“Ye’ll destroy it anyway if ye try tae run from it.”
The words struck painfully at Catriona’s heart.
Sorcha’s voice gentled further as she continued, “I beg of ye, Catriona, take this chance at true happiness God’s sent ye. Dinnae abandon love out of fear before it’s even had the chance tae live.”
Catriona squeezed Sorcha’s hand, her heart clenching as the woman’s clearly heartfelt plea echoed in her mind.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Later that afternoon, before dusk fell, the rain finally eased. Craving time alone to think about Sorcha’s words, Catriona excused herself on the grounds that she needed some fresh air. Politeness made her ask Sorcha if she would like to accompany her, and was secretly grateful when she declined.
“Go on and get some fresh air. I’ll catch up on me readin’ until ’tis time tae dress fer supper. I’ll see ye there, and we can talk again,” Sorcha told her with a smile, picking up the discarded book and opening it at the marker.
Relieved at being so understood, Catriona thanked her sincerely then went to don her boots and cloak before finally making her way outside. She looked around the courtyard, hoping to catch sight of Malcolm. Disappointingly, she did not and wondered what he was doing at that moment. She reminded herself how busy he was with fortifying the castle, but it did nothing to ease the hollow ache she felt inside at his absence.
Ach, stop yer mopin’.
With a sigh of resolve, she straightened her spine and set off across the courtyard, planning to take her usual route to the gardens. Overhead, a pale lemon sun peeped out from behind scudding clouds. A chilly upstart of a breeze tossed leaves and straw about the cobblestones in her path and snatched at her cloak.
“Brrr,” she murmured, wrapping it more tightly around her shoulders, whilst breathing deeply of the air, which smelled washed clean. On she walked, her boots whispering against the wet ground as she gazed about her, enjoying the rare brightness after two days of storms.
She was partway to the archway which led into the gardens when the sound of childish laughter caught her attention. The cheerful sound made her pause, and she cast about her for its source. She soon spied a small cluster of boys who were gathered beside an old wooden post hammered into the ground, each taking turns to try to toss a carved wooden ring over it.
Amused by how badly most of them missed their target yet admiring their undiminished enthusiasm at the same time, she drew closer.
She stood watching them, smiling at one of the boys when he noticed her. At least, that was what she thought, until his eyes snagged on something behind her and widened into saucers.
“’Tis the laird!” the boy giggled warningly to his fellows. The game ended immediately as the children scattered in every direction like startled rabbits.
Malcolm appeared at Catriona’s side, hands resting on his belt. He smelled delicious, of fresh air, soap, and a hint of sandalwood. She breathed him in, chuckling at his puzzled frown as he looked after the scampering children.
“What in God’s name was that all about?”
“They are bashful around ye,” Catriona smiled.
He snorted softly.
Smiling, she bent and picked up one of the abandoned rings. “What’s this game called?” she asked curiously, holding it up.
“Ring toss,” Malcolm replied, hands on hips. “A fiercely competitive sport amongst ten-year-olds.”
“Och, then surely ye can manage it,” Catriona taunted playfully, and was rewarded by the twitching of his lips. Before he could make a comeback, she aimed and tossed the ring. It spun through the air… and struck the edge of the post before bouncing off into the mud.
“Ach, missed,” she muttered under her breath, disappointed with herself.
Malcolm’s brows rose slightly. “Ye almost got it. It takes practice.”
“Obviously,” she said, brushing dirt from her hands.
“Go on and try again.”
A spark of challenge warmed Catriona’s blood, as it had when they had raced. She picked up another ring and held it out toward him.
“Nay. ’Tis yer turn.”
Malcolm glanced toward the keep, hesitating to take the ring. “I’ve more serious duties tae see tae than standing about playin’ bairn’s games,” he protested gruffly, obviously worried about being seen.
“Afraid ye’ll lose?” she asked with quiet provocation, eyes wide with innocence. She bit back a smile when his eyes flashed immediately at her challenge, as she knew they would.
