Page 85 of Claimed By a Savage Scot
Catriona laughed once, sharp and disbelieving. “An asset?” The word cracked something open in her. “So that is what I am tae ye?”
Duncan frowned slightly. “Catriona, I didnae mean?—”
“Nay,” she said, stepping back from him as though repulsed. “Ye’ve said enough.”
Duncan held her gaze, visibly taken aback by her reaction. But not enough to make him yield.
“At first light, we’re leavin’ fer home,” he said, his tone gentle yet with steel in it. “Then we can think properly about what comes next.”
Catriona let out a bitter chuckle. “Ye mean ye’ll decide what comes next. What I want clearly has naethin’ tae dae with it,” she told him. “It daesnae matter where ye take me or how long ye think about it. I’ll never stop lovin’ Malcolm. And if ye care fer me happiness at all, then ye’ll bless the union. And after how he helped ye, how can ye think of leaving him after the danger we put him and his clan in? Because of me!”
Silence stretched between them. After a moment, Duncan simply turned and left.
As soon as the door closed behind him, she covered her face with her hands and let the hot tears she had been holding back flow.
Catriona was yanked from an exhausted sleep by a fierce metallic clamor that resonated through the castle’s stone corridors like a banshee’s scream.
Still dazed from slumber, she sat up in bed, blinking around the still dark chamber, unable to make sense of what was happening.
But as the clang, clang, clang continued relentlessly, it dawned on her befuddled brain what it was—the alarm bells were ringing, sounding an attack on the castle.
Attack! Sinclair!
She was out of bed before thought could follow, heart hammering in her chest, grabbing clothes, hurriedly pulling them on. While she struggled into her petticoat and gown with shaking fingers, doors banged out in the hallway as people emerged from their rooms. A flurry of voices erupted. Men shouted, barking instructions, women fretted aloud. The sound of running feet in heavy boots was accompanied by the swish of drawn steel.
“Malcolm…” she whispered, shoving her bare feet into shoes and heading for the door. It opened before she could reach it.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
“Tae yer posts, men!”
Malcolm’s voice cut through the alarm bells as he strode down the hallway in the opposite direction to the hurrying guards and servants who were responding to the call of the bells.
“Stay in yer rooms, lock the doors,” he instructed the milling castle-folk who had come out of their doors in their nightclothes to see what was happening.
He did not slow until he reached Catriona’s chamber, opening the door without knocking. He stopped dead to see her standing right in front of him fully dressed, arm outstretched, clearly about to open it herself.
“Malcolm!” she gasped, wild-eyed, moving back as he stepped inside and closed the door behind him. “Is it Sinclair?”
“Aye,” he nodded, hating to see the fear in her eyes.
“Oh, Lord preserve us!” She threw herself into his arms, her face pressed to his chest, holding him tightly around the waist.
He allowed himself to embrace her briefly, to feel her soft curves pressed against him, to breathe in her scent. Because he knew that if Sinclair had his way, it might be the last time he ever did. It was up to him to make sure that did not happen, and he would die protecting her if necessary.
He pushed her gently but firmly away, gripping her shoulders as he looked into her beautiful eyes, so filled with love mixed with worry—his chest aching to know it was all for him.
“Hurry and go tae the secret place I showed ye,” he said urgently, an order not a suggestion. “The hidden passage. Wait there fer me, or if necessary, by the loch, as I told ye.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off with a quick shake of his head. “Dinnae argue, Cat. I’ll nae be able tae fight if I dinnae ken ye’re safe.” That was the truth.
“All right, I’ll go. But Malcolm, ye must promise me ye’ll be careful. I couldnae bear it if anythin’ bad happened tae ye,” she said, her voice a breathy plea, green eyes shining as she gazed up at him.
“I will,” he told her, unable to help pressing a kiss to her lips—silently praying it would not be the last. “I’ll keep ye safewhatever it takes, lass. But now, I must go. The men need me. I’ll come and get ye when ’tis safe.”
He slipped out of the door before giving into the temptation to stay with her. For he was needed outside, to face whatever Sinclair had brought to his gates.
He hit the stairwell at a run, joining the steady stream of armed men exiting the keep to join those already stationed there to defend the castle, and burst out into the bailey.
