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Duncan crossed the small distance in a heartbeat and took her in his arms. She resisted with a soft sob.
“Cait, it is me. Caitlyn, my dearest...”
She turned to him, her eyes dull with disbelief. She reached out to touch him mournfully.
“It is a dream. A dream only...”
“It is no dream, Cait. I promise. It’s me.”
She reached to put her cool palm to his cheek, then pulled it away as if he burned her.
“It’s you,” she gasped, throwing her arms around his neck.
He embraced her, letting go when he felt her wince. Her clothes were ragged, dirty; her skin pale and bruised. The rank blanket she pulled around her was woefully inadequate and thin for the bitter cold. Her lovely black curls hung lank and tangled, but she was still the most beautiful sight he’d ever beheld in his life.
He beckoned Edana forward.
“Caitlyn, I swore to myself I would never, ever leave you again. But there is something I must take care of that no lady should be a party to. Stay here with Edana. Your mother. She will watch over you until I return.”
Cait’s fingers twisted in his vest. “I want to come with you.”
“You cannot. It’s not safe. I will not be long.”
He untwisted her fingers gently and kissed them, and looked deep into her eyes. “You will be safe here until I return for you. And I swear to you, I will return.” Before he could fall to the pleading in her eyes, he turned and strode from the shed. He beckoned his men around him. Lord Douglas’s men would soon be stirring.
“Put every one of these blackguards to the sword,” Duncan said. “But leave my father to me.”
* * * * *
Cait shivered violently. He was there, but now gone again. He had only been a dream after all. It was surely a dream, for now the strange woman who looked exactly like her was approaching as the morning half-light that filtered through the cracks in the wall. She remembered her from past dreams, in her woad dress with her long black hair. The Cait-woman was pulling off her cloak and wrapping it around her. For a dream, the cloak felt amazingly warm and real. But Duncan was gone, and she would soon awaken, and this strange older version of herself was whispering in her ear. Perhaps she had died. Could it be? She didn’t remember dying. She must only be dreaming. But it had seemed so real. He had felt so real, she had let herself believe this time.
“It was no dream,” the woman said. “You are awake. He will return.”
Cait looked at her, shaking her head. She would not raise her hopes again, only to have them dashed.
“You may pinch me if you wish, and see if you hurt me,” said the woman with a smile. “If it will make you believe.”
Cait only looked at her. She would not talk to a specter. She would not interact with a dream. She was losing her mind, but she was not that far gone yet. The woman studied her, looking thoughtfully into her eyes.
“’Tis true, is it not? You favor me more than a little. Your father said as much.”
“You knew my father?” she asked before she could stop herself. “My father is a king. He would help me. Can he help me, do you think?”
“Your husband is here. You need no help now. But yes, the king would have helped you if he had known you needed help. He is not so gifted as we are, to know when help is needed. Or perhaps he is only too preoccupied with worldly concerns.”
“You know the king?”
Edana smiled again. “Child, I am your mother, as much as he is your sire. We know one another. There is no other way.”
“You are my mother?” Cait was terribly confused. She had no mother.
“I am. I’m afraid I’ve been an absent, neglectful mother to you. I thought it was better that way, but perhaps I was wrong. You must forgive me if you can find it in your heart. I would like us to be friends.”
Cait fell silent again, thinking, untangling. She was safe. It was not a dream. Duncan was returning soon. She could hear the shouts of Lord Douglas’s men, hear the clanging metal and the violence outside.
“It will be all right,” the woman assured her. “They will prevail.”
They would prevail. She had a mother. This woman was her mother. At last the tears came. Edana took her in her arms and rocked her gently.
“When will he return? When?” Cait sobbed.
“Hush now. Soon.”
* * * * *
The raid was over in minutes. His father’s men died violently, like the beasts they were. A few cowards scattered, outlawed, into the woods. Duncan’s men found Lord Douglas passed out over his cup at the table. They trussed him hand and foot and brought him before their lord. Even in his dire position, the old earl sneered at him.
“Are you sure you want her back, Duncan? I believe you may find her changed. She is not quite so pure as I found her, but a great lot more obedient and demure.”
