Page 27 of The Highlander’s Hunted Wife (Legacy of Highland Lairds #2)

27

“ S hould ye nae be excited?” Bonnie asked, raising a questioning eyebrow. “I thought lasses were meant to be giddy about weddings and such.”

Holding out an apple for the silver mare, Katie shrugged. “I dinnae think there’s any particular way a lass is meant to feel.”

The mare, she’d discovered, was named Pebble. And though it seemed unlikely that Katie would be riding the horse again soon, she sought comfort in the simplicity of the creature. All the horses in the stables, in truth.

Over the past four days of deliberate avoidance of a certain future husband, she’d come to learn the characters and quirks of almost every horse stabled at the castle.

“Ye dinnae even have a dress,” Bonnie pointed out.

Katie glanced down at her little sister. “Since when have ye been bothered about such things? Ye’re startin’ to sound like a castle lassie.”

“ I dinnae want to wear a nice dress, but… I want ye to have a nice weddin’.” Bonnie absently stroked the air, but Pipkin wasn’t beside her.

The mastiff frightened some of the horses, so he had been banished to the stable yard.

From further down the stalls, Lyall tossed his opinion into the fray. “It’s ‘cause she doesnae want to be a Lady. Can ye imagine Catkin hostin’ gatherings and bein’ all proper? It’d be enough to make anyone nervous.”

A shiver ran through Katie. Of course, she’d considered what being the Lady of Clan MacKimmon might entail in terms of duties and clan matters, but she didn’t like to be reminded. There was no one more unsuitable, and she didn’t seem to be alone in that conclusion.

Clan MacKimmon were none-too-pleased with the Laird’s decision. Young women shot her sour looks now, and so did their mothers, no doubt believing that she had somehow stolen their rightful position.

Only Isla seemed unyieldingly delighted by the upcoming nuptials.

“How have ye gotten yerself into this mess, eh?” Lyall prodded, a curious look in his eyes. “Ye didnae seem to like him at all, nae so long ago.”

Katie’s face burned as she concentrated on stroking Pebble’s silky nose. “He needed a bride, I was there.” She cleared her throat, hating the lie. “He felt generous, I suppose, wantin’ to help us after what we’ve endured.”

“I dinnae mind the idea,” Lyall said, surprising her.

“Ye dinnae?”

He shook his head, a wicked grin on his face. “Ye’ll be able to get closer to his study now. In time, ye might even be able to ask him what he kens about the situation with our braither. Ye might be able to unearth somethin’ to absolve him.”

Digging a carrot out of her apron pocket and moving along the stalls to feed it to Lucifer, Katie bit her tongue. She was in no mood to talk in circles with him, nor to explain Alison’s theory to him, knowing he still wouldn’t accept it. He would never believe that Johnson was guilty, even if he had seen him kill Lucy with his bare hands.

“Aye, maybe,” she said, offering a smile instead of a harsh truth.

Bonnie tugged on Katie’s sleeve. “But what about yer dress, Katie? Rosie says it’s the most important dress a lass will ever wear. And ye make such beautiful dresses, Catkin. It’d be a pity if ye got married in…”

She gestured to the simple, coarse woolen dress that Katie was wearing—the same dress she’d worn on the ride to Inverness. Although it had been laundered, it still bore the stains and slight rips from that journey.

It might be an opportunity. A chance to clear me head.

The idea, once it had taken root, refused to be pruned.

“I’m goin’ to the village to speak to Mrs. Shanley. She has an old dress I could use,” Katie said abruptly, giving Lucifer a scratch behind the ears before making her swift exit.

Surely, Hector wouldn’t deny her that. Then again, he might consider it her ‘asking for too much.’

“I’m nae certain the Laird will like this,” Flynn said, chewing on his lip as he rode alongside Katie down the hill to the village.

