Chapter 4

" I t's about time. " Gavin nibbled at a slice of beef as Robert came into the common room. "You've missed breakfast. Would you care for dinner?"

"No." He glanced at the apple and beef on Gavin's plate before turning to Carolyn, who was serving Gavin. "But take up some of that fruit to my wife."

"At once, my lord." She hesitated. "She is better this morning?"

"Much better."

Carolyn smiled in relief and hurried from the room.

Robert pulled on his leather riding gloves and turned back to Gavin. "What kind of night did you have? Did your wound bother you?"

Gavin shook his head as he finished the beef on his plate. "I slept well." He grinned. "And you certainly gave me plenty of time to rest. I was wondering if you were going to stir before evening."

"So was I. The girl was exhausted."

"And of course you had to pamper the child."

"Why the devil do you keep calling her a child?" As he saw Gavin's smile of satisfaction, Robert tempered the violence in his tone. "And I didn't pamper her. Every commander knows that to push a soldier when he's exhausted is to court trouble."

"Hmm." Gavin popped a slice of apple into his mouth. "And here I was, sitting here imagining you in the toils of Cupid. Oh, I know she was exhausted last night, but you had all morning to consummate the happy nuptials." He snapped his fingers. "But that's right. You have no use for mudlarks. How could I forget?"

"You forget nothing you wish to remember."

"But she did clean up well, didn't she?" He smiled mischievously. "You weren't even tempted to linger awhile?"

Robert had a fleeting memory of Kate staring up at him, her eyes wide, uncertain, that pouty mouth closing around his finger. Dammit, he was hardening again. He turned abruptly toward the door. "Let's go to the stable. I want to take a look at that mare."

Gavin didn't move. "The mare's fine. And you didn't answer me. Weren't you tempted to—"

"I don't want to talk about this, Gavin."

"I think you were tempted. Poor Robert. It's very difficult, isn't it?"

"I'm sure you're going to elaborate on that."

"Aye, I feel it's my duty." He took the last slice of apple and chewed it thoughtfully. "You want to bed her, but you can't because she's your wife. It's very amusing."

"I'm glad you find it so. I assure you, if I choose to bed her, I will do so."

"Ah, the wind's shifted." Gavin laughed in delight. "I thought I saw the signs last night. But I still don't think you will. In fact, I'll wager you won't. Two pounds. Taken?"

"Why are you so sure?"

"Because in many ways she's still a child in need, and you've been trained to care for those who need you, not steal from them. Everyone at Craighdhu knows that."

"But she doesn't belong to Craighdhu," Robert reminded him softly.

"But she belongs to you."

"For a year."

"All the more reason not to steal something that will bring pleasure to the next man who takes her in marriage."

The next man who lay in bed with her, who plunged between her thighs and sampled that tightness he had just denied himself. Robert's expression carefully hid the rage that tore through him at the thought. "But I'm so good at stealing."

"Only from the Spanish, not from big-eyed children."

His lips tightened in annoyance. "I told you, she's not a child. I assure you, there's no one more wary or barbed than—" He broke off as he saw Kate coming down the stairs.

She was dressed in the same brown wool cape she had worn previously, but her hair was now in a neat single braid. She moved with a springy step, color bloomed in her cheeks, and her eyes flashed with life. He had never seen a woman more boldly alive, and yet there was still a touch of that fragile eagerness he had seen in her when he had told her he would give her a home of her own.

Gavin gave a low whistle. "Never mind. Let's forget it."

Robert didn't take his eyes from Kate. "Never mind what?"

"The wager. You're staring at her as you did that very first galleon we took from the Spanish." He took a step forward as Kate reached the bottom of the stairs. "Good morning, my lady. Do you remember me?"

"Of course I do."

She was smiling at Gavin with an openness she had never displayed toward Robert. Her attitude had always reflected wariness or distrust toward him. Why did it annoy him? Everyone always smiled at Gavin.

"How could she forget you?" Robert abruptly turned on his heel and strode toward the door. "It's time we got on the road. Bring her along to the stable."

Kate's smile faded as she watched Robert leave the inn. "What did I do?"

"He's annoyed with me, not you. As usual, my tongue ran away with me." Gavin changed the subject. "Did you have time to eat? You came down so quickly."

"I had a bite or two while I said good-bye to Carolyn. I was too excited to eat."

"Well, it's not every day a lass is wed."

"Wed?" She shook her head. "He's going to give me a house, a place of my own."

He chuckled. "And a house is better than a bridegroom?"

She looked at him uncertainly. "Are we truly wed? It all seems most strange."

"Aye, handfast is as legal as standing before a man of God in Scotland."

"But we're not in Scotland."

"Robert is a Scot. That makes it binding right enough."

She felt a rush of relief. "Then it is all right."

He nodded. "And the only way Robert could best Her Majesty. He was not at all pleased with her."

"Why would he want to best—"

"I'll tell you once we're on the road." Gavin took her elbow and guided her toward the door. "Robert wants us at the stable, and I've caused him enough irritation for one morning. It's always best to dole out impudence in small doses so that he doesn't choke on it." He added ruefully, "Or choke me."

She found herself smiling again. How strange that she was so easy in Gavin's presence. She had no desire to withdraw into herself as was her custom. Perhaps it was that his sunny demeanor reminded her of Carolyn's, and she suspected it masked the same kindness. "You don't appear to be overfearful of him."

"That's because I belong to Craighdhu. A certain amount of liberty is always given to the denizens of Craighdhu."

"No, it's more than that." She had noticed a bonding, an easy familiarity that was not that of lord and minion. "You've known each other a long time?"

He glanced at her appraisingly. "You have sharp eyes and know how to use them." He nodded. "We grew up together."

"Like brothers?"

"At first." He frowned. "But later it changed.…"

"Why?"

"He changed." He added wistfully, " They changed him."

"Who?"