Duncan didn’t flinch, just kept cleaning the blood from his weapon. His men ranged around at an appropriate distance, ready to help if needed. But they knew this was a confrontation Duncan needed to settle on his own.
“Changed?” Duncan echoed quietly. “She is the same. The same sweet woman she was when her mother brought her to this world. I think it is you that has changed.”
“Me? Yes, I have changed. I’ve become much more miserable since I met your harlot of a wife, whiling away my time here at this deserted keep with only her skinny, worthless body to pass the time—”
“I never knew you to love a woman,” Duncan interrupted. “Too high and mighty, too manly to stoop so low. All that nonsense.”
Lord Douglas laughed wildly. “I have never met a woman worthy of love.”
“Until you met my wife.”
“Disgusting, petty creatures, all of them. Vain and inconstant and only good for one thing.”
“Good for one thing? I’ve heard that for a lifetime, but I don’t think that’s what you really believe. I think you destroy whatever is innocent and good because you are so vile and worthless in your own eyes and the eyes of everyone who knows you—”
“You are an idiot, Duncan,” said Douglas, forcing a smile. “You will never understand.”
“Did you rape my own mother, you blackhearted devil?”
“Perhaps I did. What difference does it make? She was only a woman, like all the other useless women on earth. Just one more sluttish female to beleaguer the male species.”
His voice fell silent as Duncan braced his sword a hair’s breadth from his neck. “Not one more word.”
“Will you kill your own father? You haven’t the nerve. You’ve always been soft, too emotional and womanish for your own good. You call yourself a soldier, but you’re no better than the weak, brainless slut who bore you.”
“You will not compel me to kill you quickly, old man. I know what you’re about. No. I think you will be made to suffer just as she did. A few cuts, a certain organ of yours mutilated beyond repair. Some blood to draw the wolves from the woods.” He looked around thoughtfully, considering. “I’ll have you staked to the front of the cottage. That would be best. I hope you survive for days, and I pray you die sensible with the teeth of wild animals at your throat.” He lowered his sword, signaling his men. “But I cannot stay to enjoy your demise. I must take Cait and our babe where they will be safe.”
“Our babe? The babe is mine, Duncan. She told me.”
Duncan laughed, shaking his head. “Caitlyn is ignorant in these things. She always has been, and perhaps always will be. But I tell you, the babe is mine. And while it unfortunately has your blood as well, I hope Cait’s goodness will finally overcome that taint.”
He turned his back on his father. He’d seen enough of his e
vil face to last a lifetime. He would not have the murder of his father on his soul, devil though he was. But he would see that it happened just the same. He would leave it to his men and their own outraged fury, and take Caitlyn far away from here, and pray she could forgive him for the unspeakable evil he’d brought to her life.
“He is yours,” he said to his men, who hovered impatiently to wreak revenge on behalf of their lady. “Take your time about it, and don’t be too kind. As for me and my wife, we return to Inverness at once. It’s possible his screams for mercy could disturb her,” he added as an afterthought. “Wait just a while until we are away.”
* * * * *
Cait leaned back against Duncan, listening to his steady heartbeat. His arms were wrapped tightly around her and his hands rested on her as he held to the reins. He seemed unwilling to let her stray even an inch from his body. When she shifted, his arms tightened to pull her closer again. It took until nightfall to reach the keep on horseback. Cait slept through most of the journey. At the keep she was handed over to Henna, who fussed and keened in her ear.
“Oh, child, how can you ever forgive me?” she wailed, wringing her hands.
Cait was so tired she barely heard her, but Henna’s hands were gentle and soothing, and for that she was grateful. The women took her torn clothes and shoes and burned them at Duncan’s command. They bathed her in warm, scented water for over an hour, washing her hair, tending her smarting cuts and bruises. Henna and Edana put warm scented salve on the worst ones and covered them with clean linen bandages. When she was nearly asleep, they laid her in bed. Duncan’s bed. She was not too sleepy to realize that. He paced and hovered, coming in and out of her line of sight as the women examined her.
