Catriona’s Secret Page 7

  Despite the pleasure of Marin’s hands, a needle of unease worked its way into Cat’s awareness. “Aye,” Cat said again. “Lord Loughton is quite wealthy, and a baron. His son would be a good match for me.”

  “That’s what Father has said,” Marin confirmed. “And it’s what you want?”

  Cat was glad she faced away from Marin, so her older sister would not see through the hurt of her lie. “I do. I’d like a husband who will be at court, so that I may stay there more often as well. Like Ella sometimes does.”

  “This comes as a surprise to me, I confess.” Marin spoke slowly, and with apparent care. “I’d often thought you would one day wed Geordie.”

  Cat’s face crumpled in pain. “Oh, Geordie?” She forced a laugh, something light and airy and detached from the agony clawing inside her chest. “He’s only ever been just a friend.”

  “I see.” Marin brushed her fingers through Cat’s hair in contemplative silence.

  What had once been soothing was now unbearable. Cat wanted to sit forward, to pull herself from Marin’s repeated petting. Each pass of her hand over Cat’s scalp dug into her skull and made it nearly impossible to think.

  “I believe,” Marin began before tapering off.

  Cat used the pause in Marin’s statement to turn around and regard her sister. Marin’s mouth pressed together, her expression one of regret.

  “What is it?” Cat edged closer to her older sister, closer to the comforting scent of lavender. Everything in her wanted to curl into Marin’s lap as she’d done when she was a child, when the ache of their mother’s loss had been greater than Cat could bear.

  Marin pressed her lips together before taking a deep breath and trying again. “I think Geordie is in love with you.”

  Her admission was a twist to the dagger already lodged in Cat’s heart.

  Marin met her gaze solemnly. “I believe he always has been. I would caution you to bear that in mind as you travel with him on your way to seek marriage with another. He is quiet, I know, but I believe there is great sensitivity within him.”

  Cat knew well of his sensitivities, for he had never been quiet with her. Though he’d made mention of it only several times in their lives, she knew the rejection he’d suffered at his father’s abandonment.

  Cat clenched her hands so hard, it pained her fingertips where the nails had been bitten down to the tender pink skin beneath. She could only nod for fear her voice would tremble if she tried to speak. His affection for her had always been apparent; after all, they had both always cared for each other. But she had never realized the true depth of his feelings.

  She had not even realized the true depth of her own feelings for him. It hit her now, powerful and poignant and altogether too late.

  If he saved her, he would lose everything. She could never let him know how very much she loved him. It was far too dangerous.

  8

  A sennight later, they were ready to depart for the Palace of Westminster. Though to Geordie, the time had flown by so quickly with preparations, it’d seemed like only two days.

  As he’d only recently journeyed to Werrick Castle, that made the preparation much more time-consuming. His horse, a black destrier he’d named Bentley, needed to be reshod, as well as receive plenty of rest. Everything else Geordie owned had to be thoroughly scrubbed, with all the iron bits well-oiled.

  Their small traveling party would only require two additional soldiers for security as they were going through England. Especially in light of Catriona’s ability to protect herself.

  Cat.

  Though he’d only seen her at meals, and the rest of the time they’d both been preoccupied with their own preparations, she had consumed his thoughts. Mayhap he ought to leave her to the baron’s son, but there was a part of him somewhere deep and certain that knew she loved him as well. It was in the way she’d looked at him, how she kissed him, how she held him. She was not indifferent to his affection.

  He waited now for her in the bailey with two of Drake’s best soldiers at his side. When at last she exited the castle, she captivated him wholly and completely. She wore her hair pulled back in a single braid like a long, golden rope tossed over her shoulder. Her green gown was of soft wool that made her look like something the faeries of Scotland might dream up to tempt a man to his death.

  Her new lady’s maid followed behind her; a woman who had been recommended by the laundress from her own staff. She would travel with them, more for safeguarding Cat’s virtue than anything else. Cat and her sisters had never had much need for the assistance of a lady’s maid when they had been there to help one another.

