The Arrow: A Highland Guard Novel (The Highland Guard) (31 page)

“That isn’t Bruce at all, Cate. You don’t know him the way I do. He is a great man; there is no one I believe in more. He believed in me when no one else did. When I first came to him, I was young and more braggart and conceited than warrior. But he helped me hone my skills from sport at the Games to the battlefield. He helped make me a warrior.”

Cate felt ill. Gregor’s admiration for the king went far deeper than she’d realized. God, he almost made him sound like a
father
. And she better than anyone knew the danger in that. She didn’t want him to know the same disappointment that she had.

“Scotland needs him. It’s staggering to think of what he’s already accomplished, and how close we are to victory. Robert the Bruce belongs on the throne, and I will do all in my power to see him there permanently.” He took her chin and lifted her face to his. “It’s important to me that you give him a fair chance, Cate. Believe me, he never imagined—none of us did—what would happen to your village for helping us.”

“ ‘Us’? You weren’t there.”

“Two of my closest friends—men I consider brothers—were among the men your village provided shelter to. If you hadn’t, they would be dead. They were two of the men who were with me when I found you in the well.”

She gazed at him wordlessly. She hadn’t realized …

“Bruce mourns each loss of life in this war and carries the weight of it with him every day. No one knows more than he does what has been lost in the pursuit of a throne. But it isn’t just the three brothers and close friends who he mourns, it’s also people like your mother and the other villagers. He was even worried about you, Cate.”

Her heart stopped, and then started thudding wildly. Fearing he would notice, she moved off him just enough to break contact. Instantly, she was cold. “Me?”

“Aye, he was very interested in you.” Gregor frowned, as if something about the memory bothered him.

“You didn’t tell him anything?”

With how anxiously she’d spoken, it was no wonder that he gave her an odd look.

“I told him what I knew at the time: your name and age.” He reconsidered. “At least what we thought your age to be, eleven or twelve.”

Cate hoped her relief wasn’t visible. She’d never expected the king to take a personal interest in her, but it was a good thing that she’d lied about her name—both her names. Bruce wouldn’t have known of her mother’s second husband. When Bruce left them, her mother had been about to marry her first husband.

Though she wanted to ask more, she feared she’d already said too much. Gregor was too perceptive. She didn’t want him to guess that the man he so revered was the same man who’d abandoned her when she was five.

“I was small for my age,” she said.

He smiled. “You are still small for your age.”

“Big enough to put you on your ar—” She stopped when he gave her a warning glance. “Back,” she finished sweetly.

“Aye, well, just don’t think the king didn’t care. He did. Bruce took the loss of your village very hard. He said it had been some time since he’d visited, but he knew many of the villagers personally.” Something seemed to occur to him. “Did you know him, Cate?”

She thought she had. At one time, she’d thought there was no man greater than Robert Bruce, the dashing young Earl of Carrick. But it turned out she hadn’t known him at all. The man she’d boasted of as the greatest knight in Christendom had cut her out of his life as thoroughly as if she’d never existed. It wouldn’t have been so bad if he hadn’t made her love him first. Her heart pinched at the memory of just how much she’d loved the man who’d sired her.

“He came to our village when I was a child,” she answered carefully, in what she hoped was a neutral voice.

“And you were not dazzled? I’m surprised. Not many women are immune to the charm of Robert Bruce.”

Not many at all. Her mother certainly hadn’t been. Cate hadn’t been either—at least for a while. And from what she heard, there were at least a few other women with natural
children of Bruce who had been quite charmed as well. “Aye, well, maybe it takes a bit more than superficial charms to impress me.”

He lifted a brow. “Is that directed at me by any chance?”

She grinned. “Nay, but you might want to keep it in mind. The ‘dazzle’ of that face is bound to wear off … in a dozen years or so.”

“Good to know,” he said dryly. “And what happens when I need to impress you then?”

She rolled on top of him, savoring the feel of his hard masculine body against hers. “I suspect you will be able to think of a thing or two.”

She couldn’t believe that husky sound was her voice.

His hand slid down to grip her bottom and fit her snugly against him. Instantly, her body turned hot and liquid. He groaned as he gripped her by the back of her head and kissed her—hard. She reveled in the knowledge that the contact affected him the same way it did her.

She could feel the heat of him growing between her legs, when he suddenly pulled back. “God, you are going to kill me. But you need some sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a long day.”

It was Christmas. “You mean today.” It had to be well after midnight by now. “Are you sending me back to my room?”

“I’m afraid so, sweeting. I do not want to add to the gossip. In fact, I should probably remove myself to the barracks until we are wed.” She must have looked as disappointed as she felt, because he laughed. “It’s good to know that I will not be the only one counting the days.”

He couldn’t have given her a better gift than those offhanded words. “Do you mean it, Gregor? You are looking forward to marrying me?”

His brow furrowed. “I thought we covered this.”

“We did. It’s just that it’s all happened so fast, I feel like
I’m going to wake up and discover you’ve changed your mind.”

He chuckled, brushing the back of his thumb over her bare shoulder. “There is little chance of that. It is you, I hope, who does not come to regret it.”

She frowned. “Why would I regret it?”

He paused for a long moment. “I’ve let a lot of people down in my life, Cate. I don’t want to end up doing that to you.”

“You won’t,” she said fiercely. She might not know all the circumstances of his past, but she knew something more important: she knew
him
. Gregor avoided attachment and responsibility away from the battlefield not because he was incapable of it, but because he feared letting people down. But just as the king could count on him, she knew she would count on him, too. He wouldn’t let her down.

He laughed and kissed her on the nose. “You remind me of someone when you have that expression on your face. But I can’t think of who.”

