Catherine paused halfway down the corridor and forced a steady breath. She could still feel the heat of that exchange burning through her, every glance, every word heavy with something she refused to name. The way he’d looked at her calmly, almost amused, yet with that spark beneath it, had set her heart beating faster than she cared to admit.
By the time she reached Alyson’s chamber door, the quiet of the upper floor was both a relief and a curse.
Inside, the candlelight was soft and low, her sisters already in their nightclothes, gathered around the small table near the hearth. Alyson was brushing Sofia’s hair while the younger girl tried to braid the end of her sleeve instead, her laughter filling the room in light, bright bursts. It was a peaceful sight, the kindshe should have found comforting. But something in her chest was too restless to settle.
“There ye are,” Alyson said, glancing up with a small smile. “We thought ye might’ve gone straight tae bed.”
Catherine smiled faintly and closed the door behind her. “I was headin’ that way.”
Sofia twisted in her chair, eyes narrowing playfully. “Ye look tired, Cat. Or—” She paused, grinning, “maybe just distracted.”
Catherine blinked, trying for nonchalance. “Distracted?”
Sofia tilted her head. “Aye. Like ye’ve spent the whole night thinkin’ about somethin’ ye cannae quite let go o’.”
Alyson snorted softly, tugging at a tangle in Sofia’s hair. “Leave her be. The poor lass has had enough on her mind lately. There’s been fire, raids, and near death. Nae wonder she looks worn.”
Catherine exhaled, grateful for the rescue, though the last word made her chest tighten all the same.Near death.She could still smell the smoke if she thought about it too long, could still feel the rough grain of the beam that had nearly trapped her, the burn in her throat from calling his name.
And his arms catching her. The steadiness of them. The way he’d said her name after, low and rough, like a man who hadn’t known how close he’d come to losing something.
She cleared her throat quickly, forcing herself back to the present. “I’m fine,” she said. “Truly. Just tired.”
Sofia peered up at her again, brow furrowing. “Ye havenae slept much since the fire, have ye?”
Catherine shook her head, perhaps a bit too sharply. “I’ll sleep when I’ve fewer thoughts runnin’ through me head.”
Alyson set the brush down and turned to face her fully. “Ye can talk about them, ye ken. That helps.”
“I’ve done enough talkin’,” Catherine said, softer this time. She sank onto the stool near the foot of the bed.
Sofia leaned forward on her elbows, studying her with the keen, unfiltered curiosity that only younger sisters seemed capable of. “Ye’re thinkin’ about him, are ye nae?”
The words hit like a dropped stone.
Catherine’s head snapped up. “What?”
Sofia’s eyes widened, though she didn’t look nearly as guilty as she should have. “Laird Cameron.”
“I am nae!”
Alyson sighed, smiling faintly. “Ye are.”
“I am nae,” Catherine insisted, though her voice wavered, and that was all the proof they needed.
Sofia grinned, leaning closer. “Then why are ye blushin’?”
“I’m nae blushin’!” she said, which of course only made her blush harder.
The two of them exchanged looks, the kind that sisters did when they knew they’d uncovered something. Catherine groaned softly and pressed her palms to her face. “Saints preserve me,” she muttered through her fingers. “The pair o’ ye are unbelievable.”
“But right,” Sofia said, trying not to laugh.
“Ye ken naething o’ what ye speak.”
Sofia only raised a brow. “So, thereissomethin’ tae ken.”
Alyson gave her sister’s arm a light nudge. “That’s enough, Sofia. Let her be.”
