“I hate tae break up the party,” Malcolm suddenly interjected, “but there’s work tae be done, and Catriona needs tae rest.” He explained briefly to Ewan about their tiring journey and her injured ankle.
Ewan’s brow creased with sympathy. “Ach, poor Cat. Well, if ye need someone tae lean on while ye’re here, ye ken where tae find me,” he told her.
As if on cue, a maid appeared at that moment with the walking stick Malcolm had ordered for her.
“Try it out,” he said. She did, with some success.
“There, she daesnae need tae lean on ye now, Braither,” Malcolm observed dryly. “Which leaves ye free tae dae yer job and go and summon the councilors. I want an emergency meetin’ in me study in fifteen minutes.”
“Christ, anyone would think ye’re tryin’ tae get rid of me. I wonder why,” Ewan retorted, flicking an admiring glance her way.
The unexpected suggestion it might be because of her made Catriona’s smile falter and her face grow warm, even though she knew he was joking.
“Why are ye still here, Braither?” Malcolm replied, feigning surprise. “Ye have me orders.”
Ewan chuckled and slapped Malcolm’s back. “I’m goin’, man,” he said without rancor before turning back to Catriona. The charming smile reappeared. “It seems ye must excuse me, Cat, I’ve work tae dae. But I hope we’ll have the chance tae catch up later. Rest well.”
With his brother gone, Malcolm focused his attention on getting Catriona comfortably settled, which she appreciated enormously.
“It seems like ye prepared for me arrival,” she observed, strangely touched by the notion.
“’Tis me duty as yer host tae make sure ye’re well,” he told her. “Besides, Duncan will kill me if I dinnae look after ye properly,” he added, a smile playing on his lips.
She chuckled softly. “Speakin’ of Duncan, will ye let him ken I’m safe right away and tell him tae come and get me? Ye ken as well as I dae that every minute I stay here puts yer people at risk.”
His brows knitted above dreamy dark-chocolate eyes. “That is the first thing I shall attend tae when we arrive. But until he comes, ye’ll be safe here, I promise ye.”
His sincerity made her heart clench. “That’s reassurin’. Thank ye, Malcolm.”
“I’ll likely nae see ye until the morrow, so I’ll bid ye a good night’s rest now,” he told her, making to leave.
“I hope the meetin’ goes well. Good night, Malcolm. And thank ye again fer everythin’,” she replied, watching him as he strode away, confused as to why she should feel disappointed by his departure.
The chamber was the same one she had occupied as a girl, as was the bed. Had Malcolm remembered, she wondered, or was it mere coincidence? The latter was strangely appealing.
As soon as she walked in, she felt welcomed. A fire was burning merrily in the grate, and the glow of many candles brightly illuminated the well-appointed space.
Glad to be able to relax at last, Catriona slipped off her outdoor things. Her shoes, she decided, were only fit to burn. She laid Malcolm’s cloak and her own carefully on a chair, ready for Isla, the chambermaid, to take away for cleaning.
Then she sat and drank hot, fragrant tea while she waited for the servants to set out the tub and fill it with hot water. Isla reported that the laird had suggested she borrow some of Lady Maggie’s clothes. Malcolm’s aunt rarely visited these days, the maid assured Catriona, yet she had left an entire wardrobe beautiful clothes going unworn.
Once more moved by Malcolm’s thoughtfulness, Catriona sent Isla to fetch a selection.
The bath was ready and the other servants gone by the time the maid returned, her arms piled high with clothing.
“Here we are, me lady. I’m sure ye’ll find something here tae yer taste,” Isla said, dumping it all on the bed and then proceeding to lay out an array of different colored kirtles and shawls, along with nightdresses, petticoats, lacy shifts, stays, stockings, shoes and slippers.
“I also brought ye some things for yer toilette,” Isla added, putting aside a silver-backed hairbrush and matching comb, a small pot of face cream, and a tiny vial of perfume.
“Och, I havenae worn perfume for years,” Catriona exclaimed, snatching up the vial, genuinely excited at the thought of wearing scent again. It seemed so decadent and sinful!
Catriona began looking through the gowns on the bed, and soon her eye was caught by a woolen kirtle of deep, forest green. She picked it up and held it against herself to judge the fit. It felt so strange to have the chance to wear such vivid colors again, for she had worn nothing but black for five years!
Isla noticed her holding the kirtle. “I chose that one because I thought the color would look lovely with yer hair, me lady,” she said.
Touched by her thoughtfulness, Catriona smiled at her. “That’s very sweet and ye have fine taste. ’Tis exactly the gown I would have chosen fer mesel’.”
“Would ye like me tae stay and help ye with yer bath and dressin’ afterwards, me lady?” Isla asked a while later, after shehad neatly stowed away most of the clothes and Catriona was toasting herself by the hearth.
