The Eagle by Hildie McQueen

Chapter Six

When Stuart returned from hunting, it was still early in the day. He’d given up after only a couple of hours, his mind much too involved in rethinking the kiss with Cait. Like a lad, he returned to the keep hoping to catch a glimpse of her.

Once he dismounted, he saw her. She was with another servant, both carrying water toward the kitchen.

She looked toward him, her cheeks turned pink, and she turned away.

When spotting her brother, Stuart went to him and told him about his idea to gift Cait the mare.

“A horse?” Torac asked giving him a curious look and then glancing in the direction that Cait went.

“She walks a long distance to and from the cottage. Yesterday, I was hunting and came upon her hiding from a boar. I told her we could allow her the use of a horse.”

The warrior narrowed his eyes. “She does not require a horse, Mister Stuart. Cait can walk, or I can see about a mule and cart.”

Not wishing to continue the discussion with her half brother, who obviously cared little about Cait’s welfare, Stuart shrugged. “Let us practice.”

There was little doubt left in his mind that Torac was not upset about the horse, but about the fact that Stuart had noticed his sister. By the time they finished sparing, not only was Stuart drenched in sweat, but there had been a couple of times he’d wondered if the man meant to kill him.

“Point taken,” he told the warrior, who gave him one last glare and stalked away.

At the water barrel, he dipped a bowl into the cold water and poured it over his head. Then repeated the process, washing as much dirt and sweat as he could before going inside.

“What was that about?” Darach neared and gave him a questioning look. “Are ye fighting over a woman?”

“Was it that obvious?” Stuart asked watching his brother wash up. “I do not think he cares that I pay attention to his sister.”

Darach chuckled. “I do not have to ask who the fair lass is. What do ye plan to do?”

The question caught him off guard. For the moment, the only thing he’d planned was to teach her to ride so that she’d have a way back and forth from the cottage in the woods. Now he worried it would cause a problem between him and Torac.

“I do not know,” he replied. “The cottage ye gave her family is much too far and her trudging through the woods in the early morn and late eve is dangerous.”

His brother chuckled and shook his head. “I suppose ye should do something about it then. There is no need for the wee wench to be in any danger.” When his brother walked away chuckling, Stuart visualized throwing the water bowl at the back of his head.

He walked past the garden then took a step back when he noticed Cait digging at the dirt with a small spade. She hummed as she worked not noticing him.

It was time to stop the foolishness. He’d made sure she had a way to and from the cottage. He would arrange for someone else to teach her. The last thing he needed was any kind of complications in his life. There was much to do with archer training duties and plans for rotation of the guards at the northern and southern posts.

Soon, he and his team of archers, along with a group of warriors, would be going to the southern shore to replace those on guard there.

“Cait,” he called out much louder than he intended.

When Cait saw him, her eyes rounded. She attempted to stand but stepped on something and lost her balance falling backward onto the ground.

Blowing out soft breaths, she remained on her bottom with her head bent.

“I did not mean to startle ye,” Stuart said as he neared. When she didn’t move, he noticed that she held her right hand in her left, blood seeping through her fingers.

“Here let me help.” He grabbed her by the shoulders and lifted her to stand.

Cait let out a shaky breath. “It hurts.”

Stuart walked her to the water barrel and once again dipped the bowl into it, then washed the wound. It was a deep cut that would need to be stitched. The bleeding did not stop, but at least all the dirt was gone.

“Come inside, Mother can help.”

Pale and looking as if she was fighting not to cry, the lass allowed him to guide her to the great hall. He called out for a servant to fetch his mother and almost immediately his mother hurried to them. “Oh, dear, what happened?”

“I startled her, and she cut herself with the garden spade,” Stuart explained. “It was not my intention. I thought she’d seen me.”

“Poor lass,” his mother said. At the words, his brother’s wife, Isobel, arrived and pushed him away.

“Please fetch my kit from the shelf there.” She pointed to a cabinet by the corridor. Stuart did as Isobel instructed.

“Stuart, hold her still. The cut is long, and this will hurt.” Isobel gave Cait an apologetic look. “If ye have to cry, it’s fine Cait.”

