Page 80 of The Eagle

Her mother was in her bedchamber, sitting in a chair with her arms crossed. She glared up at her when she walked in.

Alarmed, Cait hurried closer. “Is something wrong? Are ye ill?”

“No,” her mother said. “I feel perfectly fine, do not worry over me.” She motioned to a rather oversized bouquet of wildflowers, artfully set in a pitcher with springs of berries sticking out from several sides.

“Is there something crawling on the flowers?”

“No. Grace put it together, I am sure she ensured nothing harmful is in them.”

“Why does a beautiful bouquet of flowers annoy ye Mother?” Cait gave her a worried look. “Should I worry about yer mind?”

“For goodness’ sake.” Her mother huffed indignantly. “That man, Lyall, he collected them and handed them to me in front of Maisie and Grace. I was mortified at his frivolous display.”

When Cait giggled, her mother glared. “It is not in the least bit funny Cait. He should be banned from entering the house.”

“Mother, he is a Ross and therefore cannot be banned. If ye wish, I will speak to him and let him know ye do not wish his attentions.”

Her mother considered it for a moment. “That is a good idea.”

Cait enjoyed last meal though admittedly, she was anxious to spend time alone with Stuart. She ordered a bath so that once the meal was over, she could wash up before bed.

“I will have one as well,” Stuart told her. “I smell of horse and fish. Did ye see the fishermen ask me to come and see their catch? They had quite a few fish.”

“I am well aware of it, husband, as ye insisted we bring those they gave ye in the carriage,” Cate grumbled.

“Did ye enjoy traveling to the village today?” Stuart asked as they climbed into the bed after their baths.

“I did, and look forward to going often,” Cait replied with a smile. She moved closer to Stuart. “There was something about ye that was different when ye were there.”

“Different? How?”

“Ye looked as if it was the place ye belong. That yer destiny is to be here and along with yer cousins attend to the needs of these poor people who have been neglected and mistreated for far too long.”

“They were eager to speak to us,” Stuart said. “I found that despite what happened with the constable, they are willing to trust me.”

Cait kissed him. “I am very proud of ye.”

“I realize it was a long day, but I am hoping that ye are not too tired.” Stuart nuzzled her neck. “Seeing ye bathe brought me to arousal and I nearly pulled ye from the water to have ye.”

Instead of a reply, Cait shifted and pressed her body against his. “I am not tired at all.”

Two days later, loud wind and rain pelted the house with force. The men rushed out to ensure the horses and smaller livestock were sheltered in the stables. Although sheep were smart enough to huddle under a shelter of some sort, men went in search of any who might’ve become lost.

A rider arrived, shivering, and soaked through. He was rushed into the kitchen so that he could warm up by the large hearth and given hot herbs to drink to dispel the chill.

“The storm has hit the village. Houses are washed away along with some of the people. Help is needed.”

“All of the men are gone to collect the sheep,” Bree explained.

“I believe Torac stayed behind,” Cait hurried through the house, hoping to find her brother.

When she went to the small bedchamber next to her mother’s she knocked and Torac opened the door. He’d been out in the rain and had just changed into dry clothes. Cait hated to give him news, which would take him back out into the storm.

“The village is being washed away. They require rescue,” she said, already tears streaming down her face. “Those poor, poor people.”

Torac turned away and grabbed a cloak. “We will save those who have survived. Do not worry.”

Thankfully the others returned not much later with the sheep they’d found. The animals protested at being ushered into shelter but seemed to settle quickly upon noticing the feed.