Catriona’s Secret Page 5

  “I would never hurt you,” he said with all the sincerity of his soul.

  She looked away. “I know.”

  “Never,” he repeated. “In fact, I would kill any person who ever hurt you.”

  Her eyes shot back to his and went wide. She quickly covered her expression with the flash of a smile. “Only if I didn’t kill them first,” she boasted.

  “Sir Geordie.” Lord Werrick made his way to them at a clipped pace. He cast an apologetic look toward Cat. “I must speak with him immediately.”

  “Of course.” She held out her hand to clasp forearms with Geordie, departing the way a warrior would. “I’m off to see to Leila. I told her I would assist her with some of her herbs.”

  Geordie held her arm for a moment longer than necessary, hesitant to let her go. “I’ll find you when I’m done.”

  She nodded and drew away from him. He forced his gaze to Lord Werrick, lest he fixate on the swaying of her well-shaped bottom in those fitted trews as she departed.

  “Sir Geordie.” The Earl of Werrick held out a sealed letter. “A runner has arrived with a missive for you from the king.”

  Geordie accepted the sealed parchment with a readiness he did not feel. He’d had almost no time with Cat. He needed a post, aye, but he had not expected to get one so soon, especially since he knew what a king’s summon would most likely mean. More war. More fighting. More killing. More turning a blind eye to the terrible things the king ordered his men to do to the innocent people of the villages they attacked.

  And, of course, more time away from Cat.

  The smile on Lord Werrick’s face, however, was one of pride. Like a father watching his son receiving an honor from their sovereign. The affection on the older man’s face touched Geordie and left him grateful to have returned to Werrick Castle. It was more of a home than he had realized.

  “Go on then, lad.” The earl rocked back on his heels. “The message was delivered with such decorum that it could only contain good tidings.”

  Geordie broke the wax seal and opened the missive. He read it once. Twice. Both times with incredulity.

  “What is it?” Lord Werrick tilted his chin to peer at the text.

  “The king wishes to hold a feast in honor of me and the men I fought with.” Geordie handed the missive to Lord Werrick, wanting the older man to confirm what had been written.

  The earl took the letter, skimmed it and shook his head. “Nay, my boy. He doesn’t do this to honor the men you fought with. It’s all for you and you alone.” The older man’s brows lifted. “What did you do to earn such an honor from the king?”

  Geordie shrugged even as the memory pressed in on him, the swing of his blade, the enemy as they fell one by one, the gilded armor he neared, focusing with every element of his being. Save the king.

  “What I was trained to do, my lord,” Geordie replied.

  The earl surprised him with a chuckle. “Your humility was always part of your charm.”

  Geordie clasped his hands in front, embarrassed at the praise. “Thank you, my lord.”

  The earl put a hand to Geordie’s shoulder and gently squeezed. “I assume you are of a mind to accept this immense honor from the king.”

  Geordie nodded. He would be a fool to decline. And if the king were indeed willing to honor him in such a way, mayhap an income and land would accompany it. He would have everything he had wanted to be worthy of Cat, even sooner than anticipated.

  It was on the tip of his tongue to tell the Earl of Werrick then and there of his desire to wed Cat, in order to obtain permission. But he did not know what honor the king would bestow upon him, apart from the feast. If the king gave him nothing more than a fine toast, Lord Werrick would feel compelled to compensate for Geordie’s lack of income.

  Nay, Geordie would wait. And hope to God he would be granted everything he needed to make an offer for Cat’s hand in marriage.

  Cat curled her arms over her stomach and stopped in an alcove to catch her breath. A feat nearly impossible to do when her heart thundered so hard in her chest.

  What had possessed her to have been so protective? In all the years of sparring with Geordie, he had never struck her. He’d never even come close. Yet, when his fist neared her stomach, every nerve in her body shot to high alert and all she could think was to protect the babe in her belly.

  It was foolish. She hadn’t even felt a quickening yet to confirm she was indeed with child.

