Chapter 10

10

S he would have seen him but she was too busy staring at Douglas. She got caught up in his smiles and never saw Craig’s approach. And never realized until it was too late that he’d seen her mooning at the handsome stranger at the table.

“So, he lives?” Craig’s booming voice announced him to all present. She knew from years of friendship that he felt threatened, in danger, on the defensive. But why?

“Aye, Craig, he fares well. Come in, lad. Hiv ye eaten yer fill yet?” Moira opened the door the rest of the way and waved him into the room.

Craig stood staring at Douglas from across the room. Men could be such fools sometimes! His glance moved from one onto the next and onto the next, finally coming back to her mother.

“I thank ye, Moira. I hiv eaten already.”

“Then sit wi’ us a bit and meet Douglas.” Moira pulled a chair over next to the bench where she and Caitlin sat and invited Craig to sit. His face was nigh to rigid. He nodded and without saying a word sat down in it.

Douglas stood and offered his hand in greeting but Craig only nodded again. Looking confused Douglas sat down in his seat. Then the two imbeciles started glaring silently at each other in spite of her mother’s best efforts to talk to them! She decided to take this into her own hands.

“Craig, hiv ye something to say?” She fixed her gaze on him and tried out her mother’s intimidating stare. It worked, for he began to stammer out something .

“Does he ken?” Craig shifted in his seat yet again and Caitlin realized he was waiting for Douglas’s response to his part in her rescue. Oh, dear. Brave, fearless Craig looked as if ready to fight. His hand kept sliding down near his sgian-dubh, ready to draw it.

“Nay, Craig, he doesna.” Pol stood as he answered and moved closer to the two younger men. Her da was just as ready. To draw a weapon on a guest in her home was an insult to the guest and to her father. Men!

“Since you both know something I don’t, why don’t you tell me?” Douglas also shifted but stayed in his seat with his hands on the table. Stranger or not, he understood this situation.

“Douglas. The blow to yer head...” Moira interjected. “Craig was the one to deliver it.”

Anice watched as both men heard the words. She’d known, she’d seen it coming. Craig creeping quietly out of the forest, approaching Douglas from behind. Of course, at that time she had no idea who Douglas was. Only after gaining a glimpse of his face in the moonlight did she realize it. She almost felt herself slipping into another faint as she recalled Craig in those last moments as he came at Douglas from behind, cudgel raised to strike. She shivered remembering Craig’s strong arm arched up in the moon’s light.

“I didna ken ye were helping Caitlin,” Craig began, his hand still at the ready. “I thought ye were one of the MacArthurs, trespassing on our land and trying to harm her.” Craig met her gaze now and she saw the fullness of his feelings toward her. Oh, if she could only return them in kind to him.

“We were there for the same purpose?” Douglas’s voice deepened with his response. Craig nodded in answer. “Then you need not fear reprisal from me for your blow.”

Her mouth dropped open, gaping at Douglas’s easy acceptance of a near-death blow. Who could explain how their minds worked? Any other man in her family would never have accepted it with such open candor. But this was Douglas, the man in her dreams. The man of her dreams?

“Why are you surprised, Caitlin? You had passed out. I stood with weapon drawn. I’m sure Craig couldn’t tell who was the villain and who the rescuer in the dark and in the heat of the moment.” Douglas’s assessment of this was flawless but still troublesome. He wasn’t behaving as most men she knew would. Not at all.

“Aye, that’s exactly as it happened.” Craig began to relax in his chair and Pol stepped away as well. The dangerous moment seemed to have passed. “When I finally tracked ye down, Caitlin, that damned MacArthur was dragging ye backwards through the trees. I saw his”—he nodded his head in Douglas’s direction—”knife aimed for ye and hit him as soon as I reached him. ’Twasn’t until ye woke from yer faint that I kenned he was no’ an enemy like the others.”

“And when Pol brought the torch closer, I could see yer resemblance to our clan. Even some of the villagers saw it this morn when ye walked there. Is it true then? Are ye of the MacKendimens?” Craig was staring at Douglas’s face, looking for the similarity that anyone could see.

The coloring, the nose, the cheekbones were all the same. The villagers were already talking? News traveled quickly within the clan. The laird and lady must have heard it as well.

“Oh, aye, Craig. He is a distant cousin from the south but a MacKendimen by blood and by name. That much we ken.” Moira’s words were strong to stop any challenge or question. “The laird and lady will hear of it first. Attend them in the morn if ye wish to hear it for yerself.”

