since I’ve ridden on my own. I’m not sure I remember how, actually.”
“We’ll have to rectify that soon, but for now, come, I’ll help you up.” He mounted and then extended a hand, helping her mount as well with a gentle strength that sent a shiver down her body. As she settled onto the back of the horse behind him, her hands instinctively found their place on his waist, her fingers curling around the fabric of his shirt.
"Ready, lass?" Eamon asked, his voice a deep rumble that resonated through her.
“Yes, I’m ready,” she replied.
With a gentle kick of his heels, the horse started moving, and they were off. The wind whispered through Catherine's hair as they rode, the rhythmic beat of the hooves creating a soothing melody beneath her. She held onto Eamon, her fingers tightening unconsciously around him.
They passed through the village and headed for the shores of the loch, which stretched out before them, the water sparkling under the sunlight. Eamon guided the horse along a well-trodden path, their bodies swaying in unison with the horse's movements. Catherine stole glances at Eamon's profile, his strong features bathed in the soft light, and she felt a rush of emotions that she couldn't quite put into words.
"Eamon," she began, her voice carried away by the wind.
"Aye, lass?" he replied, his gaze meeting hers briefly before returning to the path ahead.
"Thank you for this. I am very much enjoying it," she admitted.
He glanced over his shoulder at her, his eyes holding a warmth that reached the depths of her soul. "I'm glad you’re enjoy it, Catherine. 'Tis my pleasure to share such moments with you."
The air seemed charged with an unspoken connection as they continued their ride, their bodies moving as one with the horse's powerful stride. Catherine couldn't deny the flutter of her heart, the intoxicating mix of the breathtaking scenery and Eamon's presence. As they rode next to the beautiful water of the loch, Catherine realized that this moment would be etched in her memory forever, a cherished piece of her time with him.
Eamon's horse came to a gentle stop. “I thought perhaps we could picnic here?” he said, turning in the saddle to look at her, a question in his eyes.
Catherine grinned. “A breakfast picnic? That sounds amazing.”
“Put your foot in the stirrup and I’ll help you dismount.” He smiled, taking her hand and holding tight as she did as he said.
Eamon didn’t let her hand go as she reached the ground, he simply held it as he too dismounted and then stood close to her, her hand pressed between his and his chest. He gazed into her eyes for a moment, as if lost in his thoughts and then he smiled and took a step back. He let go of her hand, but then set his on the small of her back. Eamon's touch was firm yet tender, and as he guided her toward a grassy knoll overlooking the loch, and her heart danced with excitement.
“Wait here while I gather everything.” He smiled and headed back to his horse, pulling things from the saddlebags she hadn’t even realized contained what they needed.
Returning to her side, he spread out a tartan blanket with practiced ease, the colorful fabric contrasting beautifully against the lush green surroundings. Catherine watched in silence, her thoughts a whirlwind of emotions. Eamon untied the bundle he’d taken from his saddle bag and laid out a simple but hearty feast. Catherine couldn't help but feel a flutter of anticipation.
The scent of freshly baked bread and the earthy aroma of cheeses filled the air as Eamon arranged the food before them. The loch sparkled like a sapphire gem, a breathtaking backdrop to this breakfast feast.
Catherine settled onto the blanket, her heart racing as Eamon sat across from her. The sunlight played upon his features, highlighting the rugged angles of his face and the kindness in his eyes. As he poured them both a cup of water, Catherine wondered if perhaps Eamon held a hidden layer of romance beneath his handsome and rugged exterior.
"Eamon, this is... truly wonderful," she said softly, her gaze meeting his as she offered a sincere smile.
His eyes held a warmth that sent a thrill through her as he gazed at her. "I'm pleased you like it, Catherine. 'Tis a simple pleasure, this meal, but the company and beauty of the land makes it extraordinary."
Catherine felt her heart swell at his words. “I would have to agree.” She smiled at him.
As they ate, Catherine glanced over at him. "Eamon," she said with a smile, "would you tell me about the Treaty of Ardtornish?” She had been reading about it, but she wasn’t sure exactly what had happened.
“Tis nae a pleasant story to tell, lass, but I will do my best. How much do you know of English history?” he asked.
Catherine explained she knew about the War of the Roses and that during the time of the treaty Edward IV of the house of York was the king. “He wanted to conquer Scotland, correct?”
“Aye, he did, but there were those who wished Henry VI was returned to the throne. You see my ancestors were very powerful at the time. Clan Donald’s Chief, John MacDonald of Islay, the Lord of the Isles, ruled much of the lands north of the sea. He signed a pact with Edward IV and the Earl of Douglas to help Edward IV conquer Scotland, and upon winning the war, they would be officially given land to rule over for the king of England. Unfortunately, it didnae go well and John was tried for treason, and because we sided against James III, our Scottish king of the time, we lost our land and our leader. It twas a dark time for the Donalds.”
“So how did the Campbells end up with the land?” Catherine asked.
“James III was an ineffective king who held a grudge against the MacDonalds, because of his father who had a vendetta against us as well for a slight by my ancestor. When John MacDonald signed that treaty, it was the end of Clan Donald holdings. He was forced to forfeit the title of Lord of the Isles and our land, which James then annexed to the crown and subsequently set the Campbells up as lairds and tax collectors for the last hundred and fifty so years.”
“But what did John MacDonald hope to accomplish with that treaty? Wasn’t he essentially signing away Clan Donald’s right to the land over to the king of England anyway? Why take it out of Scottish hands?” “Aye, in a way, but it twas to get it out of James III’s hands. John would effectively become the ruler, and we’d merely have paid taxes to England, but they would nae have a say in how we were governed.”
