The Arrow: A Highland Guard Novel (The Highland Guard) (35 page)

Gregor shot him a warning glare and told him to go do something that was physically impossible. The bastard only smiled.

Of course, MacSorley—the needling cousin—couldn’t let the matter rest. “Anticipated the wedding night, did you? Is that what happened? We wondered how the lass had gotten those manacles on you so quickly. Although now that I’ve met your wee ward, I understand. That sweet face hides a crafty mind—and I have the bruises to prove it.”

Gregor’s eyes narrowed, the muscles at the back of his shoulders flaring. He leaned forward. “What the hell are you insinuating, Hawk?”

He wasn’t going to let anyone cast any aspersions on Cate or speculate on his motives for marrying her.

MacSorley held up his hand. “Back down, Arrow. No reason to get all prickly. I wasn’t insinuating anything. I’d wager you aren’t the only one seated at this table who has been unable to wait for a priest. We all have our breaking point—I met mine five years ago. We just despaired that you’d ever meet yours, that’s all.” He leaned back, crossed his arms, and grinned. “There’s no shame in being trapped by the right woman. And from what I see, you’ve been good and trapped.”

Gregor relaxed and eased back in his chair. “Go to hell, Hawk. It’s not like that.”

The famed seafarer’s grin turned smug. “I’d say it’s exactly like that.” MacSorley put his hand up to his ear, as if he were listening. “What’s that crashing sound I hear? Must be the sound of all those thousands of hearts breaking across the Highlands. The most handsome shark in the sea has been good and hooked.”

Gregor shook his head. “Hell, Hawk. I’m saying my vows, not taking them.”

MacSorley waved off the protest. “I’ve experienced the lass’s unusual skills firsthand. If I were you, I wouldn’t give her a reason to put a knife to my throat—or anywhere else, for that matter.”

Gregor’s mouth quirked, remembering Cate’s words to the same effect.

“He won’t,” Campbell interjected.

Gregor lifted a brow at the note of confidence in his friend’s voice, but he didn’t question him. Campbell had an eerie way of seeing things that other people didn’t. Maybe that Gregor didn’t even see himself.

His partner frowned. “It’s funny. She reminds me of someone, but I can’t think who.”

Gregor felt a cold shiver race down his back. He looked at his friend. “Aye, I’ve thought the same thing.”

They exchanged a glance, and Gregor tried not to be bothered by the troubled look in Campbell’s eyes. But it stayed with him. And he would recall it later.

But by then it would be too late.

Nineteen
 

Cate was pleased when Gregor rode out with the three other Phantoms on the morning of the Hogmanay feast.

She was surprised that they’d managed to keep their identities hidden for this long. All anyone had to do was look for the most terrifying, intimidating, fierce-looking men around, and the search would be over. Had she not been about to marry the most handsome man in Scotland, she also might have noticed that they were all uncommonly attractive. And tall. And muscular. It made sense, given their reputed prowess on the battlefield, but it was rather awe-inspiring all the same seeing them together.

What made Cate happy, however, was not this discovery, but that Gregor had taken his bow with him and intended to use it this time. She’d been more worried by its absence across his back than she’d realized. She couldn’t recall a time when Gregor had gone weeks without practicing. But it seemed the unusual break was at an end. Probably because he would be going back to the war soon. Her chest squeezed, recalling what he’d told her last night after the evening meal.

The day after their wedding? It wasn’t fair!

Not for the first time, she cursed the man who’d fathered her, albeit this time not for leaving her, but for taking the man she loved away from her.

You have to tell him
. She knew she could not keep it from him forever. It might not have made a difference were
he just another soldier in the king’s army, but he was more than that. Far more.

She would tell him. As soon as she had the opportunity. With all the guests and festivities, it had been difficult—almost impossible—to find time alone. But before Gregor had left, he’d leaned over and whispered “tonight” in her ear. That one word, that one taunting word filled with husky promise, had sent a shiver of anticipation racing through her.

