Love with a Scottish Outlaw Page 18

  “I regretted keeping the truth from ye, but there was nothing I could—” He stopped.

  “Nothing you could do?” she finished for him with an ugly laugh.

  “Not and protect my clan, which already suffers from stolen children, and a rash chief who got himself outlawed instead of solving their problems.”

  There was a long silence, during which she turned back to the view of the glen, arms folded over her chest.

  Stiffly, she said, “My father is dead, and my brother knows nothing about any of his crimes.”

  “And ye’re sure about your brother?” When she whirled on him, he said, “I had to ask. Although I could see for myself that your clan is at peace under your brother’s rule, and that he and his wife seem happy.”

  “My brother is a good man. He would never condone children being—” She pressed her lips together as if to master herself. “As for the whisky smuggling, I don’t know. He only just inherited the earldom a few months ago. That didn’t give you justification to steal it.”

  He leaned closer and spoke coldly. “Nay, your father’s crimes made me justified in supporting my clan any way I could.”

  They glared at each other before Duncan realized what he was doing.

  “Arguing about this makes no sense,” he said stiffly. “Ye know everything now. What do ye want to do?”

  “I want to leave!” she cried. “I want to get as far away from you and your twisted sense of honor as I can. I want to go back to my life.” Her voice wobbled, and she gave him a mutinous glare.

  “Are ye going to tell my clan everything?”

  “Of course not. They worship you,” she said sarcastically. “They wouldn’t believe you could do something like this to me deliberately. I’m a Duff—I know how they’ll look at me when they find that out. I’m the enemy.”

  “They won’t hate ye.”

  “No? You did. You had to hate me to do what you’ve done to me.”

  “I hated your father.”

  “Believe whatever lets you sleep at night.”

  “Ye cannot leave alone. Ye’re a vulnerable woman.”

  “As if I don’t have ample proof of that after how you betrayed me.”

  He took a deep breath. “I’ve regretted keeping ye here from the moment I realized ye weren’t a spy, but I couldn’t stop.”

  “A spy? What are you talking about?”

  “I’d never heard of such memory loss. Ye could have been sent here to find out everything about us, to lead your father’s men here—anything.”

  “My father would never—” And then she stopped. “I want to leave. Now. Give me supplies and a horse.”

  “Nay, I’ll not allow it.”

  “And I won’t let you run my life ever again!”

  “It has nothing to do with trying to control ye. But I won’t let ye put yourself in danger because ye’re angry with me. I’ll take ye back myself. But I cannot do it yet. There’ve been rumors of another child kidnapped, but I have no clues yet. I cannot be absent.”

  She breathed deeply, quickly, as if she would protest, but she didn’t. “I don’t want to be here,” she whispered forlornly, closing her eyes. “I want to go home.”

  He said nothing, and hoped her good sense would win out so he didn’t have to tie her up.

  “Very well,” she said at last. “But I won’t wait long.”

  “I understand. And what will ye do at Castle Kinlochard?”

  “What business is it of yours?”

  “Do I need to evacuate the village and the cave, find another place of safety for my people when ye lead your brother to this glen?”

  She gave him a look of disdain. “Do you think I’m like you, ready to use innocent people for my revenge?”

  “I think ye’re a better person than I will ever be,” he said quietly. “But I need to make my plans.”

  “My brother will learn what you’ve done, but I’ll be too confused to lead him back here. Will that satisfy you?”

  “Aye, it’s more than I deserve.”

  For a long moment’s silence, they simply looked at each other.

  “Why are you still here?” she demanded.

  He hesitated, then said slowly, “I want to apologize for what happened in the woods.”

  Her glance was cold. “I’m not going to thank you for being decent by stopping what we did.”

  “I never meant to frighten ye, or overwhelm ye.”

  “Don’t come near me again, or so help me, my scream will let everyone know what kind of man you are.”

  He knew when he’d succumbed to his desires that it couldn’t last. But now that he’d touched her, kissed her, aroused her, those memories would never leave him.

