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"At least he would have died happy," Cat said with a shrug.
"And did he die happy when you poisoned his whiskey?" Jetta asked grimly.
Cat's eyes narrowed, but she shifted her gaze to Aulay and said, "I am the better of the two of us. Surely you can see that? I am prettier, smarter and more fun. 'Tis the reason Mother always said I was the golden hawk and Sorry Sorcha a goose. Would you not rather have me to wife than a sorry old goose?"
Aulay stared at the woman with disbelief. They were identical twins. It was impossible for her to be prettier. Their mother probably hadn't been describing their looks so much as their personalities when she called Jetta a goose and Cat a golden eagle. Neither bird was black, but the goose was a nurturing bird, looking after and loyal to everyone in their gaggle, while a golden eagle was a vicious predator. He'd once seen one drag a goat off a cliff to fall to its death and then land on it and start eating it while it still lived. Aye, he was quite sure the mother had been thinking of their personalities. From what he could tell, Jetta appeared to have gotten all that was good when it came to character, while Cat was a bitter, angry, murdering bitch. Of course he preferred his Jetta.
"Tell her," Cat said confidently. "Tell her you want me more than her. I know you do. I could tell when you kissed me."
Aulay almost said "aye," just to please the woman, and hopefully, use the lie somehow to save Jetta, but then his gaze slid to his wife and he saw the worry and uncertainty in her expression. She truly feared he might prefer her sister, and for a moment he was flummoxed at the thought. How could she not know her value? How could she not know he loved her?
That last was a bit startling.
Love.
Did he love her? The answer was easy: aye. He loved her with both his body and soul. Of course, he'd never told her that. As for her not knowing her value . . . She had her memories back, and her sister had just told him how she could be unsure of her value. Her words had painted a perfect picture for him of Jetta's past.
Jetta, quietly doing what she could to ease her mother's suffering and prevent her father from drinking himself to death while Cat, he was sure, concerned herself with little more than fashion and flirting with the soldiers. Oh, and tormenting "Sorry Sorcha." Aye, he could see where her insecurities came from, and he would not add to them or hurt her by lying to her bitch of a sister.
"Nay," he said firmly. "I do no' want ye more than Jetta. In fact, I do no' want ye at all."
"Liar!" she accused furiously.
"Aulay ne'er lies," Alick assured her.
"But--" she began and then paused and smiled suddenly. "You did not know it was me. The last time you entered the room, it was me you kissed. You had come to tell Jetta that you were going to search the castle and had ordered the guards to keep her in here. Do you remember?"
"I remember," he assured her solemnly. "And I remember walking away, wondering why kissing who I thought was the woman I loved felt so lacking."
"No!" she shrieked. "That kiss was amazing. You wanted me. We could be good together. Better than you and Sorry."
"I do no' love Sorry," he snapped, sick of hearing her use that name. "I love Jetta. As for me and you . . . ye're just a mad, murderous bitch who looks like the woman I love."
Aulay knew at once he'd just been a little too honest. Because Cat released an animalistic shriek of fury, and then she pulled the knife back from Jetta's neck and started to plunge it downward, aiming for Jetta's heart. He didn't even have time to try to leap across the space dividing them and prevent the blow. He was sure he was watching his love die, and then Cat jerked to a halt midmovement with the knife blade less than an inch from Jetta's heart.
As Aulay watched in surprise, Cat's eyes widened incredulously, and then she dropped like Jetta after she'd tried too hard to remember something. She fell flat on her face on the rush-covered floor, revealing Saidh standing in the center of the master bedchamber beyond, her expression grim.
For a moment, Aulay was confused. Saidh was too far away to have knocked the woman out. But as he rushed to Jetta, he spared a glance for Cat and one look clarified matters. There was a ballocks dagger sticking out of her back. He had no doubt it was the one Saidh had found in one of the chests of dresses in the hall. Jetta had said his sister had kept it. Well, she'd just given it back, Aulay thought and nodded at his sister over Jetta's head as he wrapped his wife in his arms.
"Felled by her own dagger," Aulay muttered as Rory rushed forward and knelt to check on Cateline.
"My father's dagger," Jetta corrected him, watching Rory. "She wanted to torture me with it before she killed me. Apparently, she fantasized about that a great deal before she lost the dagger."
Aulay's arms tightened around her at the thought, and then Rory glanced up and shook his head, telling him that Cat was dead. It seemed to him to be justice that she died by a dagger that had belonged to the father she'd killed.
"Ye'd best let me see yer neck," Rory said, straightening to approach them.
Aulay eased his hold on Jetta and watched his brother urge her hand away from the wound she'd been holding. His mouth tightened when he saw the cut. It wasn't terribly deep, but would leave a scar and she had been very lucky. Cat had just missed hitting the vein.
"I need bandages, hot water and my medicinals," Rory said firmly.
Alick, Conran and Dougall all headed out of the room to fetch what was needed.
The moment they were gone, Rory suggested, "Mayhap we should move out to the master bedchamber."
Noting Rory's slight gesture toward the body on the floor, Aulay nodded at once and scooped Jetta into his arms. He carried her out of the little room and to the bed in their own chamber. The moment he set her down, he found himself pushed back out of the way so that Rory could get to Jetta again.
"Ye've a new knot on yer forehead, lass. What happened there?" Rory asked, leaning close to look at the swelling bruise.
