Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
“What time d’ye think it is?” she asked when she had finished eating, shaking crumbs from her skirts to the floor.
Malcolm swallowed the last mouthful of bread before replying, “’Tis impossible tae tell exactly with the storm, but it is late. It is nae showin’ any signs of blowin’ out anytime soon, looks like we’re goin’ tae be stuck here fer a while. Might as well get comfortable fer a few hours.”
Catriona’s brows shot up. “What d’ye mean, comfortable?”
“We should try tae get a few hours of sleep,” he went on, brushing the crumbs of the meal from his lap before suddenly rising and retrieving the blanket from atop the saddlebag.
“Er, what are ye daein’?” she inquired, hugging herself against the chill while he gave the blanket a brisk flick and laid it full-length upon the dirt floor.
“Well,” he replied, an edge of sarcasm to his voice as he carefully straightened the edges, “unless ye’d prefer searchin’ fer an inn in this storm, I strongly advise ye make good use of the time tae get some sleep.”
Refusal on the tip of her tongue, Catriona eyed him silently.
“Fer yer comfort, me lady.” He made a flourishing bow, inviting her with a wave of his arm to lay down.
Catriona looked at the blanket. She was freezing cold from head to toe and secretly longed to lay down and wrap herself in its folds, to rest her tired mind and body. But her reluctance to accept anything she did not absolutely have to from Malcolm had her hesitating.
He gave a low chuckle and shook his head as he looked at her, dark eyes glinting with amusement. “Ach, there’s that stubbornness again,” he said with a gentle smile. “Look, if it bothers ye so much, I swear tae keep it secret that ye accepted me help, all right?”
Catriona only just managed to suppress the laugh that inexplicably bubbled up in her throat as the warmth in his voice melted her resistance. She was secretly touched by his consideration.
“I suppose that’ll havetae dae. Thank ye,” she replied, not knowing why she then asked, “But where are ye gonna sleep?”
In reply, Malcolm jerked his thumb at the side of the room. “Over there,” he said, determined to keep his distance from her despite the growing pull she exerted upon him. It was making him very uneasy.
“Well, at least let me give ye yer cloak back,” she said, taking it off and offering it to him. “I appreciate the loan.”
“Nay, ye keep it, ye need it more than me,” he insisted with a quick shake of his head, taking a step backwards.
“But ye’ll freeze without it,” she protested, stepping towards him and pressing the bundled cloak into his arms. “’Tis nae fair that I should have me cloak, yers and the blanket.”
“Nay. Keep it, Catriona. I’ll be fine. I dinnae feel the cold as a lass daes, and I wouldnae deny a lady a wee bit of comfort,” he said truthfully.
“Well, thank ye then, Malcolm, that’s kind of ye,” she replied with a small smile, taking back the cloak and putting it on again, to his satisfaction.
True, he wanted her healthy when Duncan turned up to collect her.
But he also had to admit, even after all this time, he still felt the same urge to protect her as when they were younger.
Then, unable to resist teasing her, he gave her a wink and added, “I must say, Catriona, I’m deeply touched that ye should care so much for me comfort.”
She looked at him sharply, and he silently thanked heaven she could not read his mind and know that beneath his playful facade, he was actually being truthful. Pride would not let him show just how much her concern for his wellbeing warmed him.
But he need not have worried. Catriona soon put him in his place. She snorted derisively, lowering herself gracefully to the blanket and looking up at him, her eyes the color of moss in the dim light.
“Dinnae flatter yersel’, ye great amadan. I just dinnae want yer death on me conscience, ’tis all,” she told him pertly, arranging her skirts and pulling the cloak more tightly around her. “And I need ye tae help me get back tae me braither, of course.”
“Aye, of course.” He turned away and went to his side of the room, hiding his smile.
He took off his sword and both dirks and placed them at his side.
He settled himself against the wall, arms around his knees.
He tried to let the relentless rhythm of the rain soothe his concerns about Sinclair’s men following them through the storm.
The rain alone will have destroyed any tracks we made. There’s nay way anyone could track us here.
As if pulled by strings, his eyes moved to Catriona’s back and rested there. She looked so small huddled into the blanket, only a few strands of that magnificent auburn hair peeking out of the top. He was sure she was awake as well.
What’s she thinkin’? Did she feel it too, that same spark of attraction I felt when she took me hand?
He thought of her slender pliant waist beneath his hands when he had lifted her from her horse, of the small, warm weight of her body landing in his arms when she had jumped from the wall.
He replayed the frozen moment when they had looked into each other’s eyes, and something, some secret current, had travelled between them.
She had looked startled, scared. For fear of scaring her further, he had made light of it. But in truth, the strength of the attraction he felt for her had shaken him.
Dinnae get any stupid ideas. Avoid trouble, keep yer distance, stick tae the mission.
Eventually, lulled by the sound of the rain on the roof and the rhythm of Catriona’s soft, shallow breathing, his eyelids drooped, and he fell into a doze.
When he awoke, it was still dark, and torrential rain was drumming on the roof. A small sound drew his eyes to where he knew Catriona was lying. The noise came again and he recognized it: chattering teeth.