  Geordie approached Cat and bowed. “We are fortunate to have pleasant weather to start us on our journey.”

  She lifted her gaze toward the sky as he straightened and closed her eyes to bask in the sun’s warmth. He wanted to kiss her like that, unexpected but tender, gently cradling her jaw with his fingertips while he lowered his mouth to hers. Like before.

  “You will both be missed.” Marin stepped forward and hugged first Cat, then Geordie. She would be departing soon after them, having finished her assistance with the estate matters Lord Werrick had asked her to stay for.

  “Keep her safe at court,” Marin said to Geordie as she hugged him. “There is much about this plan I do not trust.”

  Geordie nodded, of the same mindset but unable to speak further on it, as he found himself clasping arms with Lord Werrick. The older man gave a confident nod, his mouth curled in a half smile. “You’ll do very well, Sir Geordie. I look forward to when next we meet.”

  Lord Werrick cast his gaze to Cat and his face softened with paternal affection.

  Geordie shifted away to give them their privacy and made his way to Drake. Of all the soldiers at Werrick Castle, Geordie wished Drake would be the one accompanying them. Not only for the companionship, but for the opportunity for Drake to be presented at court, to have a chance to make an impression outside of prejudice. Drake deserved a knighthood more than anyone, even if his blood was half Scot.

  “Remember, lad.” Drake lifted his dark gaze toward Geordie. “Ye’re a knight. Ye do first and foremost what is best for your lady.” A muscle worked in his jaw. “Even if it isna the easiest choice to make, aye?”

  Geordie nodded solemnly. “Thank you, Drake.”

  They said farewell as soldiers often do: with a hard clap on one another’s backs.

  Leila was the last to bid farewell with a tender embrace. “There is more to Cat than she wishes you to know,” she whispered before pulling away.

  She watched him in that quiet, knowing way of hers, not divulging anything more than the obscure reference to a premonition that might come to pass. He tried to hide his wary expression and apparently did a poor job, because she gave an apologetic shrug as if to say she understood exactly how frustrating her gift could be.

  Geordie aided Cat onto her horse, a brown courser she’d named Star for the patch of white on his flat forehead. She watched Geordie climb atop his own horse and smiled at the beast.

  “That is a fine destrier.” She reached over to stroke her fingers over Bentley’s glossy black neck. The horse remained stoic.

  “He was a gift from Sir John Howard, once he saw my skill with the longbow.” It had been after the Battle of Cadzand, a decimation of the Flemish by the English, mainly due to their use of longbows. Geordie had led many of the men, instructing them through the battle. Sir John had claimed they won because of Geordie and gifted him the horse. The praise hadn’t settled well with Geordie, but to refuse the gift would have caused offense.

  “You have always been good with the bow.” Cat shifted her gaze from the horse to Geordie.

  “Not as good as you.”

  She waved her hand dismissively. “Do not discount your own skills. You are exceptional.” A flush colored her cheeks and she returned her attention to the destrier. “What is his name?”

  Geordie couldn’t help but grin. The only reason he’d gi
ven the beast a name was because he knew she would ask him for it one day. “Bentley.”

  She repeated the horse’s name and nodded approvingly. “It fits him.”

  As they spoke, Cat’s maid, Freya, was helped onto her horse by Peter, who pressed his lips to the back of her hand in a gesture clearly meant to be discreet. The two soldiers who would accompany their party mounted their steeds as well. The taller, more rigid of the two was Eldon, who had been trained with an axe the same time as Geordie and Cat when they were all children. The other was Drake’s most trusted soldier, Durham, whose wild dark hair and beard gave him a savage appearance that his friendly blue eyes did not match.

  Together, they waved one final farewell to the people of Werrick Castle and departed the bailey. The sun shone brilliantly in the cloudless sky above. If they were fortunate, the weather would hold for the better part of their journey.

