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 naejusttold 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.”
