like a heavy cloak as the burden of her situation pressed upon her. Slowly, she pushed her food around the plate, feeling her appetite drain away as reality settled in.
Catriona could feel Annella’s appraising gaze upon her. With any luck, her loyal friend would assume that she was still pining for Lachlan, the man she would never have. A wry, self-deprecating smile toyed at the edge of Catriona’s lips – Elizabeth’s recklessness had at least been successful in pulling Lachlan from her thoughts and dreams. She quickly covered her smile with her slender fingers, not wanting Annella to misinterpret her sheepish grin.
Annella studied her friend intently for a few moments, unsure how to respond to her mercurial moods. “Seein’ ye lookin’ a fright, locked up here in yer room, does no good at all.”
Catriona could see the warmth and the compassion in her friend’s eyes – as well as a spark of fear. Annella was right, though. Her actions, so out of character, had surely alarmed the loyal staff of the castle. In truth, if anyone learned of what she’d seen, the consequences would be horrible. The breaking of Elizabeth’s betrothal to Lachlan would be devastating to both clans. There was little doubt that their enemies would use this discord to advantage, and more likely than not would plan some sort of raid or attack on the castles in the very near future.
It was not something she could live with, she decided with sudden clarity. Catriona decided at that moment she would tell no one of what she witnessed between her sister and her lover. What happened next was in God’s hands, for she knew that whatever decision she made herself would have dire consequences. The simplest – safest – path, then, was to take no action at all. She couldn’t bear the thought of having the blood of her kin on her hands, no matter the loyalty she felt to Lachlan.
“Yer right, Annie,” she replied, wagging a finger in her friend’s direction that stopped the maid’s comments before they could spring from her lips. “I’ve spent enough time here sulking and feeling sorry for myself.” Without another word, Catriona turned her attention to the meal, obviously finished with the topic.
Catriona’s actions made it clear that there was nothing further to discuss. With a confused shake of her head, Annella left the room, but not before she offered a silent prayer that her friend’s abrupt change of heart would not be short-lived.
Chapter 4
The clash and clang of their swords did little to take the edge off Lachlan’s dark, brooding mood. Anxiety thrummed through his body as he struggled to keep his mind on the swordplay. He and Iain had been training for most of the morning, and both were drenched with sweat as the bright spring sun reached a midpoint in the sky. Despite their light clothing – they wore only homespun shirts and tight breeks that were tucked into their leather boots – their mock battles had exhausted them both.
As Lachlan raised his left hand to wipe the moisture from his eyes, Iain took advantage of the opening and maneuvered his friend toward the stone wall that enclosed the inner bailey at Tolquhon. Lachlan struggled to regain his footing, but exhaustion and distraction had taken their toll. With a reluctant nod, he lowered his sword in surrender.
“I concede,” he said, lowering his sweat-drenched frame to the ground so he could catch his breath. As much as it galled him, there was no hiding his fatigue. Iain soon joined him, motioning to a groom to take their weapons from them as they rested against the wall.
“It is no’ often I hear you concede aught, Lachlan, let alone defeat. And to openly display yer exhaustion to the likes of them,” he said, gesturing to the men who had gathered to watch their competition, “is really quite unheard of. You were no’ yerself this morning. It was plain yer heart was no’ in it.” Iain motioned for
Catriona could feel Annella’s appraising gaze upon her. With any luck, her loyal friend would assume that she was still pining for Lachlan, the man she would never have. A wry, self-deprecating smile toyed at the edge of Catriona’s lips – Elizabeth’s recklessness had at least been successful in pulling Lachlan from her thoughts and dreams. She quickly covered her smile with her slender fingers, not wanting Annella to misinterpret her sheepish grin.
Annella studied her friend intently for a few moments, unsure how to respond to her mercurial moods. “Seein’ ye lookin’ a fright, locked up here in yer room, does no good at all.”
Catriona could see the warmth and the compassion in her friend’s eyes – as well as a spark of fear. Annella was right, though. Her actions, so out of character, had surely alarmed the loyal staff of the castle. In truth, if anyone learned of what she’d seen, the consequences would be horrible. The breaking of Elizabeth’s betrothal to Lachlan would be devastating to both clans. There was little doubt that their enemies would use this discord to advantage, and more likely than not would plan some sort of raid or attack on the castles in the very near future.
It was not something she could live with, she decided with sudden clarity. Catriona decided at that moment she would tell no one of what she witnessed between her sister and her lover. What happened next was in God’s hands, for she knew that whatever decision she made herself would have dire consequences. The simplest – safest – path, then, was to take no action at all. She couldn’t bear the thought of having the blood of her kin on her hands, no matter the loyalty she felt to Lachlan.
“Yer right, Annie,” she replied, wagging a finger in her friend’s direction that stopped the maid’s comments before they could spring from her lips. “I’ve spent enough time here sulking and feeling sorry for myself.” Without another word, Catriona turned her attention to the meal, obviously finished with the topic.
Catriona’s actions made it clear that there was nothing further to discuss. With a confused shake of her head, Annella left the room, but not before she offered a silent prayer that her friend’s abrupt change of heart would not be short-lived.
Chapter 4
The clash and clang of their swords did little to take the edge off Lachlan’s dark, brooding mood. Anxiety thrummed through his body as he struggled to keep his mind on the swordplay. He and Iain had been training for most of the morning, and both were drenched with sweat as the bright spring sun reached a midpoint in the sky. Despite their light clothing – they wore only homespun shirts and tight breeks that were tucked into their leather boots – their mock battles had exhausted them both.
As Lachlan raised his left hand to wipe the moisture from his eyes, Iain took advantage of the opening and maneuvered his friend toward the stone wall that enclosed the inner bailey at Tolquhon. Lachlan struggled to regain his footing, but exhaustion and distraction had taken their toll. With a reluctant nod, he lowered his sword in surrender.
“I concede,” he said, lowering his sweat-drenched frame to the ground so he could catch his breath. As much as it galled him, there was no hiding his fatigue. Iain soon joined him, motioning to a groom to take their weapons from them as they rested against the wall.
“It is no’ often I hear you concede aught, Lachlan, let alone defeat. And to openly display yer exhaustion to the likes of them,” he said, gesturing to the men who had gathered to watch their competition, “is really quite unheard of. You were no’ yerself this morning. It was plain yer heart was no’ in it.” Iain motioned for
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