  But she was with child. Wasn’t she?

  The question buzzed around in her mind like a bee driven into a frenzy with uncertainty. Except that every time she thought she might not be, she felt as though she was trying to convince herself of something she didn’t truly believe.

  She put her head in her hands and tried to quell the guilt squeezing at her insides. Poor Geordie. His wounded expression had told her exactly how her actions had made him feel. She would apologize to him later.

  Bolstered by her decision to make it all right, she forced herself upright. After a quick change in her room into a kirtle, she made her way to Leila’s small hut.

  With the rest of their sisters married and gone, and Geordie having been on campaign, Cat and Leila had become closer than ever. Though Cat had never had an interest in medicinal herbs or healing, she found herself spending more and more time in the sweet-smelling hut.

  She opened the door and found Leila inside, a basket of fresh herbs at her side and a ball of twine on the other. She furrowed her brows in silent question at Cat’s early arrival.

  “Father wanted to speak with Geordie,” Cat said by way of explanation. “Again.” She tried to keep the bitterness from her voice.

  “I don’t think it’s anything you need to worry over.” Leila snipped off a bit of twine and drew several similar herbs from the basket.

  Cat pursed her lips and considered her sister. One never knew if Leila’s words were simply conversational reassurance, or if they were the telling of a vision.

  Leila saw things others did not, events that would transpire in the future. However, she was hesitant to share them, as her visions were often difficult to discern. She didn’t know when something would happen, only that it would come to pass. And she could not provide specific details, nor could she see all events.

  The entirety of it seemed very confusing and rather frightening, if Leila’s screaming dreams were any indication. In truth, Cat hated that her sister had such abilities. At times, it made Leila pull away from the family, people who loved her more than life itself. But even while Cat feared it made Leila feel as though she did not belong, she had never been sure how to approach her youngest sister about it, nor how to press her for more information on her visions.

  Instead, Cat took her place opposite Leila at the long table and picked through the herbs to pluck out several stalks of basil. The supple plants were still warm from the sun, picked at the perfect time of day when the dew had dried from their tender leaves. Their pleasant scent rose to meet her.

  “These are so fragrant,” she exclaimed. “All the herbs have held such a stronger smell lately. Have you done something new to the soil?”

  Leila regarded her quietly for a moment before binding the bit of twine around the base of the herbs, a leafy variety Cat was unfamiliar with. “Have you still been unwell since your return from court?”

  “I am feeling better,” Cat replied. It wasn’t exactly a lie. She’d only vomited once that morning, whereas the day before she’d purged twice.

  Leila cast her a skeptical glance. “You didn’t ask for willow’s bark this month.” She tied the twine into a firm knot.

  Cat shook out the basil to ensure no bugs remained and arranged the five sprigs on the wooden tabletop. Any more in the bundle and the herbs might molder as they hung to dry.

  Willow bark.

  From the first time onwards, Cat suffered terrible pains through her monthly courses. As soon as Leila had learned of the discomfort, she’d set to work creating a tincture made from w
illow bark with a bit of chamomile. No doubt she’d had it prepared in advance, and Cat had never asked for it.

  Cat licked her suddenly dry lips.

  “You don’t want to bundle those for hanging.” Leila nodded toward the basil as she tied a small linen bag over the herbs she had bound together, to keep out the vermin as it dried. “The basil has too much water in it and will rot if it’s hung. Best to dry those in the sun.” She twisted her lips in thought. “I have seen something of you recently.”

  The air in the small hut went thin. Cat’s head spun. “Have you?”

  “Aye, but I do not believe I need the sight for what I already suspect.” Leila cast a solemn glance at Cat. “You’ve been ill, and I do not believe you’ve gotten your courses. Regardless of having been so ill, your cheeks are rosy with good health and your sense of smell has gotten stronger. I suspect you have also been sensitive.”

  She glanced to Cat’s breasts where they squeezed against the neckline of her gown. Almost none of her gowns fit over her swollen bosom anymore.

