Samantha Holt (Highland Fae Chronicles) (14 page)

Her shoulders straightened as she sucked in a deep breath. “Aye, thank ye, Finn.”

Finn studied her for a moment and shook his head. “Yer a daft lass. I think I shall keep ye company this night.”

Her eyes widened once more. “What?”

“I can watch over ye while ye sleep if ye like,” he explained. Though he had to admit, he could think of better ways to spend the night.

A grateful smile spread across her face, lighting her expression. If only he could make her smile more often.

“Aye, I would like that, thank ye.”

Disturbed by her gratitude and the way it made his heart bound, he nodded brusquely. “Get yerself to bed then.” He closed the door slowly, focusing on the wood while she picked up the blankets and rearranged them. Once he was sure she was settled, he strode over to the chair in the corner and sat. It took all his restraint not to jump up and offer to watch over her from a much closer distance. “I willnae be here on the morrow, lass,” he whispered. “’Twould not do for me to be seen leaving yer chambers.”

“Aye,” she whispered back. “Good night, Finn.”

Ach, like a knife to his heart. He loved hearing his name on her lips. “Good night, Katelyn.”

***

A tickle roused Catriona. Something danced over her arm and she swept it away with a grumble. Slowly she peeled open her eyes to see one of the maids, Mae. Catriona sat with a jolt. Sweet Mary, she’d slept through the night. No dreams, no shortness of breath. Normally she woke covered in sweat and struggling to breathe. She considered her body and all seemed fine. Apparently Finn’s presence meant she hadn’t hurt herself either. Bruises and scratches were becoming a regular thing. She wasn’t sure what she did at night but sometimes she awoke on the floor.

“Come on, milady, ‘tis late,” Mae urged her out of the bed with an arm wrapped around her shoulder. The brown-haired woman paused and eyed her. “Ye look well rested, milady.”

Katelyn heard the surprise in Mae’s voice and peeked at the chair where Finn had spent the night. She understood Mae’s wonder. The maid witnessed her dishevelled state each morning.

“I am well rested, Mae,” she replied softly, glancing at the seat once more. There was no sign Finn had been there but she sensed him in the air. For the first time since coming to Kilcree, she had slept. The large warrior soothed away her fears.

Catriona took the chance to study herself and dipped a swatch of linen into the steaming bowl of water Mae had put out for her. Nay, no bruises or scratches. She truly had slumbered well. Warmth rushed into her cheeks when Mae helped her change into an emerald green gown and she recalled the sensation of much stronger fingers spanning her waist. She traced the golden embroidery on the front. Who knew why she returned the kiss or why he even kissed her, but being pressed up against that unforgiving chest, secure in his hold calmed her more than any tonic could. It seemed Finn was the answer to her problems.

Or mayhap not. Finn complicated an already difficult situation. It could be only days until Laird Gillean arrived and claimed her hand. With his plan to marry her—or Katelyn—at Kilcree so she needed no escort to his lands, her disguise could come unravelled before she heard from her father. Or else, she would have to continue the ruse and marry the man. Where would that leave her? Trapped in a marriage to a man who had threatened her father with war.  At least until word of Katelyn’s death reached him. Then who knew what might happen?

She scowled and raised her arms, allowing Mae to secure a girdle around her hips. Her lips tingled. She’d have to see if they were as swollen as they felt. His kisses were like magic, working where nothing else had.

Catriona rubbed her heated cheeks and sat obediently on the bed to allow Mae to do her hair.

“Yer quiet, milady,” Mae commented.

“Aye, forgive me, Mae. I have a lot to think on.”

Mae squeezed her arm. “I know, milady. All will be well, I am sure. Yer betrothed will be arriving soon.”

