Chapter 28

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Sir Henry Chisholm was sitting in a chair in the infirmary at his stronghold, known as High Crag. The castle healer was diligently cleaning the deep gash on his master’s cheek prior to changing the dressing he had applied the evening before when Sir Henry and one of his men had returned home looking the worse for wear.

Both had sustained non-life-threatening injuries, presumably in some sort of conflict. Though he was curious, the healer knew better than to ask questions; he simply got on with his task as quickly and efficiently as possible before his capricious master lost his patience and did something nasty to him.

It was already a nerve-racking experience for the healer because, as it was, the fury was rolling off Sir Henry in waves. The healer was, therefore, relieved when the door opened, and Sir Henry’s chief advisor, Gwillam Forsythe, entered the room. Intimidating as Forsythe was, at least the man’s presence took the healer out of the immediate firing line.

As soon as he saw Forsythe, Sir Henry sat up in his chair and fixed him with his prominent eyes. “Well, have ye found him? The spy?” he demanded.

Forsythe, an enormous, grizzled old warrior with a patch over one eye and lips as thin as a piece of paper, shook his gray locks. “Nay, Sir.”

Chisholm’s eyes bulged even more, and he irritably shrugged off the healer’s attentions. The man retreated, sensing trouble.

“What d’ye mean, nay? He should be back by now,” Chisholm barked.

“It gets worse,” Forsythe went on, his voice deep and gloomy. “Nae only is he nae back, but his family has also disappeared, apparently into thin air. I’ve had men out searchin’ fer them, but it seems that none of them can be found anywhere.”

“What?!” Sir Henry roared. “I’ll bet me life this is down tae that bastard MacLeod. He’s snatched me man, and now he’s snatched his family intae the bargain,” he blustered, while Forsythe stood looming, expressionless and silent. He seemed to be waiting for his chief’s anger to run its course. The healer supposed the old warrior had grown used to Sir Henry’s frequent outbursts, having been in his employ for more than twenty years and fought at his side many times.

Indeed, Sir Henry seemed to calm down as he considered something. “This is nae going tae work,” he declared finally. “We need tae change the original plan.”

“How?” Forsythe asked incuriously.

“’Tis nae Anastasia we must focus on anymore but the other one,” Chisholm stated impatiently.

“I believe ye mean Lady Catalina,” Forsythe supplied. “Why is she so important all of a sudden? She’s nae worth anythin’, is she?”

In reply, Chisholm gave one of his sneering laughs. “Because that bloody idiot Ivar MacLeod has gone and fallen in love with his betrothed’s younger sister, I believe.”

“And?” Forsythe intoned flatly.

“And that means that he’ll dae anything fer her. So, if we take Catalina instead and then demand they give me Anastasia in exchange, he’ll agree nae matter what. He willnae care about any alliance or anythin’ like that.” He waved his hand dismissively. “All he’ll be interested in will be savin’ the lassie he’s in love with. What a bloody fool!”

Forsythe’s heavy features rearranged themselves into a frown. “How can ye be so sure about that?” he asked.

Once again, Sir Henry laughed. “Trust me, Forsythe. I saw them together. I’m absolutely certain of it. I’m nae mistaken, I tell ye. The great dummart is head over heels in love with his fiancée’s sister!”

Unwillingly, Catalina followed Ivar’s instructions and spent the whole of the following morning languishing in his bed. He popped in and out to check on her, in between meetings with Haldor and Arne about the situation with Chisholm. She would not have minded so much if her worries about deceiving Anastasia were not weighing on her mind. With every passing hour, her sense of guilt and the urge to speak to her sister and confess all only increased. Why had she not come by to see her? Ivar had told her that she had been adamant about staying with her and being there when she awoke. Did she suspect something? Was it because she had slept in Ivar’s chambers?

She had tentatively arranged with Ivar to meet him at two that afternoon at the training ground for their archery lesson with the apples, pending Aine giving her a clean bill of health. When the healer came and examined Catalina thoroughly, she pronounced her well enough to get up. Catalina hardly waited for her to leave before doing so, intending to go and find Anastasia and speak to her as soon as possible, to relieve her conscience.

But she suddenly paused, realizing she had no clothes of her own to put on. All her dresses were in the chamber she shared with Anastasia. With the need to talk to Ana burning within her, she finally wrapped Ivar’s robe around her. It swamped her, but she figured it was better than nothing. After peeking out of the door into the hallway, to see no one was watching, she scuttled the few doors down to their chamber.

It seemed unlikely her sister would be there at that time of day. More likely, she would be somewhere with Dahlia and Sofia. But even so, Catalina would at least be able to get dressed properly and go to find her.

Nae doubt it’ll be an unpleasant conversation, and I wish it was nae necessary tae have it. But Anastasia needs tae ken the truth, nay matter how messy things get in the end.

As she had predicted, Anastasia was not in their chamber, so she got dressed in a clean gown and did her hair, then set off to find her. At first, she had no luck in tracking her down, but as she was searching, she happened to bump into Dunstan.