Katie looked straight ahead. “Isla permitted it, and the Laird isnae anywhere to be found, so he cannae argue. If he’d prefer me to be married in me rags, he can chase me down once he hears the news.” She paused, her skin tingling with the memories of Hector catching her. “Besides, I’m nae likely to run off with ye here, am I?”

“Nay, I suppose nae.” Flynn swayed to the rhythm of the horse, so attuned to the beast that it didn’t seem to be a conscious movement. “If I may, Miss Blake, ye dinnae sound too enthusiastic about this weddin’. Is it nerves?”

Katie sniffed. “I’m nae nervous.”

“Are ye havin’ second thoughts?”

I didnae even have a first thought about it, she wanted to say.

“Nay, it’s just nae somethin’ that interests me much,” she replied instead. “I dinnae like a fuss, and, as I understand it, Isla is ensurin’ that it’ll be the biggest fuss of a weddin’ there has ever been.”

Flynn snorted a laugh. “Aye, but what ye have to understand is that we havenae had a reason for a grand celebration for years. She’s seizin’ the opportunity with both hands.” He paused, his voice softer. “I can understand nae wantin’ a fuss, but it’s goin’ to make the clan so very happy. They’ve earned that joy.”

And what of me joy?

She shook her head. “Tell that to the lasses who shoot daggers at me whenever I pass them by. If looks could kill, I’d have died a thousand deaths.”

“Ignore the jealousy, Miss Blake,” Flynn urged. “There’s a reason the Laird has chosen ye. I kenned the moment I first met ye that ye might be somethin’ different—the lass to make the Laird settle down, at last.”

Katie held back a biting laugh. The only reason Hector had ‘chosen’ her was because he had compromised her and wasn’t enough of a bastard to let her bear the consequences alone.

Although, in a rather bitter twist of fate, there had been no gossip about the scandal. Many whispered their suspicions and theories, but what had actually happened had not left the small circle of those in the know. Isla had held her tongue, probably because she’d gained what she wanted from her meddling.

“I need to halt at me cottage for a moment,” Katie said suddenly, her heart wrenching as she laid eyes on that quaint place.

It wasn’t much, just a stone box with a thatched roof that was in dire need of repair, but it had been her home for twenty-two years. It was the place where she’d helped raise her siblings, where they’d shared their losses and triumphs, where their number had slowly dwindled, though memories of her mother and father—and Johnson, too—were ingrained in those crooked stone walls.

“If ye must,” Flynn conceded, following her to the lopsided wooden gate where Pipkin usually stood guard.

Katie slid down from the saddle and loosely tied the reins to the rickety fence, pushing into the vegetable garden that she had made flourish with her own two hands.

“Bastards,” she hissed, her heart breaking at the sight of trampled plants, the carnage of annihilated turnips, carrots, and cabbages strewn about the place.

Before Johnson’s actions, Katie’s worst enemies had been the rabbits, snails, slugs, and mice. But they had never left so much devastation in their wake.

“I assume it’s nae supposed to look like this?” Flynn called from his horse.

Katie bristled. “Nay, it’s nae.”

She hardly dared to continue into the cottage, fearful of what she might find.

Pushing open the door, her worst fears were confirmed—the cottage had been ransacked, the sparse furniture spitefully broken, every jar and pot smashed to pieces on the floor, all valuable trinkets and belongings pilfered. It looked like someone had attempted to start a fire, a streak of black tapering up the far wall, above a small pile of chair legs. The faint scent of smoke lingered in the air.

Did they take everythin’?

She moved into the small back room where her brothers used to sleep, seeking out the old window. The narrow wooden sill looked untouched.

Praying to the heavens, she lifted the slat of wood and dipped her hand into the secret compartment. Her heart soared as she grabbed a parcel wrapped in waxed fabric and drew it carefully out of the hole.

Opening it slightly, she let out a shuddering sigh of relief. Resting on top of a folded square of pure white wool, woven so finely that it resembled freshly fallen snow, was a pendant. Dark green agate that her father had found and, in a rare romantic moment, had smoothed and shaped for his wife to wear.

