Chapter 8

S he had no opportunity to ask Gavin anything for the rest of the day Instead of staying by her side as he usually did when on the trail, he led the pace. It was not until they were making camp that evening that she was able to speak to him.

She knelt beside him as he was laying wood for the fire. "May I help?"

"To lay the fire? Or," he added ruefully as he glanced at Robert, who was watering the horses several yards away, "to save me from Robert's wrath?"

"Either." She began to encircle the wood with the stones he had gathered. In the past weeks she had become closer to Gavin than anyone in her life except Robert, and yet it was still difficult for her to intrude on his privacy in an intimate manner. It was an indication of how much she had changed that she could do it at all. She kept her gaze on her work as she said awkwardly, "I've never had any friends but Carolyn, but I have a true fondness for you, Gavin. It makes me…I do not like to see you unhappy."

"I don't like being unhappy. It's not my nature. It shouldn't be anyone's nature," he said wistfully. "Wouldn't it be a wonderful world if we just let everyone find their own happiness, without interference or censure?"

"A fine world," she agreed gently.

"But it doesn't happen that way." He struck flint to the kindling. "So we must attempt to find our way around the obstacles."

"What obstacles?" She added quickly, "If you wish to tell me. This isn't curiosity, Gavin. I truly wish to help."

"I know." The kindling caught, and he fanned it to life. "It's Jean, Alec's daughter. I'm going to wed her."

She tried to remember Malcolm's reference to his daughter. "And Malcolm does not know this?"

He made a face. "Alec would string me on the rack in his dungeon and break every bone in my body if he even suspected I was going to take Jeanie. He has plans for her that don't include a landless henchman who serves his enemy."

She was beginning to understand Robert's frustration and concern. If Malcolm was as ruthless as she had been told, this involvement could be deadly for Gavin. "You've been away. You could not have seen her for a long time," she said gently. "Perhaps your feelings have changed."

"Some things don't change. I knew the first time I saw her at the gathering at Kilfirth. I was only a lad of fifteen and she was four years younger, but it made no difference. We belonged." He added more wood to the fire. "We still belong."

"What are you going to do?"

"Take her from Malcolm. Wed her. Love her." He smiled. "It's very simple, really."

"If you aren't killed while doing it."

"Oh, yes, there's always that problem. That was one of the reasons I went to sea with Robert. I'm not a great warrior, you see. I thought there were things I should learn to protect my Jeanie." He added, "And I'll need my share of the booty when I have to leave Craighdhu."

She looked at him in bewilderment. She knew he loved Craighdhu almost as much as Robert did. "Why would you leave Craighdhu?"

"Jeanie. I couldn't expect Robert to harbor her when Alec comes after her. It would give Malcolm the excuse he's been seeking to try to take Craighdhu."

And Craighdhu must always come first with Robert, she thought sadly. "Have you talked to Robert?"

He nodded. "He says I'm a madman to give up everything for a woman." He straightened his shoulders as if shrugging off a burden. "But maybe madmen are more content than sane ones. What do you think, Kate?"

She thought she was frightened and sad and a little angry at this woman who would cause Gavin to risk so much. "I think you should ponder this decision very carefully."

"I have no intention of running straight to Jeanie the minute Alec's back is turned." His face lit with an impish smile. "I'll wait, at least until he's in Edinburgh and harder to reach by messenger." His smile faded as he reached out and gently touched her cheek. "Stop frowning. All will be well."

"When you have to leave the home you love?"

He shrugged and got to his feet. "It's a choice I had to make. I can do nothing else."

Craighdhu.

The island lay fifteen miles from shore, looming ghostlike in the gray-green sea, its mountains wreathed with swirling mists and clouds. The castle on the north side of Craighdhu looked as wild and dark as the mountains themselves, as if it had been hammered by the winds and sea until it seemed to have been wrought not by man but by Nature.

"Merciful God, no!" murmured Kate, stricken.

"I told you it wasn't pretty." Robert's tone was sharp as he saw her expression. "But I didn't expect you to hate it this much."

"No, it's not pretty," she said dully.

"Well, you'll have to put up with it for only a year." He got down from his horse and moved to the large raft tied to the pier. "Help her dismount, Gavin."

She was barely aware of Gavin lifting her to the ground.

