With the owl still on his shoulder, he turned to Catherine, took hold of her left hand, and slid one of the heavy gold bands onto her finger. She waited for him to pass her the other ring so she could throw it at his chest, but he simply slid it onto his own finger, took her left hand back between his, and smiled.
“It’s done, little Cat,” he whispered, pressing her hand between his palms, touching their rings together. “You’re mine.”
The wide band on her finger warmed until it felt as if it would burn her, and Catherine dropped her gaze with a gasp. Robbie’s ring appeared to glow with an energy of its own, and her hand sandwiched between his gently tingled as light shone through his fingers.
She tried to pull away, but he leaned down until his mouth was only inches from hers, causing Mary to flap away with a high-pitched whistle, back into the darkness of the rafters.
“Welcome to your new calling, wife,” he whispered, claiming her gaping mouth with a kiss that was far more possessive than gentle. “And to the rest of our lives, Catherine MacBain,” he added, sweeping her into his embrace, kissing her until her toes curled with excitement and her heart pounded with dread.
Chapter Twenty-one
Robbie only halflistened to the grudgingly given well-wishes of the warriors he was standing with, his attention tuned in to Catherine sitting on the stool by the large hearth.
His poor wife was looking small and fragile and rather bewildered as she inconspicuously tried to work her wedding band off her finger.
He nodded to the warriors and walked through the crowd of celebrating villagers, crouched down beside her, and lifted her left hand to his mouth and kissed her fingers.
“It won’t come off, Catherine.”
“It wasn’t that tight when you put it on,” she muttered, pulling free and tugging on the ring again.
He stilled her actions by taking both her hands in his as he brushed his lips across her cheek, ending his moist caress in her hair. “Aye, but it’s a special ring that is as much a part of you as I am now,” he whispered. “It’s the ring my mama would have worn, had she lived long enough to marry Michael MacBain.”
He lifted his left hand for her to see his own wedding band. “And this is the ring Mary would have given my papa. See,” he said, tugging on his own ring. “As long as we breathe, Catherine, neither ring will leave our fingers. Our bond has been blessed by providence.”
She stared at him, her huge brown eyes unblinking, and he couldn’t decide if she was even more confused by what he’d just told her or horrified.
He stood up and pulled her off the stool, and a hush fell over the great room as he led his wife to the narrow staircase on the far side of the hall. He stopped at the foot of the stairs, gave her trembling hand a gentle squeeze, swept her into his arms, and carried her up the stairs to the clapping and cheers and raucous encouragement of the villagers.
She was a bundle of shivers by the time they reached their room, and Robbie walked to the chair by the hearth, sat down, and settled her comfortably in his lap.
“Be easy, Cat,” he softly told her, tucking his finger under her chin to lift her pale face to his. “Nothing is going to happen tonight unless you wish it.”
“I don’t want to be married,” she whispered. She touched her hand to his chest. “Don’t take it personally, Robbie. It has nothing to do with you. It’s me. I just don’t want to be… to feel like I’m… to be… ”
“Trapped?” he finished, pressing her hand over his heart. “Catherine, our union is not a trap for either of us but a sacred trust between two people who love each other.”
“Y-you love me?”
He couldn’t help but smile at her obvious surprise. “Aye, since the moment I woke up and found myself tied to your bed.”
“But you didn’t even know me then.”
“I knew you, Catherine. And I also knew that you felt it, too. Enough that you placed yourself and your children’s welfare in my hands and took over my household with the determination of a mountain cat.”
“I was scared to death.”
“Aye. But that didn’t stop you, did it?” He leaned over and kissed the tip of her nose.
“One day, you’ll realize you’re brave enough to take me on. But until then,” he said, standing up and carrying her to the bed, “we’ll play by your rules.”
He laid her down, kissed her pale white cheek, pulled one of the blankets over her, and straightened.
She shot up into a sitting position, threw back the blanket, and tried to swing her legs over the edge of the bed. “Are you leaving again?”
He gently laid her back down. “Nay,” he said, covering her back up and then quickly climbing on top of the blanket. “Husbands do not abandon their wives on their wedding night.”
He threw his arm over her waist and pulled her backside into the crook of his body. “We
’ve both had a long day, and we need to get some sleep.” He gave her a squeeze.
“Tomorrow, you and Ian are coming with me to Snow Mountain, to help me hunt for Cùram’s tree.”
She turned her head in surprise. “We can go with you?”
“Aye, but only so that Ian can tell me about the lay of the land before the valley was flooded. Then the two of you are coming straight back here.”
She relaxed and faced the window, actually snuggling her backside against him. “I think we should take Niall and a hundred warriors with us,” she said. “For protection from the MacBains.”
“Nay, no one must know what I’m doing,” he told her, quickly bunching the blanket between them so he couldn’t feel her sweet feminine heat. “I’ve already spoken with Ian, and he’ll meet us out front at daybreak.” Robbie tightened his arm to stop her wiggling.
“Go to sleep, Cat,” he said through gritted teeth. “Tomorrow’s going to be another long day.”
But it was the night that was long for Robbie, as he lay beside his soft, warm, delicious-smelling wife, unable to claim her as his.
“My God, the destruction was great,” Ian said, staring out over the waters of the newly formed lake. “A good deal of Snow Mountain slid into the valley.”
Catherine resettled her stick on her shoulders when her horse sidestepped impatiently and let her gaze follow the densely forested shoreline until it came to the massive earthen dam of boulders, whole trees, and muddy debris wedged between a towering mountain and a smaller hill. Looking up, beyond the dam, she could see a gaping hole in the side of Snow Mountain, making an ugly scar of exposed granite running from its summit down to the lake.
Robbie turned to Ian. “How deep was the valley here?”
“There’s still as much mountain under the water as you see above it,” Ian said, looking at Robbie and frowning. “Do ya think Cùram’s tree was in the valley?”
“Aye, and I believe it still is.”
“But theloch would have drowned it.”
“Nay. Not if Cùram found a way to protect it.” Robbie turned his horse to face Ian and Catherine. “And what better place to hide something than under the water? Who thinks of anything but fish being in a lake?”
“But how did he protect it?” Ian asked. “A tree needs air to live.”
“Do you know of any caves on Snow Mountain, Uncle?”
Ian scratched his beard, staring at the ruined mountain and frowning. His eyebrows suddenly rose. “Aye! When I was a lad, we used to hide from our mamas by playing up here. I remember there were caves.” He suddenly frowned again. “But the landslide most likely destroyed them.”
“Maybe not,” Robbie said. “Exactly where did you play?”
“There,” Ian said, pointing to the other side of the dam. “I remember there was a cave about a hundred yards up from Snow River, that ran deep into the mountain and came up over there,” he added, his hand moving across the scar until he was pointing at an island in the middle of the lake. “Only that wasn’t an island then but a steep hill. The cave narrowed up until ya had to brace your feet and your back against it and climb out like it was a chimney.”