  “What do you enjoy the most about being on the open road, Geordie?” Cat asked, once they had entered the great stretch of rolling green hills. Her expression was wistful, reminiscent of the days they spent on their backs, gazing up at the clouds drifting in a sea-blue sky.

  “Your letters,” he answered without pause. Heat crept over his face at his own honesty.

  But she did not rebuke him the foolish reply. She did exactly as the Cat from his childhood would have: she fixed her gaze on him with a caring smile.

  “Truly?” she asked. “Did they mean so much to you?”

  “Aye. I kept them all.” He flicked a shy gaze her way and was rewarded with the radiance of her unrestrained joy.

  “I tried to make them as detailed as possible for you.” She lifted her shoulders in a shrug, but her eyes sparkled.

  “I could tell. I liked it.” He led the party down the long path departing from Werrick Castle, following a trail he’d traveled many times in his life from battles and leaving on campaign. Either he’d been departing with trepidation, hoping it would not be the last time he saw Cat, or returning with elation to see her once more.

  Now, riding together might be the most perilous of all. For he had only weeks to woo Cat before she met Lord Loughton’s eldest son. She was not contracted, nor even being courted. It was well within his code of morals to win her heart before another could steal it away.

  Cat tried to hide her pleasure at Geordie’s admission of having enjoyed her missives. She’d described all the events of Werrick Castle, speaking to him through ink. It had been easy as the words flowed in her head, as though he was there with her.

  The hardest part had been when the letter was finished, and the flood of loneliness resonated within her. She had her sisters, of course, but they were not the same as Geordie.

  They hadn’t been able to speak much as they prepared to leave in the past sennight. She’d missed their talks. She’d missed him.

  “Tell me of your travels,” Cat encouraged. “I want to know about the places you went, the visits you had to court, the times you won the battle for the king. Mayhap even the ladies you wooed.”

  The last question was like ash in her mouth. Color worked up in Geordie’s cheeks, even as she wanted to squirm in her saddle. She’d meant it as a way to seed the suggestion that he might find someone else rather than her. He needed a woman who wouldn’t destroy his life, a woman who had not lost her future with one stupid mistake.

  Except that the words had felt awkward and forced as they passed her lips.

  Why, why, why had she gone with Sir Gawain that night?

  It was a question she asked herself many times over, and it was one that had many answers.

  She hadn’t been to court since she was a girl, and she’d been swept away by the grandeur of it, as though she were no longer Lady Catriona Barrington but some faraway princess, like in the books Ella had written. After a lifetime on the English-Scottish border with naught but her sisters and her people around her, it was the only time men had ever flattered her.

  Sir Gawain had made her feel important, wanted. His flattery had been blatant and his requests for kisses smooth and enticing. Every protest she’d offered had been met with another form of persuasion until her head spun and she’d felt foolish for declining.

  “What is it, Cat?” Geordie asked.

  She glanced up, startled from the dark pull of her awful thoughts. He’d edged his horse closer to hers and regarded her with a concerned expression.

  “’Tis nothing.” She smiled at him and gave a little embarrassed laugh at being caught up in her own thoughts.

  “I believe it may be something.” He lifted his hand, then stayed it. “You’re crying.”

  She touched her cheek where her fingertips met a tear. “The sun is so very bright today, is it not?” She squinted up at the sky in demonstration, but Geordie did not appear convinced.

  “Cat…” He held her gaze for a long moment. “I’m always here for you.”

  A knot of emotion immediately lodged in her throat, thick and aching. Now she did want to cry. To know he was there to talk to, the way she’d always done, except she could not. How could she possibly confess what she had done?

  She swallowed down her tears and shook her head, unable to even speak.

  “Did I tell you about the first time I saw a man try to shoot an arrow at a target?” Geordie asked abruptly.

  Cat grinned in spite of herself, knowing a new story was imminent. Most likely one that had not been in a letter.