Some things are meant to be, Gavin had said, but surely this cruel jest was not fashioned by the hand of God. She had accepted that she was not to have Robert because of his idiotic misconception of her importance, but this new loss was too much to bear.

Craighdhu. Her own special place. Home.

"Jock's not going to be pleased with either of us," Gavin said as he dipped his pole into the water. "What do you say we go back to Edinburgh, Robert?"

Robert grinned and shook his head. "Better to face him now than give him a chance to brood about it."

Jock. Kate vaguely remembered Gavin talking about a Jock Candaron, who seemed to occupy a position of some authority on Craighdhu, but surely his consequence was minimal in comparison to Robert's. This sudden concern from both the laird of Craighdhu and his henchman was puzzling.

"Why should you have to worry about his displeasure?"

Robert and Gavin exchanged glances, and they both grimaced.

"Jock makes sure he's the subject of concern of everyone around him," Robert said. His gaze shifted to the shore. "I think I see him on the dock."

"We can still turn around," Gavin suggested gloomily.

Kate could see three ships anchored at the dock, one galley and two large caravels, but the figures on the dock were indistinguishable to her from this distance. "How did he know we were coming?" she asked.

"Edinburgh can be very pleasant this time of year," Gavin said.

Robert answered Kate. "There's always a watch on the harbor. The word would have gone to the castle the moment we stepped on the raft."

"I believe Angus urgently needs my company. Would you not like to go reiving, Robert?" Gavin asked wistfully.

Robert turned and said, "I'll send you wherever you like, if you promise to stay away from Malcolm."

Gavin shook his head. "You know I cannot do that." He smiled with effort. "And you're right, we mustn't let Jock brood."

Jock Candaron was standing on the dock waiting for them when the raft reached the island.

He was close to his fortieth year, but the only signs of age were the faint creases at the corners of his eyes. He was a giant of a man with a deep chest, arms corded with muscle, and legs as thick as tree trunks. His hair, tied back in a queue that hung halfway down his back, shone white-gold in the pale winter sunlight. His cloak was thrown open as if he did not feel the chill wind that was causing the men behind him to stamp their feet and blow on their hands. He reminded Kate of one of those wild, strong Viking raiders her tutor had told her stories about.

"It's about time you came home," he said. Then he motioned to two men standing behind him and ordered, "Take the horses. We'll walk back through the town. They'll want to see him." He turned back to Robert. "You could have sent word, dammit. Your ship arrived two months ago with news you'd decided to stop over in Edinburgh, and then we received word from MacGrath you'd been taken by the English."

"It was true."

Jock scowled. "You must have been careless. Have I taught you no better?"

Robert laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "I stand chastised."

"It was my fault," Gavin said. "I took a sword thrust."

Jock turned to him. "Not serious?"

Gavin shook his head.

"You're entirely well?"

Gavin nodded.

"Good." Jock's huge fist lashed out and connected with Gavin's stomach.

Gavin fell to his knees, gasping for air.

"You failed your duty," Jock said without expression. "You should have kept him safe."

Gavin clutched his stomach. "Dammit, Jock, you didn't have to hit so hard."

"A weak blow would not be remembered." Jock reached out and pulled him to his feet. "You deserved it."

"I know," Gavin wheezed. "But I think you broke my rib."

Jock smiled faintly. "You would be certain if I had. I was careful."

"No more, Jock," Robert said. "He served me well."

"So I heard from your crew. That's why I didn't break all his ribs." He shrugged. "It had to be done. Now it's over."

"Thank God," Gavin breathed. A warm smile lit his face. "How have you been, Jock?"

"Doing my duty to Craighdhu, as you should have been."

Kate gazed at them in bewilderment. It was clear a strong bond of affection existed between Jock Candaron and Gavin, and yet it seemed impossible her friend would accept that punishment without even a hint of bad feeling.

Robert turned and helped Kate onto the dock. "This is my wife, Kate, Jock."

Jock did not change his expression, but she could sense an almost imperceptible stiffening. He bowed formally. "Welcome to Craighdhu, my lady," he said without taking his gaze from her face. His eyes were Nordic blue and cool as the sea lapping against the dock. "A surprise, Robert. Where did you find her?"

"England."

