Quinn: A Scottish Outlaw (Highland Outlaws Book 2) Read Free Page B

encounter anyone else. Her one fear of discovery was that Henry might come to her room looking to appease his masculine hunger. Thankfully his visits were infrequent, not to mention perfunctory. On the rare occasion he did come to her, he opened her door and crossed the room to stand by her bedside. With a dip of his head in greeting, he would pull back her bed coverings and ask her to lift her nightdress. Then without ceremony, gentle word, or soft caress, he would penetrate her. She, in turn, always closed her eyes, gripped the headboard and prayed he finished quickly. After he climbed off of her, she would jerk her nightdress down and, with relief, watch her husband leave her room without so much as a backward glance. During three years of marriage, he had only kissed her once and that had been in the chapel by order of Father Kenneth to seal their marriage vows.
    She shook her head, chasing away her complaints. Indeed, she did not know the feel of a tender kiss, but she also did not know the lash or the back of a hand. Henry may not have been doting, but he never sought to hurt her with word or deed. Given the terrible stories she had heard at court of husbands with biting tongues and fists, she knew to count her blessings. She was satisfied at Ravensworth, and that had to be enough.
    Stepping out onto the ramparts, she ducked below the first opening to avoid being seen from the courtyard below and took refuge behind the adjacent stone merlon. Henry did not place permanent guards on the inner wall. They were reserved for the outer wall alone, their watchful eyes turned ever outward. Her heart started to pound as she scanned the battlements set aglow with torch fire. Then someone grabbed her arm from behind. She jumped. A hand covered her mouth, smothering her scream.
    “Hush, my lady. ‘Tis only I,” came a whisper in her ear. Slowly, the hand dropped from her lips. She turned around and stared up into black eyes. Brother Augustine was close, very close, also seeking concealment behind the same merlon. His nearness made her instinctively step away, but he gently clasped her hand, pulling her back.
    “At this late hour the courtyard should remain empty,” he said. “Still, we must be cautious. The castle guard could always pass through.”
    She nodded, staring up into his deep-set, black eyes, fringed with thick, black lashes. Her gaze dropped to his full lips and strong jaw and then to the large wooden cross hanging from his neck. What business did a monk have being so large and formidable, not to mention handsome? Shaking her head, she cleared her throat. “Brother Augustine, against my better judgment, I have come. Deliver the message from my sister at once.”
    A smile, slight but not unkind, curved his lips. “Ye do not resemble Bella overly in appearance, but the way ye just gave that order tells me ye truly are sisters.”
    Catarina did not return his smile. “Do not toy with me. Neither one of us will benefit from being found together. Speak your message.”
    Brows drawn, he gently placed his hand on hers. “Ye need not be afraid, Catarina. ‘Tis why I’ve come. That tyrant cannot hurt ye now. I’m going to take ye away.”
    She snatched her hand back. “What are you talking about? What tyrant? And how dare you address me as your familiar.”
    “Forgive me, my lady. I meant no insult. I’ve had the privilege of becoming acquainted with yer family. I realize though that ye and I still are strangers.”
    Catarina narrowed her eyes. She was growing increasingly suspicious of Brother Augustine. There was something very unholy in his black eyes. “You have one final chance to say your piece, after which I fully intend to return to my chambers.”
    He nodded. “As ye wish, my lady. Yer father and sister bade me come to save ye from yer husband.”
    She lifted her chin. “I love my sister dearly, but she has always judged Henry falsely. I assure you my husband is no tyrant.”
    “Is he not?”
    She