Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
Without further ado, he lifted her onto the gray mare and settled her in the saddle. He fixed her feet in the stirrups and put the reins in her trembling hands. Then he swung himself up onto the colt.
“All right, let’s go,” he said, but she did not move. He glanced over at her. She appeared almost frozen, the reins hanging limply in her hands. He reached over and took hold of them as well as his own.
He clicked his tongue and pressed his knees into the colt’s powerful flanks. The horse moved smoothly ahead at a slow walk. Malcolm led Catriona and her horse beside him, keeping her close to his side as he walked them steadily down the side of the street, past the bustling market-day crowd.
As they rode, his eyes constantly scanned the way ahead, alert for the enemy to reappear.
But by some miracle, they reached the edge of the village and started along the moorland track without a glimpse of Sinclair tartan.
If they rode as the crow flies and did not run into any trouble, they would be at his keep in a couple of hours.
Then she would be safe and he would be able to think clearly and decide his next move.
The further away they got from Craigmoor, the more Catriona seemed to come back to life. He was almost surprised when she suddenly spoke after a long silence.
“I’m sorry I was so useless back there, Malcolm. I was just so scared they were goin’ tae find me,” she said as though admitting a crime. “I couldnae have done it without ye there tae help me.”
Her obvious sincerity moved him deeply. “Ye did fine,” he told her, trying to sound encouraging whilst keeping his anger at Sinclair out of his voice. He was starting to think more and more about what a pleasure it would be to kill the man.
“I was proud of ye. Ye didnae bolt and ye kept quiet and did what I told ye. Now we’ve shaken them off and we’re almost home. So ’tis all fine.”
“Ye were proud of me?” She looked over at him, eyes wide with disbelief. They were beautiful, as green as the grass.
He shrugged. “Aye. Bravery comes in all shapes and sizes, ye ken? Ye should be proud of yersel’ too.”
“Ach, stop bein’ nice, Malcolm! I cannae keep on thankin’ ye,” she exclaimed, looking sidelong at him.
He chuckled, amused. “I hear yer feistiness has returned. I’m glad of it. I suppose ye’ll be answerin’ me back same as usual now we’re free and clear.”
“Mayhap I will,” she agreed pertly, her leg brushing against his as they rode side by side down the narrow track. The unexpected contact sent a shard of heat through Malcolm’s body that roused his uneasiness.
“Anyway, ye dinnae need tae keep thankin’ me. I’m doin’ this fer Duncan, remember,” he told her gruffly.
Her smile vanished, and she nodded gravely. “Aye, of course.”
They fell silent, sunk in birdsong and the sound of the horses.
His eyes roved surreptitiously over her slender form.
Even under the cloak, he could trace her shape in his mind.
Because he had held her body close to his all night long in the hut.
Every curve and hollow was indelibly burned into his mind.
Her hood blew back from her face, revealing rosy cheeks and exposing her hair. It blazed like copper in the low September sunshine, so brightly, he could hardly tug his gaze from the flowing tresses as they streamed out behind her.
Despite the calamity that had befallen her, she was so beautiful and alive.
He tore his eyes away from her and forced his thoughts to practicalities. It was now well into the afternoon and dusk would fall early. He wanted to get home and get her to safety as soon as possible. Only then would he be able to avoid her dangerous company.
“Let’s go a bit faster,” he said, spurring the colt into a canter. Catriona did the same with the mare, which easily kept pace with the more powerful horse. The track was surprisingly smooth, and they were able to keep up the fast pace for some time.
Every hoofbeat took them closer to Castle Gordon.
It was when they stopped to relieve themselves that the accident occurred.
She had completed her business within the privacy of a patch of gorse bushes and was making her way back to join Malcolm when her foot collided with a large stone embedded in the road.
She cried out in pain as her ankle wrenched sideways and shards of white hot pain lanced through her foot. She stumbled forward and would have fallen flat on her face if not for Malcolm suddenly being there to catch her in his arms.
“Ach, are ye all right?” he asked, his voice full of worry as he steadied her, waiting while she regained some semblance of balance.
“Ow, blast it,” she replied with a grimace, standing on her good leg and leaning on his arm for support. “’Tis me ankle, I turned it on that stone.” She glared darkly at the culprit.
“Is it broken?” Malcolm.
“I dinnae think so, but I’ve definitely twisted it badly,” she told him, wincing as she tried to put her weight on the injured foot. “I cannae dae it. ’Tis too painful. Och, why must I be so clumsy?” She really was annoyed with herself over it.
“It was an accident, lass,” Malcolm said. “It could have happened tae anyone.”
“So why daes it havetae be me?”
“Och, wheesht,” he said not unkindly. “Come here and let me have a look at it.”
Without warning, he scooped her up and carried her over to a large boulder nearby. He set her down upon it as though she were made of glass, then knelt by her feet.
