Chapter ten
“We’re verra lucky there was a cave nearby,” I said, crouching before the fire I had just managed to start.
I winced inwardly at my voice. It sounded tighter than I had meant.
Wind howled outside the cave, a long, hollow sound that scraped along the stone, and lightning slashed the sky as rain pounded the rock in relentless sheets.
The storm pressed close, as if it meant to trap us here.
I turned when Katreine did not respond and looked at her.
She sat on a rock, knees drawn to her chest, arms wrapped around them, soaking locks plastered against her beautiful face and clinging to the long, slender column of her neck.
Water slid in thin trails down her skin, catching in the hollow of her throat before disappearing beneath her gown.
Her bright, golden gaze was locked on me, watchful and almost wary, and something in that look set a slow, uneasy tension coiling in my gut.
Or was I imagining it? What could have changed since our easy talk as we rode, to when she had dismounted and gone to wash at the river?
God’s blood. It hit me. The lass had noted the direction of the river.
A tightness seized my chest, sudden and unrelenting.
How to explain it? Or should I even try?
Aye, I had to offer an explanation, but only if she asked me directly.
If she didn’t, I’d simply try to reassure her that we were headed to the Dark Woods, giving her reason enough to doubt her own conclusions.
I needed time to think, to plan, and to decide what to say.
“Are ye cold?” I asked, though what I truly wanted to know was what she was thinking.
“Aye,” she said at last. The single word was laced with the same wariness that swam in her gaze, quiet but unmistakable.
I went to my travel sack and tugged out a dry plaid, my movements sharper than usual, then strode to her and held it out. “Here. I’d take off yer wet cloak and lay it near the fire to dry.”
She stood, took the plaid from me with a murmured thanks, then moved past me toward the fire.
The brief brush of her fingers against mine was gone almost before I could feel it, and the absence of that contact struck me harder than the contact itself.
I watched her, unable to tear my gaze from the gentle sway of her hips, though even that awareness felt edged now with something tighter, more urgent.
When she shrugged off her wet cloak, the bodice of her gown loosened a bit more, revealing the fullness of her breasts just enough that I could well imagine what they would feel like in my hands and in my mouth.
Lust gripped me, sharp and immediate, but it tangled with the tension already building in my chest, and I forced it down.
This was not the time for lust. I needed to concentrate on making her feel safe, needed her calm, needed her to trust me.
I knew I’d have to tell her eventually where I was taking her, but I didn’t want to just yet, and it wasn’t simply because I didn’t want her to fight me. It was because I wanted to learn more about her, and she’d never tell me more once she discovered I had deceived her.
She carefully laid her cloak out to dry and wrapped my plaid around her shoulders.
Her long, burnished strands were half inside the plaid and half out, and I had the urge to go to her and pull her hair free so it would spill over my plaid, which would soon change colors if I won the stronghold and the lairdship.
I could imagine her wrapped in my new plaid, and the thought startled me, landing deeper than it should have.
I didn’t need to be thinking about such things when I did not yet have the stronghold or the title.
“I’ve some bread,” I said, stalking back to my travel sack and rummaging through it, needing the distraction. “Unfortunately, we already drank the wine.”
Near the entrance of the cave, the horses whinnied, no doubt protesting the weather. They’d already been fed and watered, but the storm had unsettled them, their unease echoing faintly through the stone.
“Should we move them closer?” she asked.
I shook my head. “Nay, I made sure they were out of the weather’s reach. We’ll keep them there so any smells are as far away as possible for the night.”
“So ye think we can nae travel more today?”
“It was well past noon when we stopped, and based on the sky, the storm will rage for several more hours. Traveling in the dark is one thing, but traveling in the dark with wet ground where the horses can lose footing and ye injured is a risk I’m nae willing to take.
” I took out the loaf of bread and walked to her, holding out a chunk.
She took it with a tight smile. “I would argue with ye, but I ken it’s futile.”
“Aye, it is,” I agreed, taking a bit of the bread, though something about her tone made the words feel less like jest and more like quiet acknowledgment.
“I have some wine,” she said, making her way to her horse to dig in her travel sack.
I watched her go, watched her linger longer than necessary, rummaging, the unease in me tightening with each heartbeat.
She stood in front of it, searching for a few moments, then strode back toward me with two wineskins.
She knelt right in front of me, her head directly in front of my manhood. By the gods, the woman was tempting me without even knowing it, or perhaps knowing it all too well. Desire surged again, sharper now, tangled with something I could not quite name.
“If we’re stuck here, we might as well feast,” she said.
I could think of other things to do with her, but I clenched my teeth and nodded as I sat beside her and took the wineskin she offered.
We sat in silence for a while, and I noticed she ate with the care of someone born in a great house, which made me think again of her family and the unanswered questions I had about her.
Her history should not have mattered to me, but it did.
I found my curiosity insatiable. “Who taught ye the healing arts?” I asked, deciding it was a harmless enough question that might lead her to reveal something about herself.
“My mama taught me some,” she replied, “and Mara, a Summer Walker, taught me the rest.”
“Who taught ye to be a warrior?” she asked, wincing as she shifted positions.
“Ye should drink more of the wine to aid with the pain,” I said, because it was true, but also because I saw an opportunity to get her to loosen her tongue.
She nodded. “I will, but do nae make me drink alone.”
I tipped up my skin to oblige her, taking an extra-long draw. When I lowered it, I found her studying me with an intensity that surprised me.
“So, who taught ye?” she asked again.
“Laird Ross.” I shook my head. “The old laird, that is,” I clarified. “Munro is laird now.”
“Ye lived with the Rosses all yer life?”