Catriona stifled a response about the laird. Her failure to play the coy bride might draw attention though she imagined Katelyn’s behaviour would have been no better. Either she would have revelled in her upcoming wedding to a powerful man or played the spoiled lady and demanded a great celebration. Neither came naturally to Catriona. If she ever married—assuming she escaped her current predicament—she wanted love and a small ceremony. Power did little for her. She’d seen how it corrupted. Once, Katelyn had not been unlike her but as beauty increased and time passed, Katelyn became more like their father. Always wanting more, her every move was carefully considered. With the passing of their mother, Catriona found herself truly alone. Only the servants and villagers could be called her friends.

Despair sat in the pit of her stomach and she drew her shoulders up, refusing to succumb to such thoughts. As much as last night had been a mistake, Finn lent her a sense of strength and she was going to fight these demons and claim back her life on Bute. The thought of her seeing her friends again sent warmth to replace the anguish and she smiled.

***

Stretching her spindly arms, Tèile frowned as she spotted Catriona’s smile. She turned and peered out the gap in the shutters and grimaced. Dawn had been and gone and Tèile had slept the entire night. Watching, waiting and following took its toll on her delicate wings and had fatigued her. She suspected the boredom wearied her most of all. A faery really wasn’t made for just sitting around and biding her time. However, in a few days’ time she could put her plans into action and encourage Finn and Catriona’s first kiss. A few dreams and a little accident or two—maybe Catriona could trip into Finn’s arms—and fate would be on track. Finn would be so enamoured, he would surely challenge Laird Gillean for her hand.

She peered at the woman again and narrowed her eyes. Tèile recognised that smile. She’d seen it on Alana’s face. And that glazed look in her eyes…. The faery curled her hands and shook her head. Something had happened. Her fingertips tingled as if fate had truly slipped from her hands over night.

Something
had
happened. Something had changed.

***

Catriona yelped and the seamstress, Beth, murmured an apology. Resisting the urge to rub her side, she kept her arms raised as Beth fitted the pale blue material to her body.

Lorna nodded approvingly. “Ye suit this shade, Katelyn.”

The afternoon sun warmed the solar, enhancing the plush red fabrics of Lorna’s chambers. Gold embroidery and pearls reflected the sunlight, and gilded Lorna’s fair hair. It struck her how at home the lady appeared in this warm room, surrounded by an intricately carved bed and ornate iron candelabras.

Unlike her.

 Fingering the silk, Catriona crushed a sigh. This gown meant she was one step closer to marrying Gillean. It sat heavily on her hips, threatened to weigh her down. Or was that the thought of her impending nuptials?

The seamstress came to her feet and stepped back. “’Twill take me a few days to finish the embroidery,” she told Lorna.

Indignation heated Catriona’s skin. How long would she have to stand around and accept her fate being dictated by others? The laird was funding their wedding and as such, Lorna had taken on all the preparations. With her naturally commanding nature, Lorna thrived on such tasks and had it been anything else, Catriona might have been grateful to her, but not on this—not when it was her future.

“What troubles ye?” Lorna’s brow furrowed. “Do ye no’ like the colour? Blue is traditional for brides.”

“Nay, the colour doesnae trouble me.”

Lorna took a step forward and grasped Catriona’s hand. “Tell me,” she said quietly, “are ye nervous? I know yer mother passed when ye were young. I can offer ye a word or two....”

Now Lorna surely had to see the warmth in her cheeks. “Nay, nay, ‘tis nae that. I know well enough what…” She glanced at Beth and Lorna motioned for her to leave. With a curtsey, the woman scurried away and closed the door to the solar. The creaking hinges made Catriona wince.

Lorna urged her to sit on the bed and sat beside her. Catriona ran her fingers over the thick blanket, unable to meet Lorna’s gaze. The last thing she needed to be thinking of was the marriage bed, not after how Finn had kissed her. Not now that all she thought on was his powerful arms and strong hands and how enticing they might be against her skin.

“I am aware I’m only a few summers older than ye but should ye need anyone….”

Guilt jabbed her. Lorna had shown her nothing but kindness. Her only sin was being connected by marriage to an ungodly man. Catriona offered her a small smile. “I thank ye, Lorna, for yer care and hospitality. However, I dinnae need any advice. I may not be worldly, but I am no fool either.”