  Cat’s cheeks burned. She abandoned the stalks of basil and crossed her arms over her chest to hide her breasts. Her panic could not be so easily shoved aside. It rushed over her in icy waves of fear.

  If anyone found out she was with child, they would tell Marin, and their poor eldest sister would be crushed. How unfair that Cat would have a fertile womb after one brief dalliance, while Marin had been trying for nigh on eight years for a babe without success.

  Leila’s lashes swept low as she focused on the bundled herbs on the table. “There is life growing inside you, Cat.” She lifted her gaze slowly, a haze of pain set in her deep blue eyes. “An unwanted life.”

  It was the first time Cat’s fears had been discussed with any other person. Somehow the terrible truth being vocalized laid bare her shame, open and vulnerable for judgment.

  A sob escaped Cat, harsh and unbidden. Leila was there in an instant, wrapping her slender arms around her, shushing gently in a tone that was reminiscent of Marin’s, as were the careful circles rubbed against Cat’s back.

  “You can’t tell Marin.” Cat pushed away and stared at Leila in desperation. “She wants a child so fiercely that I worry this will destroy her.”

  Cat didn’t have to ask if Leila agreed with her suspicion. The truth of it was written on the youngest sister’s face in the painful gleam in her eyes.

  Not that Marin would ever allow herself to show it, but Cat’s pregnancy, so quickly brought on and so unwanted, would cause Marin great hurt.

  “Sir Gawain, I presume,” Leila muttered bitterly.

  Cat looked away, too ashamed to bring herself to answer.

  “What will you do?”

  Cat shook her head. “I’m not certain. Ella has invited me back to court to meet Lord Loughton’s son, but I could never bring myself to try to pass off another man’s babe to a man who wished to marry me.”

  Leila nodded sagely. “But no one need know that.”

  Cat regarded her sister curiously.

  “Going to court will get you away from Werrick Castle where Marin would otherwise hear of your delicate state.” Leila glanced at the stack of freshly gathered herbs. “Of course, we could also make you a tea…”

  “Nay.” Cat shook her head vehemently before she even realized what she was doing.

  Leila’s first suggestion, however, was a strong one. Cat could claim to want to meet Lord Loughton’s son and get away without anyone knowing. She could find someone to take her child.

  A sudden thought struck her. Mayhap Sir Gawain would want the child, especially if it was a boy. Or perhaps he would know what to do, how to help.

  “I think I know what I will need to do,” Cat said as the plan began to take form. “I will do as you’ve suggested: go to court and use meeting Lord Loughton’s son as my excuse for wanting to visit.”

  Geordie’s sheepish smile flashed in her mind as soon as she spoke the words. It would hurt him to know she was allowing a man from court to pursue her.

  Except that he had just recently vowed to kill any man who hurt her. Cat’s stomach roiled as she recalled Sir Gawain and that awful, awful night.

  If Geordie knew of it, surely, he would kill Sir Gawain. And be punished for it. He would lose everything he had earned: his knighthood, his honor. And that was if he was lucky. Most likely, he would even lose his life.

  Cat clenched her hands into fists, resolute in her decision that he never find out what happened. He had worked too hard to be stripped of everything he had achieved.

  Meeting Lord Loughton’s son would also discourage Geordie’s affections. And while that understanding broke Cat’s heart, she knew it to be necessary.

  The mistake had been hers and she would have to be the one to make it right. Even if it cost her greatly to do so.

  6

  Geordie pushed through the door of the solar where he suspected he might find Cat. There she was, sitting on the lushly padded bench by the window with sunlight bathing her in gold. Her gaze was fixed on something on the other side of the window, her expression somber, a slight downcast to her mood.

  Aye, she still smiled as readily, laughed as loudly, and yet there had been something under the surface. He’d seen it in flashes when most weren’t looking, the sparkle that winked out for little moments at a time as she went somewhere unpleasant in her mind. If he didn’t know her so well, he might not have ever seen it.