Jock shrugged his massive shoulders. "A foreigner. I suppose England is better than Spain. I would have preferred you to choose one of our lasses, but when did you ever listen to me?"

"When you gave me a blow as you just did Gavin." Robert laughed. "She's a brave honest lass. She'll give us no trouble, and I expect you to protect her as you would me." He kissed Kate's palm lightly before turning away and starting down the dock. "Bring her along, Gavin. I'll go ahead with Jock so he can tell me all the news."

"If I can still walk," Gavin muttered as he took Kate's elbow and escorted her after Jock and Robert.

"The news isn't good," Jock said.

"I didn't expect it to be," Robert assured him. "Alec was much too self-satisfied when we ran into him two days ago on his way to Edinburgh."

"He has a right to be," Jock said. "I wasn't sorry to hear James had sent for him. We need time to mend bridges."

"While he may be preparing to tear down others." Robert frowned. "Send a messenger to Bobby MacGrath in Edinburgh right away. I want to know what Alec's movements are while he's there and why James sent for him."

Jock nodded. "It never hurts to keep an eye on the devil. However, your concern should be centered here, not in Edinburgh. You're not going to like Alec's latest…"

Jock's words became inaudible to Kate as he and Robert drew farther ahead. She turned to Gavin. "Did he hurt you?"

"Aye, but it could have been worse. If Robert had been wounded, instead of me, I wouldn't have been able to get out of bed for a week."

She shivered. "He's brutal."

Gavin shook his head. "Just. I failed my duty, and that's not permitted."

"Who is he? Another cousin?"

He shook his head. "He came to Craighdhu when Robert and I were children. Robert's father took him in, and he became one of us."

"An outsider?"

"He earned his place. Even as a young boy he had the makings of a superb warrior, and he became Robert's father's henchman. When Robert's father died and his mother took him to Spain, the clan appointed Jock acting head of the clan until Robert returned."

"And he didn't mind giving up his power when Robert returned?"

He shrugged. "He didn't seem to, but who can tell what Jock is thinking? He's not easy to read."

She believed him. She had not been able to detect anything beneath that impassive exterior and those icy blue eyes.

"Anyway, he immediately stepped down and began to train Robert in what he should know." He made a face. "He wasn't always an easy taskmaster, but Robert learned."

"And did you?"

"I had no talent for weapons, but he taught me to defend myself."

"Does he still live at the castle?" she asked, her eyes on that stronghold in the distance.

"No, both he and I have our own lodgings here in town. Jock prefers to stay in his unless Robert is gone for an extended period."

Relief surged through her. She could not imagine living harmoniously with Jock Candaron. "Who is this Bobby MacGrath in Edinburgh Robert was talking about?"

"When Robert and James had words three years ago, Robert sent one of our lads to Edinburgh to live so that he would have a man in the enemy camp and know what James was about." His gaze shifted to the pair walking ahead of them, and he gave a low whistle. "Evidently, Jock wasn't exaggerating the trouble Malcolm's been concocting."

She looked at Robert and saw that he was frowning. He was obviously displeased at something Jock was telling him. "The town appears very peaceful. What trouble could there be?"

"Plenty. There's always trouble with Malcolm about. It's just a question of where and on what scale."

She didn't want to think of Malcolm or this brutal Jock or anything but Craighdhu itself. She wanted to see it, smell it, touch it. She hungrily absorbed it all as if she had been starved all her life for the sight of it.

Warehouses, taverns, and small shops had formed a neat crescent around the harbor, but once they turned the corner, all sense of orderliness vanished. The town was built on three low hills, and thatched sod houses and shops clung precariously to the steep slopes. Yet, even though the impression was of an erratic, rambling landscape, she did not find it displeasing. The shop- and stall-bordered cobblestone street on which they were walking appeared to be the main thoroughfare and led to the castle.

"It's very clean." She sniffed. Not even the foul stench that usually pervaded a village. It was as if the blustery sea winds had scoured and buffed Craighdhu to pristine cleanliness. "It even smells pleasant."

"Jock has a sensitive nose and a profound dislike for disorder. When he was acting in Robert's stead, he passed a law that no chamber pots were to be emptied in the street. Twice a week a wagon is sent around to collect foul matter, and there are penalties for anyone who doesn't keep his property immaculate."