Concern sparked inside him, and he sat up, yawning widely and stretching his aching limbs. “Catriona? Is the cold keepin’ ye from sleepin’?” he croaked out, his voice still fuzzy from sleep.
“Aye,” she replied, her soft voice trembling. “I’m freezin’. Can ye light a fire?”
“Nay, lass, I’m sorry, it would be too dangerous. Even if we had any dry wood, I couldnae risk it. It would draw Sinclair’s men straight tae us.”
She made a soft noise of assent before her teeth resumed their chattering.
Truly worried she might get ill, which would complicate things to no end, he pondered what he could do to warm her up in the absence of a fire. The answer seemed obvious, yet he was reluctant to make the offer. For reasons he was unclear about, getting close to her seemed like a bad idea.
But I cannae just let her freeze, can I?
“I could come a wee bit closer if ye think it might help, so at least we could share each other’s body heat,” he suggested eventually, ignoring the small, tingling thrill that rushed through him as he spoke the words.
There was a long pause, more chattering of teeth. Then her voice came out of the darkness. “Aye, please. Just a wee bit closer.”
Malcolm surprised himself with the speed with which he came fully awake and slithered across the floor to reach her.
“Here,” she said, and he found himself being wrapped in the blanket and lying alongside her, face to face. The cold seemed to have gotten into her bones and she could not stop shivering convulsively. He realized he had to do something more to stop it.
Almost reluctantly, he asked, “Would ye like me tae hold ye?” In case she got the wrong idea, he quickly added, “It would help warm ye up.”
Another moment of silence passed. Then, her voice came, so close he could feel her breath fanning his face. “Aye, if ye think it’ll help.”
He inched closer, until their bodies were touching, her soft hair tickling his nose.
Tentatively, he slipped his arm around her waist, feeling her stiffen at first beneath his touch.
Using all the self-control he had in him, he lay perfectly still, absorbing each shudder that shook her slight body, willing his warmth into her.
He stayed like that until she stopped shivering, her body relaxed against his, and her breathing slowed, telling him she was finally asleep. He tightened his arm around her and settled a little closer, feeling wonderfully, dangerously comfortable, before sleep overcame him as well.
He awoke again to darkness and the drumming of rain, he knew not how much later.
His arm had drifted downwards and was now wrapped around Catriona’s slender waist, holding her to him.
She was sleeping peacefully, her soft, warm front nestled against his chest, fists bunched childishly beneath her chin, one leg resting between his thighs.
Her fresh, womanly scent filled his nostrils.
He breathed it in, and felt his cock harden inside his trews.
Christ, man, what are ye playin’ at?
He silently berated himself, disgusted that his sexual appetite should rear its ugly head in such an innocent scenario.
Terrified that Catriona might wake and discover his shame, he shifted as stealthily as he could, so that the offending portion of his person was not pressing against her.
Then he lay still again, doing his very best to think of account ledgers and troop movements in an effort to will away his arousal. It was no good.
In truth, his body’s reaction was what he had feared might occur when he had reluctantly suggested holding her to drive away the cold.
Sharing body heat was the best way to stay warm, but with Catriona he had known full well it was asking for trouble.
His erection throbbed almost painfully, evidence of his lingering desire for Catriona Grant that dated back years.
With their fathers being close allies and he and Duncan being best friends, he had been around Catriona a lot when they were younger, before Torcall Sinclair had seen her and decided she was his property.
She had been seventeen and he twenty-four the last time he had seen her. Back then, she had been a delicate rosebud with the promise of great beauty when she finally blossomed fully into womanhood.
And by God, had she blossomed. He gazed at her face in the darkness, his groin aching.
With her auburn hair, alabaster skin, and large green eyes, she had always been striking.
As youngsters they had played together, and for years he had seen her as a little sister.
At seventeen he had been a full-grown man, while she was just ten and still playing with her dolls.
But by the time Catriona was sixteen—by then already a dazzling beauty, a proper, sophisticated young lady—he had been twenty-three. The way he had looked at her then, the way his body had responded to her presence, changed startlingly as physical attraction kicked in.
But he had done nothing about it, instead suppressing his feelings for her.
Though theirs would have been a good match on paper, uniting their two clans formally, he knew she would not agree to wed him.
Besides that, he worried that if he told Duncan how he felt about his sister, his friend would see it as a betrayal and end their friendship. Nothing was worth risking that.
Catriona had solved the problem for him.
For around that time, to Malcolm’s confusion and sorrow, it had seemed she no longer wished to spend time with him.
When he did see her, she had taken to chastising him, calling him arrogant, reckless, and irresponsible, blaming him for leading Duncan astray when their drunken escapades ended in fights and injuries. She had wanted nothing to do with him.
The rejection had hurt, and he had sworn never to let himself be hurt like that again by any woman. Up until now, he had succeeded.
So, how have I gotten from there to here, with her lying asleep in me arms, wanting her so badly?
Because of Duncan, he told himself, trying to pull himself together. Still holding her close, hearing her soft breaths, he gave himself a stern pep talk. Resolved to keep himself at arm’s length for the rest of the journey to his keep, he gave into weariness and drifted off to sleep once more.