Chapter Twenty Two
Catarina nibbled the meat off the leg bone of a rabbit while she considered Thomas’s question.
He sat across from her. His long, sandy blond hair hung past his shoulders.
Freckles dotted his nose, and his pale green eyes crinkled when he smiled.
Although terribly thin for a young man of his age, she guessed he had as many as eighteen or nineteen years.
She would know for certain when it was her turn to ask him a question.
As for now, she still had yet to answer his.
He had asked what her favorite food was.
She doubted peacock pie was often enjoyed by peasants, and so she was searching her mind for an appropriate answer.
Then she reached for a bannock that she had made herself and had her answer.
She smiled. “Here is my favorite.” Then she took a bite.
“Bannock?” Thomas said skeptically. “Katie, ye can’t lie. That’s cheating.”
Catarina laughed. “You had best not insult my cooking.”
Thomas grabbed a bannock and took a large bite. “I wouldn’t dare,” he muttered while chewing the dry cake. Catarina continued to laugh as she passed him a costrel of water to help him wash down his mouthful. “I still don’t believe ye, and so I get another question.”
Catarina crossed her arms over her chest. “Fine,” she said. After all, she had lied.
“’Tis hot. Why do ye keep that plaid over yer head?”
Catarina adjusted the plaid, pulling it tightly beneath her chin. “I prefer to have my head covered. It is a custom in my family.”
“It looks uncomfortable,” he said.
She smiled. “I suppose it would, but it is very comforting to me. I am simply too tired to deal with feeling self-conscious right now. I would rather just remain covered.” That was the honest truth.
When she and Quinn were alone, it felt wondrous to have her hair loose, but it was just too hard when others were nearby.
“Now you must answer my question,” she said. “How old are you?”
He swallowed the last of the bannock and smiled. “Two and twenty.”
It was her turn to cock a skeptical brow. “You just scolded me for lying.”
He flattened his hand over his heart. “If I’ve lied, may the Lord strike me dead.”
“Then forgive me,” she said. “I hope I did not offend.”
He shrugged. “I ken I’m a wee scrawny. I always have been on account of my clan’s stores. They’ve not been full since before I was born.”
Frowning, Catarina squeezed his hand encouragingly. She hated to think of him suffering.
His eyes grew distant, and he pulled his hand away.
“These last five years have been the hardest. My father saved what little he could for years and years. Finally, he amounted enough coin to buy fresh cattle from the MacLeod.” A shadow passed over Thomas’s features, and a hard glint narrowed his eyes.
“But the MacLeod cheated him. The cattle were diseased and did not survive the winter.”
She gasped. “That is awful. Surely this chieftain was brought to task.”
Thomas shook his head. “How? We could not retaliate. They would’ve crushed us.
” His shoulders sagged. “After that, my father was not the same.” But with his next breath, Thomas straightened.
“And so, the task of raising our clan out of poverty has fallen on my shoulders.” Catarina watched as he shrugged away his sober thoughts.
Then he turned to her, his green eyes, once more, bright and playful.
“I believe it is my turn.” He cleared his throat and leaned forward.
“I led ye away from the dogs. It could be argued that I saved ye.” He jerked his head at Quinn who was watching Thomas very closely.
“Is he ever going to stop glaring at me?” he whispered.
Her hand flew to cover her mouth, smothering her laughter. She shook her head. “He simply does not trust you.”
Thomas pressed his hand to his heart and winced as though her words had caused him mortal pain. “Then the ceaseless tension over the past two days has been all my doing.”
“Precisely,” she said, flashing a smile.
“But do not fret. He will come around.” She looked at Quinn.
Immediately, his face softened for her. She wished he would allow himself to relax and rest, but she also understood why he refused to take his eyes off Thomas.
He loved her. Her safety would always come first. On the other hand, she could not have adored Thomas more.
He reminded her so much of Stephen. It lifted her spirits to jest and play games. “Now, it is my turn again,” she said.
“Wait,” Quinn said, rising. “I have a question. Thomas, why were ye out here on yer own?”
Thomas cleared his throat. “I go to the Village of Mathas every fortnight. It is beyond that hill ground,” he said, pointing to distant purple slopes. “I do whatever work I can find to pocket money away with the hope of buying some healthy cattle in a few years.”
Quinn stared at him for several moments before he retreated back to his watchful post.
“’Tis my turn,” Thomas said, turning back to Catarina.
She scoffed. “I do believe you are mistaken. It is my turn.”