She wondered why no one had thought to do the same in Sheffield. Heaven knows, it smelled far sweeter here than the village where she had lived all her life.

The street was crowded with men, women, and children, all of whom were laughing, talking. Jock had said the people would want to see Robert, but they wanted more. They reached out and touched him in affection and greeting. It was not the return of a feudal lord, but the homecoming of a family head.

Kate felt alone, the outsider, as she watched. "They love him."

"Aye, as much as he'll let them."

She turned to look at him.

"He gives them everything, food, riches, safety.…"

"But not himself?"

He nodded. "Sometimes I think he's lonely, that he wishes he were different, but he cannot be. They changed him."

She would not feel sorry for Robert. He had everything she wanted, and if he was foolish enough not to be satisfied, then he deserved this loneliness. She changed the subject. "Why do some of the men wear those short skirts?"

Gavin looked outraged. "Not skirts, kilts. And they're short because we Highlanders are not afraid of a little weather or rough country, as Sassenachs are."

"Angus didn't wear them."

"He's a Lowlander and has been corrupted by the easiness of the life."

She had evidently struck a sensitive subject, and his defensiveness amused her. "Neither do you and Robert." She smiled teasingly. "Have you also been corrupted?"

"Robert says it's better to blend into the crowd when you're in enemy territory."

She took another look at the short green, purple, and dark blue plaid kilts that a good portion of the men wore. "Well, you certainly would not go unnoticed in that garment." Seeing him start to frown, she gestured to the small, beautiful church they were passing. It was like a finely polished gem set in the busy square. "Robert said his mother was very devout. Was that her church?"

"No, she had her own chapel at the castle. She would have nothing to do with our religion or the dominie."

"When will I meet this dominie?"

He caught the wary note in her voice and understood immediately. "All men of the cloth are not like your vicar, Kate. This dominie is a kind, gentle man who does much good in the parish. You'll seldom find him in that fine church. He travels from place to place both here and on the mainland comforting the sick, performing marriages, and baptizing the children of the clan."

A few minutes later they were starting across the castle moat when Kate suddenly chuckled. "Was this where Robert threw you into the water because you played the bagpipes?" she asked, remembering Robert and Gavin's badinage.

"He was most unfair. I wasn't that bad. Well, maybe I was, but it was the ale that made me so."

They shared so many memories, she thought wistfully, experiences that wove their lives together in a common tapestry. Even wild, brutal Jock Candaron had his own place in Robert's life.

They had entered the courtyard of the castle, which was as clean and neat as the village. The flagstones were damp and gleaming and looked as if they had been scrubbed only minutes before.

"Jock Candaron again?" she asked.

Gavin shook his head. "This is Deirdre's domain. Jock wouldn't interfere."

She couldn't imagine Candaron not interfering with anyone or anything that suited him. "Deirdre?"

"Robert's housekeeper." He opened the tall brass-studded front door. "Deirdre O'Connell. Jock brought her to Craighdhu six years ago from Ireland after he killed her husband."

"What?" she asked, shocked.

"Oh, it's all right. She didn't mind."

"How fortunate," she said dryly. "I thought it was only acceptable to kill English or Spanish."

"Well, Deirdre's husband was an exception." He closed the door, and his shout echoed off the high-arched ceilings of the hall. "Deirdre!"

"I'm coming. You don't have to bellow like a bull." Kate looked at the direction the voice had come from and saw, at the curve of the stairwell, a tall, strongly built woman in a gray gown. "I have enough to do without running when you raise your voice, Gavin Gordon."

"Sorry," Gavin said meekly as he took Kate's arm and pulled her forward. "I just wanted to introduce you to Robert's bride."

"I'm not so lacking in courtesy I wasn't coming to greet her," Deirdre O'Connell said as she marched down the steps. She was not a woman in her first youth, but she exuded a vitality that was almost overwhelming. A few threads of gray already streaked the shiny black hair drawn back in a bun, but she had firm, glowing skin and sparkling hazel eyes.

She reached the bottom of the stairs and sketched a quick courtesy to Kate. "Welcome to Craighdhu, my lady. We weren't expecting you."

"I wasn't expecting to be here," Kate said.