Lorna laughed suddenly. “I dinnae think ye a fool at all, Katelyn. Far from it. But ye are clearly no’ happy here. Would that I could offer ye some comfort. I know I should have liked some kind words before my own marriage. Indeed the only person I know not to have suffered an arranged marriage was Finn.”

“Finn is married?”

“Was.”

Catriona managed to stop the sigh of relief releasing. To think she might have been lusting after another’s husband! Finn had told her much of his life at Glencolum on their journey. He described the castle, his cottage and lands with such a smile on his face that it made her long to visit. But he had lost a wife. No wonder he never made mention of it.

“What happened?”

“’Twas a long time ago. She, Alice, died giving birth. The babe died with her—a girl.”

“I didnae know.”

“Finn doesnae speak on it. In truth, I know little myself. I was married off by then and we scarcely saw Finn while a clan war raged on Glencolum lands.” Catriona caught the sadness in Lorna’s eyes before her expression shuttered.

“I am sorry.”

Lorna waved a hand. “Well, my point is that should ye need someone to speak with...”

“Be assured I have no fears about my impending nuptials.” Aside from the fact they might actually happen, she corrected herself.

The marriage bed held little interest to her until recently. Until Finn. She’d been around enough animals and lovers to know what it entailed, heard enough gossip to understand the pleasure it might bring—had even become confident in the art of her own pleasure—but never had she considered how it would feel to take a lover. Finn’s arousal pressing into her skirts as he held her that day on the wall or when he had kissed her so passionately sparked all kinds of imaginings.

“Will ye no’ tell me what plagues ye then, Katelyn?”

Jerking from her thoughts, Catriona looked into Lorna’s pale blue eyes—eyes that were so very similar to her brothers—and patted Lorna’s hand.
Yer brother
, she wanted to say, even as the words in her mind made her face burn. She hadn’t seen him since last night. What did he think of that kiss? Mayhap it had been nothing more than a move to comfort her. Mayhap it meant little to him.

“Naught,” she assured Lorna, “save that it has been a trying time and… and I miss my home.”

Why did she admit to that? Was it Lorna’s kindness or a need to at least share some of her worries?

Lorna nodded slowly. “That I can understand, but ye will make yerself a new home before long, just as I did here.” She motioned around the elegant room. “And a new family too.”

With a wry smile, Catriona toyed with the folds of her gown as she considered her dead sister and cruel father. “A new family might be pleasant. I confess there are some people I dinnae miss on Bute.”

“Ye have been mistreated,” Lorna mused and that slight dip of sorrow creased her brow briefly.

Catriona longed to understand what caused those momentary flashes of pain almost as much as Lorna patently wanted the same from her. In any other circumstances they could be good friends and share whatever ills burdened them, but secrets and a foolish promise still held her back.

Straightening, Catriona squeezed Lorna’s hand. “I am well enough. I have suffered no worse than anyone else. Indeed, I have been well-treated most of my life. The siege and all that has happened since has been… a trial, but naught I cannot overcome.”

She spoke the truth. Aye, her father was no loving man but she had the servants who had helped raise her show her what true kindness was—and the memories of her mother. Time away from the keep—and her family—had usually kept her in positive spirits. Who could live on such a beautiful island and not be content?

“Ye sound so very much like me,” Lorna observed with a grin. She chuckled. “Alas, I know many men, my brother included, who would think us fragile wee things, but they shouldnae underestimate us womenfolk.”

Catriona failed to resist a giggle at Lorna’s determined tone. The woman was surely a force with which to be reckoned. “I dinnae think anyone would underestimate ye, Lorna. A stronger woman I have never met.”

The woman tucked a strand of fair hair behind her ear and tilted her lips. “My men are well used to listening to my commands and will fight long and hard for me, but there are many who are anxious for the day I have a new husband.”

“And that day shall be soon?”

“If Laird Gillean has anything to do with it, aye. But I have fought off any potential suitors so far. Mayhap I can continue to seem unmarriageable and I shall spend the rest of my days alone.”