Stuart pulled up a chair and sat behind Cait. He held her against his chest. The lass shivered and he knew she was in great pain. The cut went from between her thumb and forefinger to the other side of her hand. It was an awful place for a jagged cut, and he knew it would cause her discomfort for a long time.

At the first stitch Cait cried out softly, and her breathing became more irregular with each subsequent one. Each time the needle pierced her skin, Stuart ached for her.

“I am so very sorry,” he kept repeating in her ear. Whether she heard him over the pain, he wasn’t sure.

By the time Isobel finished stitching her hand and wrapping it, Cait was sobbing.

“Why do ye cry?” his mother asked. “Does it continue to hurt lass?”

Cait sniffed loudly. “With my hand cut, I cannot continue to work and feed my family. Wh-what shall I do?”

“Do not worry about that right now,” Isobel said.

Both women gave Stuart a disappointed look. Finally, he mouthed “What?”

“Tell Cait what ye plan to do to help?” his mother said giving him a wide-eyed look as if there was an obvious thing to say.

“I will get herbs that will help with the pain from Greer,” he started and when his mother motioned with her hand for him to continue, he said, “And I will take ye home to rest.”

By the roll of his mother’s eyes and Isobel’s head shake, he’d said the wrong thing.

“Ye should stay here where we can look after ye,” Isobel said. “Stuart will also…” She looked to him.

Cait turned and met his gaze. His heart melted at seeing her wet eyelashes clumped together around her red-rimmed eyes. “I will inform yer mother what has happened and ensure that yer family has everything they need until ye can work again.”

His mother’s wide smile made it obvious he’d finally said the right thing.

Leaving the womento do whatever it was they did, Stuart went to find Anton. His squire nodded emphatically while he gave instructions for food and grain to be taken to Cait’s home and a message that she would be unable to travel home for a few days.

Once that was completed, he sought Darach to discuss the upcoming changing of duties at the southern post. In the study he found his brothers, Darach, Ewan, and Gideon.

With his wife in the family way, Duncan had returned to his home and was not expected to return to the keep unless there was a good reason.

Ewan lived close enough that he could travel back and forth daily, so he was usually at the keep most of the day helping with whatever was needed.

“A messenger just arrived,” Darach said. “Laird Maclean has died.”

Stuart lowered to a chair. “He was right, he had only a few days left.”

“The message also states that Lila Maclean may be visiting soon. I am sure it was one of the late laird’s wishes that she marries well.”

“She can marry Caelan then,” Stuart said.

Darach arched a brow. “Ye were specified. I suppose the late Maclean expects ye not to have a problem moving to Skye.”

“I would wait until seeing the lass before making up yer mind,” Gideon said with eyebrows raised and a twist to his lips. “Do not agree to anything until ye see her, she may be homely.”

“Looks are not what makes a marriage of convenience work,” Ewan stated.

“Says the man who married a beauty,” Gideon quipped. He then addressed Darach. “Do not ever consider marrying me off to someone I do not find attractive.”

Their eldest brother shook his head. “I would never consider marrying anyone off, especially not ye Gideon. The poor woman who ends up with ye will have a life of misery trying to keep ye in line.”

Everyone chuckled, except for Stuart. His mind was awhirl at the idea of a woman traveling there to meet him and that if he did agree to marry, he would leave his family and lands.

“Is there something to gain from an alliance between our clans?”

Darach nodded. “Possibly. However, I feel that Lennox will remain friendly because we gave him and his men harbor.”

“Some of his men remain here as well,” Gideon added. “Ye do not have to marry the lass unless ye wish to.”

“Can we discuss the southern guard exchange?” Stuart said changing the subject. “What are the plans?”

“Gideon will go in yer place,” Darach said.

The youngest nodded in agreement. “I will be an archer for a season.”

“Why?” Stuart argued. “It is my turn to go.”

“Ye must remain. If ye are gone when Lila Maclean arrives, it will be an affront to Lennox Maclean. He is newly laird and attempting to fulfill some of his father’s last wishes.”

“An arranged marriage? Honestly Darach, ye can send a message back telling him I will not marry her and save her the trip.”

“Gideon, ensure the warriors are prepared to go in three days. Ewan, see about the archers,” Darach ordered, not meeting his gaze. “See if our cousin, Artair, plans to go as well.”