"Robert and Jock are in the library with Tim MacDougal. I'll show you to your chamber." She turned to Gavin and commanded, "Come with us."

"I had every intention of doing so." Gavin followed them up the stairs. "You take a bit of getting used to, and I didn't want Kate running through the town screaming for help."

"I'm not as bad as you would have her believe," Deirdre said as she led them down a long hall. "I have no use for fools, but I don't devour children like her without cause."

"But she might give you cause. Kate has teeth, and she's not above using them."

Deirdre glanced over her shoulder and gave Kate an appraising glance. "I would not have guessed it." She opened the door. "This is your chamber. Robert's is next door."

Kate stood still in the doorway. This chamber was to be hers. It did not seem possible. It was the finest chamber she had ever seen, much finer even than the rooms at Tabord's inn. A fine ivory, rose, and green carpet covered the stone floor, and real velvet curtains of the same dark green enclosed the four-poster bed. The huge fireplace on the south wall was crafted of gleaming gray limestone that contrasted with the muted rose, green, and brown colors of the ancient tapestry that was mounted on the wall above it. The tapestry depicted lions and unicorns and a bare-chested man in a MacDarren kilt slaying a man in full armor.

"If someone had been kind enough to let me know, you would not find me so unprepared." Deirdre swept across the room to the windows and threw them wide open. "I had no chance to air it, but there's a fine breeze today, and it will smell fresh in an hour or so."

Gavin shivered as a gust blew into the chamber. "If she doesn't freeze to death first."

"Which won't happen if you'd stop complaining and build her a fire." Deirdre turned to Kate. "There's a fine view from here."

Kate slowly walked to the deeply recessed windows. The panes, made of stained glass which she'd never seen except in a church, were exquisite. Depicted on one window was a kilted warrior kneeling before a unicorn; on the other was a woman in a red gown weaving at a loom. The sun sparkling on the multihued glass made the figures seem to shimmer with life.

"Well?" Deirdre demanded.

Kate hurriedly glanced at the view Deirdre had summoned her to see.

Far below she could see a swath of green that stretched alongside the castle. To the north was the rocky coastline she had seen from the mainland. Rough waves crashed against dark rocks that looked as stark and dangerous as the waves themselves.

"It's beautiful," she whispered.

"You find it so?" Deirdre asked curiously. "I was wondering if you'd like it. It's not a sight to everyone's taste."

"Not everyone has a fondness for all that tame greenery you Irish call home," Gavin said as he struggled to light the fire in the hearth. "Some us have a liking for more interesting scenery."

Deirdre snorted. "Rocks are all the same, and Craighdhu is but one rock after the other." Another blast of wind shook the curtains around the bed. "Perhaps it is a little chill." She took Kate's arm and led her toward a cushioned chair by the hearth. "Sit here and rest, and I'll bring you up a cup of hot cider." She pushed her down onto the chair and then frowned as she tucked Kate's brown wool cloak more closely about her. "Where did you get this garment? It's so poorly made and the wool so porous, I wonder it keeps out the cold at all." She didn't give Kate a chance to answer. "Gavin, go fetch that coverlet on the bed."

"Fetch and carry, fetch and carry," Gavin grumbled as he rose from the hearth, crossed the room, and brought back a cream-colored wool coverlet that had been tossed on the bottom of the bed. "Anything else?"

"I'll tell you if there is." Deirdre tucked the cover around Kate's shoulders.

The soft coverlet was so finely woven, it instantly blocked the sharp breeze blowing through the room. Kate's fingers caressed the cloud-soft texture. "It's wonderful. I've never seen anything so fine."

For an instant Deirdre's expression turned mild, and a flush of pleasure colored her cheeks. "No?" Then she straightened, turned away, and moved toward the door. "Of course you haven't. I made it myself."

She was gone before Kate could reply.

"She's not as hard as she seems," Gavin said. "Well, that's not true. She's every bit as hard as she seems, but she's still a good woman. You're fortunate to have her."

"Am I?" Kate asked faintly.

Gavin nodded. "She keeps all the servants jumping, you won't see a speck of dust in any chamber of the castle, and the meals are excellent."

"She's very"—she hesitated, trying to describe that sense of explosive energy that Deirdre exuded—"vigorous."

