Chapter 5

S he woke alone at dawn the next morning. The moment she opened her eyes, she was aware something had changed, something was different . Memory rushed back to her. Seals and sea lions and Robert holding her through the long night and that feeling that she was safe at last. Robert had gone, but it made no difference. Joy rippled through her like sunlight. He had made her a promise, and Gavin said he always kept his promises. She jumped out of bed and ran over to the washbasin.

As she started down the steps, Robert was striding across the hall toward the front door. "I was just going to send Gavin to wake you. We should be on our way."

She stopped on the stairs as a wave of panic swept through her. Dear God, he was as cool and remote as if last night had never happened. He was closing her out, walking away from her like all the rest. Sickening disappointment was immediately followed by a flare of anger. By Judas, he couldn't take away what he had given her. She had opened herself to him, and she would not go back. Only loneliness awaited her if she gave up now. She ran down the rest of the stairs and marched up to him. "No! I won't have this. Do you hear me?"

His expression remained impassive as he gazed into her blazing eyes. "Go to the kitchen and get something to eat. Angus is still asleep, but last night I gave him our thanks for his hospitality and we—"

"Why are you so different? You said—you know what you said."

"And I will keep to it. I will guard you as I do Gavin."

"But that's not enough." She had to make him understand. "I know I behaved in a weak fashion, and I can understand your disgust, but that's no reason for you to—You need not offer me protection. I can care for myself, but there's no reason for you not to be my friend as you are Gavin's. Carolyn says I always demand too much of people, but no more than I'm willing to give. We could talk and…and laugh and—It would make our time together more harmonious, and I think—"

"Hush."

"I won't hush. You cannot push me away again. I tell you that—"

Robert covered her lips with his hand. "I know what you're saying. You're saying I don't have to shelter you under my wing, but I must coo like a peaceful dove whenever I'm around you."

"I could not imagine you cooing, but I do not think peace and friendship between us is too much to ask." She blinked rapidly as she moved her head to avoid his hand. "You promised that—"

"I know what I promised, and you have no right to ask more from me. You can't expect to beckon me close and then have me keep my distance," he said harshly. "You can't have it both ways, as you would know if you weren't—" He broke off. "And don't weep ."

"I'm not weeping."

"By thunder, you are."

"I have something in my eye. "You're not being sensible."

"I'm being more sensible than you know," he said with exasperation. "Why the devil is this so important to you?"

She wasn't sure herself, but it had something to do with that wondrous feeling of rightness she had experienced last night. She had never known it before, and she would not give it up. She tried to put it into words: "I feel as if I've been closed up inside for a long time. Now, I want…something else. It will do you no harm to be my friend."

"That's not all you want," he said slowly as he studied her desperate expression. "I don't think you know what you want. But I do, and I can't give it to you."

"You could try." She drew a deep breath. "Do you think it's easy for me to ask this of you? It fills me with anger and helplessness, and I hate that feeling."

She wasn't reaching him. She had to say something that would convince him. Suddenly, the words came tumbling out, words she had never meant to say, expressing emotions she had never realized she felt. "I thought all I'd need would be a house, but now I know there's something more. I have to have people too. I guess I always knew it, but the house was easier, safer. Can't you see? I want what you and Gavin and Angus have, and I don't know if I can find it alone. Sebastian told me I couldn't have it, but I will. I will. " Her hands nervously clenched and unclenched at her sides. "I'm all tight inside. I feel scorched…like a desert. Sebastian made me that way, and I don't know how to stop. I'm not…at ease with anyone."

He smiled ironically. "I've noticed a certain lack of trust in me, but you seem to have no problem with Gavin."

"I truly like Gavin, but he can't change what I am." She went on eagerly, "But it was different with you last night. I really talked to you. You made me feel…" She stopped. She had sacrificed enough of her pride. If this was not enough, she could give no more.

The only emotion she could identify in the multitude of expressions that flickered across his face was frustration. And there was something else, something darker, more intense. He threw up his hands. "All right, I'll try."

Joy flooded through her. "Truly?"

"My God, you're obstinate."

"It's the only way to keep what one has. If I hadn't fought, you'd have walked away."

"I see." She had the uneasy feeling he saw more than her words had portended. But she must accept this subtle intrusion of apprehension if she was to be fully accepted by him.

"Do I have to make a solemn vow?" he asked with a quizzical lift of his brows.

"Yes, please. Truly?" she persisted.

