Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Catriona’s eyes gleamed mirthfully.
“Well, all I’ll say on that score is that Mairead admired yer attempt at first aid in the field. But if it was a competition, she’d win hands down. By the way, yer neckcloth is bein’ laundered.”
“Grand,” Malcolm replied with a grin, having forgotten all about it. “Anyway, I must say, I’m surprised tae see ye down here. Did ye get someone tae help ye down the stairs?”
In reply, she reached down the side of her chair and showed him the walking stick. “Nay, I came down by mesel’, very, very carefully,” she said, tucking the stick away again.
He was aghast. “Good grief, lass, ye should have called a servant. Ye could have fallen.”
“Yet here I am in one piece.”
“Aye, by some miracle” he replied, shaking his head, half in wonder, half in disapproval. “I dinnae like ye takin’ risks, but I suppose I should have learned by now that fer a slip of a lass, ye’re tougher than ye look.”
“Thinkin’ back over the last couple of days, maybe I am at that.” She lifted her cup to her lips and sipped, the corners of her eyes crinkling at him over the rim. Firelight danced within them.
Christ, she’s so bonny… why daes she havetae be so bonny?
She lowered her cup. “The truth is that I slept for a while, but then I woke up and felt restless. I thought a cup of hot mead and a quiet sit by the fire would relax me,” she explained.
“Is it workin’?” he asked, thinking he might have an ale and join her.
“A bit.” She looked doubtful, and he realized she was as preoccupied with Torcall Sinclair as he was, only for slightly different reasons.
“I couldnae get back tae sleep either,” he confessed, feeling a kinship with her.
“Ye’re on patrol, I take it,” she said.
How well she knew him! “Aye. Just checkin’ tae make sure we’re secure. Besides, I like the quiet of the night, when everyone’s abed. ’Tis the only time I can really think in peace.”
“Aye, ye ken Duncan always used tae say as much,” she said, her face softening as she spoke of her brother.
“Well, seein’ as ye’ve gone tae so much trouble tae get down here, d’ye mind if I join ye?” Malcolm asked, with no intention of leaving now. Her company was far too compelling.
She chuckled. “I dinnae think ye need tae ask me permission. I’m only a guest here. Ye’re the laird, remember?”
He shrugged. “Aye, I ken. I was just bein’ polite. I was goin’ tae stay anyway.”
Her smile widened. “I suspected as much.”
He sat down in the chair next to hers, his favorite, and stretched out his legs towards the fire. “Now, what’s that ye’re drinkin’?” he inquired, gesturing at her cup.
She looked at the cup as if just noticing it in her hand. “Hot mead. ’Tis delicious.”
“Would ye like some more? Maybe sit a while with me and talk?” He had had no idea he was going to say that, and she looked equally surprised by the invitation. Pleasantly surprised, he thought, if he was reading her right.
Her smile lingered. “If ye dinnae mind me stayin’, then, aye, I would. Thank ye.”
“Grand.”
Malcolm leaned back in his chair and signaled to a hovering maid. She came over and took his order for ale and another hot mead.
Watching her now, he realized that amid the breakneck speed of the escape, when both of them had been continually on edge, he had missed many nuances of her complex personality.
She’s a lot like Duncan, he concluded, smiling inwardly at the thought of his best friend and how pleased he would be to know his sister was safe from Sinclair and under his protection.
Their bond of trust would be strengthened even further, and he was resolved that nothing would ever shake it. Nothing.
The drinks arrived. Catriona sipped delicately from her cup, whilst Malcolm took a long, satisfying draft of ale then smacked his lips with appreciation.
“By God, that’s good. I needed that,” he said.
“After all ye’ve been through the last couple of days, ye deserve tae enjoy it,” she observed.
“Likewise,” he said, mesmerized by her beautiful eyes. “Against all odds, we made it. We should make a toast.” He raised his tankard, inviting her with his eyes to clink her cup against it.
She laughed as she did so, echoing his jovial “Cheers!” before they both drank deeply, tacitly celebrating her escape from Torcall Sinclair.
“I see ye have clean stockin’s,” he said, noticing her small feet propped on the fender. “I hope Isla’s burned the old ones.”
She giggled. “Aye, ye should have seen her face when she saw them. She acted like she’d picked up a brace of vipers. Mind ye, she looked even more shocked at the color of me bathwater.”
Malcolm laughed as well. “I dinnae blame the poor lass. Mine had twigs floatin’ in it.”
She laughed again, while he drank some more ale, enjoying the sound.
“Actually, I’m glad ye sent Mairead tae come and see me,” she suddenly said. “We had a good talk, and I asked if I can help her out in the infirmary while I’m here. I figured I may as well make mesel’ useful during me stay. Dae ye have any objection tae me workin’ with her?”