Gavin nodded ruefully. "She has so much energy, she has to be busy every minute and keeps everyone busy with her."

"Even Robert?"

"At times." Gavin grinned. "For the first year he was ready to slash Jock's gullet for bringing her here, but after that they became more comfortable with each other."

"Does she have children?"

Gavin shook his head. "She's free to devote all her attention to the castle."

Kate wasn't sure she liked the idea of Deirdre's devoted attention. She had hoped to absorb Craighdhu at her own pace, but it appeared Deirdre was a major force here, and her pace was anything but slow.

"You'll become accustomed to her," Gavin assured her. "She's a bit rough, but she means no disrespect. Here in the Highlands servants consider themselves part of the family."

It was not disrespect about which Kate was concerned. Her gaze went back to the windows; Deirdre had not given her time enough to study them. "I've never seen stained-glass windows with anything but religious figures."

"There are windows like that all over the castle. The stained glass was added by Robert's grandfather when he wed. His bride complained how depressing the castle was, and so he brought artists and glassmakers from France to replace the windows. This castle was built to resist siege, and there was little he could do to make it less grim, but he thought the glass would help." Gavin made a face. "Robert's mother found them just as heathen as she did the rest of us."

"Then she's a fool. Nothing that beautiful could be sinful."

"I've always thought that too." Gavin's gaze followed her own to the window. "When I was a boy, I used to stare at those windows until I was well-nigh dazzled by them. I'd pretend I was that warrior with his mighty muscles and his grand sword.…" He shook his head. "That might be one of the reasons why I wanted to follow Robert when he went to raid the Spanish. I still saw myself as that warrior. I found out soon enough I didn't have the stomach for it."

"You should not regret finding that out. You're fine the way you are."

He nodded. "I think, when Robert has no more need for me as a henchman, I might become a bard."

"A bard?"

"Aye. A laird usually has a storyteller to tell the tales of the past and present of the clan."

"Aren't such tales usually written down?"

Gavin flinched. "You have no soul. There's no comparison between hearing a great storyteller weave his tales and reading dry parchment."

"I'm sorry," she said solemnly, trying to hide a smile. "I have no experience with bards."

"That's very clear. I'll forgive your ignorance since you're a stranger here." He smiled eagerly. "I'll even entertain you. Robert is sure to be busy with Jock for a while anyway."

"You're going to tell me a tale?"

"Oh, no, you should be welcomed to Craighdhu in a more splendid fashion." He started to turn away. "I'll go fetch my pipes."

"I've never heard the bagpipes played before," she said cautiously. "Will I enjoy it?"

"Oh, it's a fine, winsome instrument," he answered, beaming. "You'll like it. Trust me."

"Cease." She covered her hands with her ears. "I can bear no more."

Gavin didn't hear her. It was not surprising with that beastly caterwauling erupting from the bags of the instrument he was blowing with such blissful enthusiasm.

She strode forward and jerked the mouthpiece from between his lips. "No, Gavin."

He looked hurt. "But you've not given it a chance, Kate."

"I've listened for over an hour. It's all the chance that instrument of torture will get from me."

He lowered the bagpipes to the chair beside him. "I guess a woman is too gentle-natured to be stirred by the pipes. But I admit to being sorely disappointed in you."

She felt a flicker of remorse. "Perhaps you're right. I'm sure you played very well."

"He played abominably." Robert stood in the doorway. "We never let Gavin pipe when we're going into battle. The troops would exhaust themselves trying to kill him instead of the enemy."

"You malign me," Gavin protested, then changed the subject. "What news from Jock?"

"We leave for Ireland at nightfall."

Gavin pursed his lips in a low whistle. "We just got here. That bad?"

"Worse," he said grimly. "Nine months ago Malcolm appeared at the port near Kilgranne with a ship built especially for cargo. For the past six months he and his men have been going from town to town on the coast trying to frighten the merchants and craftsmen into dealing with him instead of Craighdhu."

"Why didn't Jock take care of it?"

"He would have done so, but he thought reassurance should come from the head of the clan. Me." His lips twisted. "He had no idea Elizabeth would take it into her head to delay my arrival."

"So you must visit the merchants and council members and assure them they needn't fear Malcolm if they continue to deal with us?"

