Page 41 of The Refuge

Her teasing manner told him her mood had improved and he was glad of it. Even if she were hiding her true feelings, he would try and encourage her. “Margaret has much confidence in you. She told me of all her ladies you are the only one she would entrust with such a project.”

He was pleased when Catrìona’s cheeks turned scarlet, bringing color to her face that had been pale before. He hoped she had forgotten the scene in the hall. For Domnall’s actions and what they portended, he felt only disgust and suspected Domnall’s attentions to Isla of Blackwell were more than a kindness to a new lady.

Steinar did not consider Domnall worthy of Catrìona and his interest in another would present new possibilities. If the Irish noble were no longer in her future, she would be free to accept another. But as soon as that became known, Malcolm’s men would begin circling her like wolves around a stranded fawn. What will I do if that happens?

“Let us see about that wine,” he said, offering her his arm. And then with a grin, “Mayhap Angus is thirsty.”

* * *

Catrìona had yet to break her fast and was feeding a small girl when Fia hissed into her ear, “I do not know how Margaret puts up with her!”

Isla of Blackwell had turned away from the orphans, refusing to join the ladies in feeding them. Instead, she walked to the hearth and reached her hands toward the fire. The woman had missed the morning prayers with the queen, keeping to her chamber until it was time to break her fast.

Catrìona did not like to think of Isla else the tears would begin to fall. In the fortnight since the woman had arrived at Dunfermline, things had changed with Domnall. He now paid open court to the lady from Blackwell and she often spoke of him, bragging of her conquest.

At first, Catrìona had believed Isla was unaware Domnall had been intended for her, but when she had suggested as much to Fia, her cousin was quick to disagree. “Oh, she knows you were Domnall’s intended. ’Twas common knowledge around the hall. That is why the other men kept their distance from you, well, all save the scribe. And none of the men worried much over him. No, Isla is merely indifferent to another’s pain.”

To think Isla knew and did not care made it all the worse as the conversation at the ladies’ table continued.

“Why, only last eve,” Isla said to Audra, “Domnall described his home in Leinster to me and told me how excited he is for me to see it. He plans to speak to my father on his way home.”

“Domnall goes home?” asked Audra, shooting a glance at Catrìona.

“Only for a time. He has family matters to see to and he is negotiating a trading venture between Leinster and King Malcolm.”

That Domnall had shared his business with this new lady—things he had never told her—caused a deep hurt within Catrìona. She felt the tears well in her eyes. Unable to stand more of the woman’s boasting, with a hasty apology to the queen, Catrìona fled the hall.

She ran from the tower into the forest not realizing she had come to the place next to the burn where she had once sat with the queen. The only sounds were those of the water rushing over stones and the birds in the trees above her.

She sat on a fallen log crossing her arms tightly around her, rocking back and forth, as the tears fell. How could he do this? And without a word to me!

Hearing footfalls behind her coming closer along the path, she brushed the tears from her face and turned her head toward the stream, hoping whoever it was would pass her by.

“Catrìona.”

The queen.

Catrìona turned to face her mistress.

“It occurred to me you might come here. I think I know why you weep but I would listen if you would speak of it,” said Margaret.

Catrìona got to her feet, unwilling to keep all that was in her heart from the queen. “The man my father chose for me, the man I thought to wed, has now chosen another.”

“Ah,” Margaret said knowingly as she beckoned Catrìona to sit and eased herself down beside her. “Domnall mac Murchada. I have observed his actions toward Isla of Blackwell. ’Twould seem he has at last found someone much like himself.”

“What do you mean?”

“In the year he has been in Dunfermline, I have become aware of his ill-favored character. He is not one I would have chosen for you.”

Catrìona drew little comfort from Margaret’s words. All she could think of was Domnall’s rejection. Beneath the hurt he had caused was the pain from the loss of her parents. The deep wounds had not healed. Mayhap they never would. “’Tis not just Domnall, My Lady. My heart is broken and I am distraught for all that I have lost.”

Margaret took Catrìona’s trembling hand in hers. “I know you have suffered much, Catrìona, and I am very sorry for your pain. It was my hope when you came to us that you would find healing. You will, in time.”

Catrìona looked into the queen’s gentle sky-colored eyes. “I hope so, My Lady.”

Margaret gave her an understanding smile. “There is no soul so damaged, no heart so broken, it cannot be healed by God.”

Tears flowed from Catrìona’s eyes in a great rush as she turned into Margaret’s comforting arms wanting desperately for the words to be true.