The Arrow Read online

  Bloody hell, Randolph? He was a bigger rogue than Gregor had ever been. Gregor didn’t understand the fascination with the pompous bastard, whose knightly armor was so shiny you could clean your damned teeth in the reflection, but who could account for taste? The fact that Cate was a cousin of sorts wouldn’t stop the young knight from flirting outrageously—and driving Gregor half-crazed in the process.

  It was going to be a long night.

  “If you don’t mind, Father, there is something I would like to discuss with my old guardian.”

  Gregor didn’t miss the jab at his age. His mouth tightened. Christ, he was one and thirty, not one and eighty. He’d be more than happy to prove just how spry he was, if she would let him.

  The king’s smile suggested he was taking far too much pleasure in this, blast him. “Aye, but don’t take too long. There’s Randolph now. Wouldn’t want to keep him waiting.”

  The sweet smile she gave her father turned frosty when it fell on him. “Don’t worry, I only need a few minutes.”

  As soon as Bruce walked away, she wasted no time. “I won’t have any more of this, Gregor. It has to stop. All those menacing looks were bad enough, but how dare you strike Sir David for dancing with me!”

  His mouth fell in a hard line. “It wasn’t for dancing.”

  She put her hands on her hips, waiting.

  He shrugged. “I didn’t like where he was looking at you.”

  She made a sound of outrage and looked very much like she wanted to poke him in the chest. If there weren’t people milling around, he suspected she’d be doing just that.

  “Are you crazed?” she seethed in a low voice. Aye, he was. But she was obviously not expecting an answer. “You have no right,” she continued, eyes blazing. “I will be the one to object if I don’t like the way a man is looking at me, not you. I don’t need a protector, a guardian, or a bad-tempered, sotted, unkempt, grizzled ruffian with a broken nose who is acting like a spoiled child who didn’t get what he wanted. What do you expect me to do, throw myself at you in gratitude for saying you love me?”

  Maybe not gratitude, but acknowledgment would have been nice. He’d never uttered those words to anyone, and having them ignored had stung. Realizing she might not appreciate that honest of an answer, however, he said, “Maybe not, but you don’t need to take so much pleasure in torturing me.”

  The flush that rose to her cheeks suggested she wasn’t unaware of how much her flirting bothered him. But she lifted her chin and looked regally down her nose at him. Christ, she was a natural. It must be in the blood.

  “What makes you think what I do has anything to do with you at all?”

  “Because you love me,” he said simply.

  Cate was loyal and steadfast and true. When she gave her heart to someone it would be forever. He’d hurt her deeply—unconscionably—but not irreparably. She was a fighter. He was counting on it. He had faith in them, even if she no longer did.

  She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off. What he wanted to do was push her into the laird’s solar behind her and kiss her, but she had a few more days. “One month, sweetheart. That’s all I can take. Enjoy what you have left.”

  She blinked in confusion as he started to walk away.

  After a few steps, he turned back. “You might be right about everything else, but I’m not sotted. I haven’t had more than a glass of wine or watered-down ale to drink in weeks.”

  The arrogant beast! How dare he walk away and leave her standing there after saying something so outrageous! Cate was tempted to drag him back and tell him every reason she most certainly did not love him. He’d broken her heart, and even if it admittedly didn’t feel quite as broken right now, she wasn’t going to let him hurt her again.

  How could she trust him? Just because he said he loved her and was doing his best impersonation of a stalwart, only-have-eyes-for-you swain, how could she be sure it would last? One month wasn’t a lifetime.

  But it is a start.

  Telling the little voice in the back of her head to be quiet, Cate concentrated on all the things she didn’t like about him. The crooked nose, to start. God knows, it would probably only make the blighter more handsome—as if that were what he needed!

  She stormed over to the dais to join her father and Sir Thomas. But her mind was still on the conversation with Gregor. What did he mean by one month, anyway? It was just like him to be purposefully vague in order to make her curious. Which she was, blast him.

  She did, however, manage to have a thoroughly delightful time with her “cousin.” Sir Thomas truly was an outrageous flirt, and undeniably handsome with his refined features, dark hair, and blue eyes. Had she not vowed to not think about the man who’d resumed his post as her forbidding watchdog, she might have speculated that this was probably how Gregor had been when he was younger.

  When she caught Sir Thomas’s gaze dropping down to her bosom during one of the reels (the tight bodice did rather demand attention), she let it linger a full ten seconds before drawing his gaze back up to hers with a question. The whiteness around Gregor’s mouth when she cast a surreptitious glance in his direction proved surprisingly satisfying given his curious “one month” comment.

  She was smiling when her gaze met her partner’s again.

  “Are you enjoying yourself?” Sir Thomas asked, a mischievous sparkle in his deep blue eyes.

  “Immensely,” she said with ill-concealed relish.

  He laughed. “I don’t think your former guardian is having much fun. Why do I have the feeling I should watch my back as I leave here later? Let me guess—you danced with Lindsay last night?”

  Cate instantly sobered. She bit her lip, looking up at him worriedly. “I’m sorry … I wasn’t thinking. I’m afraid you are probably right.”

  “I was only jesting. If MacGregor wants a fight he will have one. Besides, I owe him. He and his friends put me through hell when I rejoined my uncle a few years back.” The gleam in his eye turned decidedly wicked. “What’s say we make him suffer?”

  Cate thought a minute—well, more like two seconds, really—and grinned back at him. “You don’t mind?”

  “Dear cousin, it will be my pleasure. Watching that one squirm with jealousy is worth two black eyes.”

  Fortunately, it didn’t come to that. Whatever her father had said to Gregor earlier seemed to have worked. And she did have her month—whatever that meant.

  Having her suspicions, the next day she hunted down her father in the laird’s solar to find out. He dismissed the hulking Island chief who never seemed to leave his side, Tor MacLeod, and the handful of other men with whom he’d just finished meeting. She’d heard her father refer to him as Chief a number of times, leading her to suspect that he was the leader of the Phantoms. He was certainly big and intimidating enough. Fierce-looking was putting it mildly.

  Leaning back in his chair behind the table, her father watched her pace back and forth a few times, waiting for her to begin.

  She stopped and turned to face him. “You were furious with Gregor after I was shot. To what did he agree to make you forgive him?”

  He quirked a brow in a way that was vaguely familiar. “What makes you think I’ve forgiven him?”

  She bit her lip. “Haven’t you?”

  “It depends.” His expression softened. “Have you?”

  Cate pursed her mouth. “Of course not—why should I?” Realizing her father didn’t know the details and not wanting to go into them, she added, “Did you force him to agree to stay away from me for a month?”

  His mouth quirked mischievously. “Not exactly.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, ‘not exactly’?”

  “I did not force him to do anything; it was his idea.”

  Her brows drew together. “His idea?”

  “Aye, he thought you deserved to have some time as my daughter.” His voice softened. “He wanted you to feel special. To have all of those things that would have been your due