Page 3 of Claimed By a Savage Scot
“Catriona, is that ye?”
The deep baritone whisper echoed off the walls and stopped her in her tracks, head tilted like a bird’s, listening. Up ahead, a large figure, unmistakably masculine, stepped out into the open from the shadows. Her hand flew to her mouth to stifle a gasp.
“Catriona,” the harsh whisper came again. “Are ye there?”
“Aye, Duncan, ’tis me!” With her heart feeling as though it might explode with joy, she picked up her skirts and ran towards him.
Tears came as she threw her arms around his waist and hugged him with all her might, resting her head against the broad, hard expanse of chest, longing to feel her brother’s arms about her. Reassuring scents of wet leaves, horse, and leather filled her nostrils as she pressed her face into him, expecting him to return the embrace with equal enthusiasm.
Instead, a pair of large palms gripped her upper arms and moved her firmly backwards a few steps before releasing her.
“Braither?” she queried tremulously, peering up at the man in front of her in confusion. Something was off. In the dim light, she slowly made out his features. They were familiar all right, but they were not Duncan’s.
Her heart sank. “Malcolm? Malcolm Gordon. Is that ye?” she asked, unable to keep the naked disappointment from her voice.
“Christ, woman, keep yer voice down, will ye? Ye’ll have Sinclair’s men down on top of us in nae time,” he hissed. “Aye, ’tis me.”
“B-but what are ye daein’ here? Where’s Duncan? I thought?—”
“Duncan couldnae get here in time himsel’, he’s too far away,” Malcolm replied tersely, his voice low. “So he asked me tae come and get ye in his place. There were rumors of Sinclair’s men sniffing around the area, so as soon as yer braither heard them he asked me tae come. Looks like I got here just in time! Now, hurry and give me yer hand. His men are all over the place. Weneed tae move fast before they find ye.” He held out a large hand towards her.
She eyed it with suspicion, unsure whether to trust him or not. The Malcolm Gordon she recalled from younger days was rather reckless and unreliable.
His brow creased with annoyance, as if reading her thoughts, but he did not withdraw his hand.
“I’m actin’ on Duncan’s orders,” he ground out. “Ye have a clear choice, come with me or go with Sinclair. Take yer pick.”
Catriona wavered for a moment before relenting. “I suppose I have nay choice but tae trust ye,” she murmured, reluctantly placing her hand in his. It was immediately lost within his long, strong fingers warmly closing firmly around it.
A loud crash suddenly sounded somewhere behind them, echoing through the tunnels. Catriona almost jumped out of her skin.
“Och, what was that?!” she exclaimed, heart pounding.
Malcolm’s hand squeezed hers, an attempt at reassurance she supposed.
“Shhh,” he whispered softly, still as a rock next to her. In the dim light, their eyes met, and he pressed a finger to his lips, listening intently for a few moments.
There was another bang, and a loud male voice yelled, “Search below in the tunnels!”
Malcolm suddenly pressed his lips to her ear, which sent a strange shiver running up her spine. “They’re gettin’ too close. We need tae move fast,” he whispered harshly. The warmth vanished. Before Catriona could react, he snatched his dirk from his belt with his free hand and tightened his hold on hers with the other. “Come on, this way.”
Catriona followed with the effort of running to keep up with his long strides as he pulled her along the tunnel for several more yards. She noticed it was growing progressively lighter as they moved forward and guessed they were nearing the exit. Fearfully, she wondered who or what would be waiting for her there. Freedom? Or Sinclair’s soldiers and lifetime of horror as Torcall Sinclair’s captive wife?
The growing clamor behind them indicated that Sinclair’s men were hot on their heels, but they had not so far encountered anyone. Malcolm suddenly swerved to the right, yanking her after him down another tunnel. Catriona looked down its length as she ran, relieved to see it was deserted as well. Luck seemed to be on their side so far.
Or perhaps the nuns’ prayers fer me are workin’.
They had not gone far down the new tunnel when men’s voices and the clang of steel echoed from the darkness ahead. Malcolm halted instantly, causing Catriona to run into his back. Theleather-clad expanse was as hard and unforgiving as a barn door, leaving her winded.
“This way is clear, but that could change at any moment,” he murmured, dragging her along as if she were a rag doll, her feet barely touching the floor. “Ye must dae exactly what I tell ye if I’m tae get ye out of here in one piece as yer braither wishes, all right?” he added.
Not waiting for a response, he continued moving them with rapid stealth along the tunnel, clearly alert to the men behind them searching for her.
It grew lighter still, and Catriona could see a little more clearly. She could tell from the cold, smoke-tainted air blowing over them that they were fast approaching the exit. But loud voices and the trampling of booted feet close behind pressed on her.
Malcolm whispered, “They havenae seen us yet. With a bit more luck, we’ll get away clean.”
“God’s willing,” Catriona murmured, not reassured at all. Her doubts about his reliability as a protector had not gone away.
