Chapter 23
CHAPTER 23
A s the dawn broke with a soft golden glow, Catherine emerged from the embrace of sleep, her body replenished by rest and healing. She woke Eamon gently and with cautious movements, they readied themselves for the new day, her minds still mulling over the events that had transpired.
Dressed, Catherine and Eamon made their way downstairs, the warmth of the morning sun filtering through the windows and casting a gentle glow upon the inn's interior. The innkeeper greeted them with a nod and a kind smile. His presence was a reminder of the interconnectedness of lives, the way chance encounters could intertwine destinies in unexpected ways.
Gratitude flowed from Catherine's lips as she thanked the innkeeper for his aide, her words carrying the weight of the unspoken emotions that had bound them together in the face of adversity. His response, humble and sincere, revealed a man whose compassion extended beyond the boundaries of his role as an innkeeper. He admitted to a sense of guilt, a sentiment born of the role he unwittingly played in sending them after William, the catalyst for their dangerous encounter.
Eamon, his bearing steadfast and resolute, reassured the innkeeper, “Nae, there tis nae blame to be assigned, good sir. Tis the harsh reality of our mission. Tis my duty to seek out those who wish to disrupt the peace and safety of the island.”
Marc was already sitting at a table and much healed by the looks of it. He gestured for them to join him. Together the three ate a hearty breakfast. Eamon ordered Marc to stay behind and send him reports if any more trouble was to be found in the town.
With their farewells exchanged and the weight of gratitude hanging in the air, Catherine and Eamon mounted their horses. The world around them seemed to awaken with each passing mile, nature's beauty unfolding in a tapestry of rolling hills and verdant landscapes.
Catherine stole glances at Eamon, his profile chiseled by the morning light. There seemed to be a neound closeness between them, forged in the crucible of danger and shared experiences. As they rode side by side, Catherine's heart beat with a rhythm that echoed that of the horses. She wondered if she should bring up what happened between them before she’d been captured by Ian and his bandits, but she was afraid to disturb this seemingly fresh start between them, so she held her tongue.
Eventually she could no longer take the silence and Catherine's voice, soft yet resolute, broke the tranquil air. "Eamon, I've been thinking about what Ian said back there at the farmstead. He mentioned they came here looking to connect with Malcolm, but they never found him."
Eamon tossed her a curious look as he listened to her. He glanced at Catherine again, giving her his full attention as she continued to share the revelation that could potentially alter the course of his original mission.
“What else did you overhear them say, love?” he asked.
“He, William, and their men are the ones who burnt down the farm and killed the family there. Not Malcolm. They were hoping it would draw his attention and he’d find them, but he didn’t, and they’d had no luck in finding him themselves.”
"So, you're saying that Malcolm is nae in the area, at least according to what Ian and his bandits know." His words held a cautious optimism, a glimmer of hope that their search might not lead them to a confrontation with a man whose motives remained shrouded in mystery.
Their horses continued to carry them forward, the landscape morphing from rolling fields to dense forests and rocky outcrops as Catherine replied, “Exactly. I don’t think Malcolm is the one behind the trouble that’s been going on in Donald territory. I think it has all been Ian and William MacCowan’s doing.”
“You could be right about that, love.” Eamon nodded. “We should return to Fort Donald at once and speak with Cam.”
The journey to Fort Donald was a rough one, the horses' hooves marking their passage through changing landscapes. As they finally approached the fort, its stone walls rose majestically against the horizon, a stronghold amidst the wild beauty of the land.
Catherine's heart quickened as they rode through the fortified gates, entering the courtyard. She had an overwhelming feeling that she was home. The air was alive with excitement, a palpable energy that enveloped them in a warm embrace as people came out to greet them.
Mae stood at the forefront of the crowd, her eyes alight with relief and joy as she welcomed Catherine and Eamon back. Niall, Jennifer, and Cam flanked her, their expressions a medley of emotions that ranged from concern to elation.
“Thank goodness you’re back safe, you had us so worried,” Mae exclaimed.
Catherine dismounted her horse, her limbs feeling slightly unsteady after the long ride. She was met with the open arms of her friends. “I’m glad to be back safe too. It was a close call. If it weren’t for Eamon showing up to rescue me, I don’t know what I would have done.”
Eamon, too, dismounted. He chuckled. “Love, if I hadnae shown up, I have nae doubt you’d have found a way to save yourself. The way you used that wood to bash in William’s head is testament to that.”
“Your men brought Ian and William MacCowan in last night, we wondered where you were and feared the worst,” Cam said, sounding concerned.
“We found Marc, he was in a bit of a state, so we returned to the inn and had our wounds tended to and to rest, before making our way here. I had intended to keep searching for Malcolm, but Catherine overheard something that changed our course and brought us back here.”
“Oh?” Cam asked, looking from her to Eamon.
Eamon explained and said, “So I need to see what Ian and William have to say.”