"Truly." Some of the exasperation left his face. "Satisfied?"

"Yes, that's all I want."

"Is it?" He smiled crookedly. "That's not all I want."

The air between them was suddenly thick and hard to breathe, and Kate could feel the heat burn in her cheeks. She swallowed. "I'm sure you'll get over that once you become accustomed to thinking of me differently."

He didn't answer.

"You'll see." She smiled determinedly and quickly changed the subject. "Where is Gavin?"

"In the kitchen fetching food for the trail."

"I'll go find him and tell him you wish to leave at—"

"In a moment." He moved to stand in front of her, lifted the hood of her cape, and framed her face with a gesture that held a possessive intimacy. He looked down at her, holding her gaze. "This is not a wise thing. I don't know how long I can stand this box you've put me in. All I can promise is that I'll give you warning when I decide to break down the walls."

She stared up at him mesmerized, unable to tear her gaze away.

"Do you understand?"

She forced herself to step back, then turned and moved down the hall toward the kitchen. "You'll change your mind once you realize how it would get in the way," she tossed back over her shoulder with a touch of bravado. "I'll be much better as a friend than just a woman for your bed."

"That premise is open to extensive debate, and one in which you're not qualified to participate." He opened the door. "Tell Gavin to give you something to eat while I go to the stable and get the horses."

He was wrong, she told herself. Everything would be fine once he became accustomed to her. Everything would be just the way it should be. She would dismiss this nagging unease and let herself be as happy as she had been when she awoke this morning.

Gavin looked up when she walked into the kitchen. "Well, you look bright and rested. I'm glad to see it. You nigh scared me to death with your screaming."

She flushed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"

"I know," he interrupted with a gentle smile. "It was clear her death was a cruel blow to you."

"It shouldn't have been. I behaved most inappropriately." She changed the subject. "Where is your kinsman?"

"Asleep. Angus came back in the middle of the night, roaring and crowing with glee, and had to toast his cleverness with the rest of that bottle of whiskey I found."

"His journey was successful?"

"Aye. Five lovely little mares and one stallion." He set bread and cheese before her. "Eat. Robert wants to be gone from here. We're too close to the border."

She picked up the piece of bread and began to nibble at it. "This hurry is all foolishness, you know. Even if anyone realized who I was, it would make no difference."

"That's not what Robert thinks." He sat down opposite her and crossed his legs at the ankle. "And he's no fool. Do you suppose there's a possibility he may even know more than a lass who had been buried in the country all her life?"

She grinned and airily waved a hand. "A slight possibility." Quickly, she finished the bread and cheese and got to her feet. "I'm ready. Let's be on our way."

"Such eagerness." He studied her. "I wouldn't know you were the same lass as yesterday."

"I'm not. I feel different."

"How?"

She wasn't sure herself. It was difficult to separate and identify the elements of this strange, euphoric mood. It wasn't only that she had won the battle with Robert. She felt free.… No, that wasn't it. She had not felt a sense of liberty when Robert had turned up the collar of her cape. She had felt cosseted, guarded, and robbed of the responsibility she had felt all her life. It was as if a great burden had been lifted from her, and the lack of that load brought a giddy sense of exhilaration. She would probably not tolerate that cosseting for any length of time, but for now it brought a rare pleasure.

She smiled brilliantly. "It's hard to explain." She turned and moved toward the door. "Let's go. Robert is waiting."

They came within sight of the Grampians four days later. The mountains rose stark and wild in the distance, their crests wreathed in mist, the steep slopes only sparsely covered with vegetation.

"Well?"

She found Robert's gaze fastened on her face.

"They look…lonely."

"A curious word. I thought you would be more intimidated. Most people find our Highlands less than hospitable."

"What is that dark brown plant on the slopes? I've never seen it before."

"Because it grows principally in Scotland." Robert smiled. "Heather has the good sense to gift us Scots with most of its beauty and bounty."

"Beauty?" Kate made a face as she looked at the scraggly growth. "It's ugly."

"You think so? I'll wager you change your mind."

She shook her head doubtfully. "And it looks prickly. How does it feel?"

He chuckled as he shook his head. "I'm sure you'll find out for yourself. You must have stopped a dozen times today to look at or touch something. I've never seen anyone as curious as you are."

"I just want to know things. I've never traveled before, and everything seems so…so new." It was more than that, she thought. She herself felt new. It was as if everything within her was stretching, growing, reaching out to touch and see and be. There were still times when she would feel the old fear, tightness, and anger coming back, but those moments were coming more and more infrequently.