  He took a fortifying breath. “Shall I escort ye back to the cave?”

  “Back to my prison, you mean? I hadn’t realized how much I’ve been feeling trapped there, until I followed Ivor and the clansmen.”

  “I wanted ye to feel safe, not trapped.”

  “Safe, that is laughable. I thought I was so incredibly lucky to find someone who protected me and didn’t try to take advantage of my confusion. I was such a fool.”

  The stab to his conscience was as if a sword pierced him. But he’d borne it this long, and would continue to do so until he returned Catriona to her family without betraying his clan’s secrets.

  She turned and walked away, and Duncan looked once more over the cliff. Perhaps he was just as much of a monster as her father had been.

  Chapter 15

  As Duncan left her with the women, Cat fisted her hands to stop the shaking. Sheena seemed far too aware of Cat’s stifled emotions, and it seemed to give the girl pleasure, though she quickly turned away when she saw Cat glance her way. Cat didn’t care—the girl could have Duncan.

  She felt so very alone, trapped with the knowledge of the truth, but unable—unwilling—to confide in these women, her companions these last weeks. If everyone knew she was a Duff, she’d lose their friendship, perhaps even their respect. And if she had to be with Clan Carlyle for several more days, she didn’t want to see that wariness, maybe even disdain, in their eyes.

  When Cat had been up on the cliff and seen Duncan for the first time since her revelation, she’d been a cauldron of roiling emotions. To her surprise, after the sorrow and anger had almost strangled her, it was the disappointment that lingered like a bad aftertaste. She’d trusted Duncan, had been so very vulnerable, lost, and alone with no memories—and he’d betrayed her. Deliberately, coldly, cruelly. Yes, he was a man who believed in a good cause—but his methods tarnished his motives. And she’d almost convinced herself she loved him. She shuddered.

  As she began to stir one of the cauldrons with a long stick, Cat let her thoughts wander. When she’d first gotten her wild emotions under control, she’d debated stealing a horse and riding away. But it was a long day’s journey, perhaps two, to Castle Kinlochard, and without guards and no supplies, she’d be putting herself at risk.

  And she’d be running away, something that seemed too cowardly, and easy on Duncan. He’d deserved to know what she thought of him and his betrayal. And besides, he would have figured out the truth and tracked her down. And then where would she be—tied up?

  She’d thought about revenge, too—she could have stayed silent, perhaps found out the secrets of their whisky smuggling and stopped it on behalf of her brother, or led her brother there to set a trap. But what would that have accomplished? These people needed the coin that her father and his cohorts had deprived the Carlyle clan of earning, with their chief a wanted outlaw. She knew these people now, and couldn’t deliberately hurt them. They were as innocent as she was.

  But oh, she wanted to leave. Duncan had insisted she needed an escort, as if he only wanted to protect her—ha! she thought bitterly. He wouldn’t be protecting her, but protecting his secrets, making sure she told her brother nothing that would harm his people.

  When Owen discovered the depth of their father’s sins, he w
ould feel guilty, as if he should have stopped the crimes he hadn’t known about. She felt the same way, much as her logical self argued against it.

  Did Duncan really feel any shame about what he’d done to her? After all they’d shared . . . She turned her head away from the women, as if looking into the distance, so they couldn’t see her face. The redness she could blame on heat from the cauldrons, but if she looked like she was going to cry, she’d have to explain.

  She could not forget the intimate things she’d allowed Duncan to do to her; she’d even asked him to sleep with her! She shuddered. At least he’d had some bit of decency inside him, and he’d refused. But maybe he’d forget that after a while. She’d grown up hearing that men could be uncontrollable animals when their passions were high. Not that she’d believed her mother, who looked the other way at whatever their father did, so she could continue her carefree, wealthy life. And Cat didn’t believe a man like her brother Owen, so scholarly and in control of his emotions, would ever be overcome by anything. But then she’d once glimpsed a glance he’d shared with Maggie, and the heat in it—Cat had blushed and quickly looked away. He was her brother, for heaven’s sake.

