I’d like tae try, she thought.I owe him me life.
“So, tell me,” she said gently, breaking the silence at last, “d’ye ever rest? Or has guardin’ the castle has become yer entire life now?”
There was a long pause before he answered. “Responsibility has a way of takin’ over everythin’ else in yer life.” He spoke so softly, she almost did not hear him over the wind.
Catriona thought about it. “When we were younger, ye never seemed burdened by anythin’.”
“When we were younger,” he repeated with a note of scorn. “What a long time ago that seems now. Things change with time. People change. I’ve changed. I had tae after becomin’ laird.”
Catriona felt the ache within him in her own chest. “Aye, true. But I think there’s more tae it than that fer ye.”
His dark eyes turned upon her. “Is that so?”
She only wanted to help.
Meeting his gaze head on, ready to risk his anger, she said quietly, “Aye. I believe ye carry somethin’ inside ye, somethin’ more than ye allow others tae see.”
For a long moment, Malcolm said nothing as they continued to regard each other. Then, he turned his head back to the view, clasping his hands as they rested on the stone.
Then he said, “Ye ken, Catriona, I’m awful glad ye’re safe here with me.”
With relief, Catriona felt the tension between them slacken. “Aye, Malcolm, so am I.”
Malcolm, who was not of a nervous disposition, found himself feeling nervous the following evening when he knocked on the door of Catriona’s chamber.
After their talk on the battlements the previous evening and Catriona’s extraordinarily moving attempt to connect with him on some deep level, without judgement, he had thrown cautionto the wind and decided it was time for her to be formally presented to his clan.
When the chamber door opened, he was confronted by a vision of loveliness that left him left him temporarily speechless.
He knew he was staring but could not take his eyes off Catriona. She looked dazzling in an amethyst colored gown that flowed over her slender figure like shimmering water, clinging to every curve and hollow as she moved.
Her hair shone as it rippled down her back, held in place by a gold circlet. Its rich auburn hue seemed more vivid than ever against the pale purple of the gown, as if a fire glowed within each strand.
He cleared his throat to recover his voice. “I think I vaguely recall Aunt Maggie wearin’ that dress once or twice,” he said, still eyeing her. “But it didnae look anythin’ like it daes on ye.”
She gave him a wry glance but could not quite hide the smile that lifted the corners of her lips. “Ye have such a way with words, me laird. I’m flattered.”
“Ye’re welcome. I believe a man should always tell the lady he’s escortin’ tae dinner how lovely she looks.”
He was a red-blooded male with all the healthy appetites and, frankly, as he stood at the door watching her gather up herreticule and shawl, he could not help thinking that now he had seen her in the gown, he very much would like to see her out of it.
That’s out of the question.
But it was going to be so much harder than he could have ever anticipated, he realized.
As she tottered past him into the hall, leaning on her stick, a cloud of delicious perfume wafted over him. His mouth practically watered, for she smelled good enough to eat.
Nay, nay, dinnae go down that road. It only leads tae peril.
“The stick definitely completes the outfit,” he remarked, giving her his arm. She promptly hung her reticule on hers, then linked her free arm with his.
“I think so. It has a certain… elegance.” She looked him up and down assessingly. “Ye dinnae look so bad yersel’. Ye’ve combed yer hair, I see. And shaved.”
He rubbed his chin. “Every effort fer ye, me lady.”
While they made their way to the hall, she confessed to be very excited about the supper.
“Ye have nay idea how deliciously naughty it feels fer someone who’s lived with nuns fer five years and wore black all the timetae dress up in a lovely gown and sit down tae a fine supper with people who dinnae want tae pray every five minutes.”
