Chapter 6

Macauley and Kian were on their third cup of wine for the night, sharing a carafe in his study. Soon, they would retire to their chambers for the night, but Macauley didn't know if he would be able to sleep so easily.

Many of his waking moments—and some of his non-waking ones—were consumed by Cathleen. There was something odd about her, something he couldn't quite pinpoint, and it drove him mad to think about it all the time without coming to any sort of conclusion, or at least a conclusion she hadn't already told him was false.

Then again, perhaps Cathleen had lied, after all. Perhaps she hadn't believed him when he told her they would be happy to help her, preferring instead to be cautious.

He could hardly blame her. After all, they had only known each other for a few days.

"Are ye thinkin' about her again?" Kian asked, much to Macauley's chagrin. His friend seemed to think the reason why Cathleen occupied his thoughts so often was because of a romantic interest, as though he was a lovestruck boy. He couldn't quite deny that Cathleen had caught his eye with her beauty, her deep blue eyes and those freckles scattered over her cheeks enough to charm any man, but that wasn't the main reason for all this.

"Dinnae ye think there is somethin' strange about her?" he asked as he fidgeted with the cup in his hands.

"Strange?" asked Kian. "What is so strange about her?"

"The way she talks, the way she eats… even the way she stands! She doesnae seem like a village healer tae me, Kian. An' where did she learn tae fight like that?"

Distantly, Macauley was aware that he sounded a little ridiculous. Not many of the common folk had the means to educate their children, though, and so Macauley couldn't wrap his head around the fact that Cathleen carried herself with the air of a noble girl. Even Bonnie, who was more like what he would expect from a commoner, sometimes looked too regal to him, as though her speech patterns and her unpracticed manners were nothing but a performance.

"I dinnae understand," said Kian, leaning over his large mahogany desk to take a better look at Macauley. In the candlelight, his silver mask glinted, reflecting the flames around him. "What are ye tryin' tae say?"

Macauley sighed, a hand coming up to rub over his face wearily. "I suspect she is a noble lass. I suspect they both are. Perhaps they are fleein' from somethin' or someone. Or perhaps they have another reason."

Predictably, Kian laughed, shaking his head. "Ye fash too much. What reason could they have tae pretend tae be commoners? They're only two young lasses lookin' fer a better place, a better life. That is all."

"An' how dae ye explain all this?"

For a moment, Kian fell silent, considering it. Then, he simply shrugged a shoulder. "They may be common folk, but that doesnae mean they cannae have some education. Perhaps they were educated by a priest."

"Two common lasses?"

"By a nun, then."

Macauley threw his hands up in exasperation, the wine almost sloshing over the rim of the cup. "Ye're too trustin'."

"Or ye're tryin' tae find danger where there is none," Kian said. "Besides, ye said they may be fleein'. That doesnae make them dangerous. If it's true an' they are noble lasses, then I'm sure they will tell us once they trust us enough. If they wish tae be perceived as healers, then so be it. What does it matter tae ye?"

It mattered, Macauley thought, because there was a voice in the back of his head telling him that something was wrong and he never liked to ignore that voice. It had saved him and the clan several times before.

If they truly were on the run, if there was someone after them, then he needed to know. They would help them, but they couldn't be ignorant of whatever was coming after them.

Macauley wasn't entirely convinced by Kian's reassurances, but he didn't let it show. There was no point in arguing with him about this, though, since neither he nor Kian would change their minds. Instead, he shifted the subject to the training of the soldiers, but still, in the back of his mind, all he could think about was Cathleen.

* * *

Cathleen left the healer's quarters in the middle of the night and snuck into the castle. It was quiet, the servants already finished with their tasks and retired to their quarters, the few guards that were still awake mainly patrolling outside of the building, up on the castle walls. It was easy for her to roam around unseen, trying to create a mental map of the place so that she could tell Faolan's men where everything was.

