Suzanne Barclay - Taming The Lion

“Someone who wishes me punished.”

“I will put a guard on you and alert Adair to watch.”

“Nay.” Dora grasped Catlyn’s hand. “It would only make matters worse if they thought I had complained.”

“Very well, I will say nothing.” Directly, but she meant to spread the word that she would not tolerate such behavior.

“I am sorry I ruined things for you.”

Catlyn smiled faintly, her heart lighter than it had been in weeks. “Dora, I begin to think you did me a very great favor. For all he was my father’s foster son and lived here ten years, I realize I did not truly know Eoin. He has revealed his true nature, the charming, self-serving rogue. Had we wed, he would likely have pursued other women.” She chuckled. “And I would have been forced to cut out his cheating heart.”

Dora managed a watery smile. “Thank you for not turning me out. You are truly the most generous of women.” She grabbed Catlyn’s hands and kissed them.

Embarrassed, Catlyn freed her hands and patted Dora awkwardly on the shoulder. “You have amply repaid me by caring for Mama.” She looked over at her mother, who stared into the empty hearth as though it contained the secret of life.

“She will regain her senses,” Dora murmured.

“I pray you are right.” Catlyn walked over and hunkered down at her mother’s knee. “Mama, shall I read you a story?”

Her mother glanced at her and smiled brightly. “I think that’s why my Thom has stayed away so long,” she said. “Because he knows the plaid’s not mended. He’ll not come back to me till I’ve found it and set it to rights.”

“Aye, Mama,” Catlyn said softly. Her heart aching, she stood and walked toward the door.

“We must be up and looking at first light,” Jeannie said.

Dora’s reply was lost in the closing of the door, but doubtless it was something soothing.

Catlyn stood outside the room, shaking, her emotions a shambles. After a moment, she found the strength to move down the hall to her own chamber.

Why? Why had these things happened to her clan?

Father Griogair, the priest who had come over from the town of Doune to bury her father, said that God visited such hardships as these on folk as a penance for past ill deeds. If so, she was paying a very high price for having teased her brother when he was alive and tormented their tutor with her endless questions. Of course, if Eoin was to be believed, she also suffered from the sins of being cold, inflexible and indifferent to a man’s natural need for a mistress.

Did Ross Sutherland have a mistress?

Without a doubt. He was a rogue, the sort of handsome rascal who thought all women worshiped him. It would be folly to have him here, luring her maidservants into trysts in darkened corners. Oh, and he’d be good at that, Catlyn thought, shivering as she recalled what it was like to be the focus of his searing blue eyes.

He made a woman, even one as cautious as herself, feel as though she were the most important creature on earth. It was all a lie, of course, an act. But she would not have him here, breaking hearts.

Through the slits between the window shutters, Ross watched Catlyn make her exit. How lonely and sad she looked, he thought, her shoulders bowed, her steps slow.

He transferred his gaze to Catlyn’s mother. Clearly the death of her husband had unhinged Lady Jeannie’s mind. His heart contracted in an unwelcome spurt of sympathy. He tried to push it away, reminding himself he could not afford to feel anything for the lass he’d come to rob. But his own mother was dear to him, though Lady Laurel probably did not realize how much he loved her. He had disappointed both his parents with his refusal to settle down and accept the responsibilities for the estates he’d one day inherit.

The land he had lost in that drunken wager.

Just let him get back that damned note from Hakon, Ross vowed, and he would spend the rest of his life proving he was worthy of his parents’ love

“Come to bed, my lady,” murmured the maid.

Ross watched the stunningly beautiful Dora help Lady Jeannie to her feet. It was not surprising that Eoin had trysted with the maid. Doubtless he preferred her warmth to Lady Catlyn’s haughty coldness. And yet, the lady had displayed an unexpected compassion in dealing with the girl. Another piece of the puzzle that was Lady Catlyn, the puzzle he must solve if he hoped to regain his property.

Ross turned away. Stepping carefully, he moved past the window, placing his feet with great care on the narrow ledge that ran around the tower. The stone was rain slickened beneath his boots, making the adventure a bit more dangerous than he’d expected, but well worth the risk. Not only had he discovered the location of the distillery, but the scene between Lady Catlyn and Dora had provided him with important information.

Considering what he’d learned, Ross inched past the last barred window. He had no more than cleared it than the shutters were abruptly thrown open. A curse hissed between his teeth as he flattened himself against the wet stone wall of the tower.

A pair of slender hands appeared on the sill. Someone sighed, the sound filled with longing. “The air smells so fresh after a rain,” murmured Catlyn Boyd.

Ross shrank back, praying she did not lean out.

“Ye’ll catch the ague breathing in that dampness,” grumbled a rough female voice.

“I’m used to it, Ulma. Besides, I must ride out tomorrow to see if the storm flattened the barley.”

“There’s no need for ye to muck about in the muddy fields. ’Tis Eom’s job to manage the crops.”

“So it is, but Papa always checked such things himself. I also need to record the amount of rainfall in the gauge and measure the height of the crops for the book.”

The book? Ross’s ears pricked up. Did this book also contain the recipe Hakon sought?

Ulma sniffed. “Ye do too much, lass.”

“I do no more than what is required. It just takes me longer because I am new at doing some things.” She sighed again. “These days I need to be two people.”

“Well, if Eoin had not proved such a deceitful rascal, ye’d have a husband to bear part of the burden. Ye should have turned that...that bastard out the very night ye found him and—”

“Oh, I wanted to,” Catlyn said fiercely. “And Papa would have exiled him, no matter that Eoin was his foster son.” Her voice grew softer. “But once I was over the initial shock, I realized how important Eoin was to the clan, and knew we could not dispense with him to ease my pride.”

“Ye think too much of others and not enough of yerself.”

Ross heartily agreed. How many women would have put their clan’s needs above pride? Or revenge?

“Such is the way of things when you are laird, or so Papa always told Mama when she chided him for overworking.”

“True as that may be, ye’ll be fit for nothing if ye don’t get more rest,” muttered the maid. “So it’s off to bed with ye.” Work-worn hands drew Lady Catlyn inside and closed the shutters. Their voices were muffled as they moved farther into the room.

For one instant, Ross was tempted to creep over and peek between the wooden slats. Not to listen, but to look, to see if the lady’s body was as enticing unclothed as he suspected.

Wretch.

He slunk to the corner of the building, carefully worked his way around it and down the narrow end of the tower to the other long side. Midway along the wall was the window he had crawled out of a dangerous hour ago. It was still open, though no light glowed from within.

“Mathew?” Ross whispered.

“Dieu. ” His cousin appeared in the opening. He reached out, steadying Ross, guiding him over the sill. “I thought you’d either been caught or fallen.”