Taming The Lion

Ross watched the stunningly beautiful Dora help Lady Jeannie to her feet. It was not surprising that Eoin had trysted with the maid. Doubtless he preferred her warmth to Lady Catlyn’s haughty coldness. And yet, the lady had displayed an unexpected compassion in dealing with the girl. Another piece of the puzzle that was Lady Catlyn, the puzzle he must solve if he hoped to regain his property.

Ross turned away. Stepping carefully, he moved past the window, placing his feet with great care on the narrow ledge that ran around the tower. The stone was rain slickened beneath his boots, making the adventure a bit more dangerous than he’d expected, but well worth the risk. Not only had he discovered the location of the distillery, but the scene between Lady Catlyn and Dora had provided him with important information.

Considering what he’d learned, Ross inched past the last barred window. He had no more than cleared it than the shutters were abruptly thrown open. A curse hissed between his teeth as he flattened himself against the wet stone wall of the tower.

A pair of slender hands appeared on the sill. Someone sighed, the sound filled with longing. “The air smells so fresh after a rain,” murmured Catlyn Boyd.

Ross shrank back, praying she did not lean out.

“Ye’ll catch the ague breathing in that dampness,” grumbled a rough female voice.

“I’m used to it, Ulma. Besides, I must ride out tomorrow to see if the storm flattened the barley.”

“There’s no need for ye to muck about in the muddy fields. ’Tis Eom’s job to manage the crops.”

“So it is, but Papa always checked such things himself. I also need to record the amount of rainfall in the gauge and measure the height of the crops for the book.”

The book? Ross’s ears pricked up. Did this book also contain the recipe Hakon sought?

Ulma sniffed. “Ye do too much, lass.”

“I do no more than what is required. It just takes me longer because I am new at doing some things.” She sighed again. “These days I need to be two people.”

“Well, if Eoin had not proved such a deceitful rascal, ye’d have a husband to bear part of the burden. Ye should have turned that...that bastard out the very night ye found him and—”

“Oh, I wanted to,” Catlyn said fiercely. “And Papa would have exiled him, no matter that Eoin was his foster son.” Her voice grew softer. “But once I was over the initial shock, I realized how important Eoin was to the clan, and knew we could not dispense with him to ease my pride.”

“Ye think too much of others and not enough of yerself.”

Ross heartily agreed. How many women would have put their clan’s needs above pride? Or revenge?

“Such is the way of things when you are laird, or so Papa always told Mama when she chided him for overworking.”

“True as that may be, ye’ll be fit for nothing if ye don’t get more rest,” muttered the maid. “So it’s off to bed with ye.” Work-worn hands drew Lady Catlyn inside and closed the shutters. Their voices were muffled as they moved farther into the room.

For one instant, Ross was tempted to creep over and peek between the wooden slats. Not to listen, but to look, to see if the lady’s body was as enticing unclothed as he suspected.

Wretch.

He slunk to the corner of the building, carefully worked his way around it and down the narrow end of the tower to the other long side. Midway along the wall was the window he had crawled out of a dangerous hour ago. It was still open, though no light glowed from within.

“Mathew?” Ross whispered.

“Dieu. ” His cousin appeared in the opening. He reached out, steadying Ross, guiding him over the sill. “I thought you’d either been caught or fallen.”

“Neither, thank God.” Ross leaned gratefully against the inner wall for a moment. “Though the ledge was narrower and a bit more slippery than I’d expected.”

“You and your foolish risk-taking will be the death of me, yet,” Mathew whispered as he lit a candle.

Ross closed his eyes against the flare of light. “You were safe in here.”

“Oh, aye, but my heart’s been racing fit to burst since you crawled out there.” Mathew pressed a cup into Ross’s hand.

Ross sniffed suspiciously. Ale. He drank deep of the cool liquid then looked toward the door. “Our friends?”

“One’s sitting with his back to our door. The other leans against the wall across the way. Did you find the stills?”

“Possibly.” Keeping his voice low, Ross told his cousin about the orderly storage rooms and the two locked doors.

“Lady Catlyn was there by herself?”

“Aye.” It had disturbed him to see her alone like that. What if he had been Seamus? “Clearly she takes her duties seriously.” Ross was uneasy with his changing image of her.

“What is wrong?”

“Nothing, I... oh, hell,” Ross muttered. “I never could keep anything from you.” Reluctant, but not sure why, he told Mathew of the conversations he had overheard. “Personally, I do not think he stands a chance of winning back Lady Catlyn.” He hesitated, then added, “I am surprised she did not turn Dora out over this. She is more generous and softhearted than I had supposed.”

“You cannot afford to admire her,” Mathew warned.

“I do not,” Ross grumbled. “I was but going over what I learned, deciding how I could use it to gain my ends.”

Mathew grunted but looked unconvinced. “You have that gleam in your eyes, the one you get when you’ve spotted a lass you consider worthy of chasing.”

“This is not that kind of chase,” Ross grumbled. “Hakon said that she alone possessed the secret of the whiskey making. To get it, I must win her trust. I see now that I used the wrong strategy. She rebuffed my attempts to charm her because she has ample reason to distrust such shallow flattery ” A welcome change from the women he’d met at court, who not only lapped up praise like cats did cream, but became petulant if a man did not wax poetic over their beauty. Bah, he could not dwell on that. “She even said that Eoin and I were much alike.”

“How does this aid our cause?”

“On the morrow, Catlyn will meet a different Ross Sutherland. One who does not utter meaningless phrases, but who...” Ross scowled. “What should I say to win her over?”

Mathew shrugged, a grin lurking around his lips. “You are the master in this field, not I. But offhand, I’d say that the lady Catlyn is not like any other lass you’ve wooed.”

“I am not wooing her, I am here to...to...”

“Betray her?” Mathew whispered.

Aye. And therein lay the problem.

Chapter Four

Dawn came slowly, pale fingers of light stealing over the jagged mountain peaks and in through the window in Catlyn’s narrow bedchamber. She greeted the sight with a sigh of relief and climbed from bed.

Sleep had been long in coming last night and filled with dreams when it did. Dreams of a magnificent black-haired man with eyes of sizzling blue.

Ross Lion Sutherland.

Groaning, Catlyn dragged herself across the chilly room, washed her face, braided her hair and pulled on a faded brown gown. She tried to keep her mind on the tasks. ahead of her today, but it kept drifting back to the strange dreams.

She and Ross had been walking through a field of golden barley. Her field. She should have been busy seeing to the harvest; she had preferred being with him. He laughed, and her heart felt lighter than it had in months. He held out his hand, and she wanted to take it. To follow where he led, even though it meant leaving Kennecraig.