Chapter 16 #2
A fire was banked up in the hearth, casting a warm red glow over the chamber, which appeared to be empty.
Though Malcom was not there, she decided to leave the cloak anyway.
So, she entered the room, swiftly taking in the somewhat spartan, masculine décor, inhaling the frustratingly enticing mix of sandalwood and musk that lingered in the air.
Her eyes were inevitably drawn to the enormous, carved bed, with its luxurious hangings and fur coverlet.
Her mouth went dry as a fleet of half-formed but definitely sinful images rushed through her mind.
She pushed them away, shocked at herself, and suddenly glad of Malcolm’s absence.
Steeling herself against her own wanton imaginings, she crossed to the bed, about to lay the cloak upon it and leave.
But she forgot all about it when her attention was caught by a shaft of moonlight lancing through the high, arching windows. It pulled her to the nearest window, intrigued to discover the view that Malcolm woke up to everyday. With the cloak still bundled in her arms, she stood there looking out.
The window gave out onto the main courtyard, everything, right up to the outer wall, was clearly visible even in torchlight. Anyone looking out could see exactly what was going on below, making it the perfect eyrie for a laird.
But the vista extended far beyond the castle walls.
Under the bright half-moon, Catriona could see out across the cultivated valley to wild moorland, and she could even glimpse the white-topped mountains in the distance.
Spellbound, she lingered for several minutes, quietly taking the magnificent beauty of his domain.
Malcolm ran a hand through his hair as he entered his chamber, his thoughts troubled.
Pressing matters to do with fortifying the castle against attack were entangled with memories of the disastrous encounter with Catriona by the well earlier.
He was scowling, angry with himself for failing to stick to his resolve not to give in to the greatest temptation he had ever encountered: Catriona Grant.
But by God, he had wanted to kiss her—he had never wanted to kiss a woman so much in his life! And he had the feeling that once he started kissing her, he might never stop.
He was lucky those guards came by when they did.
Yet at the same time, the urge to crush her in his arms, plunder her mouth, taste her tongue on his, could not be denied.
And the hunger only kept growing. He could not stop wanting her. And until she was gone from his keep, he knew it would only get harder to keep away from her.
He unwrapped his tartan breacan from about his shoulders and tossed it over the back of the chair, then unbuckled his sword belt and placed it by the door.
He heeled off his boots and put them neatly next to his weapons.
Eager for a dram, a good wash, and then to at least try to sleep, he padded across the thick rug, going further into the room, leaving a trail of clothing as he went.
Suddenly, he paused and sniffed the air, catching the faint scent of hyacinth. His brows rose. Catriona had never been in his chamber, so he knew he must be imagining it. Still, it was discouraging to his resolve when his cock stirred at the mere thought of Catriona.
Dismissing the waft of hyacinth as a pleasant fantasy, the product of his suppressed lustful thoughts, he was about to strip off his trews when a small, barely audible noise behind him had him whirling around, his body attuned for danger.
It was all he could do not to visibly start.
She was standing but a few feet away, staring at him with wide green eyes, her cheeks flushed pink, lips slightly open.
“Catriona?”
The vision of her then burned into his brain, unforgettable. Alarm bells rang in his mind, while warmth spread through his body. In the moonlight, she was more enchantingly alluring than ever. He barely noticed the bundle she held in her arms in front of her, like a shield.
The air seemed to sizzle between them in the silence as they stood motionless, staring at each other for several long moments.
There was no doubt she was real and not a figment of his fevered imagination because he could feel her eyes moving over him as if she were touching him, raising goosebumps on his skin.
Her cheeks were so bright they looked to be burning, which prompted him to wonder if she was feverish. Only then did he realize he was half-naked, his hand still resting at the fastening of his trews.
Why was she look so shocked? He vividly recalled stripping off his wet clothing after carrying her across the swollen river on his shoulder. Which only made him remember the slickness of her soft thighs beneath his hands, her breast rubbing against his ear. His groin twitched.
A voice in his head started up—Dinnae betray Duncan, send her away now, she’s dangerous!
But the tempting thought of that soft bare skin lingered, and the memory of her outrage as he had carried her over the water sent a flicker of amusement shooting through him. The voice in his head was stifled, like the smile that rose to his lips.
He put his hands on his hips, cocking his head questioningly at her, drinking her in.
“Well. This is a surprise,” he said, watching her closely as she made a visible effort to pull herself together, lifting her chin, pressing her lips together. But her cheeks still flamed, telling him how flustered she was. The urge to tease her seized him.
“Aye, I-I apologize fer intrudin’—” she began hesitantly, looking contrite.
Assuming a forbidding expression, he cut in, “Apologies are all well and good, but it begs the question, what are ye daein’ in me chambers while I’m nae here?”
Her mouth fell open. “Och, nay, I …only came tae—” she began, so earnestly aghast, he almost burst out laughing. She stopped speaking when he took a step closer to her, the familiar little line forming between her brows.
