Highland Hellion (Highland Weddings #3)(3)

Helen wasn’t pleased, and as she looked at her baby, worry creases appeared at the corners of her eyes.

“I love ye, Helen, but ye know full well what manner of man I am.” He pulled her close, wrapping her in his embrace. She settled for just a moment, inhaling the scent of his skin before she pushed against his chest and he released her.

“Aye, well,” Helen said softly. “At twenty years of age, Katherine has decided what sort of woman she is as well. Something ye have allowed. Now ye expect me to be the one to destroy her world?”

Marcus’s expression tightened as he crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ll have words with her.”

*

“The laird is asking to see ye, mistress.”

Katherine had been expecting the summons. It was a relief, in a way, to have the matter at hand, and yet she felt her belly twisting as she rose and followed Cam through the passageways toward the laird’s private solar. For all that Cam had spoken softly, there were plenty in the great hall who noted what was happening.

From the moment the sun rose, Katherine had felt the weight of everyone’s judgment. She’d seen such treatment before and realized it had its uses because it maintained order inside the clan. Those who transgressed learned it would not be tolerated, and being shunned was their fate until they made recompense.

Justice.

They all relied upon the laird for that, and she was expected to comply as well.

At least that idea restored some of her composure. The MacPherson clan still viewed her as their own, or something close. She truly didn’t want to think about any alternative, so she followed Cam willingly enough. The laird of the MacPherson clan was waiting for her behind a desk. Shamus had a full head of gray hair and a beard to match. A portrait hung behind him, depicting him several decades before when his hair had been as dark as his son Bhaic’s.

“Aye, I was a young man once.” Shamus proved that his eyesight wasn’t failing by noting her interest.

Katherine lowered herself and straightened back up while the laird contemplated her. He was tapping a finger on the top of his desk. Marcus and Bhaic framed him on either side, proving the gravity of the moment.

“As foolish too,” Shamus concluded in a voice crackled with age.

“Hardly foolish to learn to defend myself.” In the back of Katherine’s mind was the memory of a time when she’d been taught to hold her tongue in the presence of men and her betters. It was too dim to hold back her impulse, though.

Shamus snorted and slapped the tabletop. “From a lad, I’d no’ have to take exception to that comment.”

“I don’t see why it matters that I am a female.” Katherine shifted her focus to Marcus. “I can best half the boys with a rapier.”

“But ye can nae carry one or risk reprisal from the Church,” Shamus said gravely. “A fact ye surely know, lass, or ye’re daft.”

Katherine closed her mouth and nodded a single time.

“Me son Marcus trained ye because he thought it best, considering yer circumstances,” Shamus said.

He made it sound like she was to be pitied, and that stirred her temper. Katherine lifted her chin in defiance. “I find my circumstances very pleasing.”

Shamus offered her a grunt of approval. “Aye, that pleases me, and yet ye are, as both me sons have noted, a grown woman now. The Church might overlook a fair number of things when youth is involved. They are not so lenient when it comes to adults.”

Katherine didn’t care for the feeling that a noose was being slipped over her neck. She recalled that feeling from when she was young and living in England. What she detested was the way tears stung her eyes.

She did not cry.

And hadn’t since the day the Earl of Morton had looked at her like a creature to be bartered. She’d realized growing strong was her only way to avoid becoming exactly what he saw her as. She would be more than a thing.

“Well…” Shamus resumed tapping the top of his desk. “I’m glad to see that ye agree with me, lass.”

“You have yet to tell me what you wish of me.”

“Aye.” Shamus made a motion with his hand. “Ye’ll need to keep company with the women. Helen will instruct ye on the running of a house.”

“And ye will keep a skirt on,” Marcus added sternly. “No more kilts.”

She knew that voice. Had trained under it and learned to respect it because Marcus was preparing the youths of the clan for the realities of life, where his training would mean the difference between surviving and an early grave.

Arguing with him felt wrong because he’d given her so many years of joy, and yet she felt cut to the bone by his order. So she lowered herself and left.

She hadn’t been dismissed, but Shamus didn’t call after her. She needed fresh air, feeling like a stone was crushing her chest.

But relief wasn’t hers just yet. Robert appeared next to her, clearly having been waiting for her meeting with the laird to be finished.

“It’s for the best,” Robert began, his soft tone grating against her frayed nerves.

“Don’t you dare speak to me in that fashion.” She turned on him.

His eyes widened.

“Like you do to a child,” Katherine clarified.

Robert stiffened. Somehow, she’d failed to notice his shoulders had widened and his chin was covered in a full growth of hair now.