Page 102 of Love with a Scottish Outlaw
“That’s all that’s worrying ye?” Maggie asked with gentleness.
Cat bit her lip, and was surprised when her eyes flooded with tears. She sniffed and dabbed at them with the edge of the blanket. “I’m such a fool. Ye’d think I’d be happy to be home, to get back to my old life. But . . . I always felt like this fragile doll on a shelf, existing only to look pretty at balls, to shine on behalf of my overly proud father, to find the perfect husband to marry. But . . . I never felt like I had a real purpose”—she put a fist to her chest—“in here.”
“And the Carlyles gave ye purpose?”
Cat nodded desolately.
“The Carlyles . . . or Duncan.”
To her utter shock, Cat burst into tears. She covered her mouth, eyes wide and streaming as she stared at Maggie. “Oh, forgive me, I never do this sort of thing!”
“What, cry over a man? As if your brother hasn’t made me cry plenty of times?”
Cat felt a giggle well up inside her. Crying and giggling at the same time felt ridiculous, but also . . . good.
“Ye’re being very kind to me,” Cat murmured as her smile died.
“And why would I not? Your brother’s been worried for ye, says ye haven’t been yourself. Blames the Carlyle every time we’re in private, like only a man can cause our problems,” she added, scoffing.
“A man did cause my problems this time.” They were quiet for several minutes, as Cat looked into the fire. “I mattered to the Carlyles, and aye, to Duncan. Of course, when I felt like I most mattered was when he was lying to me about who I was. Maybe that’s why he was also so kind to me in his gruff way. It . . . hurts to know that when I was trusting him, growing . . . fond of him, he had ulterior motives.”
“Sounds like it started that way between ye, but maybe it didn’t stay that way?”
Cat shrugged. “Of course it did. He didn’t tell me who I was until I discovered my brooch—the one he hid from me! Then all my memories rushed back at having something familiar, something that was mine.”
“Maybe he didn’t know how to tell ye what he’d done, now that ye were both . . . fond of each other.” Her voice grew teasing.
And Cat blushed. “Maybe. I don’t know.”
Even after she’d known the truth, she’d given herself to Duncan—she couldn’t say that to Maggie. But the woman was perceptive, wasn’t she?
“Ye once said,” Cat began tentatively, “that ye saw us together in your dreams. Happy.”
“Very happy,” Maggie admitted, watching her too closely.
“Was he . . . smiling?”
“Grinning.”
Cat caught her breath. “I’ve always wanted to see him happy.”
“It’s not too late.”
“But . . . how can I trust him?”
“How can we trust anyone?”
And then Cat realized she was talking to a woman who’d agreed to marry to save the peace between their clans. “Oh—forgive me! How dare I act like I’m the only woman who’s ever . . .”
“Think nothing of it. I did know your brother a long time ago—not that we parted on the best of terms. I wanted to trust in him. And between us, we found trust growing. I think that’s true of any marriage. We cannot know what’s inside a person, but we have to have faith that between us, we can cherish each other and work hard to grow together in love. Do ye love him?”
“When I didn’t know myself, I thought . . . maybe. Now I don’t know.”
“Ye were still the same person, even without your memories. Maybe ye have to trust yourself first.”
When Finn came riding into Castle Kinlochard the next day, Cat was in the stables, grooming her horse. She saw the little girl first, and went running into the courtyard, expecting to see Duncan following behind. But Finn was alone.
The girl threw a leg over the saddle and dropped to the ground, taking off at a sprint toward Cat. They collided in the center of the courtyard, hugging each other.
