Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“Yer coat’s ruined,” Catriona said, helping Malcolm off with his ripped, bloodstained coat and then dropping it on the floor of his chamber. “And yer shirt,” she added as he pulled the garment over his head and tossed it down alongside the coat.
She caught her breath, the sight of his powerful naked chest, with its dusting of dark hairs, taut, dark nipples, and symmetrical ridges of muscle, sent a spear of heat through her insides.
Though she had seen his naked chest before, her desire to touch it, stroke it, to run her fingers through the hairs, only seemed to grow stronger each time.
“I’ve plenty more,” he said with a shrug, resting his injured forearm on the table and looking at her from his chair. “Ye’re safe, Cat, that’s all that matters.”
Smiling at the sound of the diminutive on his tongue, the informality of which warmed her even more, she made herself focus on the important task ahead—tending to the wound.
She dipped a cloth in the bowl of hot water and wrung it out before bending over his arm to clean the blood away from the long, horizontal slash.
“Thank ye again fer comin’ tae me rescue,” she said, dabbing gently at the wound, taking care not to hurt him. “Ye saved me life.”
“That dog wouldnae have killed ye, Cat, but taken ye tae Sinclair,” he said, his eyes never leaving her.
She flicked him a meaningful glance. “Aye, that’s what I said, ye saved me life.”
His eyes darkened as he nodded his understanding—to her, death was preferable to life as Sinclair’s wife.
He laid his hand on her wrist, making her pause in her work and look up to meet his eyes. They burned with a fierce intensity as he said in a low, earnest voice, “As long as I live, he’ll never have ye, never. I swear it.”
His sincerity moved her almost to tears. “I ken,” she whispered softly, dipping her head to continue her task, swallowing the lump in her throat.
They fell silent for a while, though she knew he was watching her every move. Not that she minded. Not at all.
“There, that’s better. Now I’ll bind it up fer ye,” she said, dumping the bloody cloth in the water and dabbing around the wound with a dry one.
Taking up a clean pad of gauze, she pressed it to the wound and then began bandaging it neatly, using one of the several hundred she herself had rolled in the infirmary.
As she was finishing up, she asked, “Malcolm, can I ask ye somethin’?”
“Uh-oh,” he breathed with feigned dismay. “I seem tae recall ye sayin’ that exact same thing back by the bridge, and that was where all the trouble started.” He sighed. “Och, go on and ask me then, whatever it is.”
She tucked in the end of the bandage and straightened up to meet his eyes. They were barely afoot apart. “Why d’ye avoid the chapel?”
He stiffened, his dark brows rising, then knitting as they dropped. “Who told ye that?” he asked tightly, compressing his lips into a thin line.
“It daesnae matter,” she said, suddenly afraid of his anger, half expecting him to get up and leave. But he just stared at her. Sensing the importance of finding out the truth, for his sake as much as hers, she steeled herself to continue. “So, ye dinnae deny it then?”
After a few tense moments, he shook his head almost imperceptibly. “Nay, I dinnae deny it.”
“Will ye tell me why?”
Malcolm gazed at her searchingly. Then he said, “Ye dinnae remember then?”
She thought for a moment, groping for words to explain her reason for asking the strange question.
When she had them, she said, “I remember hearin’ people talkin’ about something very bad that happened tae yer family when we were young, a terrible tragedy of some kind, but I must have been too small tae really understand. ”
He let out a long exhale and rubbed a hand over his unruly curls. Then, he pulled another chair close to his and gently pushed her into it, so they were sitting knee to knee.
“I think ye must have been about four of five when it happened,” he began, “a wee bairn. Ewan was eight. And I was just twelve, the same age as Duncan.” He paused, his eyes so full of sorrow, Catriona’s heart squeezed as if feeling his pain.
He swallowed hard, then went on, “But there was another Gordon braither as well, the one ye dinnae remember.”
“Another braither?” Catriona exclaimed softly, frowning as she searched the corners of her mind for remembrance, finding only a shadow. “But how… I mean, what happened?”
“His name was Arran. And he’s dead.”
Catriona felt like she had been punched. “Dead?” she repeated, unable to comprehend his revelation.
The word hung in the air between them as they looked into each other’s eyes.
Alive to the wave of sadness coming off him, she laid a soothing hand on Malcolm’s wrist and squeezed it. “Malcolm, I’m so sorry. I didnae ken. Nay one ever told me. What-what happened?”
His head dropped for a moment, the rose again, and she saw tears shining in his eyes. She had never seen him so hurt and vulnerable and desperately wanted to comfort him.
“I’m sorry, I should never have asked ye,” she said, deeply contrite. “I understand if ye dinnae want tae talk about it.”
He laid his hand over hers and curled his large fingers around it. “’Tis hard fer me tae even think about it, let alone talk about it. But I want ye tae ken.”
“All right, if ye’re sure.” She squeezed his fingers in a gesture of reassurance.
“Arran came in the middle, between me and Ewan. He looked different tae us. Nae so tall as me, and skinny, but strong too. He inherited our maither’s looks, light brown hair, eyes of hazel blue that were always twinklin’ with mischief.” He smiled and let out a choked laugh.