Malcolm lowered his tankard, taken aback as well as impressed. “My, ye work quickly. Ye’ve only been here a few hours and it seems ye’ve already got yersel’ a job.”
“But is it all right? Ye dinnae object?”
“Of course I dinnae object. I’d be a fool tae object tae havin’ an extra trained healer—who I dinnae havetae pay—helpin’ me own people,” he said. “Frankly, I’m surprised ye’ve asked me and nae just told me it’s what ye intend tae dae. That’s what I would have expected from ye.”
She giggled again, her smile radiant. “I was just bein’ polite,” she said, repeating his own phrase from earlier, making him smile too.
“’Tis me small way of thankin’ ye fer all ye’ve done fer me, and fer yer hospitality.
I was so happy when I saw ye’d put me in me old room. That was very thoughtful of ye.”
“That must have been Sheila, the housekeeper,” he lied, thinking it safer for her not to know he was responsible.
“Oh,” she murmured, and unless he was imagining it, he thought she sounded a bit disappointed. That gave him a little thrill, while the voice in his head told him he had been right to lie.
If she knew ye’d had her old room aired and cleaned specially fer her arrival, she might think ye’d gone soft, it said.
Thankfully, she returned to her original subject. “Anyway, I’m lookin’ forward tae startin’ work’ with Mairead tomorrow. I’m used tae bein’ busy. I’d die of boredom with naethin’ tae dae, even if ’tis just fer a few days.”
“Typically selfish of ye,” he joked. “What dae other noble ladies dae all day? Mess with their hair and count their dresses?”
“Aye, I have it on good authority that’s all they dae,” she said with mock gravity. “Although, I have heard they read the occasional book.”
Malcolm chuckled. He liked this side of her, the sharp, intelligent sense of humor. He could not think of any woman who amused him as she did.
“How long d’ye think it’ll be before Ducan comes?” she suddenly asked, catching him off guard with the abrupt change of topic.
He let out a long exhale and sat forward in his chair, leaning his elbows on his knees. “I wish I could tell ye. I only sent the message upon arrival, so it’ll be some days at least before I get a reply. I ken how badly ye wantae get home, Catriona.”
“I havenae seen me braither or Elaina fer five years,” she said, so forlornly, his heart went out to her. “We couldnae even write tae each other in case Sinclair intercepted the letters and found out where I was hidin’.”
He was stricken with guilt for not understanding the depth of her suffering. No wonder she carried that air of sadness with her.
“Christ, Cat. I didnae realize. I’m sorry. It must have been hard fer ye.” The diminutive slid off his tongue unnoticed. Gathering himself, he continued, “I’m sure Duncan will reply as soon as he can. He’s been missin’ ye as well. He wants ye home. But…”
“But Sinclair. Aye. He’s never stopped huntin’ me fer five years. All that time, I’ve lived with the guilt of being a burden tae anyone who tries tae protect me. Me mere presence put their lives in danger.”
“Ye havetae stop sayin’ that,” he began, but she cut him off.
“’Tis the truth. Malcolm, I dinnae want tae bring trouble tae yer door, but the longer I stay here, the more likely it is that Sinclair will come. That’s why I need tae get home very, very soon.”
At the thought of her leaving Malcolm ran his hand through his hair, trying to straighten the thoughts and emotions rampaging inside him. He drank some more ale and, gradually, calmed down.
“Catriona, I understand the burden of guilt more than ye might think. I understand yer reasons fer feeling the way ye dae, and I willnae try tae argue ye out of them. Ye’re a good person, and I dinnae think ye’ll ever really get over people gettin’ hurt because of the position Sinclair’s put ye in. ’Tis understandable.”
He paused, then added, “But he’s the aggressor in all this. Ye’re innocent. Dinnae given in tae him. There’s nae a clan within a hundred miles that wouldnae like tae see him dead.”
She looked at him with surprise. Then she said, “Oh? I didnae ken that. Well, ye’re very kind, Malcolm, but the fact remains that havin’ me here at yer keep puts ye, Ewan, and yer clan at risk.”
He saw the pain in her eyes and once more felt a bond of kinship with her. He knew all about guilt and how it twisted inside a person unceasingly through the years like a knife in the gut.
He had to fight down the urge to take her in his arms and comfort her. But he knew it would be a bad mistake, so he stayed where he was. Reaching over for the jug, he topped up her cup.
“Mayhap it would help ye tae think of him as a nasty disease like, say, leprosy,” he suggested, setting down the jug on a low table.
“It ravages and kills, destroys lives, causes endless misery and suffering. But dae the healers give up tryin’ tae cure folks who are sufferin’ from it, even though they risk getting’ infected themselves?
Nay. Dae they stop feelin’ bad when they cannae save a patient?
Nay. They try all the harder tae beat the disease by unitin’ their knowledge and skills. ”