Catarine shifted closer and gave him a slow smile, that of a woman sated. “Never did I think a man’s touch would bring so much pleasure.”
“And now?” he teased.
“I fear I am ruined.”
His laugh faded away. Indeed, as him. Never would he find another woman who moved him like her.
“Trálin?”
At the hesitation in her voice, he took her hand, pressed a soft kiss on the palm. “Aye?”
Her gaze flickered to his mouth, and red swept her face.
“What is it?” She cleared her throat, and he understood. “You enjoyed my tasting you?”
The flush on her face deepened. “Aye, but you did nae find relief.”
Touched she thought of him, he smiled. “But I did. Watching you, aware ’twas me who made you feel such pleasure, is its own gift.”
“But—”
A hard rap sounded on the door.
Bloody hell! Trálin sat up. No one could find her here! He put his hands over his lips.
She nodded. The rumple of sheets spilled over as she sat by his side.
With quiet movements, he slipped from the bed, slid his sword from its sheath, and crept to the door.
Another rap sounded, this time louder.
“Who goes there?” he demanded.
“’Tis Sionn.”
Fear tore through him. Something horrible had to have happened for the fey warrior to be here this late. “What is wrong?”
“’Tis Princess Catarine.”
Trálin glanced toward where she sat upon his bed.
Her face paled.
Please God in heaven, let them nae suspect she was with him. “Is she ill?”
“Nay, Lord Grey, she is gone!”
Chapter Fourteen
Sionn’s announcement that she was nae in her chamber rattled through Catarine’s mind like an avalanche. With a gasp, she hurried from Trálin’s bed to where he stood beside the door. “They canna find me in your chamber!” she whispered.
Lord Grey shook his head. “Nor will they.”
“Why would anyone be in search of me?” she asked, her mind fighting for reasons.
“After the events of the last few days,” Trálin replied, “Atair must have set up rounds with your warriors to ensure you were safe throughout the night. I should have considered such.”
“Lord Grey?” the fey warrior outside his chamber door again called.
“A moment.”
With quiet steps, Trálin hurried to the bed.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
He grabbed her gown from the bed, then returned. “Here.”
Heat swept up her cheeks. God in heaven, rattled by Sionn showing up outside Trálin’s chamber, she’d overlooked that she was naked. Embarrassed, she took her garb, tugged it on.
Once she finished, Trálin turned to the door. “What do you mean she is gone?”
“My lord,” Sionn replied from the other side. “I went to check on Princess Catarine. The door to her chamber is open, and she is gone.”
Open?
Unease spread through her.
Deep brows creased Trálin’s brow as he glanced toward her. “Your door was nae left open, was it?” he mouthed.
She shook her head.
His frown deepened. “I will be out posthaste.”
“The other warriors and I are gathering in the great room,” Sionn said. “Meet us there.” The firm tap of steps in the corridor faded.
Nerves thundered through her. “We have a greater problem than my being discovered. Why was someone in my chamber?”
“It has to be one of your fey warriors,” Lord Grey said.
“Nay, the others would have known.” An unnerving thought came to mind. Nay, please let her be wrong.
At her hesitation, Trálin frowned. “What is it?”
“What if whoever entered my chamber was someone sent by the one my warriors and I are searching for?”
“God’s teeth. Whatever mayhem is about, there is one way to find out.”
“Aye, but I canna be seen leaving your room. Where should I go? My chamber is out of the question, but it should be somewhere where I will be
found
.”
He rubbed his chin, now shadowed with dark rust stubble. On a grimace he dropped his hand. “For now, remain here. After I have left, go to the wall walk.”
She arched a brow. “As if my men will have nae looked there?”
“Tell whoever finds you first that unable to sleep, you left your chamber earlier and have been walking around since.”
“And they will believe that?”
“What other choice do they have?” he replied. “Besides, they will be relieved you were nae in your chamber and are safe.”