He shrugged. "Robert doesn't like us to talk about it."

It was clear that subject was closed. "But you're kinsmen? Your names are different."

"Most of the clans have intermarried. My mother was a MacDarren and married a Gordon. When he died, she brought me back to Craighdhu. She never liked the Lowlands. No Highlander does."

"What's wrong with them?"

He made a face. "Too rich and fat."

"And that's bad?"

"Aye, you'll know what I mean when we reach Craighdhu." He guided her around a puddle. "But we'll stop overnight with my uncle, Angus Gordon, once we reach the border. He's not a bad man…for a Lowlander."

She was amused at the qualification. "I'll look forward to meeting him. He's not fat and rich then?"

"Oh, he's rich enough, but his reiving keeps him lean and hungry."

"Reiving?"

"Raiding," he explained. "He raids the English on this side of the border."

"You mean he steals ?" she asked in astonishment.

"Of course. But only from the English," he added quickly. "He wouldn't steal from a Scot."

"And you believe that makes stealing right?"

"Well, perhaps not right." He frowned as if trying to work out the ethics. "But it's custom."

She shook her head dazedly as she thought of how Sebastian would view this calm acceptance of the breaking of holy law. "And do you…reive, also?"

"Well, not exactly. Not from the English." He opened the barn door and stepped inside to let her precede him. "Of course, there was that one English ship, but Robert only meant to—Robert prefers to raid the Spanish."

"I see." She did not see at all. She felt more bewildered and uneasy with every hesitant step into this new world where it seemed it was perfectly all right to be an outlaw, as long as the crime was aimed at the right party.

"You'll be fine." She turned to see Gavin smiling gently at her. "It only takes getting used to. Don't worry, I'll help you."

"Will you?" Her spirits lifted as warmth flowed through her. Why should she be afraid, when this was exactly what she had wanted? She had fought to free herself from Sebastian and all his restrictions, but if she had escaped him before, she would have been alone. Now she had Gavin Gordon to help her through these first steps. "Thank you." A warm smile lit her face. "Then you're right—I'll be fine."

"What do you think of her?" They both looked to see Robert leading Caird and a chestnut mare toward her. "She appears strong and gentle enough."

Kate stepped forward and patted the mare's nose. "She's lovely," she said. "What's her name?"

"I didn't ask," Gavin admitted.

She frowned reprovingly. "Every creature deserves a name."

"Sorry," he said solemnly.

"I'll call her Rachel." She gave the mare a final pat, and then went around her to Caird and began stroking his muzzle. "How are you, boy?"

The piebald neighed and nudged her.

"He's tired," Robert said bluntly. "And he'll get more tired. You said the innkeeper is a good man. We could leave him here."

She tensed. "He is a good man, but he would have no use for Caird. How would I know who he would sell him to? You said he could come."

"Dammit, you like the mare. Look at them together. She's young and fit, and the piebald is old."

"All the more reason to love and take care of him."

"It's no use, Robert," Gavin said. "I have an idea the horse may be her Craighdhu."

She could feel Robert's gaze on her back as she leaned her forehead against Caird. He muttered something inaudible and then said to Gavin, "Saddle our horses and put a light pack on the piebald." He grabbed Kate's wrist in one hand and the mare's reins in the other and pulled them both out of the barn into the stable yard. "You've made a mistake."

His grasp on her wrist was generating a strange heat up her arm, and she tried to pull away. "Let me go."

He ignored her. "The horse is going to be nothing but trouble. He'll slow us down. We can't afford to be slowed down now."

She couldn't deny that Caird would have that effect, so she merely set her jaw and glared at him.

"And don't look at me like that. It makes me want to break you."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? Another prerogative of power. You'll find I don't break easily."

"You're wrong." His gaze narrowed on her face. "All women are easily broken in one manner."

For an instant she didn't understand, and then his meaning became clear to her. She felt the blood rush to her cheeks, and she suddenly couldn't breathe.

"Aye." His hands closed on her waist and lifted her slowly to the saddle. "We'll not see a bed again until we reach the border, and I'd prefer to take you the first time on clean sheets than the cold ground. But don't tempt me, Kate."

She could feel the warmth of his hands through the layers of clothing, and it brought the same burning sensation as his grip on her wrist, spreading upward to her breasts, making them exquisitely sensitive. The response frightened her, and she snapped, "I'm not tempting you at all. It's your own sinful, carnal nature."

An indefinable expression flickered across his face. "Very sinful and very carnal," he agreed softly. "And very impatient." He turned to Gavin, who was leading Caird and their own horses out of the barn. "Wager taken. Two pounds."

Gavin's troubled gaze went from Robert's reckless smile to Kate's flushed face and then back again. "I don't like this. I think I want to withdraw the wager. It makes me feel responsible."

"No? Too bad. The wager stands. And I intend to like it very much indeed." Robert turned away. "Carnal sinner that I am."

Kate watched him mount his horse and trot out of the stable yard before she turned to Gavin. "Wager?"

"It's nothing." Gavin smiled at her. "Only another example of my runaway tongue." He got on his horse. "But it seems you must have a less than discreet tongue yourself. You should not sting Robert until you learn the way to do it without suffering the consequences. Watch me, and I'll show you."

···

Robert set a grueling pace that afternoon. In three hours Kate's every muscle was stiff and sore. By the time they stopped at sundown at a clearing near a small brook, she had to struggle just to stay in the saddle.

"I'll take the horses down to the brook to water them," Gavin said as he lifted Kate to the ground. "Sit down and rest."

She shook her head. "They're mine. I can do it." She took the mare's and Caird's reins and led them down the path through the forest toward the brook. She knelt and splashed her face, vaguely aware of Robert and Gavin talking a few yards down the bank but too tired to comprehend their words.

When she lifted her head a few minutes later, Gavin was no longer there, but Robert stood leaning against a tree, watching her.

