Not Mine to Give (14 page)

She clutched her arms tighter around her middle and ignored the wetness soaking into the pillow beneath her cheek.

She would not let herself care that he didn’t want her.

…

“Here, lass,” Angus hollered in his gruff voice.

Katherine picked up her bag of roots and went to where he was already digging. She had spent every day of the last two weeks working with the old warrior, learning all she could. In a day’s time, he would be leaving with Duncan and the other Fergusons to get Brenna.

“See this flower?” he asked, pointing to a tiny purple bud. “This will tell you where to dig to find our angel root. We’ll let the roots dry, then grind them to a fine powder. Its powers ease a chill and take down a fever. If, God forbid,” Angus stopped to make a sign of the cross, “a plague goes through the clan, a little of this with a mixture of the feverfew is the only potion that will bring down a raging fever. Pray to God we do
na need to ever use it.”

Katherine wiped the dirt from the roots and placed them in her bag. “Why haven’t you shown someone these potions before?”

“The time was na right.”

Katherine sat back on her haunches and looked up at him. “Why did you agree to share your knowledge with me, Angus? Duncan doesn’t like it. He doesn’t think an English should learn your potions.”

“You are our laird’s wife. It’s your duty to protect your people.”

Katherine lowered her head. “I think it’s a duty I will not be very good at.”

“Aye. You already are. You have always felt the need to protect your sister, have you not?”

“That’s different. Elizabeth has never been as strong. She has always needed someone to take care of her.”

“Like you take care of all around you. That’s why you risked your life to free Duncan from Bolton. You wanted to gain his help to protect your sister and her babe. You will use the powers with just as much care.”

Katherine lifted her gaze and looked him in the eyes. “There are others who care, and they are
Scot.”

“Aye. But they are
na the laird’s wife.”

Katherine did not say the words that would tell Angus that she wasn’t either. Not really. Duncan had yet to take her in the way that God intended a woman to be bound to her husband. His Scottish pride would not let him.

During the day, he was considerate and caring and… distant. It was impossible not to see it. She knew everyone noticed. They all watched for some shared sign of affection between their laird and his bride. They found none, and the looks they exchanged said as much.

At night, long after he thought she’d fallen asleep, he came to her room and sat with her. He didn’t come to her bed, or hold her in his arms. Or kiss her as he had that first night. It was as if even touching her was too painful.

Each morning, before the sun rose in the sky, he left. She didn’t let him know she was awake. But she was.

Angus’ voice brought her from her thoughts. “Tomorrow we’ll gather the leaves of the stonecrop. I’ll show you how to make a poultice to heal open wounds. It’s what I put on your back and the laird’s chest. Pray to God we do
na need to use it.”

Katherine stood up and stretched her limbs. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” she said, and stepped out of the cottage. She looked around for her guard.

Malcolm stood over by a large tree, honing his sword for the battle in two days. Today was his turn to watch her when she went beyond the castle walls. “Are you finished for the day, mistress?” he said when he saw her.

“Yes, Malcolm. I promised
Morgana I would be back early. I want to show her what we used in Eng—” She stopped. “I want to show her what we used to make the rushes on the floor smell sweet.”

“We would all appreciate that, mistress.”

They walked toward the castle in silence. Malcolm was either not a great conversationalist, or he preferred not to talk to
her
.

“Do you have a wife, Malcolm?”

“Nay, milady.”

“Is there anyone special who has stolen your heart?”

Malcolm’s gaze hardened, and he stared ahead without looking at her. Katherine suddenly felt as if she’d stumbled onto dangerous territory.

“I can never hope to have the lass who has stolen my heart.”

“Surely you do not mean that?”

Malcolm didn’t answer for a little while but his feet set an even faster pace. “Do
na think on it, milady. It is the way of things. Would you like to stop at the kitchen on the way to the keep? I think Kevin is finished with one of the windows.”

His abrupt change of topic was a closure to any discussion concerning his personal life. “I would love to. I can’t wait to see what it will look like.”

Katherine said no more. Tonight she would ask Duncan who the lady was who had stolen Malcolm’s heart. Maybe all was not as hopeless as he thought.

Together they walked to the carpenter’s shop. The hostile stares and whispered comments she heard and saw as they
passed groups of Fergusons still hurt, but she refused to let Duncan’s clansmen know it. She held her head high and walked among them as if she weren’t aware of their hatred.

The completed windows for the kitchen were perfect. She couldn’t wait to see them all done. Even if Anna and Margaret wouldn’t admit that her idea improved their kitchen, she would know it. Every time she saw the windows propped open, she would know the workers were cooler.

