“Did you tell Granddad that I was with you at the dam?”
“I did, aye. He asked for the details, Cat, so I told him everything.”
She sighed. “He’ll have much to say to me, and so will my father and Ivor.”
“I don’t think so, my love.”
“You don’t?” The new endearment warmed her.
“He may expect me to have things to say, or even things that I ought to do, but I am your husband now, so he won’t interfere. Neither, I think, will your father.” He chuckled then. “I won’t speak for Ivor.”
“Ah, but you can protect me from him. Even he says that you are much better with a sword than he is.”
“I am, but you did not think so tonight, did you?”
She swallowed hard, and an ache filled her throat. When he did not continue, she knew he was waiting for her to speak, to explain about the bow and tell him why she had shot the arrow.
“It was not what you thought,” she said.
“How do you know what I thought?”
“You just told me,” she said. “I was terrified for you, because I could see that your feet were sore. And that horrid man was about to shoot you from the woods.”
“Aye, but I’m curious about that. How is it that he failed?”
Opting for the truth, she said, “He was concentrating on what he was to do, so I crept up and hit him with a stout branch I’d found near a deadfall.”
“And then?” His voice had an odd, tight sound to it, so she decided that she would do better not to look at him until she had told him everything.
“I saw you stumble twice.”
“Comyn also stumbled, several times. That path is rocky. You know that.”
“Aye, but I never saw him stumble, and the bow was right there. I thought I could startle him if I shot an arrow near him. I never meant for it to go between you. I might… God-a-mercy, I might have shot you!”
At first, she thought he was trembling, even shivering. But then she realized that he was shaking more, and she looked at him. “You’re laughing!”
“I… I am,” he agreed, nearly chortling. “The thought of you just walking up and clouting that villain…”
Fin thought she looked ready to murder him, so he kissed her and said, “You most likely saved my life again, sweetheart, and I know that you would not have shot me. If you’d shot anyone, it would have been Comyn for being daft enough to jump in front of your arrow.”
“Are you suggesting that for me to hit anything it would have to jump in front of me?” she demanded.
“I am not. Recall that you told me you can shoot. I deduced from that that Ivor had taught you, and although I doubt that you are as fine a shot as he is, I would trust you not to hit me in error. Call it instinctive trust, if you like. I don’t think I’d be daft enough to think such a thing just because I love you.”
“Do you?”
“Can you doubt it? Would I have trusted a lass I don’t love or who does not love me to stand on me whilst I was underwater boring holes in that devilish dam?”
“You can trust your instincts, sir,” she said, putting a soft hand to his cheek. “I do love you, and I have seen that your instincts are sound.”
“I should have trusted them myself long before now,” he said soberly. “I came to realize that whilst I was boring those holes.”
“Mercy, how?”
“Since I did not think it helpful to ponder what might happen if the water’s weight alone should bring down that dam, or to fret about the icy water, I turned my thoughts to other things. Mayhap it will help if I explain that I once told Ian I believe in teaching men to learn by their own mistakes, because I think that teaches them to make better decisions. Then you asked me if a man’s training was not the very thing that develops the instincts he trusts in battle… and in life, come to that. You also reminded me that an honorable man cannot kill to protect his honor. In short, lass, I came to see that one can make a decision by not making it. I did that.”
“Your dilemma,” she said. “That is what you were thinking then? Does that mean that you are ready now to tell me about it?”