Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
It was bliss to wallow in the luxurious warmth of the tub, washing her hair with the lavender soap provided. When she finally stepped out of the tub to dry off, she noticed with some shame how grimy the water was and wondered what Isla would make of it.
An hour later, the tub had been cleared away, and she was seated at the table in her chamber, dressed in night attire, her long hair combed out to dry. A feast had been set before her and she was steadily devouring the food with relish. Nothing had ever tasted so good.
However, while she was eating, Catriona’s thoughts returned to the uncertainty of her situation. Clearly, she was going nowhere until her ankle was better, but questions about what might happen to her after that nagged at her.
The thought weighing most heavily on her already troubled conscience was knowing her presence endangered Malcolm and his clan. But she lacked the power to change the situation. Besides she had come to live with the burden of guilt.
But there was another equally pressing matter to deal with.
Living under the same roof as Malcolm would, she knew, be a sort of torture.
Incomprehensible as it was, he just seemed to grow more attractive every moment she spent with him.
Not just because of his gorgeous looks but also the way he treated her.
He was not the Malcolm she remembered. He was much, much more.
Just being around him felt... dangerous.
“We managed tae stay clear of Sinclair’s men until we go tae Craigmoor.”
Malcolm was speaking from behind his desk in the study, his councilmen gathered around in various attitudes, listening while he described the escape from the priory and the journey back to the castle.
Ewan was leaning against the wainscotting, arms folded, listening keenly.
“Did ye see any more of Sinclair’s men after ye left the village?” he asked after Malcolm told them about the saddler’s help.
“Nay, but I’m certain they’re searchin’ all the villages from here tae Elgin for her. I want scouts sent out immediately, tae report back tae me on any move Sinclair and his men make, especially on our land. If any are found, I want them gone.”
“I’ll see tae it as soon as we’re done here,” Ewan assured him with unusual grimness.
“From what ye say, me laird, Sinclair seems every bit as determined tae get his hands on the lass as ever,” said Rory, an experienced guard captain in his forties and valued advisor.
“He’s nae a good man tae make an enemy of.
If he figures out who helped her escape, he’s bound tae pay us a visit.
He has a large force. It could go badly fer us. ”
“Thank ye, Rory, I’m well aware of that,” Malcolm said with a respectful nod.
“Which is why I gave orders tae double the watch as soon as I got back. On top of that, I want all the men briefed and on alert in case Sinclair comes, and get them checkin’ security all around the castle.
Unless he brings his entire army, we can keep him out long enough for the Grants tae get here.
I’ve already sent a message tae Laird Grant tae advise him of the situation. ”
“’Tis nice tae ken there’s backup if we need it, but ’tis quite a distance tae Grant lands. Sinclair could dae a lot of damage before Laird Grant even gets that message,” clan secretary John Morrow remarked, leaning forward in his chair.
“Aye, ’tis a great risk havin’ the lass under our roof, nay question,” his brother Quentin, an old warrior, agreed from the chair next to him. “But while she’s here, we have an obligation tae protect her whatever comes, the poor lass.”
“I wasnae sayin’ we shouldnae protect her,” John responded a little irritably. “I’m just sayin’ we shouldnae play down the potential dangers of havin’ her here.”
“How long will she be stayin’, me laird?” Rory inquired.
“I cannae tell ye that until I get a reply from Laird Grant,” Malcolm replied truthfully, flexing his hands on the polished surface of the desk.
He felt restless and wanted to be done with the meeting.
He hated the uncertainty of waiting for Sinclair to work things out.
He would much rather have gathered his forces and attacked the bastard in his lair.
But that was impossible. He had no legal grounds for doing so that would stand up in front of the Council of Lairds or the King. All he could do was sit tight and wait, and pray Sinclair’s quest to locate Catriona failed.
“It daesnae matter how long she stays,” Ewan said forcefully, pushing himself away from the wall to stand straight. “She’s our guest, and we’ll keep her safe whatever it takes until her braither comes fer her.”
Malcolm shot his brother an approving look for the sentiment, glad of his support.
But inwardly, he was finding Ewan’s unalloyed pleasure at Catriona’s presence slightly disturbing.
The pair had gotten on famously in the vestibule, and Malcolm had felt the pinch of something like jealousy when Catriona had acted so pleased to see Ewan.
She had not smiled at him so brightly, even though he had rescued her from Sinclair.