"And I suppose you never displayed this trait before?"

She made a face. "Well, Carolyn did say once that I was overly inquisitive. But that was after—Well, never mind. There's nothing wrong with being interested in everything, is there?"

For an instant she thought his expression held a hint of tenderness. "No, there's nothing wrong with that."

"Then what bounty?"

He frowned in puzzlement.

"You said heather gave most of her bounty to Scots."

"Oh, heather serves a multitude of purposes. It feeds our souls and our senses and even our need for forgetfulness on occasion." He shot a mischievous glance at Gavin. "Isn't that true? I remember the night before we left Craighdhu, you imbibed so much of our heather ale that I doubt you remember anything about that leavetaking."

"You're wrong. I remember playing the pipes and then you throwing me off the bridge into the moat."

"At least I kept everyone else from drowning you. You play the pipes only tolerably when sober; when drunk, you're a disaster."

"I was going into battle. It was entirely suitable to play the pipes," Gavin protested. "And it's not kind of you to reveal my sins to Kate when I've been trying to convince her what a fine guide I'll be on this rocky road of marriage she's treading."

"Just as long as you don't try to lead her after you've had a few cups of ale. I'd hate to be forced to pull both of you out of the moat."

She had never seen him like this, teasing, his expression alight with humor. She instinctively guided Rachel closer, to bask in that warmth. "I'm surprised you don't think even drunkenness laudable if performed by a Scot."

"Excess is never laudable, but it's understandable."

"As long as it's done by the people of Craighdhu."

He laughed. "Aye, now you're beginning to understand."

He was being so open, she decided to venture more. "And by you?"

"I never indulge in heather ale."

"Why not?"

"Good God, will your questions never cease?" He answered her just the same. "Because I always drink too deep."

He was drinking deep now, she realized suddenly. He was breathing in the cold air, tasting the flavors and scents of this place, this time. She suddenly wanted to reach out and touch him, join with all the other sensations that were surrounding him, feeding him. "Only of heather ale?"

She knew at once the words were a mistake. She had desired only to draw closer, to find out more about him, but she had subtly shifted the delicate balance between them. He glanced at her, and something flickered in his face. "No, I have a tendency to embrace all excesses, and therefore must never tempt myself too strongly." He kicked his horse into a gallop. "Let's see if we can make a better time than this snail's pace. God knows once we leave the Lowlands, that piebald will keep us creeping along."

She glanced back at Caird. The derogatory remark was not unjustified, but it was the first Robert had made since they had left Angus's manor. "It's not his fault," she told Gavin, since Robert was now far ahead. "He's doing his best."

"His best may not be good enough. We would have been deep in those mountains by this time if he hadn't been along," Gavin said. "And Robert's right. Once we get higher, the thin air will slow him down even more. The mountains aren't kind to the old or weak."

"Then we must be that much more kind ourselves."

Kindness. Her glance went back to Robert. He had been kind to her during these past days. He had answered her questions, he had been polite and courteous…and kind. It was not enough. She would just have to try harder to draw nearer to him, to find out everything about him so that she could make him give her the warmth and joy she had known that night. If she had not been so clumsy, she might have made a great stride today, but instead she had reminded him of that side of his nature she wanted him to forget.

She would just have to try harder.

"Pull your blanket up higher," Robert said, his gaze on the girth he was repairing. "The wind is sharpening."

"I'm fine," Kate said drowsily, her gaze on his hands. Beautiful hands, she thought, the long fingers clever and facile. She lifted her stare to his face. The planes of his cheek were hollowed in the firelight, his eyes narrowed as they focused on the leather.

He put the girth down, pulled the blanket higher around her shoulders, and then picked up his work again. The action was done matter-of-factly, almost absently, but contentment rippled through her. Tucked beneath the falcon's wings, she thought dreamily. It was a caring gesture, like one of a hundred he had made in the last two days. He still did not treat her with the same ease he did Gavin, but there was closeness and nurturing and sometimes even laughter. She was drawing nearer to Robert every day.

"Did you like being a pirate?" she asked.

"It had its interesting moments."

"Then will you do it again?"

"I think not."

"Why not?"

"There's no need. I have enough gold for my purposes now."

"We needed the gold to expand our trade with Ireland, Kate," Gavin said. "We needed warehouses and more ships.… Craighdhu is a hard land and will not support us."