“Faither always called him a tearaway, for he was always gettin’ intae scrapes. He was so sharp and funny, Cat, he used tae have me and Ewan in stiches, and he’d get us intae trouble as well. But he always had our backs. Ach, he was a fine braither.” He brushed the back of his hand across his eyes.
“There used tae be an old chapel on our land, a couple of miles from here on the outskirts a village. The three of us would ride out there sometimes and break in, steal the communion wine, dress up in the priests clothes, the sort of things young lads get up tae, tae entertain themselves.”
Catriona was on the edge of her seat, drinking in every word, feeling how much they were costing him. It was like he was digging them out from the depths of his soul.
“One day, Ewan was sick in bed, it was just me and Arran. We were bored and decided tae ride over tae the chapel fer somethin’ tae dae.
It was winter and already dark when we arrived.
The place looked spooky. I was scared and didnae wantae go inside, so Arran said I could be lookout, while he went in and swiped the latest consignment of wine.
Then we’d go tae the woods and drink it.
“So I waited with the horses a short distance away, hidin’ beneath some trees.
Arran ran around the back of the buildin’, where there was a window with a broken catch.
After a few minutes, I saw a faint light in the window and knew he’d lit a candle.
I was angry with him for it because I was scared someone would see and catch us. ”
He paused to take in a deep breath, and Catriona sensed they were coming to the hardest part of the story and it was getting more difficult for him to frame the words. She laid her other hand over his in comfort.
“I didnae smell the smoke at first, I only wondered what was takin’ him so long.
When I did smell it and saw the light in the windows growin’ brighter, turnin’ orange and red, flickerin’ through the glass, I still didnae take in what was happenin’.
I just stood there, expectin’ Arran tae come racin’ round the corner any minute.
“Only he never did. He must have got trapped somehow… he must have… he must have… been waitin fer me tae come and get him out.” He said through whisper. “But I just left him there, Cat. I left him there tae die, me own braither.”
His suffering tore at Catriona’s heart and she leaned over and hugged him tenderly.
Looking her in the eyes, he murmured, “It broke me, Cat. I’ve never gotten over what I did.
Och, the guilt of seein’ me parents torn up with grief, and Ewan so hurt and confused.
How can he look up tae me after that? All that pain was down tae me, and I’ve lived with it ever since.
It daesnae matter what I dae, I can never make up fer it. ”
Moved beyond anything she had ever experienced, Catriona shifted to cup his face in her hands, making him look at her.
“Malcolm, when I look at ye, I dinnae see a broken man. I see a fine, good, brave man with a big heart. One who cares fer others, who’s saved me life more than once.
What happened tae Arran, it was terrible, aye.
But it wasnae yer fault. It was an accident.
Ye were just a bairn, how were ye tae ken?
Ye must forgive yersel’, as I’m sure Arran has long ago. ”
He stared at her with something like disbelief at first, as though he had been expecting rejection or disgust and could not quite trust her reaction. When she stroked his cheek with the backs of her fingers, he caught her hands in his and drew her closer still.
“Ye’re a fine man, Malcolm Gordon, a fine laird loved by his people. And ’tis about time ye started tae realize it.”
“Cat?”
“Aye?”
“What I said, about our kissin’ bein’ a mistake… I didnae mean it. It was a lie. It wasnae a mistake at all, and I dinnae want tae forget it.”
A warm glow blossomed in Catriona’s heart, making her feel it was about to explode with joy.
“I’m sorry fer hurtin’ ye, Cat, truly I am. I only said it because I felt so bad fer wantin’ ye. It felt like I felt like I was betrayin’ Duncan after I’d sworn tae protect ye. I never thought I’d have tae protect ye from mesel’.”
Catriona shivered in anticipation as his arms went around her waist and he crushed her against his naked chest. This time, there was nothing rushed about their kiss. It began as a slow, soft exploration of each other’s lips.
The rest of the world melted away as she lost herself once more in the deliciously warm, sweet taste of his mouth on hers, of his tongue entwining with hers in a passionate dance, which she had feared she would never feel again.
“Catriona, yer lips are so soft, I’ll never stop wantin’ tae kiss them,” he whispered into her mouth, one hand wound into her hair, cradling her head, the other cupping her behind, his touch igniting that familiar fire deep within her.
“And I never want ye tae stop,” she murmured, pressing her hands to his warm skin and trailing her fingertips down the strong column of his throat, his broad, muscular shoulders, then over his nipples and the dark, springy hairs covering his chest she had been longing to touch.
It was not long before their kiss deepened in intensity as passion sparked in them both.
Catriona threw herself into it with luxurious abandon, meeting Malcolm’s desire with her own, reveling in the taste and touch and feel of him as they explored each other’s mouths with tongues and lips, nipping and teasing.
She saw the hunger in his eyes and it roused her desire for him to even greater heights, piling fuel on the fire he had lit within her.
“Malcolm,” she whispered against his lips, running her palms over his skin, wanting to feel every inch of him, and wanting him to do the same for her.
Her nipples hardened as if seeking his touch and chafed impatiently against her shift, wanting to be free.
Heat pooled between her thighs, and she felt a throbbing ache which she knew in her bones only he could satisfy.