The others dispersed, but Stuart remained rooted to the chair. “I am not going to marry Lila Maclean.”

Darach shrugged. “I am aware that ye are interested in the wee lass, Cait. If ye are serious about her, ye should make it known soon. Ye being betrothed will make things easier to keep from insulting the Maclean. Otherwise, ye will have to court the Maclean lass to see if ye are in fact compatible.”

“I just startled Cait in the garden. She cut her hand and is not able to work. I do not believe this to be a good time to speak to her about courtship,” he muttered. “Besides, her brother hates me.”

Not looking to speak on the subject any longer, Darach stood. Pushing back from the chair, his brother pulled a rolled-up map from a shelf and flattened it on the table. They used cups and other items to the edges down.

“This area is not protected.” Darach pointed to a western portion of their lands, just below the lands that belonged to Stuart. “Can ye and some men ride out there and scout it. I do not want to post men there permanently, but if it’s a one-day ride there and back, we can add it to the patrol assignments.”

“I will go first thing in the morning.” Stuart noted that he’d ride past where Cait lived. It would be a good opportunity to bring any other needed provisions to her mother and brother.

His mother methim as he walked out of the study. “Ye should go speak to her.” She motioned up the stairs.

If this was any indication of how courtship was to start, he wasn’t sure to be very good at it. Stuart went up the stairs and knocked on the open door. When she called for him to enter, he found Cait sitting in a chair in front of the fireplace cradling her bandaged hand to her chest.

Just then Cora, one of the kitchen maids, entered and placed a cup on a small table next to where Cait sat.

“It hurts quite badly,” she explained lifting her tear-streaked face.

“Greer says this will put ye right to sleep. It’ll help with the pain too.”

“I cannot stay here,” Cait said looking to the other woman. “I will go back to the room in the servant’s quarters. I do not understand why I am here.” She began to cry, and Stuart looked to the servant motioning for her to leave.

The woman nodded in understanding and walked out.

“Drink the tea, it will help ye feel better.”

Cait wasn’t surewhat to do. Confused at the entire situation coupled with the throbbing pain made her want to kick and scream like a child and not really caring what anyone thought. Her head pounded and every single moment that passed seemed to increase the anxious feelings inside her chest.

When Stuart’s hand cupped her jaw, it was as if everything stopped whirling. The warmth of his hand seeped into her skin and she leaned into it, closing her eyes.

He must have knelt, because when he pulled her against him, they were at the same level. Pushing away all thought, she rested her head on his shoulder.

“When I am in pain,” he said in a low voice, “I force myself to drink whatever Greer concocts. It will be vile, but it always works.”

His lips pressed to her neck, just below her left ear sending out tingles of awareness. “I do not know what I feel for ye Cait. But I must admit that ye are always on my mind.”

The statement broke the spell and she attempted to straighten, but his arms tightened around her as he lifted her and carried her to the bed.

Cait’s breath caught. Surely, he did not mean to take advantage of her injury and have his way with her. She wasn’t sure she had the strength to do much more than continue crying.

Upon lowering her onto the soft bedding, he straightened and went back to fetch the cup that Cora had brought.

Holding it to her lips, he met her gaze. “Drink.”

She took a sip and cringed.

“I told ye it would be vile. ’Tis best to swallow it fast and do yer best to keep it down.”

Cait nodded and took the cup with her left hand. Because his gaze locked with hers, she barely noticed the horrible taste of the drink. Instead, she marveled at the fact that she—a mere servant—was getting so much attention from him.

“Now,” he said making Cait stiffen and wonder what would happen next. “I will kiss ye and leave ye to rest.”

True to his word, he bent down, pressed his lips to hers in a sweet lingering kiss, trailed kisses to her ear, then looked her in the eyes and order her to, “Rest.”

The door closed and she stared at it with fascination.

She slipped from the bed, slid her shoes on, and walked out. No matter how nice he was, she would maintain her dignity. It was not her place to have one of the guest rooms.

Cora caught sight of her when she stumbled groggily in the servant’s corridor. “What are ye doing? I thought ye to be sleeping by now.”

