Page 30 of Kilted Hate

“Good.” He grinned up at her. “Now for the fun part.”

Over the following hour, and slowly at first, Domhnall took his time teaching Katherine how to ride in her newfound position. It was not overly different than side saddle, though she realized, she had to find more rhythm with her mare than she would have done before.

After some time, however, she seemed to get the hang of it, and only then, did he challenge her to push herself.

“Surely, ye wanted tae learn tae ride this way so ye could move at some speed,” he observed.

Katherine nodded. “Yes, I suppose I did. That, and to feel the wind in my face.”

He lifted the corner of his mouth. “Well, ye’ll nae dae that while ye’re trotting along at this speed. Come on. Let’s see what ye can dae.”

Following Domhnall’s lead, Katherine flicked the reins, and the two galloped across the snowy glen side by side. The wind battered against her face, forcing her hood to fall backwards. Pressing her feet into the stirrups, she moved with the rhythm of her horse, and breathlessly exhilarated by the cold andexcitement of the ride, she felt truly free for the first time in her life.

Riding astride was not the only thing causing that feeling. As well as the speed, it was the great open plain of the Highlands that stretched out before her, and the fact that there were no others to judge her actions. While her brother would have snarled at seeing her acting so wildly, the man beside her only encouraged her to shrug off the chains of conformity, allowing her to feel what she had spent years repressing.

In fact, in that moment, it felt like Katherine hardly knew who she was. Like something or someone had taken her over, and yet, at the same time, it felt so good, so natural, so right.

Sometime later, and at a much slower pace, they walked their horses across the glens and through trails surrounded by tall, tightly grouped areas of forest. As Domhnall spoke about his family in his gruff manner, Katherine could not shake the thought that perhaps, she might have made a mistake. Perhaps this man had not been the person who killed her father after all.

It was a strange thought because she knew he had killed men in battle, so it didn’t make much sense. And yet, it was a feeling in her gut that she just could not shift. The man who was soon to become her husband had never denied that he had been the cause of many a man’s demise. He had denied killing her father, though.

Why would he admit one thing, and deny the other if it were not true?

It wasn’t as though he had tried to win her favor. In fact, at the beginning, he had done quite the opposite. The more she listened to him and got to know him, the more Katherine believed that he was a man who spoke the truth, no matter the result. It was for that reason that his denial about being her father’s murderer seemed to growingly resonate with her.

But even as she began feeling it, Katherine was not willing to admit it to him. At least, not yet. She needed to be certain, even though she had no idea how she was supposed to get to that point. Reginald had been adamant that Domhnall had been the culprit, but his word was the only proof he had provided. How had he known? Who had told him?

“Ye seem lost in yer thoughts,” Domhnall said, breaking into the silence.

Katherine hadn’t realized it, but evidently, her face had given her musings away. She had to think quickly, and grabbing an excuse from thin air, she blurted it out.

“I was just wondering how you tell your sisters apart,” she lied.

“Enya and Thora?”

“They’re identical,” Katherine replied, relieved that he had believed her.

Domhnall smiled, “Nae tae us, they’re nae.”

He didn’t embellish his statement, and thus, Katherine said, “Well? Are you going to tell me your secret?”

“Enya is more empathic than Thora. Her heart is softer, as is her approach.”

“That hardly helps me when the two of them are approaching from any distance away,” Katherine countered.

“All right. Well, the other way tae tell them apart is far easier. Thora’s hair is darker.”

“It is not,” Katherine argued.

Domhnall nodded. “Och, but it is. Only a little, but it is. O’ course, ‘tis easier tae see that when they’re standing beside each other, but being their brother, I can sense the difference.” He suddenly grinned. “Which is far more than my father could do when they were younger. The two would have the man’s head turned with the tricks they played on him.”

Katherine couldn’t help but smile when she glanced over and saw Domhnall’s face light up with the memories that were clearly now in his head.

“Ordinarily, they dressed differently because they have their own personalities. But when they had a bout o’ mischievousness, they dressed the same. Thora would meet him in the corridor as he came out o’ his room, and then Enya would meet him at the bottom o’ the stairs wearing exactly the same dress. My fatherwould gawk in astonishment, clearly confused, certain he had seen Enya only seconds ‘afore upstairs.”

Domhnall chuckled, for clearly, that was not the only memory that played in his mind. “They were holy terrors.”

“And now?” Katherine asked, still amused by Domhnall’s recollection.

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