  But if passion could consume a man like Owen, then she didn’t know what might happen with Duncan. And she wasn’t going to risk finding out. She couldn’t stay alone in his chamber for another night. What if he snuck in there and tried—something? He could overpower her, he could—

  Or worse, his caresses might overtake her reason and she might very well submit. She hated to admit such a weakness, but she never lied to herself. She despised him for how he’d deceived and used her, preying on her memory loss, watching how much she struggled with it and saying nothing.

  And yet when he’d come up to the castle ruins, broad-shouldered and powerful, his dark eyes so intent as if she was the only woman in the world, she’d remembered how he’d brought her body to life, making it hum with pleasure, bringing about a little explosion of passion with just his fingers. Her body remembered, damn him. And lusted. If anyone had ever told her she could be overcome like this, she wouldn’t have believed them.

  She was not going to stay in his private chamber any longer. She needed the protection of the women around her—these women she was going to lie to. She swallowed hard.

  When they took a midday break to serve a simple meal, Cat pulled Maeve aside while the other women refilled the men’s tankards of ale from pitchers.

  Cat wet her lips and looked earnestly into her friend’s concerned eyes. “I’d like to begin sleeping in the great hall, with the rest of the women.”

  Maeve blinked at her for a moment. “Is there a problem?”

  “I don’t like being treated differently than everyone else.” True enough.

  “Himself doesn’t mind ye usin’ his chamber.”

  “I know. He’s said it over and over again, but I’m growing more uncomfortable with that. It feels like special treatment, makes it seem like there is . . . an understanding between us.”

  She hadn’t meant to say so much, but Maeve had this encouraging, sympathetic way about her.

  “And is there?” Maeve asked quietly.

  Cat let out a long breath. “There mustn’t be. Because of my . . . situation. And I’m worried that because I’m alone, we’ll both get . . . ideas.”

  Maeve nodded. “Very well. Ye’re our guest.”

  No, Cat was a captive—but Maeve didn’t know that. What would loyal Maeve, or any of the clan, think of their laird if they knew what he’d done? Cat reminded herself that she was their enemy, and they wouldn’t believe her anyway. “Thank you,” she said sincerely. “After dinner I’ll gather my things.”

  “I’ll give ye the pallet his lairdship has been usin’, and he can go back to usin’ his own.”

  Cat wanted to groan, but held it in. Wonderful. She’d be sleeping in his bed yet again. She wasn’t going to think about it.

  During the afternoon’s continuation of the laundry—and after Cat had managed to put Duncan’s saddlebag back in the cave, including the brooch, for where else could she keep it hidden?—the women began to discuss a harvest festival to be celebrated in the village the next day. Cat’s ears pricked up, and she listened carefully as they discussed attending, and the precautions of having to hide where they were coming from. They spoke with adoration of Duncan, who they felt had saved the village with the barley and other seeds he’d been able to purchase in the spring.

  Purchase with money from the sale of Duff whisky, Cat realized. She certainly wanted the price lifted off Duncan’s head, so he could help his people by legal methods. Cat wasn’t going to condemn the clan because of their chief’s method of vengeance. She wasn’t going to be like Duncan—or her father.

  But a harvest festival would be a chance to escape the cave, even if only briefly. It would remind her of her old life, where she was free to attend parties and balls, where men bowed before her rather than held her captive. But none of those men had been special to her; she had no place to call her own, to nurture. She’d have to build such a life for herself, and she couldn’t do that until she went home.

  But for now, the harvest festival would distract her. She had to figure out how to get herself invited, and convince Duncan it was safe to allow her to attend.

  Cat used Duncan’s absence to remove her clothing from his chamber, then hung them where Maeve indicated, on pegs driven into the cave wall. Sheena watched her with her mouth agape, before her expression turned triumphant.

  Ignoring her, Cat went to find Finn. She stood with her arms akimbo, blocking Finn’s escape from the great hall. “I hear the harvest festival is tomorrow. You are not attending unless you bathe.”