Good thing there wasn’t much light in the chamber, because she feared every ounce of color had drained from her face.

Reluctantly, she inched up, clutching the sheeting to her neck, looking for the puddle on the floor that was her robe. “Can you hand me that?”

He sat up, leaned against the wooden panel of the bed, and folded his arms across his chest. She might have noticed the devilish glint in his eyes if she hadn’t been so distracted by the bulging muscles of his arms. Good gracious! Her mouth actually seemed to be watering.

“And miss you tumbling out of my bed naked? I don’t think so.”

She glared at him, ripped the sheet from the bed, and wrapped it around her as she did her best not to “tumble.”

He chuckled, obviously amused by her efforts. “Isn’t it rather late for modesty? I’ve seen every inch of you.”

She pursed her mouth primly. “Some of us aren’t used to walking around stark naked.”

He shrugged unrepentantly. “I don’t usually get a lot of complaints.”

Her eyes narrowed, taking in every inch of a body that could make Adonis weep with envy.
Arrogant rogue
. It was worse because it was warranted. “I bet.”

Grabbing the robe from the floor, she purposefully let the sheet drop before securing it in front of her. A quick glance at the thickening column of his manhood made her smile. “Sweet dreams, Gregor.”

“Wait.” He stood from the bed and thankfully for her peace of mind, drew on his braies. “I have something for you.”

She glanced down at his manhood. “I think you already gave it to me.”

He grinned appreciatively. “You are turning into quite a wicked lass, Caitrina.” She opened her mouth to correct him
—Catherine
—then slammed it shut. She wouldn’t disillusion him. He walked to the ambry, opened the door, and retrieved a small wooden box and a leather bag. “I have two gifts for you as well. I was going to give you the first when I came home, but after what happened with Dougal, I wasn’t sure whether I should encourage you.” He handed her the bag. “Promise me you will not draw this unless you have to.”

Knowing he was mostly teasing her, she refrained from arguing about how she “had to” with Dougal. Pulling back the flap of the bag, she retrieved a very thin leather scabbard and what looked to be a small dagger. But it was unlike any dagger she’d ever seen. The blade was about five inches long but it was thin and narrow, coming to a very sharp point. The handle was of horn, and when she put her
hand around it, she realized it could have been sized just for her. “I’ve never seen anything like this,” she said.

“A friend of mine made it for me. It’s a special kind of dagger.” She looked at him questioningly. “It goes through mail,” he explained.

Her eyes widened; suddenly the shape of the blade made more sense. It was ingenious. Moving the blade around in her hand, she said, “You had this made for me?”

He nodded. “You can attach it to a leather girdle and wear it at your back or on your side.”

Cate was unbelievably touched by his thoughtfulness and by what it revealed. He knew her every bit as well as she knew him. They’d both gotten each other weapons! “It’s perfect,” she said. “Thank you.”

“Aye, well, put it away until I teach you how to use it. You did mention gelding one time.”

She laughed and slid it back into the scabbard. “Aye, well, I might have reconsidered. You’ll just have to not give me a reason.”

The gentle teasing suddenly vanished. His face grew painfully serious. She didn’t think there could have been a more awkward silence.

Her heart wrenched. She felt like a fool. He’d never made her any promises. But he wouldn’t want to do that … would he?

It would break her heart.
Heartbreaker …

That was what he did, wasn’t it?
Not to me. This is different
.

“I hope I can do that,” he said.

Cate’s chest was burning, but she told herself not to overreact. “How long were you with Isobel, Gregor?”

His expression hardened. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“How long?”

“Nearly two years.”

“Did you bed other women when you were with her?”

“No.” He seemed surprised by the admission.

“That’s because when you care about someone you are loyal. And I have every intention of having you care about me very much.”

Their eyes held, and something strong and powerful passed between them. Her chest swelled, knowing he already did. It wasn’t a promise, but it was the makings of one.

He handed her the box. “This belongs to you now.”

“What is it?”

A small smile curved his mouth. He repeated her words back to her, “Why don’t you open it and see.”

Lifting the top, she drew in her breath. On a bed of velvet was the ring his mother had worn until her death. It was gold, with a large oval crystal in the center and lions’ heads engraved on either side. Hand shaking, she took it out from the box.

“It’s a charm stone,” he said. “There’s an engraving on the inside.” She held it up to the candle to read it.
“ ‘S Rioghal mo dhream,’ ”
he said for her.

Royal is my race
.

The words taunted her. Stricken, she stared at the ring, not knowing what to do. She couldn’t put it on.
Impostor
.

“It’s the motto of the MacGregors,” he explained.

She blinked at him for a moment in confusion, and then sighed with relief. “Of course it is. I’ve seen it inscribed on your bow and sword.”

The MacGregors claimed descent from Gregor, the son of King Kenneth MacAlpin, the first King of Scots. How could she have forgotten? For a moment, she’d thought it was a cruel jest.

She slipped the ring on, holding her hand up and letting it catch the light. “I shall be honored to wear it.”

“My mother would be happy.”

Cate’s heart tugged at the memory of both women who would have been pleased. She wished they could be here to
share this with her—with them. “Aye, she would,” Cate agreed.

“Happy Christmas, Cate.”

“Happy Christmas, Gregor.”

And with one more kiss, he sent her back to her bed—alas, alone.

Seventeen
 

He grabbed her as she walked by and immediately pulled her into the darkened storeroom. She resisted—as he knew she would—but he was prepared and had her pinned face-forward against the door before she could draw her new dagger.

But her resistance was halfhearted at best. She went lax against him, as he nuzzled her neck just below the ear the way she liked—the way that made her shudder.