Page 21 of Kilted Hate

“Then, there’s yer answer,” he replied condescendingly.

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”

“Actually, I dinnae ken it. What exactly are ye getting at?”

He stared at her, waiting for her to explain herself.

“Isn’t it obvious?” she retorted, refusing to allow him to talk down to her. “One minute you’re throwing me in a freezing cold river, the next, I’m having my favorite food delivered to my room.”

He scowled and narrowed his eyes. “First of all, it was a stream, nae a river. Secondly, I dinnae want ye tae starve tae death.” He jerked his head at her whole person. “Ye’re far too skinny fer me liking as it is.”

“How dare you?!” she barked.

“Och, away with ye, lass. Ye’ve wrecked me head enough fer one day.”

“I challenged you to a fight. It is you who chose to play the brute.”

Domhnall then took several long strides toward her, his face twisted, stopping only a few feet away.

“Dae ye think this is a game? Dae ye think that when ye’re out on that battlefield, ye’re considering yer opponents feelings? Men die out there, Katherine,” he lambasted.

Katherine was suddenly taken aback by both his words and his approach, and stunned into silence, she could only stare back at him.

“Ye may well be trained in the sword, lass, but ye cannae ken how it truly feels when it’s yer life at stake or that of the man standing opposite ye.”

A long silence hung between them, and then Domhnall turned away with a heavy sigh. Katherine remained where she was, unsure of what she ought to do or say. He was right. She had never been in battle, nor could she ever know what it felt like to smite a man. Perhaps his brutish behavior had brought her to the conclusion that he was unaffected by such horrors, but by the obvious weight in his tone, she realized that her assumptionshad been completely wrong. Not knowing what else she ought to say, she turned and left the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

Back in her own bedchamber, her eye caught the tray that remained on her dresser. Even after she had pushed him earlier when they were dueling, he had clearly felt guilty for what had happened afterwards. It gave her a warm feeling in her stomach that he had cared.

She smiled sadly to herself. “Perhaps he is not the brute I thought he was, after all.”

Three days passed by, and while Katherine had seen a softer side to Domhnall, she was still not thrilled to be there. Besides, she was still on a mission. She needed to discover something Reginald could use against the MacLeod clan. The problem was, even though she had managed to escape being around Domhnall, giving her the ability to snoop around the castle, she was still no closer to finding anything meaningful.

Each morning since their duel, there had been a portion of manchet bread with butter and honey served at breakfast. No one else touched it, and Domhnall always put it on her plate. It was the only real conversation they had each day, if him handing her food and her thanking him, could be called a conversation. That being said, she could not deny the excited twisting in her stomach evoked by his evident kind regard for her well-being.

While in the library alone that morning, Katherine was disturbed from reading her book by the entrance of a young lad with a satchel slung across his chest.

“I have a missive fer ye, me lady,” he said.

At first, Katherine frowned, for she couldn’t imagine who it might be from. But a few seconds later, she suddenly realized who might have sent it.

Hurriedly, she stood from the sofa she had been sitting on, and reached out a hand.

“Thank you,” she said, when the boy gave it to her.

“Ye’re welcome,” he replied. “Will there be a return missive, me lady?”

“Yes, but there is no need for you to wait here. Go to the kitchen to get something to warm you and I shall call for you when I am ready”, Katherine told him. She didn’t want the boy to wait, for she wanted to read the missive in private.

He nodded, and turning, he left her alone once more.

Katherine quickly broke the wax seal and unfolded the thick paper, eager to read the message she knew was from her brother. Not only did she recognize his handwriting, but any missives she might receive from England would not reach her so quickly.

Even knowing there was no other in the library, she could not help looking over her shoulder, as though someone might have crept in. Satisfied she was truly alone, she moved over to the window, the light outside making the words easier to read.

Dear Katherine,

I trust you are well. While I am sorry you are there alone and having to suffer that dreadful fiend, rest assured, I am not far away.

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