She tensed, then deliberately sat back on her heels and straightened her shoulders. "You need not wait for me, my lord. I can make my way back on my own. I was just refreshing myself."

"And trying to keep from fainting," he said roughly. "For God's sake, don't lie to me. I know how weak you must feel. I drove you hard today."

"I'm not used to long hours in the saddle. I'll do better tomorrow." She forced herself to get to her feet and gather the horses' reins. "I'll help Gavin to—"

"Gavin doesn't need help."

"His wound—"

"His wound is mending." Robert stepped forward, tossed her up on the mare again, and gathered both horses' reins. "And he would not appreciate your cosseting him. He's a Highlander."

"And Highlanders do not care for each other?"

"We take care of our own. We don't ask help from outsiders."

Outsiders . The word struck a hollow, hurtful note within her. Yes, that was what she was, what she had always been. From the moment she had been born, she had been the one outside looking in.

"For God's sake, why do you look like that?" Robert's gaze was on her face. "Very well, help him. Drive yourself until you collapse. Why should I care?"

"You should not." She had made him angry again, but she was too weary to let it bother her. "I'm nothing to you. I'm an…outsider."

"You're more than that. You're a troublesome woman who—"

"The queen forced you to wed," she suddenly flared. "And you're a lawless pirate who would be hanging dead for the crows to pick if you hadn't been given the opportunity to marry me. So I'll hear no more about how much trouble I am."

He went still. "I see Gavin's been talking again."

"He says they call you Black Robert. It was kind of someone to tell me what I must face during the next year."

"A lawless pirate."

"Isn't that what you are?"

"A pirate, yes, but not lawless. I have my own laws."

"How convenient," she said tartly. "And I suppose you change them daily to suit yourself."

His lips were suddenly twitching. "Not daily. Weekly, perhaps."

She stared at him for a moment. The quicksilver change from grimness to humor caught her off guard. "I do not understand you."

"Must you?"

"Yes, I think so. If I'm to live with you, I must come to terms." She moistened her lips. "You see, this is not what I…I'm confused. Because I hate Sebastian does not mean I hate God's laws. They are good. And if they are good, then what you and Gavin do is bad. Is that not true?"

"Quite true."

"And yet I like Gavin and find him…good. It is most perplexing."

He smiled sardonically. "I notice you're not having any conflict regarding my humble self."

"There's something about you that makes me uneasy." That was not the right word for the dark tumult he aroused, but to use another would reveal more than she wished to show him. She frowned. "Besides, I don't know you. I don't think you want anyone to know you. Not even Gavin."

"Why not?"

"I don't know." She thought about it. "It may be for the same reason I closed myself off from Sebastian and Martha."

"Because they hurt you? I'm not afraid of Gavin hurting me, and I assure you the scamp is never uneasy around me."

"No, but there's something.…" She remembered the touch of wistfulness in Gavin's expression when he had spoken of Robert and their childhood together. "I think you make him…sad."

He looked away from her. "You're mistaken." They had reached the clearing where Gavin was kneeling building a fire. "Why don't you ask him?"

"He wouldn't tell me. He's kind, but even to him I'm an outsider."

"You seem to have become overly attached to that word," Robert said testily as he lifted her down from the mare. "Did it occur to you that I have little knowledge of you either?"

"What is there to know?" she asked warily. "I've lived with Sebastian and Martha since I was a small child. Surely you can see how uneventful such a life would be. There were no adventures or sea travels for me."

"Sometimes you don't have to travel afar to find adventure. What was it like, living with Sebastian?"

Loneliness, desolation, fear, everything within her tightening, drying. She met his gaze. "What do you think it was like?"

His lips tightened. "I can guess, but speculation is never fully satisfying."

She said haltingly, "I rose at dawn and helped Martha with the chores. Master Gywnth came at ten and gave me lessons."

"What kind of lessons?"

"Mathematics, French, geography…" She made a vague gesture with a hand. "The lady…the queen wished me to have the education of a nobleman. That's why she sent word to Sebastian to buy me a horse."

He cast a glance at Caird. "I'd wager she never saw this specimen."

"Of course not. She left everything to Sebastian."

"Did you study a musical instrument?"

She shook her head. "Sebastian said music encouraged licentiousness."

"Aye, I'm sure it would have made you even more wicked than you are. What did you do after your lessons?"

She frowned in bewilderment. These humdrum details could not be of interest to him. "I studied the Scriptures all afternoon with Sebastian when he wasn't traveling the countryside visiting his parishioners." She had a sudden memory of herself sitting on her stool by the window for many hours, trying desperately to keep upright because she knew the brutality of the punishment that would come if she showed a lack of attention. "When he wasn't home, I was permitted to go for walks or ride Caird."

"Alone?"

She nodded. "I told you that he didn't like me to be with the villagers."

"Yes, you did." She could sense an undercurrent of anger in his words. "How could I forget?" He started to turn away. "Sit down and rest."

"I can help."

"You could," he bit out, "but you won't. We'll be traveling from dawn to dusk tomorrow, and I want you to be able to stand the pace."

"I'm strong. I'll stand the pace." She brushed a strand of hair back from her cheek. "But I don't see why I should be forced to do so. I see no reason for such speed."

"Don't you?" He stared at her with an expression that compounded frustration, anger, and grudging respect before he turned on his heel and strode toward Gavin.

She sat watching him as he helped Gavin set up camp. He moved swiftly, gracefully, swooping down on tasks, doing more than his share but not in an obvious way. He let Gavin do enough that he felt useful but not so much that he strained his dwindling strength, and kept him busy with casual conversation so that he was never aware of the disparity. She suddenly realized he had acted in the same fashion on the trail with Gavin. Though the pace had been hard, he had found ways of easing the wounded man's path.

We take care of our own .

