Page 35 of Claimed By a Savage Scot
Her eyes grew round as she watched the display. He chuckled inwardly as he watched the effort it took for her to drag her gaze away from his chest to meet his amused stare.
Her eyes narrowed then as she caught on to his game. “Aye, I’ve seen it before all right, and I thought back then that I never wanted tae see it again,” she countered, an edge of sarcasm to her tone. “I’m only sorry fer ye that ye have such poor manners.”
A guffaw burst out of him, and he rocked with laughter for a few moments while she watched him with pursed lips.
“What? Ye havenae noticed that before?” he managed to get out when he caught his breath, delighted to see the corners of her lips turning upwards.
“Aye, I have at that,” she shot back, “but I have na choice but tae put up with yer rude ways while I’m stuck here. I’m a captive audience tae yer foolery, God help me.”
“Och, Catriona, I’m feelin’ quite nostalgic. This is like old times, eh?” he asked. “The arguin’ and the bickerin’. Such fond memories.”
Unable to hold back her smile now, she tossed her hair girlishly and retorted, “I’m nae playin’ yer games, ye trickster. I ken all too well what ye’re like.”
If the atmosphere had sizzled before, now it was crackling like the fire in the hearth. Malcolm felt his excitement rising, most pressingly in the front of his trews. He tried to sober himself.
“So, anyway, was me cloak the only reason ye are here?”
“Pardon?” She pulled her eyes from his chest and looked up at him with her big green eyes. “Och, sorry, I, er, aye. I only came tae… return it tae ye.” Stepping forward, she held it out to him.
When Malcolm reached out to take it from her, their hands brushed together. An electric jolt shot through him, shattering his resolve. She was so close, the scent of hyacinth filling his nose, close enough that if he just put out his arm, he could gently catch her neck in his hand and pull her to him, then ravage those tempting lips with his kiss.
He took another step towards her. She did not move, her gaze locked with his.
“D’ye like the view, Catriona?” he found himself whispering, voice silky, seductive. Her presence was pushing him to the very edges of his resistance.
Her eyes dropped briefly to his naked chest once more, and he saw a tremor shake her. The flush staining her cheeks flared again. His arousal grew more urgent.
She dragged her eyes back to his, briefly hesitated, then shook her head. “I’ve seen better from yer window,” she replied pertly.“Thank ye fer the loan of the cloak. Good night.” Turning, she hobbled past him, giving him a wide berth, and made for the door.
Every fiber of Malcolm’s being wanted to go after her, catch her arm, whirl her about, and crush her in his arms. But he gritted his teeth, pictured Duncan, and made no move.
“Goodnight, Catriona,” he murmured softly before she closed the door, leaving him in actual physical discomfort from sexual frustration as well as bereft of her company.
He took a few deep, steadying breaths, staring at the door, listening to her light, uneven steps as she went back to her own chamber.
“Thank God one of us has the sense tae leave,” he muttered, finally divesting himself of his trews and his braies at the same time, kicking them away, impatient with himself for almost giving way to his lust. His erection sprang out before him like some monstrous club, demanding satisfaction.
“Ye’ll have nay satisfaction there, lad, she’s strictly off limits tae ye,” he told it, quickly crossing to the washstand and doused his head in cold water, trying, and failing, to put all thoughts of Catriona out of his mind.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The following day dawned damp and misty, with no sign of an impending attack by Sinclair, much to Catriona’s relief. In the morning, before luncheon, she helped Mairead in the infirmary. Now that her ankle was improving and she could move about much more easily, she was able to do much more to assist the healer. The work gave her a great deal of satisfaction… and helped to keep her mind off Malcolm.
Because, as she frankly admitted to herself, her thoughts regarding him grew ever more confused and, therefore, troubling. Especially when she could not seem to get the enticing image of his brawny chest out of her mind when she had been trying to sleep the previous night.
However, Mairead would only allow her to work for a few hours before ordering her to go and rest. So, that afternoon, she found herself at a loose end. Fortunately, after luncheon, the sun had hauled itself up into the sky. Pale and wan though it was, being October, it nonetheless drew Catriona out into the fresh air, herfirst outing without her stick. Experience told her that a little light exercise would further strengthen her ankle.
She pottered slowly around the garden, admiring the late flowering shrubs, especially the profusion of climbing roses in the walled section. After an hour or so, she decided to go across to the stables and see the horses. She had been wondering if the gray mare Malcolm had hired for her back in Craigmoor was still there or had been returned to the saddlery. She had reason to be fond of the horse who had so swiftly carried her to safety in the last stage of her escape.
When she stepped inside the stables, breathing in the comforting scent of hay, she was pleasantly surprised to see Malcolm there, speaking quietly with one of the guards. Her heart skipped at the sight of him. Stopping nearby to pet a shaggy brown pony, she caught the words “Sinclair riders” before the guard nodded, turned, and left.
Malcolm’s eye caught hers, and he came straight over to join her.
“Catriona, how many times must I tell ye, ye shouldnae be wanderin’ about alone like this? ’Tis nae safe,” he said, sounding only a little frustrated. He leaned next to her on the wall of the stall while she continued rubbing the pony’s nose. Immediately, she felt Malcolm’s warmth seeping into her, even through the thick burgundy cloak.
“How many times must I tell ye, Malcolm, I’m nae afraid?” she replied softly. The effects of his proximity were already manifesting, not only in heat coming off him that seemed toburn her skin, but also in the tingling down her side where he was closest to her.
Needing a little space in order to breathe, she kissed the pony’s nose and went over to another horse, a glossy, dark-coated mare.