“What are ye doin’ in there? There’s nay secret exit, is there?” Flynn shouted from outside.

Holding the parcel close to her chest, Katie took a deep breath and headed back out. “Nay, I was just?—”

She paused in surprise. Flynn wasn’t alone beyond the garden gate, joined by a very familiar man. They seemed to be deep in conversation, stopping when she made her way through the ruined vegetables toward them.

“Miss Blake.” Lewis Harrison bowed his head, his thick mass of blond hair flopping forward. “Forgive me, lass. I thought someone was tryin’ to rob the cottage again.”

She noticed the sword in his hand, uncertain of why he had it.

“I was just fetchin’ some things, Mr. Harrison,” she replied with a sad smile. “I wouldnae have thought there was anythin’ left for anyone to steal. It’s a mess in there.”

He was perhaps forty or so, with the build of a man who ground grain for a living. Not so tall as Hector, but equally broad of shoulders, encumbered with the muscle of his vocation. He was as stocky as a bull, but she had never known him to be ill-tempered, always gentle and generous to her family.

“I’ve done me best to guard yer cottage,” Lewis explained. “I put out a fire that some wee miscreants had started, but… I’m sorry I couldnae do more to protect it. Between the mill and me market stall, I havenae done as much as I’d have liked.”

Katie blinked back tears, grateful that she still had some allies in the village. “Ye tried, Mr. Harrison, and I cannae thank ye enough for that. It would have broken me heart if that fire had taken…” She hesitated. “But ye can stand down now, Mr. Harrison. I dinnae expect I’ll be back here again.”

“It’s true what they say about the weddin’, then?” Lewis asked with a heavy sigh.

Katie nodded. “Aye. Believe me, it’s as much of a shock to me. I mean, can ye imagine me as a Lady?”

“I can, lass,” Lewis replied. “Ye’ve always been the finest lass in this village. Who wouldnae want to make ye their lady?”

Flynn cleared his throat. “Aye, well, we’ve got to go now.” He glanced at Katie. “Where’s this Mrs. Shanley ye’ve been so eager to see?”

“The cottage just down there,” Katie replied as she pushed through the gate and prepared to get back in the saddle.

Lewis was beside her in an instant. “Let me take that parcel for ye, Miss Blake.”

“Thank ye,” Katie said, handing over the precious package as she gripped the saddle, wishing she had a step she could use.

“Here, let me,” Lewis offered, tucking the parcel under his arm before coming to stand next to her.

He crouched a little and cupped his hands, offering her the step she so desperately needed in order to maintain her dignity.

Thanking him profusely, she set her foot in his sturdy, callused hands and allowed him to hoist her up into the saddle, swinging her leg over with ease.

“Now that I ken it’s true, I intend to bring ye weddin’ gifts,” Lewis said as he handed the parcel back to her. “Perhaps I’ll see ye again before ye become the new Lady MacKimmon.”

Katie smiled down at him. “Aye, perhaps. And thank ye again for everything ye’ve done for me wee cottage.”

“It was the least I could do,” he replied, bowing his head in farewell.

With that, Katie urged Pebble into a walk, joining Flynn as they ventured toward Mrs. Shanley’s cottage. Some compulsion urged her to glance back over her shoulder, to find Lewis still standing by the gate as if he had no intention of leaving his post. He raised his hand in a wave, and she waved back, wondering if life might’ve been simpler—albeit a lot more boring—if she had become a miller’s wife instead of a laird’s.

“Friend of yers?” Flynn asked, his eyebrow raised.

Katie shrugged, unsure how much of what she said would make it back to Hector. Then again, if he had no intention of ever loving her, she doubted she had to worry about something as emotionally motivated as jealousy.

“Aye,” she said. “A good friend. In truth, he might’ve ended up bein’ me husband if yer Laird hadnae jumped in first.”