  “He did well enough.” Geordie shrugged and did not appear impressed. “And I told him I knew a woman who could shoot from four times that distance and hit the center of the target every time. He didn’t believe me, of course.”

  Cat laughed, grateful beyond words for Geordie. He’d always done this, switching topics to something distracting when she was upset.

  He proceeded to talk through the day, filling her mind with his stories of soldier’s camps and rigorous training and the many places he’d visited between battles. As late afternoon descended on them, he sent Durham ahead to act as a harbinger.

  As the sun sank, they were securely within their rooms with the smell of a savory stew floating up through the floorboards along with the sounds of conversation and laughter. Her new lady’s maid put her attention to Cat once the room was comfortably prepared.

  “Are ye certain ye’re no’ tired, my lady?” Freya’s young brow crinkled beneath her dark-haired widow’s peak.

  Cat shook her head. “Nay, I assure you. You needn’t be so overly concerned with me. I am used to caring for myself.”

  Freya nodded and pressed her lips together, evidentally wanting to say more.

  “What is it?” Cat asked.

  Freya’s gaze slid away.

  “Please,” Cat implored. “You are my maid, aye, but I’ve never truly had one, with the exception of my recent visit to court and the need for help with the more elaborate hairstyles. I’d prefer you not be cautious with everything you say and do.”

  The woman nodded slowly, still reserved with apparent trepidation. “I…” She took a deep breath. “I’m merely concerned for yer well-being, my lady.”

  Her wording took Cat aback. “My well-being?”

  “’Twas my job to take the sheets and personal items from the rooms at Werrick Castle, to see them washed and returned.” Freya’s slender form twisted from one side to the other with obvious discomfort. “I’ve been doing it for nigh on six months, my lady. I notice things others dinna.”

  Cat swallowed, understanding now. Personal linens and bedsheets that had been monthly stained with blood would no doubt be apparent in a household with only two ladies. Especially when oftentimes those linens had been used to clean up the sickness each morning.

  Freya met her gaze. “I am concerned about ye, my lady,” she said in a soft voice that would not travel outside the room. “For I suspect ye’re with child.”

  9

  Cat made her way down the stairs of the inn on shaking legs with Freya at her side. The lady’s maid had promised she
wouldn’t share Cat’s secret with a soul. Indeed, the young woman had even offered her own confession of being in love with Werrick’s Master of the Horse, Peter—a man rumored to have vowed to never give his heart away. And yet, he apparently had shyly admitted to feeling deeper for her than any other woman ever before and she had been left with a hope she did not want shattered.

  Not that Cat was truly worried Freya would betray her, though sharing her own heartfelt secret had been considerate. It was the act of Cat confessing her shame to the young woman, admitting aloud her horrible mistake.

  But there was more. As Cat had been going through her small bag of close personal effects, some sewing materials, a book Ella had written, and several other various items, Cat had come across an unexpected item wrapped in linen. It was so small; she’d nearly missed where it lay tucked in the bottom corner of her bag.

  She’d unwrapped the parcel to reveal a vial filled with liquid. She pulled the stopper free and was hit with a sharp mint odor that she immediately recognized: pennyroyal. Leila had presented her with one final chance to remove the child from her womb.

  While Cat did not intend to use the gift, neither could she bring herself to throw the vial out. And so, there it remained, rewrapped in the linen and tucked carefully back into her bag.

  She paused at the base of the stairs and searched through the crowd of patrons and servants to find Geordie. She spotted him easily near the hearth with the other two soldiers from Werrick Castle.

  “There they are, my lady.” Freya took a step to lead Cat through the crowd to where the men gathered.

  Cat gently put a hand out to stop her. “A moment, please.”

  She studied Geordie from across the room. He was of similar height to the many other male patrons, except for his battle-hewn body, which was evident beneath his tunic. The broad shoulders he’d always had in his youth had filled out with masculine strength. Lines of muscle even showed on his throat as he spoke with Eldon and Durham.