"Cat hit me in the forehead with the hilt of her knife to knock me out when Aulay came to the room," Jetta explained with a grimace.
"Did she hit ye anywhere else?" Rory asked, peering at the swelling knot.
When she said nay, Aulay relaxed and then became aware of movement and glanced around. The women had all moved up alongside him, forming a sort of wall. He knew at once they were trying to block Jetta's view of the little room next door, and glanced that way to see Cam and Greer picking up Cat by her hands and feet.
"They're going to move her body to the dungeon until ye decide what to do with her," Saidh said quietly.
"The dungeon?" Aulay asked with surprise. The dungeon had not been used in ages.
Saidh shrugged. "All the bedchambers are taken."
Aulay looked to Saidh and said sincerely, "Thank you. Ye saved Jetta's life when I could not."
"Ye would ha'e thought o' something," she assured him solemnly. "But I'm glad I could help." Shifting her gaze to Jetta, she smiled and added, "As I told ye earlier, I like her. I think she'll make ye a fine wife, and is a grand addition to the family."
Aulay thought so too, but said dryly, "Nice to ken I ha'e yer approval."
"Ye do," she said lightly.
The door opened then and his brothers returned with the items Rory had requested. Aulay watched Rory clean the wound on Jetta's neck, relieved when he decided stitches would not be needed. Rory spent a moment poking at Jetta's newest head wound, asking if it hurt, but then nodded and stepped back. "I think ye'll be fine, but let me ken if ye start feeling poorly."
"Aye," Jetta murmured, glancing toward the door as Greer and Cam returned from their own task.
Aulay nodded at the pair in thanks, and then distracted Jetta by brushing his fingers gently down her cheek. When she turned to him, he asked solemnly, "Do ye want to rest after your excitement?"
"Nay," she murmured, and then, meeting his gaze, said sadly, "I am sorry, husband. This was all my fault. My sister--"
"It was no' yer fault," he interrupted firmly.
; "Aye. It was," Jetta insisted. "She was after me, and in the process burned down your stables, shot poor young Katie with an arrow and killed Robbie's dog."
"Wife--" he tried to interrupt, but she continued.
"And she killed my father, too," Jetta finished, her face crumbling.
"Oh, lass." Aulay caught her hand and tugged her to her feet and into his arms, murmuring, "I'm sorry."
"I thought I would never forgive him for agreeing to send me to the marquis in her place when it happened. But when she said she had killed him, I just . . ."
"I ken," he said, rubbing her back as she wept against his chest.
"I am sorry. On top of everything else, I am getting you all wet. I am nothing but trouble. Ye must hate me," she mumbled, straightening away from him and sniffling miserably.
"Never be sorry, love," he growled. "Ye've done nothing wrong. And nay, I could ne'er hate ye. I love ye, lass."
"You do not have to say that, husband." She sniffled. "I know you are just being kind."
Aulay pulled back to scowl at her. "I'm no' being kind. 'Tis true."
Shaking her head, Jetta protested, "You cannot possibly love me. How can you love me when I have caused you nothing but unpleasantness and worry since you pulled me out of the ocean?"
Aulay had to bite back a smile at the question. She had almost howled it with despair.
"I do no ken," he said with a smile. "Mayhap because ye're brave, and smart, and bellow at me like a fishwife when I try to get ye to do something fer yer own good. Or mayhap because I see ye everywhere I look. I see yer skin in the clouds, yer eyes in the grass and yer hair in me horse's tail."
"Oh, Lord love us," Uncle Acair muttered, reminding him that they were not alone. "Aulay, lad, I ken yer no' a minstrel, but could ye no' at least ha'e said yer horse's mane?"
Tossing him a scowl over his shoulder, he snapped, "Nay. Me horse's mane is dark brown." Turning back to Jetta, he added, "The hair o' his tail, though, is the same midnight black as yer hair and 'tis beautiful."
Eyes wide and watery, she managed a choked, "Oh."
"Which is beautiful?" Niels asked sounding confused. "Ye're horse's tail or her hair?"
"Her hair," he barked, turning to glare at the man.
"Ignore him," Edith said, smacking her husband. Offering Aulay an encouraging smile then, she added, "Go on. Ye like her hair and eyes."
"How do ye ken he likes her eyes?" Dougall asked with amusement. "All he said was he sees them in the grass."
"Husband," Murine hissed.
"Well, he did."
Aulay turned back to Jetta, and closed his eyes briefly as he breathed out a sigh, and then said, "I'm sorry, lass. I wanted to tell ye I love ye using the flowery words I ken you women like, but instead I'm mucking this up horribly."
"Oh, husband," Jetta said, her arms tightening around him. When he opened his eyes, it was to see her smiling through her tears. Raising a hand to caress his cheek as she had the first time he saw her, she blinked her tears away and said softly, "I do not need flowery words. Your love is all I need. 'Tis all I want. You truly are a gift from God to me, husband. You are my own personal angel, a savior sent for me to love."
Aulay closed his eyes again, savoring the words. He'd never thought to have a woman feel that way about him, not since he'd been scarred so horribly. But his sweet Jetta did. She might think him her savior, but the truth was Jetta was his savior. She'd saved him from a long, lonely, and no doubt bitter life thinking of himself as a monster too ugly to be loved by any but his siblings.
Opening his eyes again, he met her gaze solemnly and said, "I'll keep ye safe and love ye till me dying breath, Jetta. I promise. And ye ken I keep me promises."