“So? I’m still waitin’ fer an explanation,” he said, thinking how adorable she looked, how much he wanted to sweep her up and kiss her breathless.
“I knocked, but when?—”
“Ye knocked. Well, that’s a start, I suppose. But when what?” he enquired, lifting a brow, enjoying her obvious discomfiture.
“Then, when I looked in and saw ye were nae here, I thought I’d just slip in and?—”
“Just slip in, is it? Och, what were ye plannin’, Catriona?”
To his greater amusement, anger flashed in her lovely eyes. “I was just bringin’ ye yer cloak, Malcolm Gordon, what are ye suggesting!”
Feeling a sense of satisfaction for having riled her in such a predictable fashion, he said with mock dubiousness, “Well, lass, I’m only sayin’ what I see.
Ye creepin’ intae me quarters behind me back.
Can ye blame me fer bein’ suspicious about yer motives when all ye can dae is stare at me like that? ”
“I’m nae starin’, ye great fool! I’m offended! Ye could have the decency tae cover yersel’ when there’s a lady in the room, but I already ken ye have nay sense of decorum,” she protested vehemently.
“I dinnae need decorum tae strip off in me own chambers, especially when I dinnae ken someone has sneaked in. In fact, I’ve a mind tae loose me trews as well, as is me right.” He made to unfasten his trews, just managing to suppress his laughter.
Catriona shrieked. “Dinnae ye dare!” she cried.
“Why, lass, dinnae pretend such modesty. ’Tis naethin’ ye havenae seen before, is it?” he asked, puffing out his chest, making the muscles twitch.
Her eyes grew round as she watched the display. He chuckled inwardly as he watched the effort it took for her to drag her gaze away from his chest to meet his amused stare.
Her eyes narrowed then as she caught on to his game. “Aye, I’ve seen it before all right, and I thought back then that I never wanted tae see it again,” she countered, an edge of sarcasm to her tone. “I’m only sorry fer ye that ye have such poor manners.”
A guffaw burst out of him, and he rocked with laughter for a few moments while she watched him with pursed lips.
“What? Ye havenae noticed that before?” he managed to get out when he caught his breath, delighted to see the corners of her lips turning upwards.
“Aye, I have at that,” she shot back, “but I have na choice but tae put up with yer rude ways while I’m stuck here. I’m a captive audience tae yer foolery, God help me.”
“Och, Catriona, I’m feelin’ quite nostalgic. This is like old times, eh?” he asked. “The arguin’ and the bickerin’. Such fond memories.”
Unable to hold back her smile now, she tossed her hair girlishly and retorted, “I’m nae playin’ yer games, ye trickster. I ken all too well what ye’re like.”
If the atmosphere had sizzled before, now it was crackling like the fire in the hearth. Malcolm felt his excitement rising, most pressingly in the front of his trews. He tried to sober himself.
“So, anyway, was me cloak the only reason ye are here?”
“Pardon?” She pulled her eyes from his chest and looked up at him with her big green eyes. “Och, sorry, I, er, aye. I only came tae… return it tae ye.” Stepping forward, she held it out to him.
When Malcolm reached out to take it from her, their hands brushed together.
An electric jolt shot through him, shattering his resolve.
She was so close, the scent of hyacinth filling his nose, close enough that if he just put out his arm, he could gently catch her neck in his hand and pull her to him, then ravage those tempting lips with his kiss.
He took another step towards her. She did not move, her gaze locked with his.
“D’ye like the view, Catriona?” he found himself whispering, voice silky, seductive. Her presence was pushing him to the very edges of his resistance.
Her eyes dropped briefly to his naked chest once more, and he saw a tremor shake her. The flush staining her cheeks flared again. His arousal grew more urgent.
She dragged her eyes back to his, briefly hesitated, then shook her head. “I’ve seen better from yer window,” she replied pertly. “Thank ye fer the loan of the cloak. Good night.” Turning, she hobbled past him, giving him a wide berth, and made for the door.
Every fiber of Malcolm’s being wanted to go after her, catch her arm, whirl her about, and crush her in his arms. But he gritted his teeth, pictured Duncan, and made no move.
“Goodnight, Catriona,” he murmured softly before she closed the door, leaving him in actual physical discomfort from sexual frustration as well as bereft of her company.
He took a few deep, steadying breaths, staring at the door, listening to her light, uneven steps as she went back to her own chamber.
“Thank God one of us has the sense tae leave,” he muttered, finally divesting himself of his trews and his braies at the same time, kicking them away, impatient with himself for almost giving way to his lust. His erection sprang out before him like some monstrous club, demanding satisfaction.
“Ye’ll have nay satisfaction there, lad, she’s strictly off limits tae ye,” he told it, quickly crossing to the washstand and doused his head in cold water, trying, and failing, to put all thoughts of Catriona out of his mind.