Suddenly, her whole day seemed brighter. Today it didn’t seem to hurt nearly as much when Carmen Lachlan pulled her little twin daughters behind her skirt before Katherine could speak to them. Nor did it bother her when the old woman who lived in the hut close to Angus stepped to the other side of the bailey, rather than pass too close.

When they reached the keep, Katherine left Malcolm on the front steps and entered the wide opening that led to the great hall. She was looking for
Morgana, but stopped when the sound of loud voices reached her. One of the voices was Duncan’s. The other she couldn’t place, even though she knew she’d heard it before. It was a woman’s voice, and the woman was angry.

“How could you bring an English here? How could you marry her, Duncan?”

Katherine stepped away from the opening and pressed her back against the wall. She should leave. She didn’t want to hear this.

“You will
na talk about your mistress so, Regan.”

“Mistress! Ha! She is nothing to me.”

“You refuse to give your oath of fealty to your laird’s wife?”

“I do! I refuse to accept that she is your wife. I should be your wife. I should be the one to have your name, and share your bed, and bear your children. I am the one you love. Not her!”

“Do na talk like that, Regan. I have never—”

“Nay! Do
na say you never said you loved me, or asked me to be your wife. You did na have to. Not after all we shared.”

Katherine closed her eyes and let the waves pound against her ears. She should not listen to this. She did not want to hear it.

“Why did you marry the English woman, Duncan? Your hatred for them runs too deep. You will never learn to care for her.”

“You do
na need to know why I chose the English woman for my wife. Just know that I did. Know that I chose her freely.”

“You did not choose her freely. I know you did
na. What does she have that you want? The crown?”

Katherine waited for Duncan to deny it. There was only silence.

“Ha! She will never give it to you. She will keep it hidden until she can give it to her English king, and you will never see it.”

“I will get the crown.”

Katherine leaned her head back against the stone wall. The crown. Why did everything revolve around the crown?

“Is it true, Duncan, that your English wife was betrothed to Bolton?”

Duncan did not deny it.

Regan laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. “What better way to strike back at the man who killed your father than to turn his betrothed into your whore.”

“Enough! Leave me, Regan. And do na come back.”

“I will leave, my laird, but you will soon beg me to come back. When you tire of your wife lying cold and lifeless beneath you at night, you will remember how good it was between us, and want me back. I will wait.”

Katherine pressed her hand against her mouth, then ran up the stairs to her chamber. God help her.

She closed the door and pressed her back tightly against it. She stood there for a long time, then walked on legs that barely supported her to the small chapel at the end of the hall.

Why did you marry the English woman, Duncan? You will never learn to care for her.

The sun streamed through the two narrow windows on either side of the altar, showering the small room in a muted array of golden streamers. Katherine walked to the front and stared up at the statue of Jesus. A desperate voice echoed deep inside her and she fell to her knees before the altar.

What does she have that you want? The crown?

Katherine dropped her head to her folded hands, trying to forget the boastful tone of Regan’s voice, but she could not. Every bitter word screamed in the quiet chamber, a reminder of the chasm that separated her from her husband.

When you tire of your wife… you will remember how good it was between us and beg me to come back.

Katherine clenched her hands tighter and prayed with as much fervor as she’d ever prayed in her life. Then she began her search for the hidden passageway. The time would come
when Duncan would demand she give him the crown. She had to be able to escape, should it become necessary.

Duncan rubbed his temples to ease the throbbing in his head. His conversation with Regan had disturbed him more than he cared to admit.

One by one the Ferguson warriors came through the opening and sat at one of the many long trestle tables, ready to eat the evening meal. Everyone was present except his wife. They would not start without her, and Kate knew it. It angered him that she was not already here, that she would make his men wait to eat.

Duncan searched the room. He ached to hear her rich voice when she spoke. He wanted to stand close to her so he could smell the clean fragrance of roses and heather in which she bathed.

He wanted to touch her, and hold her, and kiss her like he’d done before. He wanted to run his fingers through her hair, and over her skin, and over the soft hidden parts of her body. He wanted to walk with her, and laugh with her, and hold her in his arms until the sun came up each morning.

He wanted her to be something other than English.

He couldn’t go on much longer the way he was. Every day he was with her, he wanted her more. Every hour he was without her, he missed her more. Every night he went without loving her, he cursed himself for being more a fool.

He looked up again. Angus was there, but Kate was not with him.

“Where is my wife, Angus?” he said when Angus came near him.

The old warrior’s face wrinkled with a frown. “Malcolm came for her earlier this afternoon.” Angus turned to Malcolm. “Where did you leave her?”

Tiny nerves prickled on the back of Duncan’s neck.

Malcolm looked around the room as if she were hiding somewhere close and they’d missed her. “I brought her here from your cottage, Angus.” Malcolm turned back to Duncan. “We stopped to see Kevin on our way. He was in the kitchen with Anna and Margaret.”