A shiver of anticipation that had tormented her all day. The wretch! Did he know what he did to her? Probably. Definitely.

She found herself flushing at the oddest moments throughout the day. Such as when she was in the kitchens with Ete overseeing the roasting of the pig, and one of the kitchen maids had mentioned how excited she was for tonight. When the girl had asked Cate if she was, too, it wasn’t the feast Cate had been thinking about that caused her cheeks to turn red.

Cate’s torment had only increased when the long-awaited feast finally began. Though Gregor’s hosting duties as laird left little time for conversation between them, she was seated next to him on the dais, and more than once, his hand had “accidentally” brushed hers, his arm had grazed her breast, and his thigh had pressed up against hers, the contact making her jump. His uncle Malcolm, Chief of the MacGregors, who was seated on her other side, had given her more than one odd look and finally asked her if something was wrong. With a chastising look in Gregor’s direction, she’d scooted a few inches away from him on the bench.

But putting distance between them didn’t help. Every time their eyes met, she’d see that knowing look in his and flush to her roots. She’d lost her train of thought more than once, which left her stumbling embarrassingly through her
conversations with the steady stream of people who came forward to offer their congratulations.

The dancing after the meal was even worse. Gregor didn’t miss any excuse to touch her. A hand held too long … a touch on the waist as he guided her through the steps. By the end of the first reel she was flushed, breathless, and so aroused, she was sure everyone could see how eager she was to strip off that fine dark blue velvet tunic he was wearing and swive the tormenting blighter senseless. The scary-looking pirate Lachlan MacRuairi had caught her eye once and lifted one very dark eyebrow at her with what she swore was almost amusement. She’d been so mortified, she’d wanted to crawl under the table and hide.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t the only one looking at her betrothed as if he were a sweet she couldn’t wait to gobble up. The usual gaggle of women had dropped around his feet. But Gregor gave her no reason for jealousy. Though he was his usual effortlessly charming self, and polite to all the ladies with whom he danced, the flirtatious glances and touches were reserved for her. Only when she saw him dance with Seonaid did she feel a prickle of something resembling jealousy. Maybe she hadn’t forgotten about that kiss as much as she thought she had.

But she quickly realized she had no cause. The shield of untouchability that separated him from the rest of the world had been erected again. It had been gone for so long, she’d almost forgotten what it was like. But he didn’t use it with her. She alone had broken through.

By the time the candelabra were lit, she couldn’t wait for the feast to be over and the night to begin. She intended to make him pay for his teasing.

But Gregor didn’t make her wait. Not long after she’d seen him dancing with Seonaid, he came up behind her when she was talking to John and murmured “wine” in her ear.

She didn’t need to ask what he meant. Out of the corner
of her eye, she saw him slip past the partition to the corridor that led to the small room where the wine was stored.

Her pulse raced with anticipation. She could almost smell the pungent, musty smell of the casks now. She could practically feel his lips on her neck, his skin against hers, the heat and hardness of his body …

They would have to be quick if they didn’t want anyone to miss them. But somehow the hurriedness only heightened the anticipation.

She waited what she hoped was a sufficient amount of time before slipping out after him.

She’d gone only a few feet, however, before she heard someone behind her and turned. She tensed, her body instinctively bracing her for what was sure to be an unpleasant confrontation.

“There you are, Caitrina,” Seonaid said innocently, as if the meeting were by chance.

Cate looked behind her, surprised to see that she was without her trusty handmaidens. “Were you looking for me, Seonaid?” She smiled sweetly. “I’m surprised you did not see me. I was seated at the head table next to the laird.”

Cate had to admit, seeing the flush of anger on the face of the woman whose jeers and cruel barbs had tormented her over the years gave her a distinct moment of girlish satisfaction. But it was soon replaced by regret. She couldn’t let Seonaid get to her like this. Cate wasn’t mean-spirited and petty.

