Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“That’s an interestin’ way of puttin’ it. But ye make it sound like I’m part of somethin’ bigger.”
“Ye are. I’m sure ye’ll start tae see that more clearly now ye’re out of the priory. Ye had little news in there, I’m guessin’.”
“Aye, that’s right. And I only got short messages by word of mouth from Duncan, relayed tae me by the Mother Superior. I had nay idea what was happenin’ outside.”
He shook his head in disbelief. “Jaysus, Catriona, I dinnae ken how ye survived in there without goin’ mad.”
“Who say’s I didnae?” she asked, her demeanor brightening.
Malcolm smiled at her joke as well as her incredible resilience. And the more they talked, the more he admired her.
“I survived because the nuns are very kind. They helped me tae get through it, just like they helped me tae escape,” she added.
“They’re very good, brave women, nay doubt.”
“And I had hope too, of bein’ able tae go home one day. I think ye can get through a lot of things if ye have hope.”
“So folks say, aye, and it worked fer ye,” he replied before supping some more ale, reflecting that he had never had such an extraordinary conversation with anyone, let alone a woman, before.
“The important thing is that ye understand that I’ll always dae me best tae protect ye, whatever happens,” he told her, choosing his words carefully.
“And so will me men. We wouldnae be able tae live with ourselves otherwise. Ye’re worth fightin’ fer, Catriona. ”
Bloody hell! When did I get so eloquent?
She was staring at him again, her lips slightly parted. “That is positively heroic, Malcolm Gordon. Ye make a wonderful knight in shinin’ armor. But whatever fine words ye say, I still dinnae like the idea of anyone fightin’ and dyin’ fer me sake.”
“Of course, ye dinnae, but it could happen. Hopefully, it’ll be the enemy that does most of the dyin’.
” He paused, about to put to her an idea that had come to him while they had been talking.
“Ye said ye feel like a powerless victim… what if ye could dae somethin’ fer me that will help strengthen the alliance against Sinclair, somethin’ that would increase the chances of removin’ him? ”
She sat up straight in her chair. “I’ll dae it,” she said without hesitation. “Just tell me what it is.”
He had to laugh. “Ye have a lot of spirit, Catriona. But then, ye always did.”
“What is that ye want me tae dae? Ye should ken that I cannae cook. I’m a terrible cook.”
He laughed even harder. “So, ye could mix up a concoction tae cure me headache, but ye cannae put a decent plate of food on the table?”
“I ken at least ten ways to cure a headache. But if I cooked something fer ye, it would likely poison ye, and I’d end up havin’ tae make ye a potion tae cure that instead.”
Their shared laughter rang around the walls.
“Lucky fer me, I have a kitchen full of cooks. What I need is a charmin’ hostess who can help me entertain some important guests who are comin’ tae stay fer a few days.”
She made a doubtful face. “Well, I’m a bit out of practice with me social skills, but if they’re nice, then I’m sure it will be all right. Who are they?”
“Laird Kenneth Forbes and his sister, Lady Sorcha.”
She looked thoughtful. “The Forbes? I think I may have met them once, years ago. Clan Forbes is very wealthy and powerful, eh?”
“Aye, which is exactly why I signed a treaty with Kenneth a few weeks ago. This will be their first visit here, and I wantae make a good impression. But since I lack a wife tae dae the honors, I thought ye might be willin’ tae help me out.”
Her eyes flew wide. “Ye want me tae pretend tae be yer wife?”
He snorted with laughter. “Nay! Just help me keep them entertained, ye ninny.”
A grin spread across her lips. “I was teasin’ ye, amadan. I owe ye me life. Of course, I’ll help ye. When d’ye they get here?”
“In a few days’ time. I’ll organize all the details, but I’ll likely be spendin’ a lot of time talkin’ clan business with Kenneth, leavin’ his sister Lady Sorcha at a loose end. That’s where ye could help a lot.”
She nodded enthusiastically. “Aye. I look forward tae meetin’ her.”
His gratitude made him beam at her. “Grand, thank ye, Catriona.”
But then her fair brow suddenly creased. “What if Sinclair comes when they’re here, Malcolm?” she asked.
His casual shrug was for her sake, to disguise the concern he shared. He wanted her to feel safe under his protection. “Let him come. We’ll be ready.”
Surprisingly, she seemed to accept what he said, and they fell into a companiable silence for a while, quietly finishing their drinks.
Sometime later, Malcolm realized they had been talking for well over an hour. He yawned and stretched. “’Tis late. We should go tae bed.”
Catriona’s cheeks flooded with vivid color.
He tried to pull things back. “I meant tae say, ye must be gettin’ sleepy, and ye need yer rest after such a tryin’ ordeal. And I havetae be up early on the morrow. I’m nae leavin’ ye down here, so come along, I’ll escort ye tae yer chamber.” He offered her his hand to help her up.
The glow of her embarrassment lingered on her cheeks as, without a word, she allowed him to escort her.
He opened the door for her, mentally kicking himself for ruining their earlier camaraderie.
But then again, all things considered, ’tis likely fer the best.
“Good night then, Catriona, sleep well,” he said, waiting as she went inside and turned to face him.
“Thank ye, Malcolm. I wish ye a good night as well,” she replied tightly, and shut the door in his face.
The following afternoon, Malcolm was out in the main courtyard, talking to several of his clansmen, when he suddenly noticed a vivid flash of green moving on the periphery of his vision.
“But I also want more scouts…” He paused, turning his head see what it was, “...in the towns and villages, especially in the…” His voice trailed off as his gaze snagged on Catriona.
She was leaning on her stick, hobbling purposefully across the cobblestones towards the doors of the keep. The forest-green kirtle she was wearing was a stunning contrast to her old black gown, its flowing, fitted skirts showing off her small waist and elegant curves. He felt the pinch of lust.
Over her shoulder was slung a large cloth bag stuffed with greenery. Herbs, he guessed, recalling she was due to start helping Mairead in the infirmary that afternoon.
Where has she been? That bag looks too heavy. Is she steady on her feet?
He wanted to go to her, take the bag from her, give her his arm so she would not fall and hurt herself again. Better still, pick her up.
But he had to be contented with simply watching her every step, holding his breath until she reached the steps to the keep, hobbled up them, and disappeared inside.
Only then did he breathe.
“Hey, lads, it looks like somethin’s got the laird more than usually distracted today. Or should I say someone,” one of the clansmen good-naturedly.
It was a harmless little jest of the sort that Malcolm would have laughed off on any other day. But not today.
He whirled on the speaker, unaccountably angry. “Distracted, am I? I’ll show ye how distracted I am,” he said coldly. “I’m suddenly in the mood fer a sparrin’ match. And ye look like the ideal opponent. Let’s go.”
Without another word, he stalked off, pausing once to make sure the unfortunate clansman was following him towards the training field. The rest of the group trailed behind, caught up in various states of excitement and perplexity about the coming fight.