Her mother stood, ending the conversation. Pol reached out to Craig, shaking his hand and leading him to the door. Douglas remained at the table, looking very shaken. Caitlin leaned closer to him and touched his arm.

“What is it, Douglas? Are ye no’ well?” She reached out to feel his forehead. ’Twas a bit clammy but not hot. For a moment she thought the fever had returned.

“Those men... I had not thought of them till just now. I’m a healer—a physician—and I killed three men.” His face was ashen, his words stuttered. A groan escaped from him and he held his head in his hands. And he looked ill, truly ill.

“Nay, Douglas, ease yer worries. Ye wounded them and one gravely so. But ye didna kill any of them, though they did deserve to die.”

“I attacked without thought, without hesitation. I knew this was not a reenactment and I threw those knives trying to kill them for real.”

“Re-en-act-ment?” She let the strange word spoken not in Gaelic roll off her tongue.

“Playing a role, fake fighting...”

“Oh, like in training?”

“Yes, but made to look real.” His voice was gravelly now, she could feel his despair.

“Douglas, if ye hadna, we would both be dead, or worse.” She tried to soothe him. It was obviously his first battle. She guessed that his training in the university didn’t allow much time for fighting. But she saw his familiarity with the weapons and with fighting strategies. He was just not ready to face killing.

“Caitlin, take Douglas out for some fresh air. The coolness of the night should help clear his head.”

He stood at his seat and let her lead him out of the cottage and into the yard. A quarter-moon barely lit the sky and a chilled breeze whispered through the trees. She kept his hand in hers, experiencing that feeling again but not as strong this time. She brought him to the garden wall and guided him to sit.

“Breathe now, Douglas. Let the night’s air refresh yer spirit and relieve yer worries.” She sat next to him. Taking his hand in hers, she savored the pulsing that ran through from him to her. “Dinna fash yerself over something like this. Ye acted the warrior first, which saved our lives.”

“I still cannot believe it. I acted without thought.”

Men could be such... bairns about some things. Most men in her clan would be out boasting about their strength and their ability with the sgian-dubh . Not Douglas, though. No, he was berating himself for trying to save their lives.

She looked back at their clasped hands. Without thought, she lifted them to her cheek and touched his hand to her. The heat flowed into her cheek and she smiled. There was more here than met the eye. That’s when she saw him staring at her .

“’Tis something wondrous, ye think?” she asked him. She had no explanation for it.

“I feel it, too, Caitlin. It’s like a pulsing whenever we touch that races through my body and mind. It’s not as strong as the first time but I think that’s because we already expect it.”

He now lifted their hands toward him and as she held her breath, he placed his lips on her hand. She waited to see what he’d do next and he didn’t disappoint. One by one, he placed a light kiss on each of her fingers and then he turned their hands and kissed the inside of her wrist.

Never had she felt anything to compare with this. Her hand, her wrist, her body ached for more. When she finally took in a breath, she found herself panting. He pulled her closer and brought her lips to his. First just a gentle touch, almost too light to feel, then he pressed a bit more and she lost the ability to think.

His tongue crept out to lick her lips and after a few strokes of his, she met it with her own. She pulled back a bit, startled by this unusual kiss, but he followed and soon their lips were touching again. He pressed against hers, rubbing them and licking, angling his face to get even closer to her mouth. She closed her eyes and remained completely still, not yet daring to breathe.

Then he stilled and slowly pulled away from her, releasing his hold on her hand. She waited, hoping she’d not done something wrong to stop him. She shivered, in anticipation of something she didn’t understand, in the loss of his heat and in being deprived of the wondrous feelings his touched caused in her.

“Caitlin, I should not have kissed you. You offered me comfort and I took advantage of it. I am sorry.”

He’d said the words so quietly, so sincerely, she found herself ready to cry. Another part of her wanted to take his face in her hands and drag him back into the kiss he interrupted.

“Come,” he stood and again offered her his hand. She took it and felt the connection between them reestablished. “Your parents will be waiting for you.”

They walked in silence to the doorway. He’d opened the door for her and she was about to enter when he paused.

“Good evening to you, Craig,” he called out.

The rustle and crunch of leaves and the loud frustrated moan told her he’d been correct—Craig had been watching them. He must have seen them together and watched them kiss.

Caitlin knew that this would not go unremarked by either her parents or by Craig. She wondered as they entered the cottage which would be the easier to endure.