She was aware of an aching pang of envy and wistfulness. She was being foolish. These Highlanders and their codes had nothing to do with her. She could take care of herself and had no need of such camaraderie.

It made no sense. She was so weary she could scarcely lift her head, and yet sleep evaded her. It must be the night sounds that were disturbing her. No, it was not the night sounds. She would not lie to herself. She knew why she could not sleep.

She shifted in her blankets and slowly turned toward the warmth of the blaze.

Robert was watching her from across the fire.

She tensed, waiting for him to speak.

He said nothing. He just lay there, his dark eyes alert and unwavering, fixed on her with the same expression they had held in the bedchamber this morning.

Her breasts were lifting and falling as if she were running, and each time they brushed against the blankets covering her, her nipples became harder, more sensitive. The heat from the fire seemed to engulf her, scorching her flesh.

The silence stretched on. She had to break it. "I…can't sleep," she whispered.

"I know."

Of course he knew. She had felt his gaze on her for the last hour.

She closed her eyes.

"It won't do any good, you know. I tried it."

She kept her eyes closed tightly, shutting him out.

"The storm," he said.

She opened her eyes again.

"You asked what the hurry was." He paused. "There's a big storm coming. I want to be across the border before it catches up with us."

He made no sense. The day had been bright and sunny, with not a cloud in the sky. "The rains are past. How could you know there is to be more? There's no storm coming," she said firmly.

"You're wrong." He turned his back to her and pulled his blanket around his shoulders. "It's coming."

Gavin reined in on the rise, turned to Kate and pointed to the north. "That's Angus's land."

Fertile meadows rolled gently before them, and in the distance Kate could see a brick manor house and several outbuildings crowning a small hill. The manor was not splendid, but it appeared both substantial and in good repair.

"It's a fine property," Kate said. "And brick is almost as strong a building material as stone."

"I'm glad you approve," Robert said mockingly as he turned to Gavin. "Did I forget to tell you how adamant my wife is on the subject of stone for her future domicile? May I ask why stone is such a passion with you, Kate?"

She looked at him in surprise. "Because it doesn't burn."

"Well, it's true it's very difficult to burn."

"It's almost impossible to burn. That's why Sebastian had the new cottage built of stone."

"The new cottage?"

She nodded. "The old one was built of sod with a thatched roof."

"And it burned down?"

He was looking at her with a faint quizzical smile that contained an element of mockery. She had meant to evade the truth, but he appeared so sure, so confident, that it annoyed her, and she suddenly wanted to jar him. "No, I burnt it down."

Gavin's lips fell open, but to her disappointment, Robert's expression didn't change. "How extraordinary. I do hope you don't make it a common practice. Being without walls could get a bit drafty this time of year."

"It was an accident, Kate?" Gavin asked.

"I did it on purpose. One night after he had punished me I lit the curtains with a candle." She added fiercely, "He deserved it."

"I'm sure he did," Robert said. "I'm just wondering how he and his sweet wife escaped the flames."

She scowled. "I had second thoughts. I went back in the cottage and woke them."

"Bad judgment," Gavin murmured.

"I had reached only my tenth year," she said in her defense. "I was angry, and I knew they deserved it, but I couldn't let them die. It would have been a sin, and I would have been like my mother." She added defiantly, "But I'm not sorry I did it. I'd do it again."

Robert smiled. "I believe I'm beginning to realize why Sebastian found you so ‘unsettling.'"

"It's easy to condemn me now. You weren't there ."

"We're not blaming you, Kate," Gavin soothed gently. "Except for your lack of foresight."

"You're hardly the one to talk," Robert said. "I remember how squeamish you were at your first blooding."

"But I'm sure you weren't squeamish at yours," Kate challenged.

"Death is never pleasant, nor is it to be taken lightly." His lips tightened grimly. "But some people deserve to die. I've been wondering what punishment Sebastian invoked on a child of ten to push you to those lengths."

"I'm sure you wouldn't consider the punishment deserving of such an action on my part."

"No? Why don't you tell me and let me judge?"

"I don't like to be judged any more than you do," she said.

"And you don't like to talk about your ‘uneventful' life with Sebastian. What did you do to deserve punishment?"

She tried to shrug carelessly. "He caught me looking in Master Brelam's window one evening."

"Master Brelam?"

"He was the baker. His cottage was on the outskirts of the village."

"And why were you peering into his window?"

"Why do you think? Because I liked to do it." She bit her lower lip before bursting out, "It was a long time ago. None of it matters now. Why are you asking me these questions?"

"I have a curious nature."

Gavin said with a frown, "She's right. It's none of our concern, Robert."

"Perhaps not." Robert smiled sardonically. "But I want to know. If she didn't want to answer questions, she shouldn't have told us about burning down the house. What was so fascinating about this baker's cottage?"

"Nothing." She saw him lift his brows and said, "They were…they laughed a lot. It was pleasant to see them. He was a young man, and his wife was scarcely older than I am now. I'd go to the cottage at supper-time and watch them prepare their meal. They had a little boy who crawled around the kitchen, getting in their way.…" She shouldn't have mentioned that night. Over the years she had tried to block out the desperate hunger that had driven the child she had been to that window. Yet now the memory came back to her as if it had been yesterday. The cheerfully blazing fire in the hearth, the young man with fine, straight hair and a broad smile, and his wife who looked at him with confidence, not fear. "I'd never seen…I didn't know it could be like that. I didn't do any harm. I just wanted to see them."

"And what did Sebastian do when he caught you?"

"He dragged me into the house and made me apologize to them and admit my sin." She swallowed. "I was so ashamed."

"What sin?"

"Avarice. He said I lusted after what they had."

"And did you?"