“And you’ve had a number of rulers since then, right?”
“Aye, we have. There was peace for a time, as there is an uneasy peace now between us and the Campbells, as we pay our taxes and work our land. There are nae many of the Donalds left, as over the years we’ve been set upon by various clans wishing to put an end to us, but we Donalds are resilient if anything.”
“Scottish and English history is so fascinating to me. My country in comparison is fairly young.” Catherine laughed. “It’s so strange to think it’s not even been established yet.”
“Tell me about your country, where is it?”
Catherine reached for a piece of bread, her fingers brushing against Eamon's for the briefest of moments. It was a touch that held a promise of something deeper, a connection that transcended time itself. As they shared food and stories of their countries, their laughter and conversation carried on the breeze, becoming a part of the landscape that surrounded them.
In the midst of their picnic, Catherine realized that she was falling for Eamon harder than she would ever have imagined and that perhaps she was exactly where she was meant to be.
The sun began its descent as Catherine and Eamon rode back to the fort, they had spent the entire day away from the fort and now, their shared journey on horseback was filled with a quiet contentment. The wind whispered through the tall grasses, carrying with it a sense of serenity that seemed to envelop them both. The bond between them had grown, woven from shared stories and moments like this, when words weren't necessary to understand each other.
As they reached the fort's entrance, they dismounted the horse, but their serene interlude was shattered by the presence of Sir Kellan. He approached with an air of calculated charm, his eyes glinting as they settled on Catherine. Eamon's expression tightened, a ripple of tension running through his powerful frame.
"Ah, Lady Catherine," Sir Kellan purred, "a pleasure to see you’ve return. I hope your ride was to your liking."
Catherine exchanged a glance with Eamon, sensing the underlying tension. "It was lovely, thank you," she replied, trying to figure out what game Sir Kellen was playing.
Eamon's gaze didn't waver as he spoke, his words crisp and direct. "Catherine was in safe hands, Sir Kellan. No need for concern."
Sir Kellan's lips curled into a knowing smile. "Of course, Eamon. I'm certain you provided the utmost care."
The exchange crackled with an unspoken challenge, a battle of wills that hung heavy in the air. Catherine's heart sank as the realization dawned upon her that she was the cause of this tension, the catalyst for a rivalry that seemed to grow stronger with each passing encounter.
"Aye, I did. More than you could ever offer," Eamon said as he stepped closer to Kellan.
"I could provide more for her than brute strength and brawn," Kellan said as he came chest to chest with Eamon.
"Is that a challenge?" Eamon growled in anger.
"Enough!" Catherine's voice cut through the tension like a blade as she stepped between the two men. She turned to both men, her eyes a mixture of frustration and pleading. "I'm not some prize to be won. I'm here to learn, to experience, and to forge connections. And I won't be a pawn in your rivalry."
Eamon's gaze softened, his concern evident as he looked at her. "Catherine, I didnae mean?—"
"Save it," she interrupted, her voice gentler now. "Both of you, just go your separate ways. I won't have my time here overshadowed by petty arguments. I appreciate both of your company, but this needs to stop."
For a moment, the fort seemed to hold its breath. Sir Kellan's features shifted. He seemed surprised at her words, but then something that almost resembled contrition crossed his expression.
Catherine turned to look at Eamon. His eyes were full of regret and understanding. He gave her a nod and without a word walked away.
Kellan too retreated. Left alone with her thoughts, Catherine sighed, hoping that her words would put an end to the rivalry that threatened to overshadow her time in this extraordinary place. As the evening settled around her, she found solace in the quiet and the knowledge that, at least for now, the echoes of their argument were fading into the distance.
The fort's heavy wooden doors swung open, allowing Catherine to step inside. She walked through the corridors, her footsteps echoing softly on the stone floor, lost in her thoughts. Arriving at Mae's door, Catherine knocked gently and was welcomed inside.
“Catherine, I feel like I haven’t seen you in days, what’s up?”
“I’ve got a problem,” Catherine shared.
“Come sit and tell me what’s going on.” Mae directed her to the sitting area in her front room.
Catherine told her of her growing feelings for Eamon and of Sir Kellan’s attention and her mistrust of his motives. She explained that despite not intending to make him jealous, she could tell that Eamon actually was and that Sir Kellan was making things worse by playing at being a suitor and that she didn’t know what to do about any of it.
“Okay, well I’ve known the both of them for a little while now and despite your impressions of him, Sir Kellan isn’t really all that bad.”
“I don’t think he’s bad… more a posh frat boy, you know? Snobby, but smart, witty, and charming when he wants to be, but more than likely isn’t looking for anything serious.”
“I can see that. Still, I don’t think he’d pursue you if his intentions weren’t at least a little serious. He never struck me as someone who would go for a girl who wasn’t as interested in him.” Mae looked at her. “Are you?”
“I’m—” Catherine stopped and re-evaluated their various conversations. “I enjoy talking to him, debating with him. He’s smart and he challenges me, and he is attractive, but…”
“He’s not Eamon.”
“No, he’s not.”
“Then you need to figure out what you’re going to do about them. And please remember, Sir Kellan has no idea where we’re really from, and he can’t know. If he finds out, then the Campbells will know and that wouldn’t be good for Clan Donald. They have the king’s ear and trust me when I say, calling attention to us wouldn’t do us or the clan any favors,” Mae cautioned her.
“I hadn’t even considered that. I suppose they’d think we were some kind of witches or something, wouldn’t they?”
“More than likely.”
“All the more reason to resolve this and soon,” Catherine replied. “Thanks, Mae.”
“Anytime.”