At least not usually. But something about the other woman brought out the worst in her. Seonaid’s taunts, her verbal jabs, her condescension and disdain, reminded Cate of her childhood and the nameless bastard she’d been—the girl who’d been so desperate to find a place in a world that looked down on her. A place that had been so much worse when the man she’d idolized left her.

Every time Seonaid looked at her, she felt like she was seeing the little no one who desperately wanted to be someone.
She felt like the five-year-old who’d donned a pretty dress and believed she could be a princess.

It made her want to lash out. Made her want to gloat and descend to that same unpleasant level that Seonaid trod upon.

But Cate didn’t need to gloat. She didn’t need to prove herself to anyone. She’d won Gregor because of who she was on the inside. Not because the man who’d sired her was a king—she still couldn’t believe the handsome young earl who’d sat on the rush-covered dirt floors of her mother’s cottage and played games with her was king!—or because of her beauty, her feminine wiles, or the size of her breasts.

She gritted her teeth. She would be gracious even if it killed her. In a much nicer voice, she added, “Can I help you with something, Seonaid?”

“I underestimated you,” the other woman said, her eyes sparking malevolently. She gave Cate a long look, her gaze traveling down her velvet gown—the green one—and up again. “You obviously knew what you were doing when you said you would get him to marry you.”

Cate stiffened. “I didn’t say that!”
Did I?
She bit her lip. “Well, that’s not what I meant.”

Seonaid drew back in surprise at her protest. “What else could you mean? Your words were very clear. You said you could get the handsomest man in Scotland to marry you, even if you had to trap him. You sounded very determined and sure of yourself. Weren’t your parting words something like, ‘If you don’t think I can do it, you are wrong’?”

Cate cringed. Dear lord, had she really said that? It sounded so … ugly.

Seonaid might not have all her words exactly right—Cate had never spoken of trapping him—but she’d gotten the gist well enough.

“So how did you do it?” Seonaid continued. “Did you strip naked and crawl into his bed so that he was forced to marry you?”

Cate’s cheeks flushed hotly—guiltily? It wasn’t like that. She’d had a nightmare, and it had just … happened.
Because you touched him intimately when he tried to leave. You wanted to force his hand. You wanted to seduce him
. But not to trap him, only to prove that he cared about her; she hadn’t been thinking of marriage.

But had a part of her known that would be the result?

The blood drained from her face. No! She couldn’t let Seonaid do this to her. “Of course not!” she protested. “How dare you insinuate anything so duplicitous! What is between Gregor and me is none of your business!”

But Seonaid latched on to her twinge of guilt like a dog to a meaty bone. “You did! I knew there had to be an explanation. Why else would Gregor MacGregor even look at someone like you?” Her gaze dropped to Cate’s chest, and her lip curled. “Unless you have more under there than I thought.”

Someone like you …
 The disdain in the other woman’s tone made something inside Cate snap. She wouldn’t be put on the defensive. Not by someone like Seonaid. “Why someone like me? Maybe because he finds me attractive on the inside as well as the outside. Maybe because I have more to offer than perfectly coiled golden curls and big breasts.” Cate returned every bit of her disdain. “You might try not being so
obvious
. That dress leaves very little to the imagination. Some men like a little mystery in what they are getting—especially when there is little else to offer.”

Seonaid gasped. Her eyes hardened to ice. “You pretend to be so high and mighty, but you are the one who had to trick a man into marrying you. Had I been willing to sink so low—”

“You would have found yourself alone in bed,” Cate snapped. She was so furious, she wasn’t even listening to herself. All she could think of was that for the first time, she didn’t have to take the other woman’s taunts. She
didn’t have to feel less. “You are deluding yourself if you think differently. You know what your problem is? You’re jealous. You can’t stand to think that the girl who wasn’t good enough to be your friend could have won the man you wanted for yourself.” She took a step toward her. “But I did win, Seonaid. He doesn’t want you, he wants
me
, and you are just going to have to accept that.”