"Yes," she whispered. She had wanted to drink in the love, the trust, and that wondrous lack of fear. She had wanted to fill herself with it, secrete it away to comfort her in Sebastian's cold, barren house. "I couldn't stop crying. They were very kind. They told Sebastian that it was natural for children to be curious. He wouldn't listen to them. He knew me. He knew why I was there." She drew a deep, shaky breath. "He took me back to his cottage and beat me until I couldn't stand, and all the while he did it, he told me over and over that what I'd seen in that house would never be for me. I'd never have a home or people who would care for me. I wasn't worthy. I must reject all thoughts of such a life and resign myself to the knowledge that my destiny would always be with him."

"Christ," Gavin uttered.

Robert said nothing, staring impassively at her.

The impulse that had led her to confide in him had been a mistake. The memory of that hideous night was terribly hurtful, and she already felt too vulnerable and exposed when she was with him. She looked away from him and said, "We stayed at the inn until Sebastian received a sum from the lady to rebuild the cottage. It was while we were there I got to know Carolyn."

"And then he built in stone," Robert said. "Did he suspect you did it deliberately?"

"I told him I did it."

"Another mistake. I imagine your punishment was even more severe."

"That didn't matter," she whispered. "For the first time I didn't feel helpless. I had done something."

"You certainly did," Robert said dryly. His gaze went to the manor house in the distance. "Let's hope Angus doesn't raise your ire."

"You know it's not the same," she said. "I would never do anything like that to any but an enemy."

"Then we're lucky Angus is a stranger. He's very fond of his fine brick house."

"He has a right to be. It's very handsome."

"Fat," Gavin corrected with a grin as he spurred ahead. "But he's a good man, so we forgive him, don't we, Robert? I'll see you at the stables. I want to see what new horseflesh Angus has plucked from the English." He glanced slyly over his shoulder at Kate. "And I promise not to tell Angus the danger encroaching on his horizon."

Kate watched him gallop away, the rosy rays of the setting sun shimmering in his red hair as he bent over his horse's neck, urging him to go faster.

"But will you forgive our Angus his transgressions?" She turned to see Robert smiling crookedly at her. "How distressing. Another outlaw for you to weigh in the balance."

"You're not being fair. I've never judged you. I just want to understand. I'm far from perfect, and I've been judged too often myself to judge others." She frowned. "I think you wish to hurt me."

"Now why should I wish to do that?"

"I don't know." She could never tell what was on his mind, she thought with exasperation. All she knew was that he was always watching her, and for the past three days she had been growing more and more tense. She would turn her head with a smile on her lips from something Gavin had said and find MacDarren's gaze fixed on her face with that deep intensity that made her so uneasy.

"I don't want to hurt you." His gaze went again to the manor house in the distance. "Just don't fight me."

The first time I have you, I'd prefer it be on clean sheets .

His words came to her so quickly, she knew she had been deliberately keeping herself from remembering them.

"Aye." His gaze was back on her face, reading every nuance of her expression. "You knew it was coming. I couldn't have made myself clearer. Angus has no use for women in his life, but he has two able-bodied male servants who keep his house tidy and clean, and he can give us what we need."

Clean sheets . She tried to block out the image of him naked and aroused, eyes shimmering down at her. She drew a shaky breath and with an effort made her tone acid tart. "Speak for yourself. I certainly don't need it."

"You will." He smiled. "I have no liking for reluctant women. I'll take care that you need it as much as I do."

"Gavin says it's important we do not have a child. Would you take such a risk for mere lust's sake?"

"Lust is never ‘mere,' and there is a certain precaution I can take."

He had an answer for everything, and since she knew nothing of this blasted magical "precaution" she could not argue with him. She kicked her horse into a trot and rode on ahead.

Gavin came riding back to them when they were within a few hundred yards of the stable. "Robert!" He waved a hand back at the stable yard that was teeming with men and horses. "Angus is about to set out to go reiving. He wants us to go with him. What do you think?"

"I thought you'd had enough of blood and glory," Robert said dryly.

"There won't be that much blood, and it will take only a few hours. They're just going to raid the earl of Cavendish's stable of a few choice mares Angus says will be much happier in Scotland. The English have no appreciation for fine horseflesh." Gavin's eyes twinkled. "Of course, if you don't wish to go, I'm sure Angus will understand. I've explained you've just wed and now have a tendency to curl up by the fire like a tame pussycat."

"How kind of you."

Gavin waved his hand. "What's a henchman for, if not to smooth the way for you? Do we go?"

"I'll consider it." He glanced at Kate and gestured to a small, square-shouldered man in the center of the group of riders in the stable yard. "Come along and be introduced to my kinsman."

"You're related to him also?" Her gaze went to the man he had indicated. Angus Gordon had shaggy, graying red hair and rough-hewn features, and he bore no resemblance to Robert. "I thought he was Gavin's kinsman."

"And Gavin is my kinsman." He shrugged. "It is all the same. We are all bound together."

A wistful pang rippled through her at his words. What must it be like to be bound together in that fashion, to ride into a place and know you belonged there? Well, she would know that feeling someday. She would have her own house, a place to come home to. But there was more here than just a house, she realized suddenly. These people belonged together by right of blood and oath. They were family. She had never thought further than owning a house, but would that house be a home without people who cared about it as much as she did?

"Ah, Robert, lad. I hear you've been keeping busy," Angus Gordon boomed as they approached. "Tell me, is marriage to a puling Englishwoman as much diversion as plucking gold from the Spanish?"

"It has its moments of hazard." Robert gestured to Kate. "My wife, Kate. Since she has a kind heart, she will excuse your lack of courtesy, Angus."

"I'm sure she's already found you less gentle than those weaklings with whom she grew up." He looked with cold appraisal at Kate. "Fine eyes, decent breasts, but her hips are too narrow for good breeding."

Kate felt as if she were a sheep at a town market, and in her present agitated state she was in no mood to be treated as livestock She always hated being made to feel her own helplessness, and she would not overlook this particular discourtesy. She rode her horse into the circle of horsemen until she was squarely in front of Angus. She ran her gaze with deliberate disparagement over his short, stocky frame, then said sweetly to Robert, "I can see why he wishes you to accompany him, my lord. A man so small and puny must need all the protection he can procure."