“I am seeking my bed,” she said stubbornly. “Mister Stuart feels responsible for my injury. Although it is partly true, there is no need to install me in a guest chamber.”

“Come along,” Cora said helping her walk to the small room that she kept at the keep. Once settled onto the slender bed, Cait fought to remain awake. “Be sure to come and fetch me so I can help as much as I can with last meal.”

When Cora left, Cait realized that Stuart’s kisses had distracted her from the pain. Thankfully Greer’s concoction was completing the task. And as her pain eased, her mind cleared, leaving her better able to decide what she needed to do.

One thing she knew for certain, she had to clarify things with Stuart. She had to make certain he understood that she could not leave her mother and younger brother on their own. They were her responsibility.

Of course, there was also the circumstances of their social stations. Although his family seemed to accept that there was the possibility of a relationship between them, Cait wasn’t so sure. Her being so far below him is what led her to believe that—despite his assurances it wasn’t true—he did not desire her for a relationship. He was just looking for a dalliance. And if she was right, she had to put a stop to any physical contact between them. Immediately.

Unfortunately, as her body continued to relax and her eyes drooped close her thoughts were filled with just how wonderful his kisses were.

The next morning,Stuart rose early to go to see about the western portion of Ross land as his brother had directed. He’d spent the majority of the last evening figuring a way out of his current predicament.

The entire idea of marriage as a way for clans to unite was one of the things he disliked about being part of the laird’s family. Thankfully his brother was giving him the choice of who he married. He could only hope it wouldn’t come to him having to marry someone else’s choice as part of his duties to the clan.

As he and four guardsmen mounted their horses and prepared to ride, Artair rode up. “I hear ye are not going to the southern post.” His cousin gave him a side glance before adding, “I am not going either.”

“Why?”

“My father is ill. I prefer to remain close by.” Artair brought his mount alongside his as they headed out of the keep.

“I wasn’t aware Uncle Angus was unwell. Why has no one told us?”

Artair shook his head. “We did not think it was serious. But it seems to linger. The healer is seeing to him.”

They rode for a while in silence until reaching the cottage where Cait’s mother and brother lived. Both came out as soon as he rode up.

“Did something happen to Cait?” Her mother looked up at him, her face pale and filled with worry. “Why is she not with ye?”

Stuart explained about Cait cutting her hand—leaving out his part in the incident—and after giving them a basket Greer had prepared and reassuring the woman her daughter was well, he and Artair continued on their way.

“Ye seem to know them and the daughter well,” his cousin said. “Is there something between ye and the lass?”

Stuart watched a hawk fly overhead. Its wings spread with the concise fluidity of a predator that spotted its prey. The bird let out a piercing warning call, as if to warn of its plan before diving behind the trees.

“I do not wish for any romantic entanglements at the moment. However, Lennox Maclean seems determined to follow through with his late father’s wishes. They hated each other, so it came as quite a surprise when he sent a message stating that his sister Lila is to come for a visit.”

Artair blew out a breath. “And ye are the one who’s been chosen as suitor?”

“Aye.”

“I do not blame ye for not wishing to be involved. I will never marry. I do not agree with the idea of it. Especially not an arranged one.”

Stuart let the comment go. Ever since they were children, Artair made statements with a certainty that no one questioned. Even if he didn’t follow through, he always maintained a sort of formality about him. It was what kept Stuart and his brothers from pointing out when Artair did not see something through.

They’d barely ridden out of the forest when men on horseback burst from the trees; their swords lifted. Both he and Artair drew theirs just in time to defend against the attackers.

He had no time to try to identify who they were as they battled against the group of men. Despite the four guardsmen rushing forward to assist, they were still outnumbered.

His and Artair’s horses circled as trained while they swung their swords. The sounds of metal against metal echoing through the trees.

Stuart fought against two men, who seemed intent on separating him from the others. Tiring, he fought to lift the heavy sword and lean into his swings. The men kept their distance, not coming close enough for him to reach past their sword.

A swoosh sounded as one of the men struck his hand and his sword flew from it. Unarmed, Stuart jumped down from his horse and dashed to the protection of the forest. Just before he reached the trees, a hard blow to the back of his head sent him sprawling to the ground.

Then everything went black.