“I canna,” she said. “I never lie to my warriors.”
“Nor will I ask you to now. But weigh your answer with the question of what they will think if they learn that over the past few hours you have been with me.”
Guilt trampled thoughts of the impossibly wonderful things he’d done to her. Shaken, she nodded.
Trálin dragged on his garb, then caught her mouth in a long kiss. “Never will I forget you, this night, or what you mean to me.” Before she could reply, he released her and slipped from his chamber.
The errant crackle of the flames filled the silence as she stared at the entry. What she meant to him? Hope ignited. Did he love her as well?
Nay, ’twas her own knowledge that she loved him which invited such foolish thoughts.
Saddened this special night had come to an end, she turned the bed where they’d made love, their hours together filled with more pleasures than she’d ever imagine. Never would she forget Trálin. Except, their night was over. Before anyone found her here, she must go.
After plaiting her hair, Catarine hurried to the door, cracked it open, and peered out.
Across the corridor, Atair stood leaning against the wall, his arms crossed.
Shock rolled through her.
Her senior fey warrior straightened. “You can come out. There is much we need to address.”
A sense of doom shrouded her as she shoved the door wider. ’Twould seem she and Trálin had kept no secret. She exited the chamber, pushed the door shut. “I—”
“Nae here. Follow me.” Atair strode down the hall toward the turret.
Her mind a mess of nerves and guilt, she followed.
At the steps, he started up. At the top, Atair pushed the door open and gestured for her forward.
The whip of cold air hit her as she stepped outside. The wall walk. Her supposed destination. Fitting.
Her senior fey warrior strode past several crenellations. At the corner battlement, after a quick scan, he stepped deep into the shadows and halted.
A light blanket of snow crunched beneath her feet as she walked like a woman sentenced. As she passed a crenellation, she glanced out. The windswept water of the loch shimmered beneath the rays of the moon. What she wouldn’t give to be out in a boat there.
“Do nae linger,” Atair said.
A shiver of unease swept through her as she moved into the shield of blackness.
“What were you thinking?” Atair whispered.
“I have compromised naught.” The truth, if you considered she’d done nothing to produce a child.
“Naught? Late in the night you are absent from your chamber, and as I suspected, you were with Lord Grey. Thankfully, might I add.”
“There could have been many reasons why I was absent from my chamber.”
A sigh of exasperation fell into the night. “You are nae a commoner whose actions ignite but scorn and whispers, but a princess, one whose marriage to Prince Zacheus will bring peace to our realms.”
She stiffened. “I am well aware of my status and consequences of my actions.”
“Aye, ’tis the consequences of your actions we speak of,” he agree, empathy in his voice. “Nor would I choose a loveless marriage for you. But ’tis done. And your agreement to wed given.” Silence fell between them, broken by the distant cry of an owl. “Do you think your betrothed would marry you if he knew of this night’s excursion?”
Embarrassment swept her, the intimacies of the hours before with Trálin vivid in her mind. “Lord Grey was naught but a gentleman.”
Shrewd eyes studied her. “You did nae answer my question, nor is it one I will raise again.”
If he’d spoken in anger, she could have found a reply.
“Catarine, though you shield your feelings for the Scot, to me they are transparent.”
She stiffened. “What are you saying?”
“You love him.”
“Atair, I . . .” As if denying the truth would convince him? He knew her too well. “I shouldna.”
“But you do.”
Emotions stormed her, and tears blurred her gaze. Frustrated, she wiped the tears from her eyes. “Is it wrong that I wanted but a few hours with a man I can never have?”
“What answer do you want me to give you?” he asked. “That of a warrior who wishes to bring peace to his realm, or a friend? Or, mayhap the question is nae for me to answer, but for you?”
He was right, the answer was hers to make. Humbled, she shook her head. “Never did I mean anyone harm. For a little while I wanted to be with Trálin, to have, however brief, that which will never again be in my grasp.”
