Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
B laine sat stiffly in his seat across from Kathleen. The entire time she had been in his chambers, he hadn’t managed to find the right words to speak to her. Now it was impossible, surrounded as they were by so many people.
Several tables had been pushed together to create the formal setting for the breakfast in the great hall.
As Kathleen was seated near her friend, Blaine ended up sitting by the laird’s side, right by the head of the table. On the one hand, that meant that he could easily avoid most of the nobles that sat around the table, chatting idly over their plates of cured meats and cheeses and fruit—and several other delicacies Blaine rarely saw. On the other, it meant that he had to engage the laird in polite conversation, or rather allow the man to engage him in one such conversation, as he was the one doing most of the talking .
“It seems fittin’ tae me that ye would be sittin’ there, in that spot,” said Laird Stewart, and Blaine couldn’t help but frown in confusion at the comment. “That was always the seat o’ me good friend an’ the clan’s war leader. He passed nae too long ago, killed in a raid.”
“Ach, me condolences,” said Blaine, though he still didn’t know how that had anything to do with him. “Terrible things, raids.”
“Och aye,” said Laird Stewart. “He was a good man. A big lad like yerself.”
Blaine must have resembled the man then in some way.
“What was he like?” Blaine asked, just to make small talk with the laird. It seemed like a safe topic, one that he could follow while still keeping an eye on Kathleen and the conversation she was having with Fenella.
Would Kathleen tell everything about the two of them to her friend? It was likely, of course. Young women shared everything, especially things like that, but at least he was certain neither of them would broach such a topic in public, among the other nobles, and so he allowed his attention to stray from them and back to the laird .
“A formidable warrior,” Laird Stewart said as he took a sip of wine from his goblet. “Truly the best o’ his generation, Angus was. We won many battles thanks tae him that we would have otherwise lost.”
“I’d heard o’ Clan Stewart’s victories, as I’m sure everyone has,” said Blaine, in that polite and unhurried tone he assumed whenever he was in the company of nobles and trying to pass as one of them. Now, he mimicked the laird, taking on the same, straight-backed stance with his chest open and his arms relaxed. It was far from easy; he was used to being on guard at all times, looking over his shoulder as any soldier did, but a noble wouldn’t have a reason to look over his shoulder in the safety of a keep, no matter how many battles he had personally won.
“It was a great loss,” said Laird Stewart. “Never again shall there be another man like him.”
As the laird spoke, one of the servants poured more wine for him and then proceeded to do the same for Blaine. He had seen the other servants unobtrusively moving about the table to make sure those who broke their fast had everything they could possibly want, and he had seen the dismissive way in which the nobles treated them all—as if they were entirely invisible, nothing but a meaningless rustle of movement in the corners of their eyes.
“Thank ye,” Blaine told the young woman, giving her a small, polite smile. In turn, she stared at him in surprise, freezing in her tracks, as if she had never expected to be addressed by someone at the table at all.
And perhaps she hadn’t. Blaine was used to dining in taverns and inns, places where one was meant to thank the serving wenches and anyone who offered them their service. No such thing was expected here, in the keep.
“O’ course, m’laird,” said the young woman, bowing to him quickly before she moved on to the next guest, her gaze downcast the entire time.
When Blaine turned his gaze back to Laird Stewart, he found the man looking at him oddly, his brow furrowed as if in confusion.
“Somethin’ the matter, me laird?” Blaine asked, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Had he embarrassed himself among the nobles by addressing the young servant girl?
Blaine threw a quick, furtive glance around the room, but if anyone had noticed, they seemed to have moved on from it already. When he looked back at the other man, he found him with a small, almost amused smile on his lips.
“Nay, nay,” the laird assured him, waving a hand dismissively, along with the piece of egg that was skewered on his fork. “ It’s just that Angus always made a point o’ thankin’ the servants as well. Ye really are plenty like him, after all.”
Blaine returned the man’s smile. It seemed to him that he had inadvertently gotten himself in the laird’s good graces, which was more than he could have hoped for when he had first set foot in Castle Stalker. One could never know when such a contact could come in handy, and in Blaine’s line of work, it was always a good idea to have powerful friends.
“Well, I think it is important,” Blaine said, putting as much meaning behind his words as he could. Laird Stewart knew his true identity, after all; he knew he was closer to those servants than he was to the people sitting around the table.
