Page 73 of Love with a Scottish Outlaw
Robby jumped up from the bench and splayed his clean hands. “Uncle Duncan said we put the worm with the flowers, not just the fish.”
Muriel smiled at her son. “Your uncle knows what he’s talking about.”
Cat glanced at Duncan. “Why aren’t you coming with us?”
He stood up. “I have the assembly to prepare for.”
“Can we attend?”
“’Tis not necessary. Ye’ll have a better day with Muriel and the children. I’ll find ye later when we leave.” With a nod to his sister, he left through her gate.
Muriel looked down at Robby. “Can ye take Mistress Catherine’s hand? There’ll be plenty of people and horses and commotion—we don’t want to lose ye.”
Robby impatiently grasped Cat’s hand and pulled. She picked up her pace, then looked over her shoulder at Muriel, who carried the sleeping baby and gradually caught up with them. They followed the little lane back into the green at the center of the stone cottages. Cat felt shy and uncomfortable with all she knew and wasn’t saying, especially to Muriel. But soon she was tasting the labor of the best cooks in the village, admiring the wax candles and cloth for sale, watching archery contests and rock-throwing, and listening to pipers play. She took turns holding the baby or running after the inquisitive Robby.
Gradually, the villagers became accustomed to her, probably because of Muriel. Their open skepticism and wariness became curiosity, leading to questions about how she fell, how it could be true that she had no memories. Some people talked loud and slow, as if her wits were addled. More than once, Muriel seemed to be overcome with a coughing fit to hide her laughter, which only made Cat feel as if she soon wouldn’t be able to control her giggles.
Occasionally she caught a glimpse of Duncan, always on the edges of the crowd, never the center, though he was their chief. Maybe as chief, he felt it wasn’t his place to become friendly with his people. She knew how important it was for him to project strength, after his father’s failures. Or maybe he simply didn’t know how to be among them.
Maeve was just like her laird, a ghost on the fringes, her plaid worn as a hood about her head, draped to hide her disfigured face.
When Cat saw her and raised a hand, Muriel told her, “She’s always afraid of frightening the children, no matter how I point out that my own children are used to her, and others could be the same.”
“By staying remote, doesn’t she inspire more suspicion or fear?”
“Aye, she does,” Muriel agreed with a heavy sigh.
“She always seems so confident at the cave,” Cat said. “I never would have suspected . . .”
“That she has the same self-doubt as any of us?”
“Not you,” Cat countered with disbelief.
Muriel chuckled. “Aye, me. Our older sister Winifred is far more social and dominating than I. After Father killed Mother—”
Cat tried not to flinch at the bald statement.
“—I didn’t know if I could ever be normal again. Winifred redoubled her efforts to find a husband to escape, but I was too young—and perhaps too overwhelmed—to do that. My grief and guilt almost disrupted my friendship with Maeve, but she was the one who wouldn’t let it. In many ways she retreated from strangers or even acquaintances, but she was fiercely loyal to her friends.”
“She took me under her wing.”
“Aye, ye were an injured bird, were ye not? She could never resist someone who needed her help.”
At last, Cat and Muriel sat on a rock wall in the shade watching Robby play with the other boys. Muriel was nursing Alice again, and Cat found herself glancing at the other woman with envy. Muriel’s little family did not have wealth or fine castles, but she was happier and more content than Cat had ever been. Maybe it was the love of the men in her life, and the children who completed her world. Cat had intended to flee the Highlands and her pregnant relatives, find her own little world. Instead she was here watching another woman have what she herself couldn’t.
Cat sighed over the conflicting emotions bubbling inside her.
“Be patient with yourself,” Muriel said.
Cat glanced at her in surprise. “I didn’t say—well, perhaps I didn’t have to,” she admitted wryly.
“Whenever things seem to be going badly, I remind myself of the good things, and how it could be so much worse.”
“Aye, I could have become a drooling invalid when I hit my head,” Cat said.
“And if your memories never return, ye have a chance to begin anew.”
“But where? I don’t know where I belong.” And that wasn’t a lie. She did not want to spend the rest of her life in her brother’s household, watching his little family grow. She tried to tell herself she could marry, but explaining her attraction to Duncan seemed difficult.
