Page 79 of Claimed By a Savage Scot
He gave her a heart stopping, lopsided smile of his own. “Aye, lass, and the same tae ye,” he said, pulling the door shut between them.
Inside her chamber, Cat leaned against the door for a moment, fighting the urge to run after him. Tenderness suffused her body, warming her through. It was some solace for the loss of him.
Tomorrow then,it’ll all be settled at last, and Malcolm can stop worryin’.
The thought was so exciting, it was a wonder that she actually fell asleep soon after getting into bed.
The next afternoon, without any conscious thought on her part, Catriona’s feet carried her along their habitual path, out of the keep and into the bailey courtyard, then towards the castle gardens.
Having completed her stint in the infirmary that morning, she was now free for the afternoon. This proved to be more of a curse than a blessing, because the work had kept her hands and mind busy. With both now unoccupied, the uncertainty of her situation soon became almost overwhelming.
So, she had wrapped up warmly and ventured out into the damp, cold autumn air, hoping that a walk would help to calm the unease burgeoning inside her chest. Between Sinclair drawing nearer and the military preparations going on all around her, Duncan’s growing suspicions, and Malcolm’s mounting tension over speaking to her brother, her nerves felt stretched taut as bowstrings.
Consumed as she was by her worries, when she turned a corner near the stairwell of the western tower, she collided hard with someone solid and almost lost her balance.
A strong pair of hands caught her waist instantly.
“Bloody hell! Cat?”
“Malcolm?”
She looked up into dark brown eyes already fixed on her with startled intensity. He looked just as distracted as she felt, his chin shadowed by stubble, dark curls disordered as though he had been raking frustrated fingers through them.
“I’m sorry, I wasnae lookin’ where I was goin’,” she breathed, her hands resting on his forearms as he steadied her.
“Nay, ’twas me fault. I was lost in me thoughts,” he admitted, making no move to release her. Nor did she try to move away, but only tilted her neck to look up into his eyes.
The warmth of his hands burned through the fabric at her waist, and suddenly she was achingly aware of the size and strength of him standing so close. His familiar masculine scent of fresh air, musk, and sandalwood surrounded her instantly, awakening that dangerous heat low in her body.
They continued to stare at each other, unmoving, until they started at the sound of men’s voices nearby.
“’Tis Duncan and Ewan,” she whispered, a spiral of panic rising inside her as the familiar voices drew closer, for Malcolm’s sake more than her own.
He reacted instantly. In what felt like a reenactment of their journey through the priory tunnels, his hand tightened around hers as he pulled her backwards into the stairway, then into a narrow, recessed alcove hidden from sight.
The breath left her lungs as he pressed her body against the stone wall, pinning her gently but firmly in place with his own hard, warm length. The now familiar heat of desire spiraled through her so quickly she trembled.
Malcolm braced one arm beside her head, his head cocked, listening intently to the approaching footsteps and increasingly loud voices. Their eyes locked on each other, saying more than any words could. They held their breath as the voices grew louder.
Duncan’s familiar voice drifted nearer. “—tellin’ ye, Ewan, there’s a weakness there, space enough fer a man tae get underneath the gratin’. It only takes one tae get inside...”
“Aye, I ken. I’ll get the masons on tae it as soon as we get back. They can fill it in and redirect the drainage elsewhere within the lower levels for now.”
The footsteps slowed. Catriona’s pulse thundered in her ears. She dared not breathe, and she could feel Malcolm holding his breath too. For one terrifying moment she thought Duncan might turn the corner and find them tangled together in the shadows like guilty lovers.
Instead the footsteps continued past. Only once the voices had faded entirely did they both dare to exhale. His forehead dropped briefly against the cold stone above her shoulder.
“Jaysus, we havetae stop daein’ this,” he muttered under his breath.
But Catriona could scarcely think clearly enough to respond. She was too burningly conscious of their bodies still pressed close together, his as hard as the wall itself, hers soft and yielding. Therealization that one of his thighs was resting between hers sent another pulse of heat through her entire body.
Slowly Malcolm lifted his head from the wall. The hungry look in his eyes when he met hers nearly undid her altogether, for it was a hunger restrained only narrowly, by his sheer force of will.
“Come with me,” he whispered roughly.
Without waiting for an answer, he took her hand and guided her swiftly out of the alcove, up a flight of steps, then through an iron-studded door, shutting it firmly behind them.
“This is the oldest part of the keep,” he explained softly, his voice echoing faintly off the stone as he lead her through a confusing maze of ever-narrowing corridors. Arrow slits set high in the rough-hewn walls let in the only light from outside. “’Tis mostly used fer storage these days, so few venture down here.”