  But he knew Cat better than any person in all of Christendom, and there was definitely something amiss.

  She didn’t look up as he entered. Instead, she stared out through the distorted glass to the tops of the trees in the small orchard below, lost in thoughts he wished to know.

  He approached her slowly to as not to frighten her and stared too out the window to those familiar trees below. They’d played in those very orchards in their youth, finding crisp apples to sink their teeth into and laughing at one another’s expressions as the bitter juice crumpled their faces. They’d climbed those sturdy branches and had run about in a silly hiding game they’d both enjoyed.

  Cat turned abruptly toward him and her despondent expression came back to life at once, like a burnt-out wick being relit. “What are you grinning about?”

  “Thinking about the orchard and all the good times we used to have there.” He leaned against the stone wall across from her.

  She gave a little laugh. “We did have a jolly time. Remember the time we wanted to start our own orchard so we could sell the apples at market?”

  Geordie joined her mirth. “We wanted the seeds but didn’t want to waste the fruit and Nan wouldn’t let us use the press for making cider. We must have eaten about fifteen apples each.”

  “They were so sour.” Cat’s eyes crinkled with mirth. “We had such stomach aches. And Isla gave us something made with heifer’s piss that we were too scared to try.”

  “I think I’d still be too scared to try it.”

  “I know I am.” Cat peered up at him. “Though you don’t strike me as being afraid of anything. You’ve always been brave.”

  He scoffed. The scrawny boy she’d known had been afraid of the world. He was afraid of the Earl of Werrick changing his mind and killing him; he was afraid that his father might someday find him and drag him away; he was afraid something would happen to Cat and he would be alone forever. Aye, he’d had many fears.

  “It’s true.” She smoothed her hand over the sides of her kirtle, a nervous action he’d not seen before from her. “You never showed fear, even when you thought my father would kill you. Remember when I fell from the rafters when we got it in our heads to climb them once?” Her eyes lifted to the painted ceiling above them. “You caught me, and you didn’t even seem frightened.”

  He remembered that moment all too well. The impact had knocked the breath from him, and he’d nearly fallen with her. He’d been so weak then, all bones and flesh, that he was surprised he hadn’t dropped her. But he’d held tight to her with ever
y thread of determination in his body and by some miracle, he had remained upright with her locked securely in his skinny arms. It’d been worth the effort for the way she’d looked at him then, like he was the greatest hero in all the world.

  He sank onto the seat beside her now and met her gaze. “I will always make sure you are safe.”

  She pressed her lips together and didn’t reply.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “‘Tis nothing.”

  “Tell me, Cat, please.” He gently touched her face, turning her toward him. The night before, it had been so easy to allow himself to be intimately close with her, with wine in his veins and the mask of night shielding them. Now though, in the light of day, the move was bold.

  He stroked the pad of his thumb across her chin. “Something has been bothering you since I arrived. What is it?”

  She swallowed.

  “You used to tell me everything.” He let his hand slowly fall away. “I am still the same Geordie. You can still trust me.”

  “In time.” But the slip of her gaze from his told him the light promise was a lie.

  He hoped it wasn’t though, that she would in time trust him as she had before.

  He hadn’t wanted to say anything about the king as of yet. But more than wanting to surprise her once he was bestowed his honors from the king, he needed to reassure her. “The king has sent me a missive, summoning me to court for a feast he wishes to have in my honor.”

  Cat immediately turned toward him, the light back in her eyes. “Geordie, that’s astounding.”

  “I expect him to at least offer a commission, if not give me land.” He tried to keep the note of pride from his voice.

  “I’m so pleased for you.” She clasped his hands in hers. By the light of day, he could make out her nails—all bitten to the quick.

  He was right. Something was amiss. He was glad now for telling her about the king’s honor. She would know he was a strong warrior, that he was capable.

  “Any issue you are facing, I will be in a better position to help you,” Geordie said. “I’ll always protect you, Cat.”