And it had rankled him when Ewan had gaily addressed her by her informal nickname, “Cat.”
Before she had gone away, he had always called her Cat. The use of the more formal Catriona had been a defensive move to establish the distance of formality between them because her mistrust hurt him. It seemed to have suited her too.
I’m bein’ foolish again. If the lad wants tae flirt with her, there’s nay harm in it. He was closer to Ewan than anybody in the world, so how could he possibly be jealous of him over a woman who cared naught for him? It made no sense.
Rory’s voice pulled him from his thoughts when he said, “’Unfortunately, this isnae exactly the ideal time fer all this tae be hangin’ over our heads’, what with the Forbes visit scheduled tae happen.”
Ach, Christ, the Forbes! Rory’s right, this is the worst time fer them tae come here.
“I could write and ask tae postpone their visit fer a few weeks,” he suggested. “That would solve the problem.”
But John held up a parchment. “We received this letter yesterday, me laird. Laird Forbes sent word that he and his sister have already begun their journey here,” he explained. “So, there’s nay time tae postpone the visit.”
The news was troubling but Malcolm kept calm, his mind whirring.
“’Tis bad timing’, aye, but it cannae be helped,” he said at last. “I dinnae need tae remind ye all that the Forbes are one of our strongest neighbors as far as military might goes. Our alliance with them is only recent, true, but it’ll be essential if we havetae stand against Torcall Sinclair at some point.
Thus, refusin’ them hospitality is out of the question.
Tae dae so might offend them and risk weakenin’ the alliance.
We must welcome them warmly, while at the same quietly strengthening our defenses.
Those are me orders. Daes anyone have anythin’ else tae say before I close this meetin’? ”
He was glad when no one did and he could dismiss everyone.
He and Ewan stayed behind for a few minutes while the others trickled out into the hall. He and his brother went over a few fine details for implementing his extra security measures. After agreeing them, Ewan made to depart, remarking, “I’ll be up on the battlements.”
“I’ll be up later tae talk tae the men,” “Malcolm replied.
After they parted, Malcolm sought the peace and quiet of his chamber.
He went inside, swallowed a generous dram of whisky, stripped off his weapons and soiled clothing, and then got into the tub that had been prepared for him.
Letting out a sigh of relief mixed with pleasure, he sank into the hot water with a groan of satisfaction.
He lay there with his eyes closed, letting his thoughts drift.
Suddenly, without any intention on his part, a disturbing image of Catriona lying in the tub stark naked only a short way down the hall popped into his mind.
He knew it was his imagination furnishing the details, the long legs, the narrow waist, the gentle flare of her hips, for he had not seen beneath that damned black dress of hers. But it was no less arousing.
He tried to banish the image, but it would not budge.
Powerless, he could only sigh with frustration as his cock gradually rose above the surface of the water.
For lack of the real thing, he did know what else he could do but close his fist firmly around the thick column of flesh it and take himself in hand.
Catriona was relaxing by the fire enjoying a cup of wine, her injured foot propped up on a footstool in front of her, when Isla returned.
“Me lady, I’ve come tae tell ye that the healer the laird ordered is on the way tae see ye,” the maid announced, standing by the open door.
Catriona shook her head and sighed.
Isla’s forehead furrowed. “Oh, dear, are ye feelin’ unwell, me lady?” she asked worriedly.
Catriona smiled faintly and waved a dismissive hand. “Nay, I’m fine. I was just reminded of me braither. He always makes an unnecessary fuss as well.”
“Well, it shows the laird’s worried about ye, so that’s nice. But such kindness is typical of him,” Isla remarked. The comment landed with Catriona, reminding her of how well Malcolm had taken care of her and shown respect to everyone they had met, however lowly.
“Aye, he is kind,” she agreed, getting used to the idea that time had changed him from the callow, slightly arrogant young man she remembered into a good and responsible laird.
Behind Isla, an older woman in the open doorway appeared. She was rather small and matronly, with graying brown hair scraped back from her face and secured in a tight knot at the back of her head. She wore a dark kirtle and carried a worn leather satchel over her shoulder.
She stepped inside and nodded respectfully to Catriona. “I’m Mairead, the healer, me lady. The Laird sent me,” she said with smile.
Catriona smiled back, feeling an instant connection with the healer, who had intelligent brown eyes. The lines on Mairead’s face spoke of years of work and experience, and there was a steady calmness in her expression.
Catriona knew she was in good hands.