“Aye. I was left in the woods as a bairn. Lady Ross found me and talked Laird Ross into taking me into their home. She insisted on raising me as one of her own.” My chest squeezed with the memory.
“But Laird Ross treated ye differently than Munro? Not as an equal?” Katreine asked, and I could see on her face and hear in her tone that she was trying to understand me. It touched me in a way I’d never felt before.
“Nay,” I told her. “Laird Ross and Lady Ross verra much treated me as one of their own, but other warriors in the clan questioned my worthiness. Every time I gained a position and moved up in the ranks, men whispered. I once heard another warrior say that I was nae a Ross and should nae be allowed to have command over them.”
She frowned. “Were ye better than the warrior who said this?”
I grinned. “I like to think so.”
“If ye were nae better than I doubt yer laird would have moved ye up in ranks. Lairds make decisions on need, nae feelings. The needs of the clan always come first. That warrior was simply jealous.”
I watched her carefully as I thought about what she’d said. I had considered it, but the feeling of not belonging still lingered. “Ye speak as if ye ken how a laird’s mind works.” She paled at my words but shook her head.
“Nae, really, but I can imagine.”
“Katreine, were ye born into a great house? Was yer da a laird?” I had asked a similar question before, and she’d denied it, but I was more certain than ever that this was fact.
The only reaction she showed was a subtle flare of her nostrils, but it was answer enough. I would wager all the coin in my leather pouch that Katreine was the daughter of a laird, far above a bastard like me.
“Would it matter to ye if my da was a laird?” she asked, scrutinizing me, likely searching for a clue as to whether I spoke the truth. And I didn’t, which sat heavily in my gut.
“It would nae matter to me,” I said slowly, because it was the truth. Whoever her da was, the king still required her services. “Ye said ye had been gone a long time and that yer family thought ye were dead. Why did ye leave?”
Her golden eyes danced with firelight as she locked eyes with me.
“Are we exchanging truths now, James?” She stared at me unwaveringly.
I could keep lying to her, but her probing gaze made it clear she no longer believed me.
She would fight me and try to flee, but perhaps if I explained the king to her, assured her of her safety, and told her I would return her to the Summer Walkers myself once the king’s daughter was healed, I could persuade her.
I was at a precipice I had only moments ago not wanted to be on, but I was here, and I nodded.
“Why did ye flee yer home?”
She looked down and traced her finger back and forth in the dirt for a moment before meeting my gaze again. Her face held such wariness that my chest ached for her. “I feared being named a witch,” she said so softly I almost didn’t hear her.
I frowned at her. “But ye said ye had been gone a long time.”
The wariness on her face grew, and her shoulders stiffened. After a long pause, she nodded.
“How long?” I asked. Something didn’t make sense. If she’d fled so long ago that her family likely thought her dead, she would have been a child.
“Five summers,” she said, her words almost hasty.
“Ye already had unusual healing skills five summers ago?”
She nodded, but her gaze was no longer quite as steady, and her hand had fluttered to her neck. So we were exchanging half-truths, apparently. I opened my mouth to question her further, but she spoke.
“Where are ye taking me? And do nae say it is the Dark Woods. The river is pulling to the East, and that is nae the direction we should be going.”
It was as I had thought. She had seen the river’s course.
I was, in an odd sense, glad to be done with some of the deception.
I didn’t care for it, even though I’d have to be on guard for the rest of the trip now.
“The king’s daughter Mary is ill,” I said, bracing for Katreine to scramble up and away from me, throw something at me, try to run, or even scream.
She did none of those things. Her lips pressed into a tight line, and her eyes narrowed.
She was unusually calm, showing a restraint that, in my experience, was normally reserved for people far older than she.
“And what does that have to do with me?”
“Ye’re skills reached the king’s ears, and he is desperate to cure Mary’s illness, so she will agree to wed.
” The cave felt suddenly stifling to me, so I yanked off my plaid.
When I looked at Katreine again, I found her studying me with the same scrutiny as before, as if she were looking for something.
“So,” she said, dropping to a kneeling position. “Ye were taking me to the king? Ye came in search of me, then?”
I managed a nod, even as I frowned because my vision suddenly blurred.
Something was wrong. I blinked several times, but it did not help, and a buzzing started in my ears.
I struggled to focus on her, but she danced in my line of sight, though I was certain she did not move.
“Katreine,” I said, my tongue thick. “I think my wound is infected.”
She moved toward me, yanked up my tunic, and pulled down my bandage. Yet I barely felt her touch. A numbness was creeping through my body.
“’Tis nae,” she said, and her words sounded sharp.
Then she stood and stepped back, running a hand through her hair, and paced before me as sweat rolled down my back.
I was on fire and shockingly dizzy as I tried to follow her back and forth.
She stopped and looked down at me. “How did ye possibly ken where to find me and that ye had the right woman?”
“My special skill is tracking, lass,” I said, sure I had slurred the last word. Somewhere deep in my brain, an alarm was going off.
“And what made ye think ye had the healer the king sought?” she asked.
I motioned toward her face and shoulder, but by the gods, it took effort. My arm was as heavy as a log. “Ye have verra unusual eyes, and ye have the marking on yer shoulder, which the king knew about.”
She jerked back, as if I’d struck her, and then her face twisted into a glare. As I looked at her, anger now set on her face and her hands balled into fists, realization struck. “Ye’ve drugged me,” I muttered, barely managing to get the words out and struggling to keep my eyes open.
“That’s right,” she said, her smile thin. “Just be glad I did nae give ye enough to kill ye, ye lying sack of dung.”
As darkness closed in, I realized I had gravely underestimated her.