Chapter 15
CHAPTER 15
T he first light of dawn filtered through the window, gently rousing Catherine from her slumber. With a newfound resolve burning within her, she stretched beneath the soft covers, welcoming the embrace of a new day.
Throwing back the covers, Catherine rose from her bed. The air was crisp, carrying with it the promise of a fresh start. She made her way to the washbasin, the water's cool touch invigorating as it splashed against her skin.
After tending to her morning ablutions, Catherine got dressed in another of Bridie’s gowns, this one a serviceable dark green gown with an apron. She took time to brush and then braid her hair. A glance in the mirror told her she was presentable enough, but really caught her eye was how much she liked her appearance. She fit in here in a way she’d never really fit in back home. She didn’t even really miss home all that much. Sure she missed some of the conveniences, but overall, she almost felt free of the stress from them too.
Once she had her shoes on, Catherine headed up the stairs to the next floor and down the hall. She had discovered from Mae weeks earlier where Eamon’s room was, quite by accident and it was there that she was heading. She’d come to a decision last night that she wanted to physically help in the search, and she wasn’t going to take no for an answer.
Catherine stopped in front of his door and knocked. Moments later, the door creaked open, revealing Eamon's rugged countenance. Surprise flickered across his features, followed by a warm smile that sent a rush of emotions coursing through Catherine's veins.
"Lass, tis everything well with you?” he asked, seeing her standing there.
Catherine returned his smile, her own apprehension mixing with a newfound determination. "I am well, thank you. I wanted to see you before you and your men left, because I have a favor to ask.”
Eamon's brow arched inquisitively. “Oh? And what might that be, lass?”
Catherine took a steadying breath before continuing. "I’d like to go with you to help search for these bandits."
Eamon's surprise was evident, his gaze locking onto hers. "Catherine, do you nae think it t’will be too dangerous?"
Catherine was determined to get her way. “I’m not some fragile woman, Eamon. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I’m not saying I wish to fight these bandits when we find them, I’ll leave that to you and your men, but I want to be there to help find them and bring them to justice.”
“You would have to ride on your own, I cannae fight with you on the back of my horse,” he cautioned.
Catherine was prepared for that. “That’s fine, I know it’s been years since I’ve done it on my own, but I think I can pick it back up fairly easily. I’ve ridden with you a few times now and I’ve recalled the movements to lead the horse.”A slow smile spread across Eamon's face, and he nodded approvingly. “Very well, lass. We shall leave straight after breaking our fast. I must admit, the idea of having you with us is a welcome one. But you must understand, if we face danger, you must listen to my directions without question."
Catherine's resolve remained firm as she met his gaze. "I understand, Eamon. I'll trust your judgment completely when it comes to the dangerous parts."
“Then give me a moment and we’ll go down to the dining hall together,” he replied with a smile.
After eating, Eamon walked with her to the armory. Catherine wasn’t sure why they were going there until he picked up a small knife and handed it to her. “What is this for?” she questioned. “I’m not doing the fighting, Eamon.”
“Perhaps not, lass, but I want you to have it in case things go awry. You need to be able to defend yourself should one o’ these bandits capture you. Let me show you how to use it.”
He adjusted the weapon in her hand and then moved to stand behind her, wrapping his arms around her and holding her wrist. Catherine couldn’t help the thrill that went through her at having him pressed up against her back.
“Now, you aim for their gut with a thrust, like this,” he said, drawing her wrist back and then stabbing forward. “If you cannae do that, shift the dirk in your hand like this,” he adjust it so that she was holding it like Norman Bates in Psycho , “and bring it overhead and slash down at them.”
Catherine felt laughter bubbling in her chest at the thought. “Okay, let me try it on my own and you tell me if I’m doing it right.” She couldn’t help the grin that had washed over her face. She returned the dirk to its original position and as Eamon stepped to the side to watch her, she lunged, thrusting the weapon at her imaginary foe. After doing that a few times, she switched it to Psycho mode and went for it.
"You've got the spirit, lass," Eamon chuckled.
Catherine laughed. "I can’t say I ever thought I’d be holding a weapon like this and practicing to use it properly, but I’m glad you think I’m capable." Catherine dropped her hand with the weapon to her side, the blade pointed down.
Eamon moved forward and put a hand to her cheek. “You’re a fast learner and I think you’ll do well if you end up in a situation where you’ll need to use it. Here, add this to your skirt.”
It was a sheath that would fit the dirk and Catherine took it gratefully. She’d been wondering how she was supposed to carry it. “Thank you, Eamon.”
Eamon's hand found hers, his grip gentle yet reassuring. "The pleasure was mine, Catherine. You've a spirit that's as fierce as any warrior's."
Catherine felt a newfound confidence take root within her. The dirk, now in its sheath on her waist might have been a symbol of protection, but it was also a testament to the unexpected journey she had been on since Dub Sith had brought her to this time and place– a journey of self-discovery, of courage, and dare she hope of love. She chanced a glance at Eamon who walked by her side. She really hoped that last one was true, because she was falling hard for the rugged Highlander.