The soldier grinned at her. “So, ye’re back on yer feet, are ye?” he asked, touchingly pleased to see her.

“Aye, Aine says I’m fine now. Tae tell the truth, I was bored lyin’ about in bed, and I’m glad tae get back tae normal,” she replied. As if anything is normal!

“That’s grand tae hear, Cat. Anastasia will be over the moon tae see ye lookin’ so well. That was a terrible scare ye gave us all.”

“Aye, sorry about that. Would ye happen tae ken where she is? I need tae speak tae her,” she told him.

“The last I saw her, she was out in the garden with Dahlia and Sofia and the wee lad. Ye could try there,” he suggested.

Catalina thanked him and said, “I’ll see ye at dinner,” as they parted. She went out into the garden and looked around. Finally, she found the three girls and Thorsten sitting on a rug by the fishpond, chattering and laughing while the little boy paddled and tried to catch minnows.

They all greeted Catalina warmly, clearly pleased to see her back on her feet once more. Anastasia jumped to her feet and embraced her sister warmly. “Och, it means the world tae me tae see ye better, Cat. I should have kent ye have a head of iron.” Despite her joke, she had tears in her eyes as she hugged Catalina. “Seriously,” she whispered, “I was so scared fer ye, and guilty too, since it was me that tricked ye and Ivar intae goin’ off on that ride like that. I feel terrible. But I didnae want tae disturb ye once the healer told me ye were better and that she had given orders tae Ivar tae watch over yer while ye and I were both restin’. I was afraid I would wake ye if ye were asleep.”

“Ach, dinnae be so daft! Of course, it wasnae yer fault,” Catalina assured her, anxious to get her alone. “Ana, could we—” she began, but before she could finish speaking, she was cut off by the others. “Are ye two comin’ tae see the wee fawn then?” Dahlia asked.

Ivar had told Catalina how he’d had the fawn brought up from the inn. She had been delighted by his thoughtfulness, and they had planned to visit the little creature in the stables as soon she was well enough. But she did not have time for that right now. She needed to clear things up with Anastasia and then go to meet Ivar.

Anastasia beamed at her. “Are ye comin’? We promised tae take Thorsten tae see the fawn, but we told him he had tae wait fer ye tae be better. Apparently, it’s grown quite a bit, and ’tis so tame ye can feed it from yer hand.”

Catalina stood for a moment, wondering what to do. “I think I still need tae rest a wee,” she said reluctantly. “But ye go with Thorsten and enjoy yerselves, I dinnae want him tae have tae wait any longer.”

“All right. We’ll meet up later then,” Anastasia replied, kissing her cheek. “And it is good ye rest as much as possible. Dinnae overdae it. Ye’re still fragile.”

The sister’s parted, and after saying farewell to Dahlia, Sofia, and Thorsten, Catalina hurried off to the training ground to meet Ivar, just as the stable clock struck two. On the way, she resolved to get Ana alone as soon as she could after the archery lesson and get everything off her chest, come what may.

She had arranged with Ivar to meet in an obscure corner of the training ground where few people went. She smiled to see he was already waiting for her, with a basket of apples at his feet. Their bows rested on the ground nearby, and targets had been set up for them. He looked so handsome, standing there in the sunshine, her heart skipped in her chest. He grinned at her as she came up to him.

“So, ye’re allowed out of bed then?”

“Nay, I got bored and escaped out the window,” she replied with playful sarcasm, eliciting a chuckle from him.

“I’m glad ye’re better, but I’m sorry ye’ll be goin’ back tae yer own chamber. I’ve kind of gotten used tae ye bein’ in me bed.” He winked at her lasciviously.

She gave him an arch look, causing more laughter, then said, “Shall we get on with the lesson then?” Then she hesitated a moment. “Dae ye think it is safe tae dae this or will people talk? I fear the others may get strange ideas afore I have had a chance tae talk tae me sister.”

“Dinnae fash, I prepared this meself, so nay one kens. Now let us begin and get this over with” he chortled.

“I have a feelin’ this is going tae take quite some time.”

“Ye cheeky wench,” he protested mildly. “I’ll pick it up in nay time, ye’ll see.”

“Och, so cocky, arenae we? I suggest that we start off with ye takin’ a shot. Then we can look at the mess ye’ve made and try tae improve yer technique.”

“All right. There’s some wire there.” He gestured at the basket. “Can ye go and fix the apple in place?” She ran to do so while he picked up his bow. He waited for her to return before nocking the arrow and pulling back the string. Catalina admired his muscles from the sidelines as he stood poised like some fabled athlete from Ancient Greece or Rome while taking aim. Then, the string twanged loudly as he let fly. The arrow hit, and the apple exploded into a million pieces, spattering the grass.

“Well, ye made a right mess of that,” Catalina observed as they went to look at it.

“What am I gettin’ wrong?” Ivar asked with genuine curiosity in his voice.