“I—”
“Once we depart,” she interrupted, needing to finish, “never will I allow myself to be in a situation where my loyalty to my betrothed is in question.”
“A wise decision.” Atair paused. “I swear to you, none will know where you spent this night.”
Grateful, she nodded. “My thanks.”
An owl cried out, this time closer.
“We have other worries,” he said.
At his somber tone, a shiver swept her. She remembered Sionn’s words outside Lord Grey’s door. “You speak of finding my chamber door open?”
“Aye.”
“I did nae leave it so.”
“I suspected as much,” he said, “which is why I wanted to speak to you before we meet with the others.”
A ripple of fear whipped through her. “You suspected as much?”
“Indeed, the reason I alerted the castle guards to your absence.”
Mortified, she gasped. “Why would you alert the castle guards that I was nae in my chamber?”
“If you had been abducted,” he replied, “I wanted no delay in our giving chase.”
“Abducted? But you waited for me outside Lord Grey’s chamber once he left.”
“I accompanied Sionn in hopes to find you there—safe. Once we reached Lord Grey’s door, I caught the wisp of your voice.”
She caught her lower lip between her teeth. “Do you think Sionn heard me as well?”
“He gave no indication he had.” Which assured naught. Blast it. So caught up in her time with Trálin, she’d nae heard her men’s approach. And, what had Atair heard of her discussion with Trálin? She glanced at him.
In the shadows, he shifted.
As if he would tell her? They had more pressing concerns. “Who do you think went to my chamber?”
“Whoever it was, they did more than open your door, but entered.”
“Entered?” She stilled. “Who would dare breach my chamber?”
A soft breeze, thick with the chilling cold, swept past. “Again the reason I wished to speak with you first in private. When I searched your room to ensure you were indeed gone, I caught a faint sense of evil.”
She stared at her senior fey warrior in disbelief. “’Twould seem whoever we are trailing discovered I am in Scotland and searching for them. How is this possible?”
“I do nae know,” he said, anger clinging to his every word, “but we must use caution. You are no longer safe.”
“The king and queen!”
“Nay,” Atair said. “I checked for any sign of an intruder’s presence near their chamber.”
“Did any of the fey warriors report someone trying to enter their chamber as well?”
“Nay.”
A sinking feeling settled in her stomach. “Which confirms that the intruder came for me. And with your sensing the presence of evil this has a connection with one of the fey.”
“And proof,” Atair said, “that whoever is behind this intends for more than your uncle’s life.”
“’Tis my entire family they want dead.” The somber truth weighed heavy on her as she scanned the moonlight touched land across the loch. “Do you think whoever entered my room is still within the castle walls?”
“My concern as well,” Atair replied. “Before we were to meet, I sent the remainder of the fey warriors to search for any sign of the intruder, though I doubt they will find anyone. Whoever dared to enter Loch Leven Castle would nae be fool enough to linger and risk being caught.”
Worry gave way to anger. “If they think to scare me away, they are wrong.”
“Let nae your upset guide you,” Atair cautioned. “Whoever is behind this is someone of great cunning. Do you have any idea who holds such high aspirations?”
“Nay,” Catarine replied. “We worried the tracks from before would be covered. Now the point is moot. We will follow the intruder’s trail.”
“Lady Catarine?” a man called in the distance.
“’Tis one of the castle guards,” Atair said. “Come. ’Tis best if they believe one of the fey warriors located you; fewer questions will be asked. We can continue our discussion once we are alone with our warriors.”
“I agree.” She stepped from the shadows, Atair at her side.
Chapter Fifteen
Trálin followed the castle guard as he exited the turret, thankful when he called out Catarine’s name. Several paces behind, Sionn and the other fey warriors exited onto the wall walk in his wake.
In the moonlight, Sionn paused. “You found her?”
“Aye,” Atair replied. “Unable to sleep, she was out taking a walk.”