“An’ ye’re absolutely correct,” Laird Stewart said with a smile. Perhaps Blaine’s resemblance to Angus, the war master, had made the man especially sentimental that morning. The conversation solicited a few stunned, mumbled thank yous from the nobles around the table.
Across the table, Kathleen glanced at Blaine, giving him a look that was equal parts amused and bemused. Blaine only shrugged a shoulder, not knowing what to say.
Then, suddenly, Laird Stewart clapped his hands together. “Alright! Once we are finished here, we shall all head tae the woods fer the hunt. ”
“All?” one of the men inquired. He was older, with dark hair that grayed at the temples, and piercing blue eyes. “The lasses as well?”
Laughter rippled around the table from the men and women alike, but Laird Stewart seemed to consider it seriously for a moment. In the end, he nodded slowly, scratching idly at his chin.
“Sure,” he said. “Whoever would like tae join. We shall divide ourselves in pairs, one man an’ one woman in each, an’ then we can see which pair brings in the biggest game.”
Another round of murmurs followed around the table, from which Blaine could catch a few complaints. Fenella looked art her fiancé and blushed. In the end, it was Kathleen who spoke up and settled it.
“I think that would be lovely, Laird Stewart,” she said. “I, fer one, ken how tae hunt.”
“There!” Laird Stewart exclaimed delightedly, with another clap of his hands. “It is settled, then. We shall all head tae the woods together.”
This time, the murmurs around the table were of assent as the men resigned themselves to their fate. Trying to suppress his amused chuckle, Blaine looked at Kathleen over a large platter of roasted fowl that rested between them on the table, and he found her eyes sparkling with mischief.
It was going to be a long hunt.
There was no other option for Blaine than to be with Kathleen on this hunt—or at least so he told himself. Fenella had naturally been paired with he husband-to-be and Kathleen with him. He had to keep an eye on her, of course. It was important to the mission to make sure that nothing happened to her, and a hunt could pose plenty of danger. What if she was suddenly face to face with a wild boar? Or if she fell into some trap that another hunter had laid in the forest, one she couldn’t see?
And, to be honest, if it meant that he got to spend even more time with her, then it was all the better.
It was an overcast day, dark clouds lingering in the sky, a breeze blowing all around them and mussing his hair. The ground was soft, wet with the previous night’s rain, and Blaine’s boots sank into the mud as he and Kathleen followed the rest of the group into the forest. Kathleen was the only one out of the women who was holding a bow and quiver, just as the men, and the only one who was dressed reasonably for the occasion with her sturdy boots and hardy cloak. She had prepared well for her travels, and now once again, her clothes came in handy .
As they walked, Kathleen kept up with Blaine, the two of them moving side by side. Every now and then, her hand would brush against his own, sending a jolt of excitement through him; the kind he had had when he had been but a boy.
A man his age had no business getting this excited over a mere brush of hands. A man his age had no business being so close to Kathleen in the first place, but it was already too late for that.
How long could Blaine deny his feelings for her? He had already made the grave mistake of bedding her. He had already done the very thing he had sworn he would never do: ruin her.
He should have never given in to the temptation. Kathleen most likely thought there was a future between them ,despite their age gap. But she didn’t know the truth; she didn’t know that they could never be together like that.
What have I done?
The reality of it all weighed heavy on Blaine’s shoulders. All the blame was his, but a part of him—a big part, much to his irritation—didn’t truly regret what he had done. It was more than desire, this thing between them. It was more than sexual need, more than a mere fling .
It was something deeper, but he refused to put a name to it. The moment he did, the moment he would admit what it truly was, it would be too late for salvation.
Soon, their company split into groups, each pair going off in a different direction. Blaine led Kathleen north, deeper into the woods, since she was used to walking on uneven terrain and he didn’t have to worry about ruining her pretty dress or expensive slippers. As he made his way through the forest, Kathleen easily kept up with him, stepping over roots and jumping down from boulders without his assistance, and he realized she truly did know what she was doing.
“What?” Kathleen asked when he gave her an incredulous look. “I told ye I ken how tae hunt. I used tae hunt with me cousins,” Kathleen said with a shrug.
“An’ yer parents let ye?”
“Dae ye think they had a choice?”
Kathleen laughed at her own words before pushing forward, going ahead of Blaine. For a while, it was he who followed her as she set the course and rhythm, expertly tracking the path a deer had left behind.
