To Dream of a Highlander(28)

However, this tall fair haired warrior regarded her as a woman rather than a wounded creature, coming to seek sanctuary to lick her wounds. And while she was used to men looking at her like that, never had there been such audacity behind the expression. Men usually revered her. Made her into something she was not. As soon as it became apparent she would be a great beauty, she struggled to live up to the impression she gave men. When they flirted, she blushed and cowered away. When she walked into a room and they stared, she lowered her head. And women were no better. Most loathed her on sight because of her looks. Even her sister hated that they shared the same face.

For the first time in her life, she preferred to be looked at with… lust, mayhap? Rather than pity. Under Finn’s gaze, she forgot she’d been expelled from her home and had come very close to a violent death. In his company, she almost felt deserving of such a look.

If only she was. If only she had the freedom to act upon it.

“Did ye rest well, Katie?”

The low tone to his voice did something strange to her insides. How she wished he knew her real name, her real identity. To hear her name on his lips would surely be worth much risk.

“Aye, well enough,” she replied huskily.

“Allow me to take ye to supper.” He offered a hand and stepped to the side of her.

Catriona glanced up at him and laid her hand carefully over the top of his. She’d touched him often enough to remember how his skin felt—rough, warm—but it still made her jolt. Skirts held in her other hand, she allowed him to escort her to the top table. Lorna lifted a drink and smiled as Catriona followed Finn around the trestle table to a large chair. Pulling it out, Finn motioned for her to be seated.

Her breath trapped in her chest as she lowered herself. This was the first time she’d eaten in the hall. For the past three days, she’d remained in her room—hiding, mayhap, under the pretence of being shaken. And she was. But also she feared giving herself away. Twice now she had forgotten to respond when someone called her Katelyn.

She concentrated on inhaling slowly. Was it Finn’s gaze upon her that did that or the way the servants and men turned to watch her? Did they pity her? Did they know of her experiences at the hands of the Norse? And how it now plagued her mind more and more with every passing moment?

She clutched the oak table and drew her spine straight. With a gentle smile, she dipped her fingers into the bowl a servant offered her and dried her hands on a linen sheet. She needed to remember the role she was to play. Many a noblewoman saw bloodshed and yet they did not crumble like she. But years of being pushed aside and ignored meant she had been most at home in the company of the servants, all of whom had become dear to her. She felt very little like a woman of noble blood.

Finn seated himself next to her, his elbow brushing her arm as he did so. He leaned in to murmur an apology and the side of her face heated when his breath breezed over her cheek.

Flustered, and fighting the longing twist of her heart—the one that said she wished he would whisper more words in her ears—she pulled her trencher close and pushed a loose strand of hair behind her still tingling ear.

“How are ye, Katelyn?” Lorna asked between sips of ale. “Have ye rested some?”

“Aye, I thank ye. My chambers are beautifully appointed.”

Lorna’s lips curved. “It pleases me ye like them. I had a hand in most of the furnishings in the keep. Alas my husband had no eye for these things and even less liking for sparing coin for such frivolities.”

“Ye surely have a lovely home,” Catriona offered softly. She’d heard enough whispers of what Lorna’s marriage had been like—cold, painful, miserable. She understood Lorna’s need to surround herself with beautiful things. Once again, she envied the woman her strength.

Lorna cast a look around, her smile slightly wan and Catriona wondered if her thoughts followed her own.

“I must thank ye for all ye have done.” Catriona spilled out hastily, wary of causing her hostess distress. “Without ye, I’d-I’d…” Her voice cracked and she dabbed the linen to her mouth.

A hand pressed to Catriona’s arm, Lorna’s smile warmed. “Dinnae even think on it. While my men may have been under orders from yer betrothed, I was grateful to be able to help ye. No woman should suffer because of the folly of men. And as we well know, most wars are pure folly.”

Catriona pressed her lips together and swallowed. Deceiving such a woman—even for a cause as great as the safety of Bute—seemed so very wrong. How would Lorna feel if the truth was revealed?

“Ye and Finn risked much for me. I am most grateful. In truth, I dinnae know how I shall repay such kindness.” She chanced a sideways glance at Finn and noted he was speaking with the man at his side, thank the Lord. He’d seen her at her worst. She did not wish him to witness anymore of her fragility. Snatching her goblet, she took a gulp of ale.