Highland Warrior (Campbell Trilogy #1)(3)
“Why? You’re not all that old.”
Caitrina was going to have to work on his flattery skills if Brian was going to have any hope of ever wooing a lass. Although with his face, it probably wouldn’t matter. What her brothers lacked in gallantry and manners, they made up for in countenance. They were rogues, the lot of them, but she loved them beyond measure. How could her father think she would ever want to leave them? They needed her . . . and she them. Whatever it took, she intended to stay right here.
Attempting to reason with Brian was getting her nowhere. “I’m not going up there. I’ll help boost you up or you’ll have to find someone else.”
He wore an expression of dejection that rivaled Boru’s moments earlier. “But why?”
“This dress, for one.”
“Please, Caiti, there’s no one else. Father, Malcolm, and Niall are hunting with the men, and the others are busy with the preparations for the feast.”
That’s strange. “I thought they finished hunting.”
Brian frowned. “I did, too, but they all ran out of here in a hurry this morning. Father looked worried, and when I asked him where they were going he said hunting. So you see, there is no one else. Please, Caiti. . . .”
As if on cue, the kitten began to mewl. The frightened plea tugged at her heartstrings. God save her from man and beast. Furious, she turned her back to her brother. “Oh, very well, but help me out of this thing.” Even if the fates appeared to be conspiring against her, she had no intention of ruining her new dress.
He threw his long, gangly arms around her. “You’re the best sister in the whole world! I knew I could count on you.”
She sighed; it was impossible to stay angry with him for long. No longer a boy and not yet a man, Brian was that odd age in between. Already taller than she, in a few years she knew he would add the muscle and bulk of a warrior like Malcolm and Niall—her two older brothers. Brian had been only a bairn when their mother died, and Caitrina had always taken care of him. Though he hadn’t been sent away to be fostered as most young boys were, he would leave soon to become a squire for a neighboring chief. She felt a pang in her chest, wishing she could hold time in a bottle.
After giving him a short squeeze, she hurried him about the business of removing her gown—which wasn’t a simple proposition. Overskirt, farthingale, underskirt, forepart, and sleeves were peeled away, layer by layer, until all she wore was her sark and stays. As she was going to have to lift her arms above her head, the stays would also have to be removed, but Brian was having a difficult time working the ties. She could hear him mutter with frustration, until eventually he gave up and started yanking and pulling.
“Ouch!” she said. “Be careful.”
“I’m trying, but this isn’t easy. Why do you wear all this stuff, anyway?”
Good question. One ripe for a nonanswer. “Because that’s what ladies wear.”
Once he’d finally extracted her from the linen and whalebone, the stays joined her gown across the fallen log. Though the linen sark she wore covered her well enough, she wanted to get this over with before anyone happened upon them. Although it would be unlikely, since this part of the woods was some distance from the main road, it would be embarrassing to be caught in her underclothes.
She studied the tree appraisingly, plotting her course. It had been quite a few years. It was the tallest tree in these parts, and the kitten had managed to climb near the top. “I’ll need a boost.”
Brian bent down on one knee, and she used his leg as a step to reach the lowest branch. The bark scratched the bottoms of her feet as she climbed from branch to branch, slowly working her way up as though on an uneven ladder. “Ouch!” she yelped when her foot snagged on a sharp piece of bark. Her feet and hands were going to be torn to shreds by the time she was done.
The kitten watched her approach with wide, anxious eyes, meowing plaintively. She could see him shaking as she neared his precarious perch, so she made soft, soothing noises to calm him. The branches thinned as she climbed higher, and she had to stop and test each one before moving on. Finally, she reached the kitten, who had climbed about five feet out on a thin branch that she knew wouldn’t be able to hold her weight. Instead, she used it to balance and carefully eased out sideways along the lower branch, gripping tightly with her feet.
“Be careful,” Brian warned.
She resisted the urge to shoot him a glare, not wanting to look down. As if she needed a reminder. Her heart thumped with each step. It was slow work. She had to stop to get her balance with foot forward as the lower branch swayed to accommodate her weight. One more . . .
Her fingers grasped soft fur.
“You’ve got him!” she heard Brian shout from below.
A burst of accomplishment surged through her. She gathered the tiny ball to her chest and felt the race of the heartbeat that surely matched her own. His little claws poked her through the thin fabric of her sark as he clung to her for dear life.
Now for the hard part. She had only one hand this time to keep her balance as she slowly made her way back along the branch. When she was safely near the trunk, she breathed a sigh of relief. Glancing down, she saw that Brian had climbed up a few branches below her.
“Here, I’ll take him,” he offered.
Knowing that she wouldn’t be able to climb down with one hand, she carefully lowered the kitten into her brother’s outstretched hands. He tucked the small bundle behind his leather jerkin, ambled down a few branches, and dropped easily to the ground.