Page 64 of Claimed By a Savage Scot
As the councilmen filtered from the chamber discussing patrol routes and supply counts amongst themselves, Ewan lingered behind.
“Ye’re worried, Braither,” he observed quietly.
Malcolm snorted. “We’ve Sinclair lurkin’ on our land. Of course, I’m worried.”
“Aye,” Ewan replied mildly. “But I reckon only half of that worry concerns Sinclair.”
Malcolm shot him a dark look, but he said nothing, unwilling at that moment to admit Ewan was right. Uncertainty held him in thrall over Sinclair’s next move... but more so over what Duncan was going to say when he asked for Catriona’s hand.
He knew he was not worthy of her… who would want his sister to marry a man who had left his brother to burn to death? His best friend had known him since boyhood.
“I’m nae in the mood. Go and see about me orders, will ye?” he told Ewan shortly.
“All fight, dinnae fash, I’m goin’.” Ewan merely grinned and clapped him on the shoulder before departing.
Left alone at last, Malcolm crossed slowly to stand before the rain-streaked window, jaw clenched, arms folded, looking out beyond the courtyard walls to the mist-covered valley and moorland that lay beneath the pewter sky.
His lands.
But somewhere out there, Torcall Sinclair was waiting. And for the first time in years, Malcolm realized there was something he feared losing more than his own life.
“Ye’ve crushed the same sprig three times now. I think ’tis dead.”
Catriona paused, the broken sprig of lavender poised between thumb and forefinger as she glanced up guiltily at Sorcha Forbes seated across from beneath one of the solar’s large windows.
Following Sorcha’s amused glance, she looked down at the bundle of dried lavender lying in her lap. She was supposed to be sorting the heads from the stalks and realized with embarrassment that she had long since stopped paying attention.
Her thoughts had been elsewhere entirely. With Malcolm.
“I’m sorry, Sorcha,” she apologized sheepishly, her cheeks growing hot as she forced her fingers to return to her task. “Me mind wandered fer a few moments.”
The solar was warm with afternoon light despite the storm outside. A fire crackled gently in the hearth, while rain pattered against the windows. The stone walls were lined with colorful tapestries and shelves full of books and table games. Baskets full of sewing and embroidery paraphernalia lay scattered about, lending the chamber a feminine softness rare within the stone walls of the castle.
Sorcha smiled faintly from the chair opposite her, one dark brow arched knowingly.
“Dinnae apologize,” she told Catriona, setting aside the book she had been reading. “But I can tell that somethin’s troublin’ ye.”
Catriona lowered her gaze to the lavender between her fingers, wishing not for the first time, that she were not so transparent.
“Ach, ‘tis naethin’,” she replied with a shrug, hoping Sorcha would ask no more. That was, but for the part of her that longed to give voice to her worries to a trusted confidant, perchance to gain valuable guidance.
Sorcha snorted softly, her bright hazel gaze resting warmly on Catriona. “Hmm, in me experience, that phrase usually means precisely the opposite.”
Despite herself, Catriona smiled, but she made no attempt to fill the silence the followed.
Then, Sorcha leaned slightly forward in her seat and said softly, “Ye miss Elaina, dinnae ye, Catriona?”
The unexpected question caught Catriona off guard. “Aye,” she admitted quietly. “Every day.”
Sorcha nodded slowly. “Kenneth has visited yer braither’s keep many times, and he says she’s very kind.”
“Aye, she is.” Warmth glowed in Catriona’s chest at the thought of her beloved sister-in-law, hoping their long separation would soon be at an end. “When she first came tae Grant lands as Duncan’s wife, she treated me more like a sister than merely Duncan’s responsibility.”
“And ye came tae trust her.”
Catriona swallowed and nodded. “Aye, she’s a good friend.”
Sorcha leaned further forward, her lovely face bright with hope. “I understand. I’d like tae be yer friend too, Catriona. Perhaps, if ye’ll let me, I can be tae ye what she was, at least in part.”