It wasn’t long before she held up her hand, signaling at him to come to a stop. Blaine stopped right behind her, looking over her shoulder at the general direction of her gaze until he found the deer nestled among the tree trunks, almost invisible among all the brown.
Slowly, carefully, Kathleen removed an arrow from her quiver and prepared her bow, stretching the string taut. Blaine watched her, enraptured by the methodical way in which she moved, like a seasoned archer—like a warrior rather than the noble girl she was.
This was what he loved so much about her. She was unpredictable, sometimes even strange compared to others—a force of nature that could not be stopped. Blaine was a slave to her whims and desires, and deep down, he knew he would end up doing anything she asked of him just to see her smile.
Just as she was about to take the shot, though, another pair of nobles came hurtling through from their right, the man jumping over a fallen log to reach the deer. The creature was much faster than him, though, and before any of them could react, it was gone in a blur of movement.
Kathleen turned to them in disbelief, throwing her hands up in the air. “What dae ye think ye’re daein’?” she demanded. “I almost had it!”
“Well, forgive me, but ye were too slow, Miss Mackintosh,” said the man, not sounding apologetic at all. “Perhaps ye’ll be luckier next time. ”
“I’ll have ye ken?—”
Blaine dragged Kathleen away by the arm before she could get into a fight with the man. She protested, trying to wrench her arm free, but Blaine was firm with her, not allowing her to engage.
“Why are ye draggin’ me away?” she asked, her shrill voice echoing in the woods around them. Only when they were far enough from the pair did Blaine let go of her, turning to stare at her with his hands on his hips. “I ought tae tell him exactly what I think about him!”
“An’ that is why I dragged ye away,” Blaine pointed out. “I preferred ye when ye were scared o’ travelin’ an’ listened tae me.”
“Well, we’re nae travelin’ now, are we?” Kathleen pointed out. Her anger quickly dissipated, though, as a bunny that hopped nearby, white as pure snow, caught her attention. “Dinnae hunt it. I couldnae bare it.”
Blaine chuckled to himself, approaching Kathleen and the bunny. “I wouldnae even think o’ it,” he promised, though it had, in fact, crossed his mind .
Kathleen smiled gratefully at him for a moment, and then turned around to observe the bunny again. She took careful steps as she followed it, making sure not to frighten the creature, but Blaine didn’t know what her goal could possibly be.
To capture it, perhaps; to keep it as a pet, as bad of an idea as that would be.
Blaine followed it too, sticking close to her. His gaze was focused on Kathleen, on the gentle slope of her neck over her cloak, the way she stretched out her hand to pet the bunny, the way her nose crinkled as she smiled at it. So focused was he that he didn’t notice the patch of mud right in front of him at all—not until it was too late and he slipped, falling right into the small puddle.
He fell onto his rear with a thud that seemed to shake the entire forest floor, and the pain that suddenly radiated from his hip was enough to keep him where he was, entirely frozen for a moment.
That would have been bad enough, as Blaine was suddenly covered head to toe in mud, all of his clothes soiled, along with his hands and face. But as he fell, he reached out for something that could stop his descent, only to grab none other than Kathleen’s cloak, dragging her right into the pit as well .
Kathleen sputtered and flailed as she landed in the mud, desperately trying to save herself from the same fate as Blaine. There was no escaping it, though; within moments, she too was covered in mud, her hands sinking into the soil as she sat there, stunned.
And then she laughed, the sound bright and amused, and Blaine couldn’t help but do the same.
“Look at the state o’ us,” she said, holding her hands up only for her cloak to drip mud everywhere.
At least Blaine had gotten the worst of it by landing so roughly. Slowly, he pulled himself away from Kathleen and raised and lowered his leg experimentally, making sure that nothing was broken. It would surely bruise by the end of the day, and it was bound to ache for days, but as long as he could walk, then there would be no real trouble for him.
He was only glad Kathleen was unharmed. The last thing he wanted was for something to happen to her while she was in his care.
With a groan, Blaine pushed himself up to his feet and stepped out of the puddle, making sure to keep his feet steady in case they threatened to slip again. Then, he offered his hand to Kathleen and pulled her out, helping her stand on solid ground once more .
“I think it’s time tae end the hunt fer us,” he said.
“Och aye,” said Kathleen. “I think we’re both in great need o’ a bath.”
In the end, though they were the pair that first showed the most promise, they returned to the group empty-handed.