Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
Mortified by her body’s betrayal, Catriona fell back on disproval.
“For goodness’ sake, have ye nay modesty?” she chided him, still covertly studying his powerful upper body as he shook out a clean shirt from the bundle of dry clothes. He paused and stood looking at her for a moment, poised with it in his hands, ready to slip it over his head.
“Dinnae look if it offends ye,” he said lightly, throwing her a cocky glance, seeming to delay putting on the shirt deliberately.
“I wasnae lookin’,” she fibbed, heat creeping up her face.
Malcolm gave a dry laugh. “Now we both ken that’s a lie, lass. I saw yer tongue hangin’ out just then.”
“Ye saw nay such thing, Malcolm Gordon, ye arrogant man. ’Tis ye who’s the liar!”
He smiled teasingly, moving with deliberate slowness, flexing his arms and shoulders, showing her his powerful physique as though taunting her. His dark hair fell in curls around his face, emphasizing its harsh, sculpted planes.
God, ’tis nae right fer a man tae be so braw!
“Dinnae be so bashful, Catriona. I ken ye wantae look. And I dinnae mind ye lookin’ as much as ye like if ye see anythin’ ye fancy. I dinnae charge.”
Catriona practically choked with rage and shame. “I... I absolutely despise ye,” she managed to grind out at last, growing even more incensed by his laughter. With a loud huff, she turned her head sharply away from him, struggling to calm the absurd fluttering of excitement in her chest.
“Well, naethin’s changed much there then,” Malcolm noted drily.
Catriona said nothing, seething silently, listening to the water-logged rustling of his wet clothing as he disrobed and speculating on what might be revealed.
A few minutes of tense silence later, he appeared in front of her, fully dressed, which was both a relief and a disappointment.
“The bandage has come off,” he said, holding out his injured hand to her.
When Catriona saw the angry gash uncovered, her concern overtook all else.
She was suddenly very worried that something in the river, some invisible, malign speck, might have penetrated the wound and would lead to infection.
She did not want him to suffer, telling herself it was because she needed him to reach safety, not because she cared for him.
“I’ll put on more salve and bind it up again,” she told him, rising to her feet, going to fetch the cloths and salve from the saddlebag and bringing them back.
They sat on the log while she redressed the wound quickly yet efficiently.
As she worked, she tried not to become distracted by his bronzed, muscular forearms, with only partial success.
“Thank ye, Catriona,” he said when it was done, giving her an unexpectedly appreciative look that flooded her cheeks with warmth. “Very neat as usual.”
“’Tis naethin’. I can dae it in me sleep,” she said lightly, looking away to hide her flushed face. She did not want him to think she had made any special effort for him. Even though she had.
All Malcolm wanted was to get Catriona to Castle Gordon safely. That was the task Duncan had asked of him, and he meant to complete it to the letter. But he had not expected it to be quite so difficult or time consuming.
And a large part of the difficulty concerned Catriona herself and the feelings that being with her had reawakened in him, dangerous feelings he had thought long dead. It was taking quite a lot of effort to keep them tamped down.
So far he had managed it, though the river crossing had been hard. Way too much temptation! By the time he had gotten to the other side, he had felt like throwing her down, upending her skirts, and tupping her there and then on the grass.
Thus, now he was maintaining his distance, speaking to her as little as possible. He told himself he needed to focus on getting her to safety, and that was all.
They were only a few miles from Fochabers, where his keep was located, so the temptation was to keep going. But the horse was tired from carrying them both and needed rest and although he did not want to stop, he had no choice unless he wanted the beast to collapse beneath him.
They rode into the main street of the village called Craigmoor a short while later. It was a busy market day, and the small square, lined with business and houses, was bustling with people. Malcolm was glad of it because it would provide cover for him and Catriona if they needed to run.
He scanned the crowd for any men in Sinclair colors as they passed through the market.
It was unlikely that Sinclair’s soldiers would dare venture so far into his territory to look for Catriona, but it was still a risk.
He had to stay alert. If Sinclair wanted something, borders would not stop him from taking it.
Malcolm figured that if the lunatic had not given up his pursuit of Catriona in five years, then he probably never would.
However, he saw naught of the mad laird’s colors amongst the villagers, and so he made his way to the small saddlery. He planned to leave Warrior there, to be fed and rubbed down while he and Catriona went to get a bite to eat.
“Oh, where are we?” she asked, blinking and looking about in confusion at the crowd when he halted the horse outside the saddlery. She had been dozing, her soft, warm body resting against his back for the last few miles. He tried not to think about how good it had felt.
“Nay, but we’re nae far away now,” he replied, slipping from the saddle to the ground and hitching the horse to a post. He explained his reasons for stopping, then told her his immediate plan.
“I want tae get a horse fer ye as well. If we have two mounts, we’ll reach Castle Gordon in a couple of hours. ”
The owner of the saddlery appeared in the doorway of the barn then, a fellow of indeterminate middle age, as thin as a whip and leathery as one of his saddles.
