Highlander’s Frozen Heart by Shona Thompson

Chapter Twenty-Six

Laird MacForfin arrived to see Caton uninvited, instead of sending a messenger back. It was the kind of thing that Caton could never understand, travelling for so long just so that they could discuss something that could have easily been discussed through letters.

Of course, that would have taken much longer, but Caton didn’t like to have guests that hadn’t been invited in the first place.

Still, when he saw the laird, he put on his most charming smile, urging him to enter his dining room with a sweep of his hand.

He could only hope that there would be enough food for both of them.

“Come in, come in, Laird MacForfin,” he said, as he took his seat at the end of the table. The laird did the same, sitting across from him, while their men all stood by the walls of the room, unmoving, like statues.

“I’m nae here to eat, Baron,” the Laird said, “I’m here to discuss our deal. Ye said in yer letter that yer after Laird MacRestus, is that correct?”

“It sure is,” Caton confirmed, “And I thought I would contact you, since . . . well, you know, you have a history with them. I thought that you, of all people, Laird MacForfin, would like to have the chance to be involved in something like this.”

“Why do ye want him?” the laird asked.

“Why do you?”

“I asked ye first, Baron.”

Caton refrained from rolling his eyes, no matter how much he wanted to do so. He took a deep breath and busied himself with his cup of wine for a moment, considering his answer carefully.

Of course, honestly was the best route in his mind.

“I was to marry this woman, Adelleine,” he told the laird, “And one night, she disappeared with him. I will not allow anyone to disgrace me in such a way. I want her head, and then I want his, as well, for good measure.”

“I see,” the laird said with a hum, “And ye dinnae wish to have any of the land? Any of the gold?”

“I thought that my messenger told you so,” Caton said, hating to repeat himself, “No, I don’t want any of it. I don’t need any of it. All I want is revenge, Laird MacForfin. Everything else, everything that you get from that battle, is yours.”

Caton’s reassurance seemed to put the laird at ease. By the time his servants brought the food to the table, Laird MacForfin had a small, satisfied smile on his lips, and Caton knew that smile wouldn’t go anywhere for a while.

He had just served him the MacRestus clan on a platter. It was only natural for the laird to be excited by the prospect of gaining more land and more people to control. The laird knew just how much Caton enjoyed the latter.

“And how do ye plan on attacking the MacRestus clan?” the laird asked, “If I am to give ye me men, then I need to ken that ye willnae waste them on a senseless attack.”

“Well, this is where you come in, Laird MacForfin,” the baron said with a small shrug, “You see, I am not the commander of your men. You are. And I know that you’ll be right there with them, fighting by their side. So . . . I think that I will leave all that up to you. You can make your plans, you can order your men to do anything that you see fit. All I want is Adelleine and the laird. Everything else, including how you decide to attack them, is irrelevant to me.”

That seemed to appease the laird even more, though that didn’t surprise Caton. He knew how to read people, after all; it was one of his strongest skills.

“Verra weel,” the laird said, as he began to tuck into his food with a healthy appetite. Caton could only think that there wasn’t enough food for both of them, after all. “And ye’ll pay for the army?” the laird asked around a mouthful of beef, “Ye’ll pay for everythin’, but all ye want is the lass and the laird?”

“That is correct,” Caton said, “I know that it sounds too good to be true for you, but trust me, I will spare no cost if it means that I can get my hands on those two. Anything that your men need, I will provide. The spoils are yours to enjoy.”

Laird MacForfin smiled, though it looked to Caton as though he was baring his teeth, like a wild animal. The rest of their dinner was spent in pleasant small talk, the two of them getting to know each other better, even though it was all superficial.

Caton wasn’t fond of people knowing too much about him.

After their dinner, Caton sat with the laird and his men as they devised their plan. He listened to them for what seemed like hours, and in the end, he decided that he, too, wanted to be part of the plan.

“If all else fails, I will go for the girl,” he informed the laird, making it clear through his tone that the man had no choice but to accept his plan. Besides, it would do nothing to affect the laird’s plan; it would only give them a better chance at winning. “I will only do so if I see that we are losing, but at the end of the day, it’s Adelleine that I want the most. It’s not the clan, it’s not their laird . . . it’s that little wench that I want, and by God, I will get her. I will get her no matter what needs to be done.”

None of the other men dared to disagree with Caton. He took that as a victory, as well as his cue to leave, and he retired to his chambers, eager to be alone for a while.