  The boy mutinously crossed his arms over his chest. “Nay, I’ll not. The pool is freezin’.”

  “You wouldn’t know, because it’s been so long since you’ve been in it.”

  He scowled.

  “Very well, I’ll tell Himself that you’ve chosen to stay here tomorrow.”

  She turned around, and didn’t have long to wait before Finn grumbled, “I’ll do it.”

  She hid her smile of satisfaction. It drained away when she saw Duncan enter the cave. Giving him her back, she said to Finn, “I’ll accompany you and make sure it’s done.”

  “I don’t need a nursemaid!”

  “I do believe you’ve totally ignored Maeve when she’s requested the same. I’ll make sure you actually bathe this time, rather than wash around the edges. Go find a change of clothing, and I’ll bring the soap and towels.”

  Finn stomped away and she hid a smile, in case he saw it and was offended. Normally, he was such a mild-mannered boy, that his attitude surprised her. He seemed almost afraid.

  Her hunch was correct. By the time Finn joined her in the cave pool, after carefully laying a shoe in the passageway—“Are ye certain no one will come in?” Finn kept asking—Cat felt like she could see the whites of his eyes, the way he stared so hard at the pool.

  “No one has ever bothered me,” Cat said patiently. “Isn’t the waterfall beautiful?”

  But Finn only stared at the dark pool. He crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ll not go in there.”

  Cat withheld a sigh. “You have to, Finn. You smell. This is your chance to be seen by a nice family.”

  She thought he might revolt against that part, but he ignored it altogether.

  “I cannot swim—I’ll drown!”

  “It’s not over your head, I promise. Shall I go in first and prove it to you?”

  He frowned uncertainly. “Ye’d do that?”

  “If you don’t mind seeing me in my chemise.”

  “What is a chemise?”

  “The undergarment beneath my gown. It’s as thick and sturdy as a nightshift.”

  Still looking suspicious, Finn only nodded. Cat thought he might be using any means to procrastinate, but she was willing to take the chance. Turning her back, she unlaced the bodice of the gown, set aside the stomac
her resting behind the laces, and peeled the bodice over her shoulders. After untying the laces of her skirt, she let it fall to the floor and stepped out of it. Her stays unlaced in the front, and she took a deep breath when they were gone.

  When she turned around, Finn was watching her with bewilderment. “Why do ye wear all that? Surely ’tis uncomfortable.”

  She smiled. “It is what a woman wears. I’ve spent my whole life like this.”

  “Ye remember something?” Finn asked eagerly.

  Her smile faded as once again she was confronted with the knowledge that she’d have to lie to all the friends she’d made in Clan Carlyle. When she wavered in her resolve, she imagined their reactions upon knowing it was her father who benefited from the sale of Carlyle children—who didn’t care about hurting a little boy like Finn. She felt like a coward, protecting herself. But perhaps she was also preventing strife within the clan, which might happen if they had to take sides against each other over her. And all of this was because of Duncan Carlyle and his dishonorable behavior toward her.

  For just a moment, she thought about having a measure of revenge by revealing to his people that he’d known who she was from the beginning. He deserved anything she’d do to him.

  But she looked into the sweet—but dirty—face of Finn, and knew she couldn’t destroy Clan Carlyle. That’s what might happen if they knew the truth and lost all respect for Duncan. He was lucky she was a better person than he was.

  Cat touched Finn’s chin. “Sadly, I have no new memories.” Which was true—they were old memories that kept coming back to her, scenes here and there kept popping up while she’d helped wash clothes, from the shocking time her mother had explained what men wanted on their wedding night, to the charity ball in London where she’d first realized she might be attractive enough to find a husband someday. It was as if, now that her memories were free, they tumbled over each other in a hurry to surface.

  Finn heaved a sigh. “Ye’re so brave. Tell me again how it felt to wake up and not know yourself.”

  “You’re putting off the inevitable. Into the pool we go. I’ll go first.”