"I can't believe it." Kate's eyes twinkled with mischief. "From what you've both told me, I thought it must be paradise."

For a few minutes there was only the sound of the crackling fire. "Who is Malcolm?" she asked suddenly.

Robert looked up in surprise.

"Angus Gordon mentioned him, and you said—"

"I remember the occasion, but I wasn't sure you would. You were a trifle upset at the time." He went back to his mending. "Sir Alec Malcolm of Kilgranne. Some of his lands border mine."

She frowned. "On Craighdhu?"

"No, Craighdhu is an island, but our clan also has land on the mainland."

"Then he's a Highlander?"

"He was born a Highlander," Robert explained.

"He's a greedy bastard," Gavin put in from across the fire.

Robert smiled. "Gavin has no liking for my cousin Alec."

"Another relation?"

"I told you, we're almost all bound by family ties."

"He'd like to sever that tie and your jugular with the same cut," Gavin said bluntly. "You're too lenient with him, Robert."

"I'm not lenient. I'm just as greedy as my dear cousin. If I kill Alec, then James will have an excuse to send his troops in to avenge his favorite and grab Craighdhu. If I wait for a more propitious time, I stand a chance to make peace with Alec's son, Duncan. He's not a bad lad."

"And keep Craighdhu safe," Gavin added.

Robert nodded. "And keep Craighdhu safe."

"If Alec lets you." Gavin made a face. "There's no telling what we'll find when we reach home."

"Jock will not have let the island be breached." He shrugged. "And any land Alec's taken, we'll just take back."

They were both so casual when speaking about blood and conquest, Kate thought, then realized with surprise that she was no longer shocked, as she had been at first. Had custom hardened her? "Wouldn't that make James just as angry?"

"Perhaps, but not enough to give him an excuse to march in and try to get it back for Alec. It's all a balance that has to be struck."

"I don't understand."

"You would if you'd ever met your dear brother."

"I've heard he's not overpopular in Scotland." She smiled, reminiscing. "When I was very little, I used to dream about James riding into the village one day, taking me away from Sebastian and carrying me off to live with him at his castle in Edinburgh."

"I assure you, James would have no family feelings toward you. His ambitions exceed even Malcolm's."

"He wants more power?" She shook her head. "I wonder why, when he has so much already."

"Power can be a heady brew."

She thought about it. "I believe I can understand that."

"What?" Robert's head lifted, and she heard Gavin's indrawn breath.

"It must be pleasant to have power. I think I would like it very much indeed."

"Then think again," Robert said harshly. "Unless you have a desire to follow in your mother's footsteps."

Her casual words had disturbed him, she realized with lazy amusement. Another sign that they were drawing closer. She wondered if she could provoke a further response. "I've always hated being helpless. It was like a bleeding sore when I was with Sebastian. And you like power yourself." She softly quoted his own words, "‘The sweet prerogatives of power.'"

"The prime prerogative of power is to use it in staying alive."

He was growing more intense by the moment over a subject that was blatantly ridiculous. She smiled teasingly. "But I'm not as unwise as my mother. I would never make the mistakes she did."

"Christ."

"She doesn't mean it, Robert," Gavin said. "Can't you see she's joking?"

"I'm not so sure." Robert's gaze drilled her own. "Are you joking, Kate?"

She was suddenly not certain how much was jest and how much was truth. She had never thought about herself in connection with power. She had rejected the concept along with all of Sebastian's other views, but now, in this moment of dreamlike contentment, the idea held a subtle allure. "It's a terrible thing to be made to feel defenseless. I will never go back to that again. Yet I don't believe I would want to be in the position of imposing my will on others. Sometimes my temper is unruly, and that would not be good." She frowned, weighing the matter. "Unless I could learn to control my passions. And power would bring safety, wouldn't it?"

"Not for you. You say you're not unwise, but you're a thousand times more ignorant than Mary," he bit out. "And you're no match for James. Dammit, he could have stopped your mother from being beheaded."

Her eyes widened. "How?"

"All he had to do was threaten to invade England if she was executed. Elizabeth wouldn't have risked war to rid herself of a threat who was already her captive. Instead, when Mary was condemned to death by Parliament, all James did was send a weak protest."

"Perhaps he thought that would be enough."

Robert shook his head. "He wants to be king of England as well as Scotland. His mother stood in the way."

"Matricide?" she whispered.