“Did anything unforeseen happen while you were there?”

“Nay. Nothing any different than any other day. Our people are still not overly accepting of their mistress, Duncan. The air in the hot kitchen near caused a bit of frostbite.”

Duncan sat forward in his chair. “Did the women offend their mistress?”

“Nay. Not directly. It’s obvious, though, they canna forget she’s English.”

“Where did you go after the kitchens?”

“We came directly here. I left the mistress on the steps and went to the practice area. Marcus injured himself when he fell from his horse, and Balfour came for me to see if we should send for Angus. He was na injured so bad, and when I came back, the mistress had already come inside. I thought she was with you.”

“Was the drawbridge raised after you came in?”

“Aye, and there’s a guard at the postern. Neither would let her out. Not after what happened to Brandon.”

“The lady Katherine would
na go beyond the walls,” Angus defended. “She knows how it concerns you.”

Duncan raised his eyebrows. Angus did not know how it
was between them. Duncan didn’t think she would leave on her own, but maybe something had happened to her.

He rose from his chair and walked to where
Morgana stood, giving instructions to the new serving girl Irsa. “Have you seen your mistress?”

“Not since earlier this afternoon, my lord. She came back and went to her room. She told me she was tired and wanted to rest.”

Duncan turned to Angus and Malcolm who were both at his side. “I’ll check in our chamber. She has probably fallen asleep.”

Angus and Malcolm shared a smile and watched their laird walk away. “Begin your meal,” Duncan hollered over his shoulder as he reached the doorway. He didn’t want his men waiting for Kate if she had fallen asleep, but he was not pleased with her for inconveniencing them either. Nor for causing him concern.

He took the steps two at a time, pushing down the niggling fear that ate at him. Kate did not tire easily. It was not like her to sleep in the middle of the day. He hesitated with his hand on the latch, then opened the door.

The chamber was bright. Lit with the flames of a dozen candles. He looked first at the bed, but it was empty. She stood before the narrow arrow slit that overlooked the empty practice yard. She did not turn to face him when he entered.

“The men are awaiting their meal, Kate.”

“I am not hungry. Have them begin without me.”

He moved closer to where she stood. “It is a custom for the laird and his mistress to eat with the rest.”

She spun around, the look in her bright blue eyes
brimming with fire. “Then it’s time we began a new custom. From now on, their
English
mistress will eat her meals alone in her chamber and the
Scottish
Fergusons can eat in the great hall with their laird. There should be no problem with that, should there, my lord?”

Duncan stared after her as she walked from the narrow window to the table beside the bed. She poured a cup of water then slammed the pitcher back on the table.

“Did something happen today that you need to tell me?”

Her gaze darted toward him, and he felt the stabbing of a thousand pinpricks on the back of his neck.

“No, my lord. Nothing happened today that was different from any other day.” She took a sip of her water then focused the intensity of her anger on him. “I have decided that I will visit my sister while you are gone to get Brenna.”

“Is that where the crown is hidden?”

The cup froze midway to her mouth. “The crown is safe, my lord. You need not concern yourself with its whereabouts.”

“You will
na leave the castle while I’m gone.”

Fire flashed from her eyes. “Why? Are you worried Bolton will come after me?”

There was a hardness in her voice he didn’t like hearing.

“He will not, husband. I am no longer a prize worth having.”

“It matters not. You still have the crown and he will never stop wanting that. I will worry about Bolton until I have Brenna back with me and his blood drips from my sword.”

“Even after you kill Bolton, your troubles will not be over. Have you thought of what my father will do once he finds out
I have broken the king’s edict and married you? Have you thought of what our English king will do?”

“Aye, lass. I have thought of that.”

“And?”

“It does
na warrant the effort to worry about such an insignificant matter as your English king.”

“You will not think him so insignificant when his army marches here with my father at his side.”

“Enough. We will worry about your king when Brenna is home safe.”

“I would like to visit my sister while you’re gone.”

“And do you intend to return when I come back?”

Her eyebrows raised in question. “Would you care?”

Duncan stiffened. “Aye. I would care. You are my wife.”

“No. I have never been your wife.”

Her words created an unbridgeable gap between them. He fought to deny them, but couldn’t. He struggled to find something to say that would make the meaning of her words less despairing. There was nothing. He cursed the loud knock at the door that would not give him the opportunity to heal the wound separating them. “Aye.”

Malcolm opened the door and stepped in. He shut the door tight behind him. “The
McGowans are downstairs, Duncan. They’ve come for the crown.”

“Why do the
McGowans want the crown?” she asked, her voice as timid as he’d ever heard her. The look of fear in her eyes.

“Their lads stole it from the English. They think they have a right to it.”