She already had an idea of the location of each room, as Deirdre had made sure to give her and Bonnie a tour around the castle, claiming that they needed to know where everything was if they were going to be living there and giving them unrestricted access to the library, the great hall, the drawing room, and every other major room of the castle. Her knowledge of the place was more vague when it came to the sleeping quarters, but she didn't need to know where those were.

What she did need, however, was the location of Kian's study.

Deirdre had shown them the door during their tour and Cathleen had made sure to memorize its location. Now, she returned to it, making sure there was no light coming from inside the room before she tried the doorknob. Predictably, it was locked.

Perhaps one day, he will forget tae lock it.

Even so, though, Cathleen could hardly visit the study every single night. For one, it was too dangerous and she feared she would eventually be caught by one of his guards. She also had other tasks to perform and waking up in the middle of the night in the hopes that the door to the study would be unlocked was bound to make everything else much more difficult.

Defeated, she made her way back down to the ground floor of the castle. For a while, she roamed around there, too, trying to remember where everything was. She rediscovered the library, with its extensive collection of books covering up almost every wall and the impressive portraits of past members of the clan, and then she stumbled upon what seemed to be the servant quarters, at the back of the castle, past a short staircase.

As she rounded the corner to head back to the healer's quarters, though, she fell face-first on what seemed, at first, to be a wall that had most certainly not been there before.

Looking up, Cathleen saw none other than Macauley there, his dark eyes peering curiously at her in the dim light of the corridor. Cathleen had to suppress a gasp of surprise and pretend she hadn't just been caught sneaking around the castle.

"Cathleen… can I help ye?" Macauley asked. It was immediately evident to Cathleen that she had failed to appear anything but suspicious, but how could she ever avoid it? She was in a place she wasn't supposed to be, in the middle of the night, when everyone else was long asleep.

She scrabbled to find an excuse for her presence there and picked the first thing that came to mind. "I was lookin' fer the kitchens," she said. "I… I was hungry, so I thought perhaps I could steal a bannock."

If there was one thing Cathleen knew about people, it was that they often underestimated her. They took one look at her youthful, innocent face and her charming smile, and they decided that she couldn't possibly be a threat. Especially to men like Macauley, who was twice her size, she found it easy to appear non-threatening and simply a little mischievous.

Macauley didn't believe her, though. She knew it the moment the silence stretched for a little too long, the moment his eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly.

Still, he said nothing, only gesturing at her to follow.

Where is he takin' me?

Her blade was hidden well but it was ready for Cathleen to use. This time, it wouldn't be a matter of honor, but a matter of survival, so she was prepared to fight a dirty battle—and win. She and Bonnie would have to flee, of course, but if it was going to happen, then the best time for it to happen was the middle of the night anyway.

Macauley, though, only took her to the kitchens, much to Cathleen's surprise. He grabbed a torch from the corridor outside and used it to illuminate the room, before stoking what was left of the fire, throwing a few fresh logs in the hearth.

Then, he got to work.

"What are ye doin'?" Cathleen asked, hovering over him as he flitted about the room.

"Ye said ye were hungry," Macauley reminded her. "So, I'm feedin' ye."

Cathleen looked at Macauley, wide-eyed and rendered speechless. Surely, he couldn't truly mean it, Cathleen thought, but why else would he be gathering cheese and dried meat and fresh fruit on a platter if he didn't?

"Why are ye doin' this?" she asked as Macauley brought the platter to the small table by the hearth, before he began to rummage through the kitchen once more. He did it with practiced ease, as though this wasn't the first time.

"Well… ye saved me life, did ye nae?" Macauley reminded her. "I am only showin' ye me gratitude."

"Macauley, please… ye dinnae have tae dae this," Cathleen insisted. Now she was certain she would barely be able to stomach any of the feast Macauley was preparing for her, guilt welling up inside her once more. How could she eat when her stomach had turned into a hole, a void that only grew and grew with every reminder of her treachery? "I told ye, I only did what anyone would have done."

"But ye were the one who did it," Macauley said, pausing for a moment to turn and look at Cathleen. "Nae one else. It was ye. So, allow me tae be grateful."