“Thank God you are safe.” Sionn faced the castle guard. “Pass word to the others in search of Lady Catarine that she is safe.”
The guard nodded.
As the guard hurried off, Trálin walked over with her fey warriors.
“I regret the upset my departure from my chamber has caused,” Catarine said.
“’Tis relieved we are to find you unharmed,” Trálin replied, giving the expected reply. In the sheen of the moon’s silvery rays, he caught Atair’s cool look. So, the senior fey warrior knew of her being in his chamber this night. The last thing he wanted was trouble between them, but ’twould seem ’twas too late to avoid that.
“Lord Grey,” Atair said, his voice grave. “Lady Catarine and I have spoken of the situation.”
“The situation?” With a frown, Drax glanced from Atair to Catarine. “We were told you were missing.”
“Someone was in my chamber,” Catarine stated. “Thankfully, unable to sleep, I had left to go for a walk.”
“Do you know who it is?” Trálin asked.
“We are unsure,” Atair replied, “but we believe their appearance is connected with the knights we chased into Scotland.” His expression grim, he glanced toward his men. “Did anyone notice anything odd?”
“Nay,” Sionn replied.
The remainder of the fey warriors shook their heads.
“If anything,” Magnus said, “’twas as if an air of peace filled the night.”
Catarine gasped. “A spell.”
“A spell?” Trálin asked. The ramifications left him shaken. A warrior he could fight. One of the fey with their unearthly abilities was another matter. “Aye,” Atair said with a nod. “It makes sense, and I should have figured it out before. Whoever murdered her uncle holds powerful magic, proven by their ability to bring humans into the Otherworld. And, having sent troops to follow us, once they were in close enough proximity, they used their power to infuse an air of peace over us. With our guards lowered and feeling safe within Loch Leven Castle, their man slipped inside.”
“Proximity?” Trálin asked.
“Aye,” Catarine replied. “For magic to work, whoever wields it must be within a league.”
With a grimace, Trálin scoured the winding shores across the waves. “So whoever is behind this, they are near.”
“Or was,” Atair said.
“Blast it,” Trálin said. And what if she had nae been with him? In her chamber and with whomever is behind this holding powerful magic, they would have taken her or . . . “What do you think the intruder wanted?” Catarine stiffened.
“At best, to abduct her,” Atair replied, his voice grave.
Furious, Trálin met Catarine’s gaze; she angled her jaw in defiance, but he saw the fear she tried to hide. “God in heaven, you believe they wanted you dead.”
“Atair and I both agree ’twas an attempt on my life,” Catarine replied, a quiver in her voice. “And confirms our fears that my uncle’s murderer wishes to kill my entire family and seize the crown.”
Trálin understood her concern for those she loved, but the thought of her dead left an emptiness inside.
His face taut, Atair crossed his arms. “We must stop whoever is behind this from returning to the Otherworld.”
“Aye,” Trálin agreed. “But how? With the ability of magic, will whoever guides their minions be able to shield them from our view as well?”
Her face illuminated by the broken moonlight on the wall walk, Catarine shook her head. “However powerful, one of the fey canna shield a human from view. But their attempt on my life will serve us well.”
Lord Grey rubbed the growing stubble on his chin. “How so?”
“If we find whoever tried to kill me this night,” she explained, “I believe he will lead us to the person we seek.”
The fey warriors around him nodded, but Trálin caught the hard looks at him shot by Atair. A fact he couldna change after this night. However shameful, he didna regret the few hours he and Catarine had shared this night.
“One more concern,” Catarine continued, nerves edging her voice. “My family should be hidden. Except, as king, my father will nae hide and wait for the next attack. With his brother murdered, he will seek justice. But in trying to locate who was behind the murder of his brother, without knowing whom he seeks is using magic, I fear he will place himself in grave danger. We must depart posthaste and see if we can pick up the intruder’s trail.”
Atair nodded. “By the time we gather food to travel and ensure King Alexander’s knights are readied, the sun will be up enough to guide us.”