"In a fashion." He held her gaze. "So don't ever decide to throw yourself on his mercy. You pose almost as much of a threat as she did."

She shook her head doubtfully.

"God's blood, listen to me."

"All this talk of power and threats is without point. I have no claim to the throne."

"Elizabeth now rules England, yet the Catholics said she was illegitimate and had no claim to the throne because Henry broke from Rome for her mother, Anne Boleyn. Ambitious men twist facts to suit themselves and are ever looking for pawns to get what they want."

"I'm not a pawn."

"Not now, and if you wish to remain that way, stay away from James and my dear cousin Alec Malcolm and the pope and half the nobles in Scotland. Oh, and Philip of Spain." He shook his head. "Shall I go on? I could, you know."

"Well, I have nothing to worry about at the moment." She glanced away from him. "And I do think you're wrong. If I do not choose to be a pawn, then no one can make me one."

"Don't be too sure."

"I am sure." But she was becoming uneasy with all this talk of pawns and conquests. He was becoming impatient, and she could now sense something violent and angry leashed beneath the surface. She wanted to go back to that moment when she had felt so safe and happy as he had tucked the blanket around her. She settled down and leaned her cheek on her arm. "I refuse to worry about something that will not come to pass."

"I hope to God it won't come to pass," he said. "But you won't prevent it from happening by hiding your eyes from the truth." He stared at her and then muttered savagely, "But I forgot, you make a habit of not seeing what you don't want to see."

She inhaled sharply, her eyes wide with shock. The explosion had caught her completely off guard, as if a tiger had leapt out of the shadows.

"I believe it's time, we all went to sleep," Gavin interjected. "We should reach the foothills tomorrow, and the going will be much rougher. Have you not finished that girth, Robert?"

Robert didn't answer.

Gavin took one look at his face and then shrugged. "Well I, for one, am too weary to hold my eyes open for another moment." He glanced meaningfully at Kate as he settled down in his blankets. "I'm sure you feel the same, Kate. Good night."

"Good night." Robert's gaze shifted back to the girth in his hands.

Kate watched him. The tiger had returned to the shadows, but she was painfully aware he was drawing away from her, from both of them. Everything was suddenly different. It was as if he had withdrawn to a place she could not go, and she wanted to reach out and jerk him back. "I'm right, you know. All this talk of—"

"Good night, Kate," Robert said without looking at her.

The note of finality in his voice was almost as painful as his withdrawal and frightened her more. It wasn't final, she assured herself. She would just ignore this little contretemps, and tomorrow would be the same as the days that had gone before.

The slopes of the distant mountains were not yet shimmering with snow, but they loomed stark and forbidding in the moonlight, and this afternoon Robert had noticed that the sky had turned the nasty pewter color that heralded a storm.

That's all we needed, Robert thought in exasperation. Snow and ice would make the rough trail through the mountains even more treacherous.

"It may not be so bad," Gavin said quietly as he came to stand beside Robert on the rise. "We're only in the foothills. The snow may be over before we reach the slopes."

"But not the ice."

"It will just take us a little longer."

Dammit, he didn't need any more delays. He needed to get to Craighdhu before he splintered into a thousand pieces. "Aye."

Gavin shot him a sideways glance. "You're worried about the piebald?"

"He's laboring."

"We can't push any harder. It would break her heart if anything happened to him."

"Do you think I don't know that?" Robert said savagely. "We should never have brought him."

"But he's here."

"And so it's my fault, my responsibility."

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to say it." It was always his responsibility. Craighdhu and his people and now Kate and this Goddamn horse. He whirled and started back down the hill toward the campfire.

Gavin fell into step with him. "What are you going to do?"

"What am I supposed to do? Carry the nag over the mountains?"

"You don't have to bite at me." He paused. "Or Kate."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means you're making her miserable. She was so happy a few days ago. It was as if she were…" He stopped to find the right word. "Blooming. She doesn't understand why you're different now."

He knew she didn't understand. He had seen her unhappiness and bewilderment, and it flicked at him like a raw wound, the kind of dangerous pinprick a man can die of without knowing he'd received it. Yet what else could he do? He should have drawn back before this. He had already yielded too much to her. "She doesn't want to understand."

"Maybe it would be better if you did bed her, if it would rid you of this bad temper. You're hurting the lass."

"I'm glad I have your permission."

"I know you don't like me to speak to you of this." Gavin's jaw was set. "But I like her, and there's no need for her to be hurt more by your coldness."