Before she could check the damage herself, Malcolm took charge. Without asking permission, he removed her slipper and pushed up the hem of her skirts, revealing her stockinged legs.
Her stockings were black with dirt from the road, and her ankle was throbbing, swelling rapidly.
“I cannae see properly. Take off yer stockin’,” he said, sitting back on his heels, apparently unaffected by the horrible sight.
Shocked by the suggestion of baring her skin to him, Catriona hesitated.
“Dinnae be bashful, Catriona,” he cajoled. “Ye’re a healer. What’s the first thing ye’d ask yer patient tae dae in this situation?”
She did not bother to reply because she knew what he said made sense. Instead, she reluctantly reached beneath her skirts and felt for the top of her stocking. Slowly, she rolled it down her thigh, then her knee, trying desperately to cling to a fragment of modesty.
But then Malcolm said, “I’ll dae it,” and took over, carefully easing the stocking over the injured joint until he was able to pull it off completely. He flung it carelessly over his shoulder without even looking at it.
Catriona felt naked. She trembled, not because of the cold. It was because Malcolm, with surprising delicacy, had placed his large, rough hands directly on her bare skin, skin which had never been seen, let alone touched by a man.
With one giant hand, he lifted her foot and rested it gently on his hard, muscled thigh, examining it closely.
“I’m just checkin’ tae make sure ’tis only yer ankle that’s hurt,” he said, raising his head to look at her while running his palms up her calf and over her foot, gently touching each part.
The effect on Catriona was electric. The pain from her ankle was overtaken by the extraordinary tingling sensations racing up and down her legs. She had never felt anything remotely like it and was powerless to stop it.
It was utterly mortifying, yet also comforting and wildly exciting.
Malcolm looked up, his dark-brown eyes meeting hers. The frank concern she saw in them brought her back to herself a little. He’s really worried about me, she thought, feeling an odd melting sensation in her chest.
“I’m goin’ tae move yer ankle about a bit. Tell me when it hurts,” he instructed.
Glad to think of something practical Catriona nodded. “Aye, I’m familiar with the method,” she said, hearing the traitorous tremor in her voice. It was awkward when he kept his eyes on hers as he carefully manipulated the ankle, testing every angle by degrees.
“Ouch, that hurts the worst!” she burst out when he moved it to the left, gritting her teeth against the hot stabbing pain that shot up her leg. He held still. “It isnae broken, thank God,” she said. “’Tis a bad sprain, that’s all.”
“Ye think so?” he replied, surprising her by suddenly pulling off his neckcloth. “This will dae as a temporary bandage,” he explained, shaking it out to its full length and starting to bind up her ankle firmly but with great care.
Heat burned through Catriona as he worked, each touch of Malcolm’s hands stoking the fire he seemed to have lit inside her.
His head was bent, mere inches from her naked leg.
The notion of what that could mean in other circumstances sent a delicious shiver up her spine that felt sinful.
Her face felt as though it were glowing like a beacon. Somehow, she dared to look at him.
Dusty and disheveled as he was, he was beautiful. She glanced at his dark hair and wondered what it would feel like to stroke it and run her fingers through his wild curls. She tried to focus on appreciating Malcolm’s kindness and the pains he took not to hurt her.
“Thank ye, Malcolm,” she said with a genuine smile when he had finished. “And that is very neat.”
He rose to his full height, looming over her. “One of me many hidden talents,” he said, returning her smile. “It should hold ye until we reach me keep. Looks like we’ll both be payin’ the healer a visit when we get back, eh?” he said, holding up his bandaged hand.
“Aye, I suppose we have. But there’s nay need tae bother the healer with me ankle. I can look after it mesel’.”
He slipped her shoe back on her foot and, before she could stop him, rearranged her skirts. Then he rose fluidly to his feet, towering above her.
“Well, in that case, there’s nay need tae bother her with this wee nick on me hand either,” he replied, his brow cocked.
She frowned. “I ken what ye’re playin’ at, Malcolm, but ye really must go?—”
“I’ll only see the healer about me hand if ye let her examine yer ankle. And that’s the end of the matter,” he retorted in a tone that brooked no argument.
She had to smile. “All right. I ken when I’m beaten.”
She continued smiling while he put her in the saddle and fussed over her comfort for several minutes, quite needlessly in her opinion.
“I’ve never heard of anyone dyin’ of a sprained ankle,” she teased him.
“Ye cannae be too careful,” he replied solemnly, checking her injured foot was properly in the in the stirrup for the fourth time before letting her be. “I hope tae God we dinnae have any more trouble before we get tae me keep,” he added, swinging himself up onto the colt’s back
Catriona’s smile faded. “Aye, so dae I, so dae I,” she murmured with heartfelt conviction as they set off once more.