Gavin's snort was quickly muffled.

"Protection!" An expression of outrage appeared on Angus's face. "I need no—" He stopped, then he threw back his head and laughed uproariously. "Good for you, lass." He turned to Robert. "Are you sure she's not a Scot?"

"English," Robert said. "And a tired English at that. Will you give us hospitality for the night?"

"When have I ever turned you away?" Angus asked. "Even when Jamie was less than pleased with you. Have you had any more trouble with his man Malcolm?"

"No, but then I haven't been home in over a year. I'm sure Malcolm will furnish me with sufficient distraction once I'm at Craighdhu. And I have to warn you," Robert added, "James is still exceedingly annoyed with me."

"I'll still find room for you and this English." Angus grinned. "But to soothe my conscience, I'll have to take at least three more mares from Cavendish than I planned. I wouldn't want anyone to think I'd turned into a Sassenach lover." His expression turned grim. "The English have grown too confident when they think they can kill a Scottish monarch and get away with no retribution. You've heard about Mary?"

Robert went still. "Mary?"

"They beheaded her four days ago at Fotheringhay." Angus shrugged. "You know I was never one of her supporters, but I don't like the idea of those damn English killing any Scot."

Shock, followed immediately by a wave of sickness, washed over Kate. Mary, Queen of Scots, was dead. Her mother was dead. "You're sure?" Kate whispered. "How…did she die?"

Angus looked at her curiously. "Are you all right, lass? You look a bit pale."

"How did she die?" she repeated.

"I told you, the block."

"No, that's not…what I mean." She lifted a hand to her trembling lips. "Did she die…well?"

"Better than she lived," Angus said. "Aye, I heard she died bold and brave like a true queen. The messenger said she wore a bright scarlet petticoat and a golden-haired wig, and was as comely as when she was a lass. The wig fell off when the executioner beheaded her." His gaze narrowed on her face. "It seems to have come as a great shock to you. Did your people support Mary's claim to the throne?"

She didn't answer. A bright scarlet petticoat…

Robert said quickly, "Kate's parents are dead, and I'm sure her guardian had no kind feelings for Mary Stuart." He turned to Kate. "Isn't that right, Kate?"

She nodded numbly.

"And it's no wonder she appears stunned. Your rough tongue is enough to turn anyone's stomach."

The suspicion in Angus's face was replaced by ruefulness. "I thought she was stronger than most English. I didn't mean to sicken you, lass."

"She'll be fine once she has rested." Robert turned to Gavin. "Take her to the house. I'm to have the same chamber, Angus?"

Angus nodded, his gaze still on Kate.

Gavin dismounted and threw the reins of his horse to a young boy. "We're not going reiving tonight?" he asked Robert, disappointed, as he lifted Kate from the saddle. "It would make a fine tale once we get back to Craighdhu."

"We need an early start tomorrow." Robert got off his horse and turned back to Angus. "Do you have time before you visit Cavendish to show me your new acquisitions?"

Angus's attention instantly left Kate, and a smile broke over his face as he slipped from the saddle. "I'll make time. I want to show you what you're missing by living on that barren island with no access to good horseflesh. Though you could always amuse yourself by snatching a few of Malcolm's prime stock." He laughed in amusement at the thought and clapped Robert on the shoulder. "Come along, and I'll show you one of the prettiest mares you've ever seen."

···

Kate watched from the window as Angus Gordon and his men rode out of the stable yard and then turned south and thundered toward the border.

There's a storm coming .

She had not understood when Robert had said those words, but this was what he meant. He had known her mother was going to die. He had known when he had taken her from Sebastian that Queen Elizabeth was going to behead her mother.

"Are you well?"

She turned to see Robert standing in the doorway. "Of course." She unclenched her hands and forced a smile. "I don't know why I was upset. It was very foolish of me. I don't even remember seeing her. She never came to visit me, never wrote me a letter. After she gave me up, it was as if I never existed."

"Hearing anyone has been beheaded is never a pleasant experience. It's not surprising you're upset."

"I'm not so squeamish. I always knew it might happen. Sebastian told me someday Elizabeth would grow tired of my mother's sinfulness."

His lips thinned. "Why the devil did you ask Angus to describe her death?"

"All my life I've heard what a sinful life she led. I had to know that it didn't end that way, that she had some worth. Courage is a virtue too." She folded her arms across her chest to keep them from trembling. "It's growing chill, isn't it?"

"No, but I'll build up the fire." He knelt and threw on another log and stoked the flames. "I've told the servants they could go to their quarters. They're more friends than servants to Angus, and I didn't want them gossiping to him about how upset you are."

"I'm sorry to be so much trouble."

"No trouble. I've asked Gavin to see what he can find in the kitchen and bring your supper up here."

"Thank you. You're very kind."

He rose to his feet and replaced the poker. "Good God, you must be upset to make that bad a mistake in judgment."

"You can be kind. You're kind to Gavin. Sometimes you remind me of a fierce falcon, spreading your wings over him, keeping him from all harm. It must make him feel very safe." A weary smile touched her lips. "But I forgot, he belongs to Craighdhu. That makes him the exception, doesn't it?"

"Aye." He stood looking at her, frowning. "I don't like this."

She didn't know what he meant and was too numb to care. As she moved toward the hearth, her gaze fell on the bed, and his words on the hill came back to her. She said dully, "Clean sheets."

"By the Saints," he exploded. "I'm not so desperate for a woman I'd take one who is capable of no more feeling than a puppet."

"No?" It did not seem to matter. She sat down in the high-backed chair by the hearth and stared into the dancing flames.

"You're to eat your supper when Gavin brings it. Do you understand?"

She nodded.

"And then you're to go to bed and forget all this."