Coldness wasn't the problem, he thought grimly. He had never been more hot and aching. The frustration was growing every second of the day, and she still expected him to give her the impossible. "You're right, I don't want you to talk of this."

"Well, you're to be kind to her tonight," Gavin said flatly. "I've spent the past hour trying to raise her spirits, and it won't hurt you to smile at her."

But if he smiled at her, she would smile back. She would smile with an eagerness and trust that tied him in knots and kept him from breaking free of her.

They were approaching the fire now and Kate, who sat cross-legged on a blanket in front of it. Gavin said quickly, "And praise her. Tell her how—"

Robert no longer heard Gavin's words as he stared in horror at Kate.

Firelight glittered on metal as three knives whirled in a circle above Kate's head!

"What the hell is she—"

"Shh…" Gavin grabbed his arm, his gaze never leaving the knives Kate was juggling. "Don't startle her. Is it not wondrous?"

"It will be wondrous if she doesn't kill herself." Any second one of those dirks could fall blade first into Kate's hand, cutting it to the bone. He knew how sharp those edges were. "Why the hell did you let her do it?"

"I thought it would distract her," Gavin said. "She said she had a trick she could show me. I don't think you need to worry. She seems to know what she's doing."

Robert felt as if he were going to throw up. "Not worry? When she—" He broke off as Kate sent one dirk spinning into the dirt a few yards away and then deftly caught the other two by their shafts.

Thank the Saints, it was over.

She laughed with delight as she noticed them standing there. "They're fine knives, Gavin. It's not often that you find such well-balanced—" She broke off as she saw Robert's expression and drew herself up warily. "You don't need to look at me like that. I didn't hurt them."

"I've never seen such foolishness. You could have sliced your hand off."

"Nonsense. A knife is no different from any other object, if balanced correctly."

"And you know how to balance—"

"Of course she does," Gavin interrupted with a warning glance at Robert. "Such a pretty trick, Kate. Where did you learn to do it?"

Kate kept her cautious stare on Robert. "A troop of strolling players passed through our village every year. Carolyn and I would hide in the woods and watch them practice." She smiled. "Acrobats and rope walkers, and there was a juggler who was truly wonderful. His name was Jonathan the Great, and he could keep five bright-colored balls in the air at one time. After they were gone, Carolyn and I practiced to learn the way of it. She soon grew bored, but I kept on with it for years. I had no balls, but I used apples and potatoes."

"And may I ask why you were so determined?" Robert asked sarcastically. "Or was it just your damnable curiosity?"

"No of course not. I thought when I ran away from Sebastian, I might join a troop of strolling players."

"As a juggler?"

She raised her chin defiantly. "Why not? It's not such a foolish idea. I knew I'd have to earn my way in some fashion if I was to hide from Sebastian. I'm not so bad now, and with more time to practice I would have gotten better. It was not—"

"God's blood." She didn't even realize the dangers of the life of strolling players, who were nearly always surrounded by whores and thieves and charlatans. Dammit, she didn't know anything. She just stared at him with those huge, luminous eyes filled with eagerness and dreams and expected him to—

He turned on his heel and stalked off into the darkness.

She jumped to her feet and ran after him. "Why are you so angry? I did nothing wrong. One of the blades is a trifle dirty, but I can—"

"Stay away from me."

"But I did nothing wrong, and it's not fair for you to—"

"Be silent."

"I won't be quiet. I want to know why you're—"

He whirled and grasped her shoulders and shook her. "You did nothing wrong! You could have—" He stopped as he saw the expression on her face.

She had gone still. "You were worried about me?" she asked. Then a brilliant smile lit her face. "That is very…pleasant."

"Is it?"

She nodded. "I don't remember anyone ever being concerned about me before. Carolyn, perhaps, but that was a long time ago." She took a step closer, her gaze eagerly searching his face. "I told you we would become friends, didn't I?"

"That's what you told me."

"And it's true. Have we not talked and become companionable? Oh, you've been most peculiar for the past few days, but now I understand. You were probably concerned about me then also."

He could feel the warmth of her body reaching out to him through her woolen cloak and the gown beneath it. He should release her, drop his hands from her shoulders. "Was I?"

"Of course. And now you worry about me as a true friend would, as you would for Gavin."

"Why do you keep making comparisons? You're not Gavin."