Surprised by his claim, Trálin glanced toward the east. Indeed, against the sheen of moonlight, a wash of purple shimmered in the sky weak with stars announcing the arrival of the new day. To the west, an angry roil of clouds banked the sky. “Another storm is moving in. We must pick up the trail before it hits or any chance of tracking the intruder will be lost.”
Dark clouds smeared with streaks of black convulsed overhead, the angry roil battering the majestic mountains around them with violent disregard. On edge, Catarine peered between two snow-covered boulders. Being wedged in the hillside, shielded by the clusters of stones, offered them excellent protection against the harsh elements, but any who passed below were also hidden.
In the distance, the narrowed rock walls fell away. Cradled in the rough roll of hills beyond, the stone ring stood defiant against the brutal elements.
Majestic.
How could anyone think otherwise?
Thoughts of the person who’d entered her room at Lock Leven Castle erased musings of the stone circle’s grandeur. Again she scanned the narrowed passage with a critical eye. “I see no sign of the English knights.”
“Nor I,” Trálin said at her side.
“If the men are headed toward the stone circle as their tracks indicate,” she said, “I would have thought we would have seen them by now.”
“Mayhap they have already passed?” Atair said at her other side, voicing her worst fear.
“Nay,” Trálin said. “The shortcut I led us through is known to very few. When we searched the break through the mountains below, neither did we see any sign of recent passage.”
“With the frozen ground, we might have missed something,” Catarine said, worry edging her voice.
Trálin shook his head. “With our numbers, I doubt such. With the storm closing in and the men a distance ahead, ’twas best that we moved ahead of them.”
Mayhap, but a part of her wondered if once they’d found the tracks, they should have tried to catch up to the men regardless of the risk. Scraping her teeth against her lower lip, Catarine mulled the fact that when they’d searched for the intruder’s tracks outside of Loch Leven Castle, she and her fey warriors had found naught. Except, as she’d suspected, Trálin had found signs of the men’s passing.
Again she scanned the weather-smoothed walls of the narrow canyon, and prayed they’d missed naught. “We will wait here a while more.”
An icy burst of wind buffeted the boulders, and errant flakes of snow holding the promise of the incoming storm whipped past.
“I think we should hold out the rest of the day,” Atair said. “I worry that more knights have joined their ranks. If so, this is the best place for us to confront the English knights.”
Catarine worried her finger across the sheath of her dagger. “We will soon find out. If indeed they have reinforced their ranks and we are greatly outnumbered, we will trail them and take them out one at a time. Once our numbers are close, then we attack.”
Lord Grey’s mouth tightened. “’Tis a dangerous backup plan.”
As if she liked it? At least they had twenty of King Alexander’s knights to bolster their ranks. Anxious, Catarine scanned the rough roll of land, then focused on the circle of stones that offered entrance to the otherworld. The grey, timeworn boulders stood proud against the murky day as if in subtle guard. How she wished this confrontation was over, the threat eradicated. Tension would remain within their realms until she and Prince Zacheus wed.
Shadows of movement flickered at the entrance to the pass.
“Someone is coming,” she warned.
A moment later, through the narrowed entrance, a stocky man with long obsidian hair tied behind his back ran into view.
Catarine exhaled. “’Tis Ranulf returning.”
“Let us hope he comes with news that those we follow are en route,” Atair said.
She nodded.
In a half run, Ranulf hurried along the winding valley, then up the steep embankment toward where they hid. With one last glance toward the entry, the fey warrior slipped behind the aged stone and paused beside Catarine as the other warriors gathered around.
“Are they coming?” she asked.
“Aye, I counted seventeen English knights,” Ranulf replied. “They are about half a league out.”
“Whoever was in my chamber indeed joined with others,” Catarine said.
“Still, I am surprised that their numbers are so small.”
“So they can travel for speed,” Lord Grey said, “’Tis what I would do if I wanted to make good time.”
