Page 18 of Claimed By a Savage Scot
Shocked by the suggestion of baring her skin to him, Catriona hesitated.
“Dinnae be bashful, Catriona,” he cajoled. “Ye’re a healer. What’s the first thing ye’d ask yer patient tae dae in this situation?”
She did not bother to reply because she knew what he said made sense. Instead, she reluctantly reached beneath her skirts and felt for the top of her stocking. Slowly, she rolled it down her thigh, then her knee, trying desperately to cling to a fragment of modesty.
But then Malcolm said, “I’ll dae it,” and took over, carefully easing the stocking over the injured joint until he was able to pull it off completely. He flung it carelessly over his shoulder without even looking at it.
Catriona felt naked. She trembled, not because of the cold. It was because Malcolm, with surprising delicacy, had placed his large, rough hands directly on her bare skin, skin which had never been seen, let alone touched by a man.
With one giant hand, he lifted her foot and rested it gently on his hard, muscled thigh, examining it closely.
“I’m just checkin’ tae make sure ’tis only yer ankle that’s hurt,” he said, raising his head to look at her while running his palms up her calf and over her foot, gently touching each part.
The effect on Catriona was electric. The pain from her ankle was overtaken by the extraordinary tingling sensations racing up and down her legs. She had never felt anything remotely like it and was powerless to stop it.
It was utterly mortifying, yet also comforting and wildly exciting.
Malcolm looked up, his dark-brown eyes meeting hers. The frank concern she saw in them brought her back to herself a little.He’s really worried about me, she thought, feeling an odd melting sensation in her chest.
“I’m goin’ tae move yer ankle about a bit. Tell me when it hurts,” he instructed.
Glad to think of something practical Catriona nodded. “Aye, I’m familiar with the method,” she said, hearing the traitorous tremor in her voice. It was awkward when he kept his eyes on hers as he carefully manipulated the ankle, testing every angle by degrees.
“Ouch, that hurts the worst!” she burst out when he moved it to the left, gritting her teeth against the hot stabbing pain that shot up her leg. He held still. “It isnae broken, thank God,” she said. “’Tis a bad sprain, that’s all.”
“Ye think so?” he replied, surprising her by suddenly pulling off his neckcloth. “This will dae as a temporary bandage,” he explained, shaking it out to its full length and starting to bind up her ankle firmly but with great care.
Heat burned through Catriona as he worked, each touch of Malcolm’s hands stoking the fire he seemed to have lit inside her. His head was bent, mere inches from her naked leg. The notion of what that could mean in other circumstances sent a delicious shiver up her spine that felt sinful. Her face felt as though it were glowing like a beacon. Somehow, she dared to look at him.
Dusty and disheveled as he was, he was beautiful. She glanced at his dark hair and wondered what it would feel like to stroke it and run her fingers through his wild curls. She tried to focus on appreciating Malcolm’s kindness and the pains he took not to hurt her.
“Thank ye, Malcolm,” she said with a genuine smile when he had finished. “And that is very neat.”
He rose to his full height, looming over her. “One of me many hidden talents,” he said, returning her smile. “It should hold ye until we reach me keep. Looks like we’ll both be payin’ the healer a visit when we get back, eh?” he said, holding up his bandaged hand.
“Aye, I suppose we have. But there’s nay need tae bother the healer with me ankle. I can look after it mesel’.”
He slipped her shoe back on her foot and, before she could stop him, rearranged her skirts. Then he rose fluidly to his feet, towering above her.
“Well, in that case, there’s nay need tae bother her with this wee nick on me hand either,” he replied, his brow cocked.
She frowned. “I ken what ye’re playin’ at, Malcolm, but ye really must go?—”
“I’ll only see the healer about me hand if ye let her examine yer ankle. And that’s the end of the matter,” he retorted in a tone that brooked no argument.
She had to smile. “All right. I ken when I’m beaten.”
She continued smiling while he put her in the saddle and fussed over her comfort for several minutes, quite needlessly in her opinion.
“I’ve never heard of anyone dyin’ of a sprained ankle,” she teased him.
“Ye cannae be too careful,” he replied solemnly, checking her injured foot was properly in the in the stirrup for the fourth time before letting her be. “I hope tae God we dinnae have any more trouble before we get tae me keep,” he added, swinging himself up onto the colt’s back
Catriona’s smile faded. “Aye, so dae I, so dae I,” she murmured with heartfelt conviction as they set off once more.
CHAPTER NINE
Castle Gordon was just as Catriona remembered it, a forbidding granite monolith perched on a rocky promontory. It dominated the wide valley below, surrounded by cultivated fields and pasture lands dotted with farmsteads and cows and sheep. People moved about the landscape like tiny dolls.