Her smile dimmed a bit. "I believe you're still angry at me for frightening you. I was quite safe, but I will promise not to use Gavin's knives again if I can find something else. The problem was that I had no balls or apples or potatoes."

Something seemed to explode inside him. "No balls or apples or potatoes," he said through his teeth. "What a pity." He jerked her to him. "Perhaps I should give you something else to amuse you." His hands grasped her hips, and he pulled her against him, letting her feel the hard, jutting strength of his arousal. He rubbed yearningly, sensuously, against her softness, feeling himself swell and grow in dimension. He wanted to loose himself and drag her down to the ground and enter and plunge and rut like an animal. "Shall I furnish you with another toy to keep you occupied?"

He felt her stiffen against him. "Why are you doing this?"

His hands moved around to cup her buttocks, keeping her immobile. She felt so good against him. A shudder racked through him. "Because I'm not your mother or your father or your friend. You told me once if you learned everything about your mother, you'd find a way to make her care for you. Do you think I don't know that's what you've been trying to do to me? Well, you can't do it. You're not coming any closer. If you need a friend, go to Gavin, not to me." He was growing painfully heavier with every word. He couldn't keep on for much longer. "I tried to tell you that, and you wouldn't listen. Do I have your attention now?"

She was too close for him to see her face. He didn't want to see her face. He didn't want to see the disappointment come and the eagerness leave. "Yes," she whispered.

"Good. Then hear me now. If you don't wish to occupy my bed, then stay away from me. I will have no more of this." He released her and strode away from her, careful not to look back.

He knew how she would look—lonely, desolate, as she had when he had comforted her the night after the mermaid dream. He could not help it if she was disappointed. How could she expect him to be what she wanted him to be? He was a man, with a man's needs. It was time she knew there was no place for her in his life other than the temporary carnal one he had first chosen for her.

She would not cry. She'd been foolish, and foolish women deserved to be hurt. Kate drew her cloak closer around her as she gazed blindly into the shadows where Robert had disappeared.

It had all been a dream wrought by her own eagerness and longing. She could see that now. She had deliberately blinded herself, and that must never happen again.

She turned heavily away and started back toward the fire. He had never wanted anything from her but that carnal closeness that men always wanted from women. He had always made that clear, and she had been too stubborn to accept it. She would go to sleep and let slumber heal the hurt. She would come to terms with this pain and be fine by morning.

It was not as if she lost anything that had really been hers.

Robert woke in the middle of the night to see Kate kneeling beside him.

"Shh…Don't wake Gavin." She swallowed and then said haltingly, "This won't take long. I have…to speak to you."

"Couldn't it wait until morning?"

"No, I cannot sleep. I wish to apologize for being so stupid. I realize now how troublesome I've been to you. You see…I had been alone too long." She paused, then continued. "It was because you were strong, I think. Sebastian was strong, but his strength was always used against me. Then you came…and you were strong and yet you were so kind to Gavin. It seemed…wonderful to me. I wanted it, so I tried to take it. I didn't care what you wanted." She added with sudden fierceness, "But you didn't care what I wanted either."

He had cared. He had been aware of her desperate hunger to be close to someone after those years of loneliness and repression. He had just been unable to give her what she needed.

"You were right, I tried to mold you into what I wanted you to be." She smiled without mirth. "But you wouldn't fit into the mold."

He wanted to reach out and touch her. He did not. "I believe you should go back to your blankets."

"Soon. I have to finish this before I can go on. I lived a life of lies with Sebastian, and I will never do that again. He tried to mold me as I did you. I'm ashamed to have acted as he did." She shrugged. "In truth, I should probably thank you. Sebastian built a shell around me, and you broke through it."

"I had nothing to do with it." It had not been so much a shell as a cocoon from which an exquisite and wonderful butterfly had emerged and tried her tentative wings. "You broke through it yourself."

She lifted her chin. "You're right, I did it. I can have anything, be anything, I want to be. I never really needed your strength. I'm not a child. I don't need anything from you."

He stared at her without speaking.

"That's all. I just wished you to know my foolishness is over and that I won't bother you again. When we reach Craighdhu, we must try to work out an arrangement to see as little of each other as possible." She rose brusquely to her feet. "Good night."

He gazed after her as she went to her blankets. He could almost see the walls of pride and hurt rise around her, shutting him out. The eager, open child of these past days was gone. He should be pleased, dammit. She would no longer trail after him, talking and gesturing, asking him questions, trying to make him into something he could never be. She would distance herself and no longer be a constant temptation to him. It was not likely, but he might even be able to reach Craighdhu without bedding her.