“Regardless, their small rank works to our advantage,” Catarine said. “We should be able to capture them with minimal risk.”
“After they dared enter your chamber in Loch Leven Castle,” Lord Grey said, “I assure you, I have no problem interrogating them as to who is behind these attacks.”
“Nor I,” Atair growled.
Catarine frowned as her other warriors nodded in agreement. “The knights will remain unharmed unless they resist.”
A muscle worked in Trálin’s jaw.
Atair’s eyes narrowed.
Her other fey warrior’s expressions darkened, but they remained quiet.
“There they come,” Ranulf said.
Catarine turned.
Between several large boulders at the entrance to the valley, English knights marching at a quick stride came into view, all well armed. Every so often, they glanced around.
“Do you think they suspect our presence?” Catarine whispered.
“Mayhap, they seem worried,” Atair replied, “but if they tried to flee now, ’tis too late.”
Across the pass, from behind the thick of stones lining the windswept angled rocks, she caught a brief wave; the Scottish knights hidden on the opposite side were ready for her signal.
Catarine clasped her sword and waited for the English knights to move below them.
Closer.
A few steps more.
She raised her fingers to her lips, blew. Her piercing whistle echoed through the valley as she and her men jumped from their hidden positions from either side of the steep incline.
“We are under attack!” the Englishman leading the knights yelled. With regimented precision, the slide of steel echoed as he and his men withdrew their swords and moved back to form a defensive stance.
“Robbery is futile,” the lead English knight warned.
Catarine stepped to a lower stone, the nerves on the Englishman’s face easy to read. “We are nae here for coin, but answers.”
A distance below, the knight glanced at the other in disbelief. “Who are you?”
“Princess Catarine MacLaren.”
An English knight stepped from the line, put his hands on his hips. “A lie.”
Her anger built. “He didna deny knowing who I am,” she said to those around her.
“Indeed,” Trálin agreed, his voice hard. “To recognize your name, they are in league with whoever you seek.”
“Who do you serve?” Catarine called.
Silence.
As if the knights would tell her outright? “Why do they want me and my family dead?”
A distant curse. “’Tis true, she is the princess,” the lead English knight stated.
Murmurs rose from the men.
“Kill her!” the lead English knight ordered.
Fierce yells rose from the men as they charged up the incline.
“Remember, if possible we must save who we can so they can answer our questions,” Catarine said as she raised her weapon.
Trálin’s hard gaze met hers. “I will try, but I will nae allow any to threaten your life.” He joined her warriors as they charged the oncoming men.
Blades clashed, curses rang out, and blood-lashed snow stained the fall-chilled earth.
An aggressor charged Lord Grey.
Steel screamed as Trálin’s sword met the Englishman’s. Muscles quivering from the impact, he tossed the enemy’s weapon aside, moved his weapon to the man’s neck. “Who do you serve?”
The Englishman reached for his dagger.
Trálin delivered a mortal thrust. Screams filled the air around him broken by errant curses.
“Behind you!” Atair called.
His blade readied, Trálin whirled.
“Bastard!” The English knight charged.
The shudder of steel met each swing, but Trálin held. He deflected the next blow and rounded to swing again, then hesitated. “Bedamned.”
“What is wrong?” Catarine called from nearby.
“Look at their eyes!” Trálin replied.
She pushed back an aggressor, then gasped. “They are under a spell.”
Trálin had suspected so, after seeing the glazed look of the knight raising his sword for another attack. As much as he wished to kill him, ’twould nae serve their need.
The knight screamed, charged.
Trálin allowed his fury for Catarine’s life to drive his blade.
Sweat beaded the man’s brow, but he held his own.
“Who do you work for?” Trálin demanded.
Fear flashed in the man’s eyes, then they grew blank. “Why do you protect the fairy?”
“Why would a human care what happens in the Otherworld?” Lord Grey pressed as he delivered another blow.