but she understood they were the wrong ones. His position as the earl’s son and heir gave him much power over people like her—and she knew he had a stream of women eager to share his bed. But it could not be her. It could never be her. She would honour her word, her oath, to her husband. Her debt to Gowan cleared her mind, so she stepped back from him and shook her head.
‘I think our acquaintance is what it should be, my lord. I live in your father’s village and know my place. I know I cannot naysay anything you demand, but I beg you to leave me be.’
His gaze moved from her eyes down and she followed the path. During her plea, her hand had taken hold of his wrist. Shocked by the intimacy of such a thing and shocked more that she had touched him, a man other than her husband, Cat released her grip and stumbled back. Waiting those next few moments for his reprimand or retribution, she dared a look at his expression. It was not so much desire now as surprise.
‘I beg your pardon, mistress,’ he said, stepping off the path and clearing the way for her to walk on. ‘I meant only to make your acquaintance, having not known you before. I would never demand something that you are unwilling to give.’
Had she misunderstood? Had she just accused him of something he had not done? Her experience with men was very limited and any experience with teasing as this seemed to be was worse than that.
‘And I beg your pardon, my lord, if I offended you. My friend is waiting for me.’ She held up her sack as proof and could not help it if it felt like protection to keep him from getting so close again. ‘If I have your leave to attend her?’
‘Good day, Catriona MacKenzie,’ he said.
‘Good day,’ she replied, walking faster then. ‘My lord.’ That slipped out before she could stop it and it was met with his deep, masculine laughter.
What devil had made her tease him once more? Cat dared a peek once she’d reached Muireall’s cottage door and found him still watching her. She knocked and entered with a call to the woman inside. Hoping that the needs within the cottage would distract her from the man outside, she walked in and greeted Muireall, who sat on a pallet feeding her newly born son.
‘You look flushed, Catriona,’ Muireall said. ‘Are you well?’
‘Oh, aye, well enough.’ She put the sack of clothing on the table and began to separate the clothes according to size. When she noticed the silence, she met Muireall’s amused gaze. ‘Do you have any other mending to be done? Errands to run?’ she asked.
‘You are trying to make certain I do not take notice of the colour in your cheeks and your breathlessness.’ Muireall lifted the bairn and placed him on her shoulder. Rubbing his back, she rose from the pallet and walked to Cat’s side. ‘Something or someone brought the colour to your cheeks.’
‘Muireall, I am a married woman! I would never...’
‘Enjoy a bit of fun?’ Her friend laughed and reached out to touch Cat’s cheek. ‘You are a good wife to Gowan, but that does not mean you should never laugh or enjoy yourself.’
‘I owe him so much,’ Cat began before falling silent.
‘I know you believe that, but you brought joy back to Gowan’s life. That would pay whatever debt you think you owe him.’
Muireall was one of very few people who knew the truth of Cat’s life and how Gowan had saved it. But even she did not know all the details.
‘So, who brought that blush to your cheeks?’ her friend asked again.
Uncomfortable at how close to the truth Muireall was, Catriona laughed and took the bairn from his mother. Holding young Donald close and rubbing her cheek on the babe’s head, she fought the longing that bairns always caused within her. But Gowan had never promised her children, only a safe place to live and someone to care of her. No matter the longings, it was still a good offer and she did not regret accepting it. Not then, not now.
‘Has Hugh told you how relentless I can be when I want something?’ Muireall asked her. ‘“Like a dog on a juicy bone”, he likes to say.’ Her friend laughed as she took her bairn back into her arms, cradling his head and kissing him as she did. ‘So, who put that smile on your face?’
Catriona hesitated for a number of reasons. Then she whispered his name, thinking that to keep it secret was to give it power over her. ‘Aidan MacLerie.’
‘He is a brawny lad, is he not? He got his colouring from his father...and his size,’ she said, winking as she did.
Catriona felt her mouth drop open in reaction to Muireall’s candid assessment of Aidan’s...size!
‘I may have just had a bairn, but I’ll be dead before I stop noticing a handsome young man like him,’ Muireall admitted. One of the things she liked most about Muireall was her earthy, honest way of thinking and living. And she knew that Muireall loved her husband with all her heart and any noticing of brawny young men meant nothing in the face of that love. ‘I would worry about you if a man like Aidan MacLerie did not make you blush.’
‘Aye, Muireall, I noticed the lad,’ she admitted, smiling against her will at both the admission and the memory of that brawny, young man. Cat turned back to her task of sorting the clothing, hoping all the while that the topic was done.
‘Lad?’ Muireall laughed. ‘That lad became a man long ago!’
Cat laughed, then shrugged. ‘’Tis no matter to me.’
‘He will lead the MacLerie clan after his father. From what my brother says, young Aidan stands well in his father’s stead.’ Her brother Gair served as steward to the earl and would be in a position to assess the heir’s abilities, strengths and weaknesses.
Cat walked to the storage trunk next to the pallet and put the clothing away. Not having grown up here, she did not know much about the earl and his family. Not as much as Muireall did.
‘How many years does he have?’ she asked, curious about him now.
‘He has twenty-and-two years.’ So he was five years younger than she was. Munro’s age.
‘And not married yet?’ She avoided Muireall’s gaze now as she asked the question in what she hoped was a neutral tone. When her friend did not reply, it forced Cat to turn and look at her. Amusement sparkled in her eyes. Nay, more than that, merriment and troublemaking glimmered there.
‘I am curious,’ she admitted. ‘Nothing more than that.’
‘Ah, then you are alive! I had my doubts about you, Catriona.’
Muireall was a very special sort of woman—one who relished life and did not let a minute go by when she did not appreciate something or someone around her. Whether the sun shining after a storm, the smile of her child, the sound of her husband’s voice, she savoured it all. And that drew people to her like flies to honey...including Cat herself. Muireall had everything in her life that Catriona had ever wanted for herself and everything Cat had convinced herself that she could live without.
Mayhap she had isolated herself from everyone in trying so hard to be what Gowan needed and wanted? He’d never said exactly what he’d expected of her, not when he asked her to marry him and not any other time. She did what she thought a good wife, what a second wife who had no children to care for, should do. She cleaned,