The laird and his men had reminded him why he didn’t like visitors.

On his way to his chambers, though, Caton stumbled upon one of his servant girls, one of the prettier ones, he thought, with rosy cheeks and an ample bosom, and in a spur of the moment decision, he blocked her way down the stairs.

“Well, well . . . where do you think you’re going, girl?” he asked her, licking his lips as he looked at her, “I think I’d very much like to have you in my bed tonight. What’s your name?”

She was terrified, that much Caton could tell. She was trembling, hands shaking so much that she dropped the vase she was holding, which fell onto the floor and shattered into a million pieces.

Caton struck her across the cheek for it, hard enough to make her fall against the wall, clinging onto it for dear life.

Caton decided that he was going to have a lot of fun with that girl that night, at least if she managed to survive all of it. He approached her slowly, boots heavy against the wooden floor, but before he could grab her and carry her to his room, he heard a booming voice coming from the bottom floor.

“Eithne!” the voice called, “What do ye think yer doin’, smashin’ the vases? Come down here this instant!”

Caton considered ignoring the voice of the head housekeeper for a moment, and just taking the girl to his chambers anyway. No one would stop him, after all; no one could do anything.

In the end, though, he decided that it was more trouble than the girl was worth. He knew that if she didn’t appear, and if she re-emerged the following morning, either dead or severely beaten, then people would begin to talk. He hated how much those Scots seemed to like to talk, unlike his own staff, who kept their mouths shut when he needed them to do so.

“It seems to me like it’s your lucky night,” Caton told the girl, as he brushed her hair off her face, “If you speak a word of this to anyone, you will not live to see another day. Now go.”

He didn’t have to say it twice. The girl scrambled to her feet and ran away from him as fast as her legs would carry her, leaving him to go to his chambers all alone.

At least Caton had his imagination, and it was quite a vivid one at that. He could already imagine what it would feel like to have Adelleine at his mercy, to mock and taunt her and know that she couldn’t do anything about it. He would break her, and he would make sure that Laird MacRestus would be right there, watching the entire time, desperately wishing that he could help her.

He would make the man beg for Adelleine’s death, just so that she would stop suffering.

It was a pleasant thought, and one that gave Caton immense satisfaction, even more than terrorizing his staff did.

A part of him wished that something would go wrong during the attack, just so that he could find Adelleine himself. He wanted to see her face, he wanted to see the horror in her eyes when she would realise that he was there for her. He wanted to see that fear, to feel her tremble in his hands, much like that servant girl had, because in the end, it didn’t matter where Adelleine had come from. It didn’t matter whether her family had been rich or poor, noble or commoners; all that mattered was that she was a woman, and Caton did nothing better than inspire fear in women.

Of course, he would see that horror in her gaze no matter what happened. He was confident that the MacRestus clan would fall, and that he and Laird MacForfin would win the battle. Throughout their dinner, Caton had come to think that if he were the kind of man to have friends, then Laird MacForfin would be one of them. He was the kind of man that Caton could trust, simply because he seemed to have the same kind of ambition as he did. Caton respected him, just like he respected Victoria Gresham for the same trait of hers.

And if they didn’t win in the end, if he ended up dead at the hands of someone like Magnus MacRestus, then . . . well, then he would see Laird MacForfin in hell and ask him how he could have possibly let such a thing happen.

Caton idly wondered how Fin was dealing with the fact that he was after his own cousin. After all, he had told Philip to send the boy to the MacForfin clan, simply to torment him a little, but Fin didn’t seem to mind, and Caton could only think that he was either a really good liar or a really bad cousin. Either way, it was something that he could use, and in fact, he hoped that it was the former. Caton always liked to have good liars about him, not only because they made him feel better about himself, but also because they were often very useful—at least as long as they didn’t turn against him. Fin was a dangerous gamble, and Caton was no fool. He knew perfectly well that the boy could turn against him at any moment, his sentimentality getting the better of him.

He would warn Laird MacForfin about it, Caton decided. He would make sure that the man knew, just in case Fin was getting any ideas about betraying them.

It would have to wait until the following morning, though. All the thinking that Caton did tired him out, and he decided that it was best to rest for the night and leave all the decisions for later, when he would have a clear head.

There was one thing that he knew for certain, though, one thing that wouldn’t change, no matter what.

He would do anything to capture Adelleine and Laird MacRestus. He would capture them, and he would torture them to the point where they would beg him not for mercy, but for death.