Forget death and loneliness and the woman who died in her scarlet petticoat four days ago. "I shall be quite all right."

She was vaguely aware he was standing there staring at her. Then he muttered a curse and slammed the door.

She leaned her head back against the chair. The flames shimmered scarlet in the gathering darkness, as bold and brilliant as a scarlet petticoat.…

Robert looked down at the untouched food on the tray. "You should have made her eat."

"She wasn't hungry. She said she was going to bed." Gavin crossed the hall and vanished into the kitchen. He came out a moment later carrying a bottle of whiskey. "Look what I found. I'm sure Angus won't mind. We can always tell him we only wanted to toast his success against the English. What was the real reason we didn't go with him?"

"Too dangerous. For the next few months every action against the English is going to be laid to Mary's execution. I have no desire for anyone to link my marriage to any sudden interest in avenging her."

"I wondered why you were so quick to distract Angus." He frowned. "But we can trust him, Robert."

"He's curious and curious men speculate. Speculations are dangerous." His gaze went back to the stairs. "How did she look?"

Gavin shrugged. "You saw her."

"That's no answer," Robert snapped. "Dammit, how does she look? Was she any better?"

"She looked as though she were seeing phantoms." Gavin paused and then added, "But we all have to face our phantoms alone. You can't fight them for her."

"Why the hell should I want to try?" Robert strode to the table in front of the hearth. "Bring that whiskey. I feel in need of warming."

"Or blurring." Gavin set the bottle on the card table and sat down opposite him. "I'm sure this isn't what you planned for tonight. You were so hot for her, I thought you'd give in a dozen times on the journey here."

"So did I." He was still hot for her. He had never been in such a fever for a woman as he was for Kate, and frustration was tearing him apart—frustration and that aching tenderness he had been fighting since the moment he had seen her. Why could he not set that softness aside and take what he wanted?

"She's a brave lass. It's hard to see her suffer, isn't it?"

Robert didn't look at him as he reached for the bottle. "Deal the cards."

···

Mermaid!

She couldn't breathe! Her lungs were filling with water. Smothering! "Wait, please, wait…"

"What the hell is wrong?" She was being shaken hard, being torn from the blue depths. "Wake up!"

Kate opened her eyes to see Robert's face above her.

Safety. Harbor. Home.

She hurled herself into his arms, her heart beating so hard, it felt as if it were going to leap into her throat and choke her. Her arms closed frantically, desperately around him. "She's gone!"

"Shh…" Robert buried his fingers in her hair. "You must have had a bad dream."

What was she doing? Instinct had brought her into this embrace, but Robert was no safe harbor. She tried to break free, but he quelled her struggles "Stop it."

She collapsed back into his arms. She would have to rely on instinct; she was too weak to do battle now.

"She's gone." She was sobbing so hard, she could barely get the words past her lips. "Mermaid. Mermaid…"

"Easy." Robert began stroking her hair. "It can't be that bad. It was only a dream."

The tears were pouring down her cheeks. "That's what I tried to tell him. Not a sin—only a dream."

"Told who?"

"Sebastian. He wouldn't listen. Martha got…the whip."

He went still. "The whip?'

"Because of the dream. Mermaid…"

"What does a mermaid have to do with this?"

"It's her. Don't you see? It's her."

"Mary?"

"My mother." The frantic words tumbled out wildly. "He said to dream about her was wicked. But it never felt wicked. It wasn't wicked."

"Christ."

She was silent a moment, trying to control her trembling. She mustn't be this weak. "You can let me go now."

"Hush." His arms tightened around her. "I'll do what I want to do."

She was thankful he hadn't wanted to do what she asked. She felt as if he were the only stable rock in a stormy sea. But the mermaid ruled the sea.…

"You don't mind? It will only be for a little while. When you hold me, I feel—"

"Safe," he supplied dryly. "I know."

"Yes, it's strange, isn't it? When sometimes I'm almost afraid of you…"

"I'm surprised that you admit it."

"So am I. I believe I'm not myself. Dear God, I hate to feel this weak. It makes me want to vomit with disgust."

"I pray you restrain yourself. I can bear tears, but the other is completely beyond me."

She closed her eyes and let the waves of strength and security he emitted sink into her. She became aware of the scent of leather and spice and whiskey surrounding him.

"Why mermaid?" Robert asked.

She shouldn't tell him. She had told Sebastian and suffered the consequences. But he was not Sebastian, and she needed to tell him. She could not stand the loneliness any longer. "Because of the posters."

"Posters?"

"You know what a mermaid is the symbol for?" she whispered.

"Aye, prostitute. But it's not something you should know about."

"I've known since I was a small child. Sebastian told me. He told me everything about her."

"For instance?"

"After her husband Lord Darnley was murdered, the townspeople of Edinburgh suspected her of complicity. They thought she murdered her husband so that she could marry her lover Lord Bothwell. They put posters everywhere, on every house and wall in Edinburgh." She paused. "A mermaid with a crown on her head."

"And that's what you dream?"

She nodded jerkily. "But it's not about murder or lust." Her voice softened. "I'm somewhere deep in the sea. The water is blue and silky and beautiful, and I'm happy. I feel free and safe, as if I belong there." She paused. "Then she comes."

"And you're not happy any longer?"

"At first I'm very happy. She's so beautiful. Her hair flows about her like brown-gold seaweed, and she smiles at me."

"And then?"

"She leaves me," she said desolately. "She swims away and leaves me behind. I try to swim after her, but she's too fast and the water grows darker and I can't see around me. I see glimpses of strange creatures with huge teeth, and I know they'll devour me if I don't swim very fast and catch up with her. But I can't. The sea isn't safe anymore, and suddenly I can't breathe under the water. The mermaid looks over her shoulder and smiles at me." The tears were falling again, and she wiped her cheek on his shirt. "You see, it's not a harmful dream."