There was nothing else Cathleen could say to that. She would simply have to resign herself to the fact that Macauley would never allow her to forget what she had done and that the guilt would linger for the rest of her life, eating her up from the inside.

She deserved it, though. She deserved it for what she was about to do to these people.

With a sigh, she took a seat at the table just as Macauley slid into his across from her. He had brought some bannocks, as well, and two cups of wine. Cathleen was grateful for the latter. It would help steel her nerves, though she couldn't allow herself to overindulge. She still needed to have her wits about her or else she would risk revealing something she shouldn't.

"Well, thank ye," she said earnestly as she began to pick at the food. "It's very kind o' ye."

"It's naething," said Macauley, in a strange inversion of their usual conversations. "I only did what anyone would have done."

"Ye mock me now," Cathleen said, though she couldn't help but smile a little.

"I promise ye, I'm nae mockin' ye," said Macauley. "I'd never dare tae mock ye. I'm certain ye would have me head."

Laughter bubbled out of Cathleen despite her foul mood. She had to admit that being around Macauley did help, as long as she wasn't reminded of her eventual betrayal. "Ye proved that I cannae defeat ye in a fight."

"Ye can never ken," said Macauley around a mouthful of bread. "I defeated ye once but perhaps ye would defeat me next time."

"Will there be another time?" Cathleen asked, now genuinely curious. "Dae ye expect me tae train with ye or dae ye expect us tae be enemies?"

"If I have a choice, then I'd prefer the former," Macauley said. "Any man would be unfortunate tae make an enemy out o' a lass like ye."

"Because I ken how tae use a blade?"

"That," said Macauley, "an' ye're too bonnie."

Heat creeped up Cathleen's face at that and she could only hope Macauley wouldn't notice. What were the chances her blush would remain hidden, though, when there was a fire illuminating her face? Perhaps with any luck, he would think it was because of those flames rather than his compliment.

In her surprise, she dropped her cup of wine, only barely managing to grab it again before it spilled all over everything. Still, some drops fell on her tunic, the table, and the floor, and she quickly stood to grab a rag, thankful for the opportunity to escape Macauley's piercing gaze.

She couldn't find anything that seemed even remotely clean enough, though, and so Macauley soon joined her, bringing a clean cloth out of a basket.

"Here," he said, and then instead of handing it to her, he proceeded to wipe the worst of the stain off her shoulder, then caught the few drops that had splattered on her neck.

They were standing so close that Cathleen could feel the heat of his body once more, just like during their fight on the training grounds. All he would have had to do to kiss her was to tilt his head and close the small gap between them and in that moment, Cathleen would have allowed it.

No, she thought. She would have relished it.

There was nothing she wanted more than to kiss him in that moment, when his fingers brushed against the delicate skin of her neck along with the cloth, the touch so soft and intimate that it forced her to draw in a sharp breath. In the quiet of the night, Cathleen could have sworn she could hear her heartbeat, fast and uneven in her ears, and so loud that she feared Macauley could hear it, too.

The only consolation was that he, too, seemed just as affected by her. His pupils were blown wide, making his dark eyes appear almost black. His lips were parted, breath coming out fast and ragged, his gaze never once leaving her face.

Laughter, sharp and loud reached them from the corridor, followed by a harsh command to keep quiet. Suddenly, Cathleen was very aware of where she was and who stood in front of her, and she took several steps back as a knot formed in her throat, choking her. It wasn't simply the fear of being discovered. It might be a little embarrassing to be caught with Macauley like this, but the most that could happen were a few teasing comments.

It was the fear of losing control, of forgetting why she was in that castle in the first place.

Cathleen had a plan, and that plan didn't involve falling for Macauley.

Without another word, without even another glance his way, Cathleen fled the kitchens, making sure to go the opposite way from the guards, using their voices as her guide. She rushed through the corridors and out into the courtyard, disappearing into the night.

That can never happen again. I must remember me purpose.