"With all due speed. Malcolm's agent and a troop of men are in Ireland right now. See who you wish to greet and then meet me at the ship in two hours."

Gavin shook his head.

Robert stiffened. "No?"

"I've been away too long. I don't wish to go on another voyage."

"We'll be gone no more than four weeks."

"Take Jock. You know you should have taken him last time."

"I want you."

"Take Jock," Gavin repeated. "Kate needs me here to protect her and tell her the things she must know about Craighdhu." He added lightly, "Perhaps, given time, I can even teach her appreciation for my bagpipes."

"Perhaps I should be the one to go to Ireland," Kate murmured dryly.

Robert met Gavin's gaze. "I could order you to come."

"Don't do that, Robert," Gavin said gently. "It would grieve me to disobey you."

Robert stood looking at him for a moment. "Damn you. You'd better be here when I get back." He turned on his heel. "Come with me to the courtyard, Kate."

She followed him from the chamber and down the winding stone steps. "Four weeks?"

"Do you wish it were more?" he asked caustically. "Ireland is no great distance from Craighdhu, and with good winds I'll be back in your eager arms in no time." He jerked open the heavy brass-studded front door. "So be prepared to give me a warm welcome to your bed."

She shook her head. "I will be glad to see you return safely, but that part of our lives is over."

"Oh, is it?" He turned on her, the suppressed frustration and anger suddenly unleashed. "It's not over until I say it's over. I've given up too much not to reap some benefits from this damn alliance."

"You've given up nothing," she said fiercely. "You have your life and your Craighdhu, and this danger you claim I bring is not even real. Go to Ireland, but don't expect me to give you anything but a smile when you return. Perhaps not even that if you continue to be such an arrogant, stupid coxcomb of a—" She whirled and slammed the door. She marched across the foyer and up the stairs, fighting back the tears that stung her eyes. She should be relieved he was leaving and she'd be spared the battle she had dreaded. By the time he returned, she should know whether or not she was with child and might have even a stronger argument to hold him at bay.

Dear God, she did not want to hold him at bay. She did not want him to go to Ireland, where danger might be lying in wait. She wanted to welcome him to her bed and her heart. She wanted to live in Craighdhu and have his children. She wanted the life she was denied.

"Kate?" Gavin was coming down the stairs toward her.

She quickly wiped her eyes on the back of her hand. "He's gone."

"Jock will take care of him," he said.

"Yes." She swallowed. She was foolish to cry over something she could not have. She must just enjoy what she was given. She smiled tremulously. "I must go to the stable to see that Caird and Rachel are properly cared for, but then will you keep your promise?"

His eyes glinted with mischief. "To teach you to love the bagpipes?"

She flinched. "Heaven forbid. No, to teach me what I should know of Craighdhu."

"What do you wish to learn?"

"Everything." Her smile had a touch of feverish recklessness. "I want to know how to be mistress of this great heap of stone. I want to meet the people. I want to walk the streets and talk to the craftsmen. I want to be part of all this."

"You'll expend a great deal of effort for a short return. Wouldn't it be better simply to try to live on the surface for the next year?"

She knew the suggestion was wise, but there was no question of her taking it. These months might be all she would have. "I can't do that," she whispered.

He nodded sadly. "I can see that." He turned to leave. "Give me a short time to refresh myself, and I'll meet you in the courtyard."

"Where are you going?" Deirdre asked as she suddenly appeared around the corner of the stairwell.

Gavin grinned. "I'm going to show Kate a bit of the village before dark. As is natural, she has a curiosity regarding her new home."

"Very natural," Deirdre said. "But you're going about it wrong. You must see and learn everything regarding the castle before going to the village." She frowned. "Gavin really knows nothing of the running of this castle. I shall have to be the one to teach you. By the time Robert returns, you shall be well on the way to being a proper mistress of Craighdhu." She turned to Gavin. "Run along now. I must introduce her to Tim MacDougal, Robert's agent, and then we will tour the castle." She didn't wait for Gavin to obey as she beckoned imperiously to Kate. "If we set about immediately, we shall accomplish much before supper. Afterward you will inspect the servants' quarters and meet with the…" Her words became inaudible as she turned a corner.