Malcolm immediately engaged him, finding him to be plain speaking and helpful.
The two men stood talking quietly on the edge of the market-day crowd, agreeing payment for leaving Malcolm’s horse there for a few hours.
With that business quickly concluded, he put the second stage of his plan into action. “I need a mount fer the lass as well. Have ye got anythin’ suitable fer sale or hire? I’ll pay ye good money fer a mount that can travel fast.”
The man considered, giving Catriona a polite nod, which she returned. “Aye, I’ve a bonny gray mare that would dae just fine fer the lady. “I’ll have the lad bring her out fer ye tae look at.”
Before he could move, Malcolm felt a hard tug on his sleeve. When he looked down, he saw Catriona was as white as milk, and her eyes were wide with fear.
“Malcolm, look!” she croaked as if her mouth had gone dry. He followed her eyeline and immediately saw the reason for her panic. Two armed soldiers in Sinclair colors were mounted on horseback mere yards away.
His blood went cold as he watched them moving slowly through the square, scanning the crowd, stopping people as they went.
They spoke loudly, asking if anyone had seen a young woman with long auburn hair and green eyes.
Catriona’s hair was uncovered, and he knew it would only take one person to glance her way and make the connection for all to be lost.
Catriona could obviously hear the riders as well because her fingers were digging into his arm.
He could feel her whole body vibrating with terror and feared she might be about to bolt.
If she did, all hell would break loose, and he was not sure he would be able to protect her if more soldiers turned up.
He leaned down and whispered in her ear. “Stay calm, and we’ll be fine. Make nay sudden moves that might attract attention. Dinnae make a show of it, but pull up yer hood tae cover yer hair.”
She obeyed with shaking hands, pulling the hood close about her face, concealing all but a few stray wisps of hair. Like an affectionate husband might do for his wife, he casually tucked them in for her.
Calm as he was on the surface, inside his heart was hammering.
And his mind was spinning as he tried to think what to do.
They needed cover, somewhere to get out of sight of the soldiers until they could leave.
With a feeling of increasing dread, he noticed the saddler observing the riders and knew he would have to be stone deaf not to hear the description of the woman they were seeking.
He had seconds before the man put two and two together and alerted the soldiers to Catriona’s presence.
But that did not happen. Instead, the saddler remained silent and looked questioningly at Malcolm, a look that clearly said he was neither deaf nor stupid. Malcolm returned him a warning look that told him to keep his mouth shut or face the consequences.
The man clearly understood, and to Malcolm’s relief, nodded calmly.
“If ye dinnae mind me sayin’, Sir, the lady looks a wee bit peely-wally.
Perhaps ye’d best bring her inside for a wee while so she can sit down and have a drink of water.
I’ll have yer horse brought in, and ye can have a look at the gray inside while she rests. ”
Malcolm had never heard sweeter words, but could he trust them?
Seeing he had little choice but to agree, he shot the saddler a sharp nod, making a mental note to reward him if his discretion lasted.
If the offer of help was a prelude to betrayal, he would skewer the fellow to his own barn door in retribution, if he had the time.
“I thank ye fer yer kind concern,” he replied as though he were discussing the weather. “Aye, me wife’s nae been feelin’ too well. We’ve had a long journey. I’m sure she’d appreciate a rest.”
“Follow me,” the saddler murmured, unhurriedly leading them into the barn.
Once inside, the saddler drew them out of the way of the open doors, before going off to see about Malcolm’s business.
“That was too close for comfort,” Malcolm whispered to Catriona, who nodded absently. She had her eyes glued to a crack in the plank wall, obviously keeping tabs on Sinclair’s men outside.
“We cannae afford tae stay here any longer. Wait fer me here while I sort out fresh horses with the owner. We’ll be leavin’ as soon as ’tis safe.”
She neither spoke nor moved as he crossed the floor to meet the saddler. Eventually, gold changed hands, more than the quoted price. The extra coins went into the saddler’s pocket as a reward for his help, but most of all, for his silence.
“I’ll have the horses prepared and let ye ken when ’tis safe tae leave,” the saddler said and ambled off to see about it
A short while later, he returned with a lad leading the gray mare and a bigger black colt with a white blaze on his nose, both ready to ride. Malcolm had made sure to have his saddle transferred from Warrior to the colt. It was made to measure for his size and, therefore, supremely comfortable.
Still wary, before leading out the horses, he checked outside himself to make sure the soldiers were gone from the street. Thankfully, they had disappeared, but he knew they could be around the next corner.
He went back inside to collect Catriona, who was worryingly quiet. He put his arm around her and guided her through the doors. She seemed all right at first, but as soon as she stepped onto the street, she stiffened and clung to him, letting out a small moan.
Seeing the terror Sinclair had instilled in the spirited young woman made Malcolm’s blood boil and roused his protective instincts.