“That can be arranged. And we’ll be having a feast to celebrate your safe return.”
With the celebratory air still swirling around Fort Donald, Catherine's heart remained unsettled. Eamon had been tended to; his bandages removed, and his wounds cleaned, and then there’d been the dinner celebration with lots of good food and cheer, but Eamon had excused himself early and gone to his room. Now, as the evening descended and the golden hues of sunset gave way to the velvety embrace of night, Catherine found herself navigating the torch-lit corridors toward Eamon's bedchamber. He had insisted she stay and enjoy her friends’ company, but now, she wanted to make sure he was well, that they were still okay.
When he didn’t answer her knock, she quietly opened the door, her steps soft on the floor as she entered. The room was illuminated by the soft glow of a flickering candle, casting dancing shadows on the walls. Eamon lay in the large bed, his breathing deep and even, the lines of pain temporarily eased from his features as sleep claimed him. Relief that he was all right swept through her heart and eased the worry she had for him.
Even in his sleep the man exuded strength and resilience. She couldn’t help but admire him. Part of her wanted to climb into the bed with him and snuggle into his side, but she knew he needed his rest and he hadn’t invited her to his bed. She wasn’t sure that he’d be happy about waking up with her here at the fort for everyone to know about. Was that even allowed? They weren’t married and she wasn’t a prostitute. As soon as she thought it, she realized that she actually wanted to marry Eamon. She didn’t want to have the reputation of a loose woman here in this time. She wanted to make Eamon proud, not have him ashamed of her.
With a final lingering look, Catherine crept across the room and quietly opened then closed the door to Eamon's bedchamber behind her, the latch clicking softly. She wasn’t sleepy, so she decided to head to the library. Perhaps she could find something to read that might help her get some sleep.
As she headed in that direction, she realized she hadn’t seen Sir Kellan since they’d returned. He hadn’t been at the celebratory meal to welcome her and Eamon back, and he hadn’t been in the courtyard when they arrived either. She half wondered if he’d returned to his own estate.
As Catherine entered the library, the scent of leather-bound volumes mingled with the earthy aroma of aged paper, created an ambiance that was both intimate and inviting. Catherine's steps carried her through the rows of shelves, her fingers lightly grazing the spines of books as if seeking guidance from their ancient wisdom.
Reaching the end of the row, she spied a figure bent over the table, reading by candlelight. It was Sir Kellan, engrossed in a tome that lay open before him. He looked up as Catherine approached, his eyes meeting hers with surprise.
"Good evening, Lady Catherine," he greeted, his voice melodic as it echoed within the hallowed walls of the library.
"Good evening, Sir Kellan," she said and then noticed the skin around his right eye was slightly dark, but she dismissed it as shadows in the flickering candlelight.
"I'm glad you're safe and sound. Islay can be treacherous, as you now know. I was surprised to have heard you’d chosen to travel with the guardsmen to search for the bandits. I wouldnae have allowed it had I’d known about it."
Catherine narrowed her gaze on him. “Are you?”
“Am I what, Lady Catherine?”
“Glad that I’ve returned safely. I ask because it doesn’t seem to me that you were concerned at all about my whereabouts or the fact that I was taken hostage by dangerous men, nor that Eamon risked his life to rescue me.”
"I was indeed concerned, Catherine, but I was nae the one who was tasked with coming to your rescue," he insisted. "I had nae doubt that the Donalds, Eamon in particular, would see to your return."
His words only made her more furious. “I thought you were my friend, but I can see that I never was anything but a way for you to pass your time here,” Catherine bit out each word.
He gave her a haughty look as he stood and she could now see that his eye was dark due to shadows, he had a black eye. It was a purplish and blue hue. “You made your choice when you left with that heathen.”
“What happened to your eye?” she questioned, watching him.
His hand went to it for a moment before it dropped to his side. “Eamon took exception to me having an interest in you. So you see, there was nae reason for me to attempt to come after you, he had things well in hand apparently. The two of you were clearly made for each other.”
With that he slammed the book he’d been reading closed, picked it up and walked out of the library. Catherine stood there, watching after him, trying hard not to laugh at the pompous man who’d had his pride bruised. He hadn’t denied what she’d said, merely deflected, so she knew it was only his pride she’d hurt, not his heart and for that she was grateful.
As the weeks passed, Catherine found herself embracing her newfound bond with Eamon. She moved from her small room, into his, with his assurance that he did not think of her as a loose woman, and that no one there at the fort would either.
She’d had conversations with Mae about it and found that she and Jen had been expecting this outcome from the moment she arrived. They’d had a hearty laugh about it too, which had left Catherine miffed at them for about a week until they apologized for not sharing what they knew of Dub Sith bringing the three of them here to this time and place.
Catherine was still stunned that the rumor was he’d pledge to make sure the Donalds each found their true love. If she’d known that from the start, maybe she wouldn’t have fretted about things with Eamon quite so much.