Page 71 of Love with a Scottish Outlaw
She nodded and said to Finn, “Neither of us will breathe a word.”
Finn shook her head solemnly, while Sheena rolled her eyes, as if they lacked all good sense.
Duncan glanced over his shoulder and said to Finn, “This is a chance for ye to be seen. There are families considering bringing ye in, so take every opportunity to show yourself for the good lad ye are.”
There was a determined look in Finn’s eyes that made Cat uneasy, but she kept quiet. She looked back and saw Maeve standing at the cave entrance, waving.
“Why isn’t she coming with us?” Cat asked. “I heard the men say they were taking turns guarding the cave. She isn’t needed here.”
Duncan nodded. “She’ll come. In her own time.”
“But—”
“’Tis her choice, Catherine.”
Cat nodded, but didn’t feel convinced. With a last wave, Maeve retreated into the cave. Cat eyed Duncan, and didn’t like feeling that they had something in common, a guilt they shouldn’t feel but couldn’t control regardless. Every day, Duncan had to remember that his mother disfigured Maeve to punish her husband. Cat would always live with the knowledge that her father had allowed Riona to be kidnapped, when it could have ended badly. And now she knew he’d allowed children to have the same fate, torn from their families, never to return.
After an hour’s ride, they followed a path around the side of a hill, and the glen was laid out before them, the reds and golds of autumn like a painter’s palette. The village itself was smaller than any Cat had seen before, only a dozen stone cottages with tall thatched roofs that sloped near to the rocky, uneven ground. There were vegetable fields nearby, and in the distance, shaggy cattle roamed the bare hillsides.
Dozens of people were gathered in clumps of twos and threes. They didn’t seem to care about the mud or the overcast sky. Though it seemed like a sparse, barren existence that made her feel uncomfortably privileged, Cat could hear music being played, and the sounds of laughter and singing. There were booths set up, their tables guarded against the rain by makeshift pavilions. A young man was juggling, a young woman called that she had venison pasties for sale.
Cat saw the first person notice her, and then heads seemed to turn in an undulating wave of curiosity. She glanced at Duncan, but he didn’t seem to be at all worried, as if he knew that these villagers, in such a remote part of the Highlands, would never have seen her before.
It was . . . odd to draw attention because she was a stranger, rather than because she was the daughter of an earl. Wherever she’d lived or visited in her lifetime, everyone knew her. Her father, her family, were the subject of awe. Even in England, their title and wealth made them a favorite at every salon and ball. Here in the Highlands, it was Duncan who was the subject of awe, the one who protected these people, the one who saved them. Perhaps they wouldn’t even care the lengths he’d gone to to support them. Whisky smuggling or cattle raiding—it was all a way to get even with your neighbor for whatever had been done century upon century.
Duncan wore a sober expression, a man serious about what he did, who bore the weight of his people on his shoulders and accepted the good and bad that came with it.
Cat’s station as daughter of the earl had kept her apart from the ordinary people of her clan, the tenants who scraped by in the barren mountains. Now as they rode past the cottages, she felt as uneasy as if she wore fine silk instead of homespun wool; she felt like a fraud.
Sheena saw someone she knew and veered away from them. Cat followed Duncan past every cottage to where a little lane lined with flowers led to a small manor. Behind, Cat could see an extensive garden, both vegetables and flowers. The front door opened and Duncan’s sister Muriel emerged, carrying a baby and leading a little boy by the hand.
Though Cat was pleased to see the woman, she also realized that Muriel was probably her companion—her keeper—for the day. Cat, Duncan, and Finn dismounted. Another boy, a little older, came around the house and took the horses’ reins.
Duncan put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “This is Muriel’s eldest, Logan. He’s a fine one with horses, and will see to ours this day.”
The boy reddened, but gave his uncle a quick, grateful look. Then he stared at Finn, who stared back.
“Ye want to see the stables?” Logan asked.
“Aye,” Finn said without hesitation. She didn’t look back at Duncan or Cat as she followed the boy.
Duncan was frowning.
“Och, stop that. The boy will be fine.” Muriel put the baby in Cat’s arms. “This is Alice.”
Cat, unused to babies of any kind, gave a little gasp and tried not to stiffen. Muriel didn’t even check to see if she was doing it right, just turned to her brother. Cat’s eyes must have been wide with uncertainty, because she saw Duncan press his lips into a firm line as if to keep from smiling.
“Support her head—that’s the most important thing ye need to know,” Duncan said.
He never smiled, she remembered. He’d never had the sort of life that inspired smiling. She forced away a hint of sympathy. He was a kidnapper, no better than the men he pursued.
Well, that was a little harsh . . .
And he knew something about babies. That was more than she could say. Although with both her cousin and her sister-in-law with child, Cat would be getting more than enough experience soon.
When she went home.
“She’ll be fine with Alice,” Muriel said.