He should be pleased.

Edinburgh

"It is absurd," James said impatiently to Sebastian Landfield. "You cannot expect me to believe such a tale."

"I realized it would be difficult to comprehend, so I took the liberty of bringing a few of the letters Her Majesty sent me through the years regarding the girl's upbringing." Sebastian withdrew the documents from beneath his cloak and presented them to the king. "I'm sure you've received personal letters from Her Majesty and can compare the script."

James did not bother to unfold the letters. "And even if it's true, the girl can be no threat to me."

"She is a threat to all who believe in John Knox."

"She is a Catholic?" James asked swiftly.

"Not at the moment. I've trained her to be a good Protestant, but she is weak and sinful like her mother. It would take little to sway her into the devil's camp. I need not tell you what chaos she could bring down upon both our lands if she tries to lure your Catholic barons under her spell." Sebastian lowered his voice. "And she could lure them, Your Majesty. Imagine your mother, young and winsome but with a fire that Mary never possessed, and you have Kathryn."

James bit his lower lip with annoyance. It was not fair, he thought peevishly. He had just rid himself of one rival, and now there was this new problem on the horizon. A young, winsome, fiery Mary. He, too, was young, but the image in his mirror reflected neither winsomeness nor fire, and his countrymen were easily influenced by both.

And Elizabeth had compounded the danger by marrying the wench to MacDarren. The earl had been a constant source of irritation to him for the last few years and would not hesitate to cause more.

"You will take action, Your Majesty?" the vicar asked.

"I will think about it."

"You must act immediately, while she is still young and uncertain of her powers."

"I said I would think about it," James snapped. "You said MacDarren is taking her to Craighdhu?"

"He mentioned only Scotland, Your Majesty."

"For him Craighdhu is Scotland." James stood up and moved toward the window. "And I might as well be his subject for all he cares for my consequence."

"Then being wed to a man such as he will make her an even greater danger."

"I know, I know," he said impatiently. "How can I even be sure this tale is true?"

"The letters should—"

"The letters are not proof enough. Has the child been with you since birth?"

Sebastian shook his head. "Kathryn was given to me at the age of three. Before that, she was cared for by a wet nurse, a woman named Clara Merkert."

"In your village?"

"No, she lived in Bourse."

"Does she still?"

Sebastian frowned. "I have no idea."

"I'll send a troop to bring her here."

"The woman may not even be alive," he protested.

"I must have proof there's true danger before I move against MacDarren. The nurse is the key."

"Then it must be done quietly. Her Majesty will not be pleased to have one of her servants taken by you."

"Do you think I don't know that? I need no advice from an Englishman. I will look into the matter."

Sebastian bowed. "I will await news. I'm lodging at an inn near the palace. You will have the goodness to keep me informed?"

James nodded curtly. "But I cannot promise any degree of speed."

"I will wait." Sebastian bowed again and backed from the room.

James grimaced as he turned away from the window. How he detested these religious zealots with their burning eyes and equally burning determination. But this particular fanatic might have done him a service. He certainly could not have royal bastards roaming about the countryside at this delicate time. His countrymen were not at all pleased at his lack of action to prevent his mother's execution, and the whole country could be fanned into flames with a mere breath. Well, what had they expected? Was he to let his mother grab the English throne from beneath his nose? It was all her fault. If she had not involved herself in a conspiracy against Elizabeth, he would not have been put in this awkward position.

And now he had his dear mother's bastard with whom to contend, and he must not be connected with the inevitable demise of that particular threat. The matter must be handled by someone utterly trustworthy and devoted to him.

He turned and walked quickly to the desk across the chamber, sat down, and dipped his quill into the inkwell. It was fortunate he had such a loyal servant as Alec Malcolm sitting on MacDarren's doorstep. He felt a tiny thrill of excitement at the thought of seeing Alec again. He had been most upset when Alec had deserted the court and gone back to his estates in that Highland wilderness and had been thinking of inventing an excuse to call Alec back to his side anyway. He had always been attracted to strong, dominant men, and Alec's driving ambition was an added charm in his eyes. Yes, he would send for Alec and, as soon as he arrived, put the troublesome matter of the girl into his capable hands. He began to write.

My dearest Alec ,

It seems an eternity since you left me and how desperately I have missed you. But it seems fate has seen fit to bring you back to me.…