Page 48 of The Rogue's Bride
“We were poorly positioned,” Alasdair replied looking away, his gaze focusing on the rain-swept woodland path before him. “The mist lay heavily as we readied ourselves for battle, and when it lifted, we saw that we stood upon rough ground. Our movement was made difficult by ditches and walls. We started the battle on the defensive … and it only got worse from there.”
MacNichol’s frown deepened. Alasdair didn’t blame him; the whole thing was a sorry, humiliating affair.
“I hear they’ve taken King David prisoner,” Gavin said finally.
“Aye, he was badly injured, but I think he still lives. They took him back to England with them. I doubt he’ll ever set foot on Scottish soil again.”
The two men fell silent then, each brooding over the loss that had cost all of them dearly. After a lengthy pause, Alasdair spoke, deliberately changing the subject. “I was surprised to see ye here,” he said casually. “I didn’t realize ye wanted to pursue Lady Caitrin?”
MacNichol’s mouth quirked. “Who wouldn’t? She’s a lovely lass … and she’s proven that she can run a castle too.”
Alasdair forced down a surge of irritational jealousy. He liked Gavin MacNichol, but at that moment he wanted to choke the life out of him. “And what say ye to yer competition? Both Campbell and MacKay are younger than ye.”
Gavin laughed, not remotely offended by this observation. When he’d sobered, he winked at Alasdair. “Many women appreciate an older man. We make better lovers.”
Chapter Twenty-one
Ye Want to Choose Wisely
CAITRIN CLOSED THE shutters against the rain and began to pace the solar. The chamber—filled with embroidered cushions, dried flowers, and pieces of weaving and sewing in progress—was a warm, comfortable space that would forever remind Caitrin of her mother. She’d always liked this room, but this morning she couldn’t relax here.
Just two days back in Dunvegan, and she already felt bored and restless. She was used to moving about Duntulm, her chatelaine’s keys rattling at her waist, overseeing servants and making decisions about the running of the keep.
Here, she felt useless.
“For the love of God, sit down,” Rhona chided her. “My belly’s already churning. Watching ye circle this chamber is making it worse.”
Caitrin huffed, stopping and turning to face her sister.
Rhona’s face was pale this morning, her expression strained. She sat rubbing her lower sternum. “How long will this go on?” she muttered.
“I felt ill most mornings until I was around three months in with Eoghan,” Caitrin replied with a sympathetic smile. “But I hear it differs with each woman.”
Rhona sighed, her hand shifting to her belly. She wasn’t showing signs of carrying a bairn yet as it was still early. “I wish Taran could share some of this,” she grumbled. “Men have the easy part.”
Caitrin gave a soft, humorless laugh. “They do indeed.”
Rhona’s grey eyes clouded. “I’m sorry, Caitrin. That was insensitive of me … ye must be missing Eoghan terribly.”
Caitrin swallowed, her hands clenching by her sides. “I can’t bear the thought of never seeing him again … it feels as if there’s a gaping hole in my chest where my heart should be.”
Rhona put aside the embroidery she’d been working on. “Ye will see him again.” Her jaw firmed then. “Have ye got any further with that plan of yers?”
Caitrin nodded, taking a seat opposite her. A large loom sat to her left, with a half-finished tapestry on it. Caitrin had been trying to work on it, but then restlessness had overtaken her. She picked up the tapestry beater, a wooden comb she used to push the strands of yarn into place, but didn’t resume work. Instead, she traced her fingertips along the teeth of the beater.
“I’ve met all three of them now,” she replied softly, staring down at the comb, “and later I’ll decide who can best help me get Eoghan back.”
“Any early thoughts?”
Caitrin glanced up. “Gavin MacNichol is a neighbor, and he makes regular trips to Duntulm … he might be a good choice.”
Rhona frowned. “He’s on good terms with MacDonald though, and might not want to fall out with him.”
“Ye think I should choose someone more aggressive?”
Rhona shrugged. “Perhaps. MacKay looks like he has some fire in his belly.”
“What about Ross Campbell? Would he help me?”
