Malcolm groaned again. “Ye dinnae understand, Braither. However hard I try, I just cannae control me feelin’s around her. She has this… effect on me and all sense goes out of me head.”
“Well, that’s understandable. I mean, she’s a rare beauty tae be sure, and she has a sweet disposition as well. Have ye tried talkin’ tae her about the way ye feel?”
“I dinnae dare,” Malcolm confessed.
“Why nae?” Ewan asked curiously.
“Because judgin’ by the way she kissed me back, she wants me as much as I want her,” Malcolm relied, sounding bleak.
“But is that nae a good thing?” asked his mystified brother, who conducted his many affairs with women in a much more carefree manner.
“Nay, ’tis the worst thing possible,” Malcolm said, rubbing his face despairingly. “Ach, fetch me a dram, will ye, Braither? I need somethin’ tae help me think straight.”
Without question, Ewan rose and obliged.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Early the following morning, Catriona was on her way back from picking herbs for Mairead when she encountered Malcolm. He was talking to a group of mounted guards who were preparing to ride out of the castle on patrol.
As soon as she spied him, a wave of intense heat washed over her body, rising inevitably to her face. She slowed her walk, simultaneously hopeful and scared to face him. But when it seemed like he might be about to avoid her again, she resigned herself to it and carried on her way.
She had reached the steps of the keep when she felt him rather than saw him behind her. Immediately, she began to tremble.
“Hello, Catriona. Did ye sleep well?” came the familiar rich, deep voice, sending tingles up her spine.
Bravely, she turned to face him, tilting up her chin and squarely meeting his eyes, which had no business being so dark and melting in her opinion.
“Nay, I didnae,” she replied truthfully.
She did not elaborate by telling him that she had hardly slept at all because all she could think about was him and the taste and feel of him. Nor that she had felt his hands moving over her naked flesh for hours after the kiss, and had finally resorted to touching her forbidden places in search of some relief from the ache he had left her with.
To say nothing of the shame and guilt that wracked her even now for her part in it. For she had hardly fought him off, had she?
Besides that, how dare he look so braw, when she knew she must look pale and drawn, save for her blushes.
One smile, one kind, intimate word in acknowledgement of the passion they had shared would have settled all her worries.
But it was not to be. He ignored her honest response to his question, which made her briefly wonder why he had asked it at all. Instead, he said, “Ye ken, Duncan always insists that the courtyard here is too windy for comfort.” He gestured toward the keep doors. “Mayhap ye should go inside before the cold worsens.”
Pah! As if she cared for the cold when she doubted, she would ever feel it again. For all she had to do was to think of what had happened between them the night before to feel like she was on fire.
He ran up the steps and opened the doors for her, following her inside. He took her arm and pulled her gently to one side, standing so close, his warm breath brushed her face, making her quiver. Hope leaped in her breast that now that they were away from prying eyes, he was about to say something that would wipe all the hurt away.
“Catriona,” he began, keeping his voice low, “what happened last night shouldnae have happened. And it cannae ever happen again. Ye ken as well as I dae that it was a mistake.”
A mistake?
Hope curled up and died. Catriona stared up at him, while a knife slowly twisted in her heart.
“A mistake. Aye,” she murmured. If that was what he truly believed, then she was not going to argue otherwise. She had too much pride to let him see how wounded she was.
“Good. I’m glad that’s settled,” he went on, a hint of relief evident in the slight relaxation of tension around his eyes and mouth. No, she would not think of his mouth.
“I must go. I’ll see ye at supper.”
Then, he was gone out of the door.
Weighed down by anger and sadness and shame, Catriona slowly made her way up to the infirmary to deliver the herbs to Mairead, who looked at her with concern when she told her she felt unwell and was going to rest.