Thomas smiled ruefully and jerked a thumb at Quinn. “He snaked yer question right out from under ye. Anyway, my question is very important.” He stared her hard in the eye while it looked as though he tried not to smile. “What is it that ye wish for above all else?”
Catarina did not have to think about that. The answer was right on her tongue. “To see my son again.”
Thomas’s brows drew together. “Ye’ve been separated from yer son?”
She nodded and felt the sting of tears.
“I am so very sorry,” he said. Then he jumped to his feet and offered her his hand. “There is only one thing to do. Ye must make a river wish.”
“A river wish?” she said, glancing at Quinn. He nodded, giving her permission to take Thomas’s hand. She stood and followed Thomas to the bank of the river where he dropped her hand and started to root around in his sporran.
“You have managed to fit an abundance in such a small case,” she observed.
Thomas smiled. “I like to be prepared.” He withdrew a small candle stub.
Hastening back to the fire, he pulled out a stick and lit the wick.
Then he returned to her side and instructed her to find a good, sturdy piece of tree bark.
She eyed the ground and found a piece, which measured two hands long and a hand wide.
“Will this do?” she asked, holding up the bark for Thomas to see.
“’Tis yer wish. ‘Tis up to ye to decide.”
She looked back down at the bark and decided it was as good as any she’d seen. She strode back to Thomas and handed it to him.
“Thank ye,” he said. Then he dripped a little wax onto the smooth underside of the bark and pressed the stub of the candle into the wax.
At length, he smiled. “That should hold it in place. Now, what ye do next is ye place the candle boat on the river and make yer wish. If it stays afloat and the flame remains lit until it is out of sight, then yer wish is sure to come true.”
She took hold of the boat and looked at Quinn who had remained on a felled log some feet away. He smiled at her, but the smile did not quite reach his eyes.
“Are ye certain he isn’t just a bit surly?” Thomas whispered, jerking his head toward Quinn.
“Not in the least,” she replied with a smile.
Thomas playfully hit himself upside the head. “Och, I forgot. ‘Tis me he doesn’t like.”
“Do not take it personally,” she said. “Now then, shall I position my candle boat?”
“First make yer wish.”
She nodded and closed her eyes, wishing with all her heart to be reunited with Nicholas. When she opened her eyes, Quinn was at her side.
“We used to do this when I was a lad,” he said, his lips curved in a gentle smile. His black eyes shone with love. He pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. “Regardless of whether yer candle makes it around the bend, ye know ye’ll be reunited with Nicholas.”
She nodded, grasping his hand with her free one. “I do know that. I believe with all my heart.” She released his hand and squatted down beside the river. “Still,” she said. “A wish is like a prayer, and prayer will only ever help.”
Holding her breath, she released the boat.
Swept away by the current, the candle was out of reach in seconds.
For a moment, her heart panged with loss as if once more she was witnessing her son being swept from her arms. But then her spirits lifted as she watched the boat tilt and rock but never overturn.
And as it rounded the bend out of sight, the flame intensified, stretching higher.
She jumped to her feet, her heart brimming with hope, and she threw her arms around Quinn’s neck. “It made it,” she exclaimed.
He cupped her cheeks. “Just as we will.” Dipping his head, he pressed his full lips to hers.
“I know ye will, too,” Thomas said.
Quinn looked over Catarina’s head and locked eyes with Thomas. The boy appeared earnest enough. His affection for Catarina seemed entirely genuine. Still, Quinn simply could not trust him and refused to take even one eye off of the lad, not for a moment, no matter how well Catarina liked him.
He did have to admit that he enjoyed listening to Catarina’s laughter. She and Thomas jested together as though brother and sister, and it pleased him to see her so lighthearted.
“My lady, the next question is yers t—” The rest of Thomas’s words remained lodged in his throat as Quinn seized his tunic and hoisted him into the air.
“What did ye say?” Quinn snarled, shaking Thomas.
Catarina yanked on his arm. “What has come over you, Quinn. Put him down. You’re hurting him.”
Quinn glared at Thomas but spoke to Catarina. “The two of ye have not been out of ear shot. I’ve been listening to yer every word. Not once have ye slipped about who ye really are, and yet this rodent calls ye ‘my lady’.”
He put Thomas back on his feet but continued to grip the front of his tunic while he waited for Catarina to understand the truth. Her eyes grew wide before she narrowed them on Thomas, but her friend would now not meet her gaze.