Page 25 of Claimed By a Savage Scot
“Because ’tis just a wee scratch,” she said, mimicking voice in return, making him laugh. “Well, ye’d best let me look at it.” She reached out and beckoned him to give her his hand.
With a sigh, he gave it to her, secretly enjoying the softness of her touch as she examined the gash.
After a few moments, she surrendered his hand and gave an approving nod. “Nae bad. It looks clean and well on the way tae healin’ up. Ye have remarkable powers of recovery, Laird Gordon.”
“I have several other remarkable powers as well, but I dinnae tell everybody about them in case they get jealous,” he joked, disconcerted to feel his hand tingling where she had touched it.
She threw her head back and laughed, a soft, throaty sound that added to the warm glow inside him. He realized with a shock that he was enjoying himself. It felt good to banter with her once more.
“Even so, ye owe me a trip tae the infirmary,” she insisted.
Changing the subject, he asked, “And what of yer ankle. Is it still painin’ ye?”
“Only when I try tae walk on it. Mairead has strapped it up beautifully.”
“Did she dae as neat a job as I did?” he asked, wishing he could inspect the injured foot himself, and mayhap brush his fingers over the silky white skin of her calf again.
Nay. Dinnae go there, man,he silently berated himself once more, clamping down hard on the wayward thought. Guilt welled up inside him for even thinking of her with such blatant carnality, for it felt as though he was betraying Duncan’s faith in him to protect her just as much as if he had ravished her.
It hastae stop!
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Catriona’s eyes gleamed mirthfully.
“Well, all I’ll say on that score is that Mairead admired yer attempt at first aid in the field. But if it was a competition, she’d win hands down. By the way, yer neckcloth is bein’ laundered.”
“Grand,” Malcolm replied with a grin, having forgotten all about it. “Anyway, I must say, I’m surprised tae see ye down here. Did ye get someone tae help ye down the stairs?”
In reply, she reached down the side of her chair and showed him the walking stick. “Nay, I came down by mesel’, very, very carefully,” she said, tucking the stick away again.
He was aghast. “Good grief, lass, ye should have called a servant. Ye could have fallen.”
“Yet here I am in one piece.”
“Aye, by some miracle” he replied, shaking his head, half in wonder, half in disapproval. “I dinnae like ye takin’ risks, but I suppose I should have learned by now that fer a slip of a lass, ye’re tougher than ye look.”
“Thinkin’ back over the last couple of days, maybe I am at that.” She lifted her cup to her lips and sipped, the corners of her eyes crinkling at him over the rim. Firelight danced within them.
Christ, she’s so bonny… why daes she havetae be so bonny?
She lowered her cup. “The truth is that I slept for a while, but then I woke up and felt restless. I thought a cup of hot mead and a quiet sit by the fire would relax me,” she explained.
“Is it workin’?” he asked, thinking he might have an ale and join her.
“A bit.” She looked doubtful, and he realized she was as preoccupied with Torcall Sinclair as he was, only for slightly different reasons.
“I couldnae get back tae sleep either,” he confessed, feeling a kinship with her.
“Ye’re on patrol, I take it,” she said.
How well she knew him! “Aye. Just checkin’ tae make sure we’re secure. Besides, I like the quiet of the night, when everyone’s abed. ’Tis the only time I can really think in peace.”
“Aye, ye ken Duncan always used tae say as much,” she said, her face softening as she spoke of her brother.
“Well, seein’ as ye’ve gone tae so much trouble tae get down here, d’ye mind if I join ye?” Malcolm asked, with no intention of leaving now. Her company was far too compelling.
She chuckled. “I dinnae think ye need tae ask me permission. I’m only a guest here. Ye’re the laird, remember?”