Duncan refastened the sheath and sword he’d just removed from across his back, and tucked another dagger into his soft, leather boots. When he finished, he turned to Kate. “Will you give me the crown, lass?”

The look in her eyes held more pain than he wished to see in anyone’s eyes. Especially for someone who… He would not let himself finish the thought.

“I cannot, Duncan. You know I cannot.”

He gave her a brisk nod, then turned to Malcolm. “How many are there?”

“Perhaps thirty.”

“Is Fergus with them?”

“Nay. He sent his oldest, Callum.”

“Go back and tell them the laird and his mistress will be down presently. Seat them at the table, and give them plenty of food to eat, but do
na be overgenerous with the ale. McGowans are hard enough to deal with when they’re sober.”

“
Callum seems peaceable enough,” Malcolm said, fingering the h
ilt of his sword, “but he brought his brother, Geordie, with him. The lad’s got a temper that bears watching.”

“Get word to
Gregor to take some men and secure the gates. Be sure he’s discrete. We wouldn’t want our guests to become concerned over their safety.”

“Aye,” Malcolm said, and opened the door to leave.

“Seat Callum on my left, Malcolm, with room for Kate on my right. Put Geordie opposite me, at your right.”

Malcolm gave Duncan an understanding nod, then left the room.

Duncan walked across the chamber, away from the hearth. The room was as chilled as the blood running in his veins. He knew it was only a matter of time before someone came for the crown. If it hadn’t been the McGowans, it would have been the MacDougall lords of Lorne and Argyll, bitter enemies of Robert Bruce. He did not doubt they thought possession of the crown would unite the English forces with their own to overthrow the Bruce’s power. They would not retreat until they had either the crown — or Kate’s head on a pike.

Worse than that, Robert Bruce could have come for it. If Duncan’s king, or the king’s trusted friend and counselor, James Douglas, had come… Duncan wiped his hand across his jaw. How could he have refused to give the crown to his king?

How could he even think to give up the wife he’d sworn to protect?

“What is going to happen now, Duncan?” Her voice held a determined tone. She still faced each problem with the same dauntless courage she’d shown in Ian’s dungeon.

“We will go down to eat with our guests, Kate. Are y’ ready?”

She nodded, but her eyes were as large as trenchers when she looked at him, her face as pale as milk.

“Ah, Kate,” he said, crossing the room to reach her side. He put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her to him. He felt her tremble.

“I did not mean for it to be this way, Duncan.”

“But it is. The McGowans are but the first. You knew it would happen.”

“What will you do?”

“I can hardly give them something I do na have, can I, lass?”

“What if they don’t accept your refusal, Duncan?”

“Then it would be wise to pray that I am better with a sword than Fergus.”

Duncan heard the muffled cry that came from the back of her throat. “
Shh, lass. It’s too late for regrets. The time to wish for things to be different was when I first asked for the crown. Can you not give it to me?”

“Oh, Duncan. You know—”

Duncan put his finger to her lips to silence her. “We’ll make the best of what we have. I promised I would protect you.”

Duncan absorbed the trusting look on her face and knew he was going to kiss her. How was it possible to be drawn so fiercely to someone you’d spent your whole life convinced you hated? Why couldn’t he control the desire he felt when he was near her?

He lowered his head, and closed his mouth over hers. She held herself stiff in his arms as if she didn’t want his kiss, then breathed a shuddering sigh and clung to him. She held onto him and returned his kiss as if she was hungry for it.

“Ah, Kate,” he whispered. “What is this power you hold over me?” He parted his lips and entered her warm, moist cavern. His tongue searched, then found its mate. He’d wanted to kiss her like this since he’d taken her as his wife, but had denied the longing. Now he could not get enough of her. The roar of a thousand claps of thunder echoed in his head, the drone of a mighty rumble building to climactic proportions.

He moved his hands over her, touching her like he’d only dreamed of doing. Holding her like he’d prayed he could. He could no longer deny his feelings that raged out of control. He wanted her. Even without the crown, he wanted her. Even though she was English, he wanted her.

He lifted his mouth from hers and held her in his arms. This was not the time. “Come on, lass. We
canna keep them waiting too long.”

She lifted her hand and touched her fingers to his cheek. “If the choice were mine, I would give you the crown, Duncan. But the choice was never mine to make.”

Duncan cupped her face in his hands and pressed his forehead against hers. “In time, I pray you will find a way, Kate. Our lives may well depend on it.”

He held her for a while longer, then released her to take her downstairs. “Kate,” he said, walking down the stairs to the great hall. He smiled at the bright red glow to her cheeks, and her kiss-swollen lips that showed the passion they’d just shared. “Mind your words, lass. Let me talk to the
McGowans. It will only make things worse if you give them the sharp edge of your tongue.”