"I didn't want her to show me the castle," Kate whispered to Gavin. "I wanted you to—"

"No one knows it better," Gavin said uneasily. "Perhaps she's right. It's best you start out on the right foot."

"But not at a dead run. I'd like to go to the village and meet—"

"Ah, there you are." Deirdre had returned and was standing at the end of the hall. "We will never accomplish anything if we dally like this."

Kate instinctively responded to the sternness in the housekeeper's tone and started down the hall. After all, she did want to see every inch of the castle, she told herself. Her journey to the village could wait for a little while.

"I'll come to take you to the village tomorrow morning, Kate," Gavin called after her.

"We shall be much too busy tomorrow," Deirdre answered for Kate as she started down the hall again. "Perhaps in a week."

"A week?" Kate shook her head. "Tomorrow, Gavin."

Gavin gave Deirdre's retreating back a nervous look. "We can try."

God's Blood, he didn't want to leave.

Robert's hands closed tightly on the wooden rail, his gaze on the stone battlements of the castle as the ship drew away from the shore. Since that moment in the cell when he had confronted Elizabeth, events seemed to conspire to leave him with this feeling of helplessness and frustration. Even as a boy in Santanella, he had never been thrown into such emotional turmoil.

"I could have gone alone," Jock said quietly.

Robert unclenched his hands from the rail and turned to look at him. "No, you're right. It's best I go."

"I'm glad you agree," he said. "If you hadn't, I'd have been tempted to knock some sense into you. She has a fine, lovely look about her, but Craighdhu is more important than fornication."

"You don't have to tell me that."

"She seemed a quiet enough lass when I met her at the dock." Jock's lips quirked with amusement. "However, I understand she was less than docile when she bade you good-bye."

Robert should have known Jock would learn about Kate's outburst. Everyone at the castle still gave Jock unlimited loyalty, and nothing happened on Craighdhu without his hearing about it. "Quiet is not how I would describe Kate."

"Good. We had too much silence when your mother was here." Jock glanced back at the castle. "Why did you wed her? Did she have something Craighdhu needed?"

How well Jock knew him. "No."

"Then why?"

"I'll tell you at some later time." He smiled ruefully. "At the moment I have no intention of giving you cause to tell me what a fool I am."

Jock's eyes widened in surprise. "You care about the girl?"

"I did not say that," Robert said quickly.

"You do not have to." Jock's words came as blunt and sharp as hammer blows. "You stare at her as if you would like to devour her, but I thought it only lust. It seems I was—"

"It is lust," Robert interrupted.

"Then your problem is easily solved. You can slake it with one of those comely lasses you found so willing the last time you visited Ireland."

He did not want to bed one of Jock's Irish lasses, comely or not. He wanted Kate, dammit.

Jock shook his head, his eyes narrowed on Robert's face, reading every change of expression. "No? Then it may be worse than I thought. I remember the day your father brought your mother to Craighdhu. He had the same besotted, puppy-dog look you do now."

"I'm not besotted. Leave it, Jock." He turned away. "I'll talk no more of this. Tell me which merchants we will have the most trouble convincing."

"Very well, we'll not talk of it." Jock paused and then said softly, "But I should give you warning. I'll not fail again."

"Fail?" Robert smiled. "You never fail at anything, Jock."

"I failed once. When I let them take you to Spain. After your father died, my duty was to you. I should have kept you here."

The words came as a shock. Jock had never spoken of that night since he had returned to Craighdhu. "I've never blamed you. She was my mother and Don Diego my uncle. There was nothing you could do."

"I could have stopped her." Jock shifted to meet his glance with glacier coldness. "As I would stop her now. With a dagger in her heart."

"A woman?"

"A woman or a man, it makes no difference." Jock smiled mockingly. "No, a woman is worse. You think they are no threat with their beauty and softness and let them curl close to your breast, under your armor." He shrugged. "You have no defense when they sting you."

"Kate has no intention of stinging me."

"That is good. For I'll not let another woman hurt either Craighdhu or you again." Before Robert could reply, Jock changed the subject and answered Robert's question regarding the situation in Ireland. "Shaughnessy is the most frightened. He sent word that he would no longer supply us with goods. Reardon is uneasy, but more prone to fight Malcolm than surrender. Kenneth O'Toole is wavering in our direction, but he'll need…"