"Except to you."

"Except to me," she repeated. "I'm getting your shirt wet."

"It will dry."

"She's gone for good this time. She'll never come back."

"No, she'll never come back."

"It seems strange. She was such a big part of my life, and yet I never knew her. When I was little, I used to think someday she would come and take me away. I thought if I could get to know her, get to learn everything about her, that I could do something to make her love me. But she never came. Children are very stupid, aren't they?" She swallowed. "I'm still being foolish. Gavin said you were going to play cards. Did I disturb you?"

"No, and stop making polite conversation."

"Was that what I was doing?" She laughed tremulously. "How odd. No one has ever taught me that art. Do you suppose it's my royal breeding emerging?"

"Perhaps."

Her smile faded. "I was joking. I'm not like her. No matter what anyone says, I'm not like her."

"How do you know? What do you know of her?"

"Everything."

"Everything Sebastian wanted you to know."

"She was selfish and willful and an adulteress."

"So I've heard." He paused. "I've also heard that she was gay and charming and brave. Half of Scotland was willing to fight under her banner."

"But not you."

"I fight only under Craighdhu's banner."

"But you would never choose to fight for her," she persisted.

He hesitated. "No."

She smiled sadly. "You see?"

"I would not follow her because a leader who acts on impulse is a leader who will lead you to destruction. Mary was ever ruled by her emotions, not her mind."

"And I'll never be like her."

"Which is why you jump out of windows to rescue nags not worth tuppence."

"That was different." She lifted her head to look at him in sudden horror. "Wasn't it? I'm not like her?"

"It's different," he said quickly. "Of course it's different." He went on slowly, searching for words. "We can't escape where we come from, but we can choose where we're going. Take what you want and leave the rest. Take Mary's bravery and leave her lack of vision. Accept her gift of laughter and reject her lust for power."

"Sebastian would say that's not possible."

"And I say it is. You can always control what you become, what you are."

She was again aware of that air of inflexible resolution that was always with him. "Because you do?"

At first she didn't think he was going to answer. Then he said, "Aye, because I do."

"It's not that easy. I can choose while I'm awake, but when I sleep…" She had a sudden thought. "Do you ever dream?"

"Everyone dreams."

"Bad dreams?"

He was silent a moment. "Not anymore."

But at some time his dreams had not been pleasant, or he would not have been willing to lower his guard to give her comfort. She opened her lips to ask what those dreams had been about but shut them without speaking.

He lifted a quizzical brow. "No more questions?"

"If I probed and dug, I would be as bad as Sebastian. You don't want to talk about your dreams."

"No, I don't want to talk about them." He paused. "But I'll tell you how I rid myself of them. I'd wake in the night in a cold sweat, unable to go back to sleep. One night I could stand it no longer. I went to the stable and saddled my horse and left the castle. I rode aimlessly for a while and then went to the barrens."

"The barrens?"

"The north side of the island is nothing but black rocks and steep cliffs. We call it the barrens."

She had a sudden picture of him, alone and tormented, the night wind lifting his hair as he rode along that desolate shore. "Why did you go there?"

"I don't know. But I sat on the cliff all night and watched the seals and the sea lions on the rocks below. Every spring hundreds of them come to the barrens to have their young. Life…" He was silent, remembering. "After that night, every time I woke from the dream, I'd go to the barrens. By the end of the summer I no longer had the dreams."

"You think it healed you?"

"I don't know. Perhaps."

"You do think so. Seals and sea lions…"

"But no mermaids," he said softly. "I never once saw a mermaid."

"Will you take me there?"

"Someday."

She wanted to pursue the matter and get a firmer commitment, but he had already given her more than she could have hoped. He had shared his memories and his pain, and that was not an easy thing for Robert.

And he had done it for her, she realized with joy. He had given her a glimpse of his own past to ease her pain and provide comfort She did not question why the act meant so much to her; it was enough that it filled her with a happiness and contentment she had never known. "I feel very strange…as if I were naked inside. It's most unsettling." Something closed and tight was uncoiling within her, but it was all right to let go. She did not have to hold Robert at bay with all the others.

She relaxed against him. "You're being kind to me."

"Am I?"

She nodded. "And I'm not Gavin."

He smoothed her hair back from her temple. "I agree, you don't resemble him in the slightest."

"No, I mean I don't belong to Craighdhu."

"I very much fear you're wrong. I wish the hell that you didn't, but I'm afraid you do belong to Craighdhu now."

"You mean, for the next year?"

There was only the slightest pause. "Aye, that's what I mean."

"And that means you'll be kind to me, just like you are to Gavin?"

She felt him stiffen against her. "I don't think of you in the same way."

"You could, if you gave up this foolishness of wanting to bed me."

"I'm afraid that foolishness will continue." He paused and then said roughly, "But if it will make you happier, I promise I will not attempt you until you come to me and say you wish it."

"And you will treat me as you do Gavin?"

He hesitated. "If possible."

The falcon enfolding her with warmth, protecting her. What a wondrous thing that would be. "That will be…pleasant."

"Not for me."

"Why not?"

"Because it means I lose two pounds to Gavin."

She couldn't see what a wager had to do with this, but she was so emotionally drained, she might not be thinking clearly. "Sebastian says gambling will destroy the soul."

"I don't give a damn about Sebastian or his opinions."

"Neither do I. That was very stupid of me. I guess I just couldn't think of anything else to say."

His hand stroked her hair. "Then don't say anything at all."

The suggestion seemed very good, and she relaxed against him and closed her eyes. She could hear the strong beating of his heart beneath her ear, rhythmic and powerful, like the sea washing against the shore. Strange, always before, after the dream fear had made her avoid all thought of the sea, but she felt safe tonight. There might come dreams of seals and sea lions and Robert's dark presence on the cliff looking down at them, but somehow she knew there would be no desolate loneliness and no mermaids.