“I told ye before. The trouble is, ye approach the task with anger. Ye’re still usin’ too much force, and that only destroys. Ye need tae get rid of it or learn tae manage it better.” She knew he could be gentle and delicate, and she wanted to bring that out of him.

“Show me,” he said, accepting her criticism good-naturedly.

“All right.” Ivar fetched a fresh apple, while Catalina cleared away the mush of the old one. She fixed the fruit with the wire, and once it was secure, they returned to the marker line.

Catalina picked up her bow. “Watch me now,” she told him, knocking the arrow and pulling back the string. She stayed in that position for him to see how relaxed she was when taking aim and preparing to shoot. “I’m using just enough force.”

“Oh, I’m watchin’ all right,” he said, raking her with his eyes in a suggestive fashion.

“Are ye going tae act seriously?” she asked, enjoying his appraisal nonetheless.

He watched her with interest.

“I’m completely serious,” he assured her.

“Right.” She shot, and the apple split into two neat halves as it fell away from the target. She turned to him. “See? Nay anger, just the right amount of force tae dae the job. Now, try again.”

He tried again.

This time, the apple was marginally less mangled than before but not much.

“’Tis an improvement, I grant ye, but nae much of one,” she told him with

brutal honestly. “Let’s keep practicin’.”

This time, when he nocked the arrow and pulled back the string, she made him stay like that, walking around him. “Yer shoulders are too tense,” she told him, reaching up to feel the bulging muscles beneath his shirt. She had to force her hands not to linger on his body. “Can ye try tae relax them a wee bit?”

“I’m tryin’” he said, as she came around behind him and slipped her arms through his to help him soften his intense grip. She only came halfway up his back, and her breasts pressed against him. It felt wonderful, but she tried to stick to the task at hand. “I dinnae think that’s helpin’,” he observed as she moved against his body with her own, starting to laugh. “In fact, ’tis very distractin’.”

“Shush and pay attention,” she scolded him playfully, enjoying every moment.

“Ach, are ye gonnae let me shoot this bloody arrow or what?” he asked finally.

“All right, now relax yer shoulders, and try tae reduce the force of the shot,” she instructed, satisfied at last with his stance. He loosened the arrow. It hit the apple plum in the center and broke it into several larger, jagged pieces.

“Better! Much better. I think ye’re getting’ the hang of this. Slowly,” she teased when they went to inspect it. “Come on, let’s keep practicin’.”

“I like the way ye say ‘let’s’, as if the both of us are practicin’,” Ivar said with a chuckle as they went back to start all over again.

“Ye ken what I mean,” Catalina replied. “I want ye tae succeed.”

Once again, back at the line, she made a meal of inspecting his shooting stance, minutely adjusting his hold on the string, then going behind him and slipping her arm around his waist to demonstrate the right way to do it.

“Ye ken I’m ticklish, eh?” he joked, snorting with laughter as her body pressed against his back.

“Nay laughin’,” she rebuked him, giggling as she reached around to his front to adjust his hold. “D’ye ken, I think ye’re gettin’ this all wrong on purpose so ye can keep makin’ me dae this.”

“Damn ye, woman, ye can read me mind.”

“Now, shut up. Concentrate. Remember what I said: finesse, delicacy, control that strength ye have,” she lectured, finally standing back so he could shoot.

After several more tries and a lot of laughter, the magic moment came. He took a shot, and the apple cleaved into two perfect halves.

“I did it! I did it!” Ivar crowed, throwing down his bow and grabbing Catalina around the waist, whirling her around in a dance of triumph. Catalina clung to him, laughing with joy, pleased for him.

“Well done, I kent ye could dae it in the end,” she told him, her legs automatically locking around his waist as he spun her about. She held his face in her palms, beaming at hm as she kissed him soundly on the lips, feeling absurdly proud of him. Ivar kissed her back.

“Thank ye, Cat, fer yer patience,” he whispered, his mouth against hers. “Ye’ve taught me somethin’ precious. Somethin’ I needed tae learn.”

It was a heartwarming admission, and it gave her an idea for prolonging their

time together as well as making him feel better. That had recently become very important to her. “Well, if that was somethin’ ye needed tae learn, then I have somethin’ more tae teach ye. But ye have tae put me down first. And we need horses and some men tae guard us, but from a distance, just in case Chisholm is out there,” she explained. “Is that possible? Perhaps ye could say I offered tae go collect some herbs the healer needs, as she suggested I get some fresh air. And that ye insisted tae accompany me with some men when ye saw me leavin’ the castle. That would raise less suspicions.”

“I’m the laird’s braither, I’ll have ye ken,” he said teasingly, slowing down and finally setting her on the grass, steadying her when she tottered dizzily. “Anythin’s possible. And that sounds like a convincin’ story. I wouldnae miss this fer the world. It sounds very intriguin’.”

“Come on, then. Shall we return the bows and go?”

Aye, let’s dae that.” He picked up the bows and she the basket, and they set off to do exactly that and allow Ivar to make the arrangements for a cohort of guards to accompany them.