Highland Warrior (Campbell Trilogy #1)(2)

Caitrina’s chest squeezed; though her mother had been gone for over ten years now, the pull of emotion was still strong. She’d been eleven when her mother succumbed to the wasting ailment, and the memories of the laughing, beautiful woman who’d held her in her arms grew fuzzier with each year that passed. But there would always be an empty place in her heart and the knowledge that a vital piece of her was missing.

“Tell me again, Mor.” She never tired of hearing the story of how her father had caught one glimpse of his enemy’s daughter and fallen in love. Of how her parents had met secretly for months, until her father finally convinced her mother to run away with him.

But before Mor could respond, Caitrina’s younger brother came bursting into her room. “Caiti! Caiti Rose, come quick!”

Her heart plummeted, thinking the worst. Who was hurt, and how badly? She grabbed Brian by the shoulders and with a calmness she didn’t feel—but with three brothers to take care of, she’d unfortunately become used to—said, “What’s happened?”

He eyed her warily. “Promise you won’t be angry?”

“How can I promise when I don’t know what it is?”

At only two and ten, Brian had yet to develop firm negotiating skills. He gave up bargaining and started with excuses. “It wasn’t my fault,” he hedged. “I told Una—”

At the mention of the little girl’s name, Caitrina guessed what was wrong. “Oh, Brian! How many times have I told you to keep those beastly dogs away from the kittens?”

He looked down at his feet, shamefaced. “I told Una that I was taking the lads out, but she forgot to close the door to the stables, and then, well, it happened so fast. Boru was just playing, but the silly cat ran up the tree.”

Caitrina groaned. “What tree?”

Brian grimaced. “The old oak. Caiti, please, you have to help me get the kitten down before Una finds out. She’ll cry.” He kicked at the wooden floor uncomfortably. “I hate it when she cries.”

Caitrina met Mor’s gaze. Una was her granddaughter, and Mor had a soft spot for the little girl.

“I’ll see if I can keep her occupied while you,” Mor said, stabbing her finger at Brian’s lanky chest, “get that kitten out of the tree.”

“Come, Caiti, hurry,” he said, dragging her by the hand from her solar.

It wasn’t until they’d stepped outside the keep and started toward the gate in the barmkin wall that the curious stares of her clansmen reminded her that she was still wearing her new gown—and no shoes. Though the skies were blue, the ground was damp from this morning’s rain, and mud squished between her toes. Knowing there was nothing she could do about it now, she lifted her skirts as best she could to keep from soiling the hem.

“You might have given me a moment to change my gown,” she grumbled.

Brian spared her a hurried glance. “Why? You look fine.”

She rolled her eyes. Brothers. She could be wearing a sackcloth and they wouldn’t notice.

After passing through the gate, they headed down the path, taking the right fork that led toward the woodlands—the left led down to Loch Ascog. On the eve of the games, the outbuildings along the banks of the loch were bustling with activity, but as she and Brian hurried toward the trees it was surprisingly quiet, except for Boru’s barking, which grew louder as they neared the great old oak. The Lamonts descended from the great kings of Éire, and Brian had named the dog after his namesake—Brian Boru, the famed high king of centuries past.

“You left the dog here?”

Her brother reddened. “I told him to go home, but he wouldn’t listen. Since the silly cat was already stuck in the tree, I figured it wouldn’t matter.”

“He’s probably scared the poor thing half to death.” She turned to the dog and said sharply, “Boru!” He stopped barking and looked at her, head cocked at an inquisitive angle. She pointed in the direction of the castle, no longer visible through the trees. “Home.”

With a soft whimper, Boru nuzzled her skirts and gave her an apologetic look with his soulful brown eyes. She shook her head, refusing to be moved. The dog certainly had a gift for the dramatics. “Home, Boru.” Whimpering again, this one even more pathetic, the great deerhound hung his head low and trotted back toward the castle.

“I don’t know how you do that,” Brian said, amazed. “You’re the only one he listens to.”

Caitrina pursed her lips, biting back the quick retort that sprang to mind: Because she was the only one who gave him commands. Without her, the dogs would be as wild as wolves. Though she supposed much the same could be said about her brothers.

Gazing up through the maze of branches, she gasped, just able to make out the tiny bundle of orange-and-white fur. “How did he get way up there?”

“When I tried to climb up after him, he just kept going higher, which is why I ran to get you. He’s scared of me.”

She turned to her brother with a start. “You can’t expect me to climb up there?”

“Why did you think I brought you out here?” He appeared genuinely perplexed. “The cat won’t come to me. He likes you, and you’ve climbed this tree a hundred times.”

“Years ago,” she said with exasperation. “If you haven’t noticed, I’m long past the age for tree climbing.”