Chapter 8
He lost momentum when he reached the stairs.Damn leg. Blasted clumsy crutch.He gripped the crude staff in one hand and studied the situation. 'Twas but one thing to do. He propped his free hand against the whitewashed wall of the stairwell. With a hopping lurch, he conquered the stone steps with his good limb while his wounded appendage dragged along beside it. A chamber door slammed above him. He hoped like hell it was on the second level of the keep and not somewhere higher.
Pausing a moment to catch his breath, he picked up on the sound of scurrying footfalls growing louder, getting closer.Thank the saints. She’s coming back.He hitched his way snug against the wall and waited. Disappointment flooded his senses when Mrs. Aberfeldy careened into view.
The aging housekeeper caught her hand to her throat as she rounded the turn in the stair. “Master MacCoinnich! Ye gave me quite the fright.” She scowled at him and pointed at his bad leg. “Ye’ve no business on these steep stairs! What with the way they wind and the narrowness of their rise, they’ll do ye in for certain. What do ye seek? I’ll fetch it for ye.”
“Catriona.”
'Twas best to be blunt under such dire circumstances. Alexander steadied himself on one step while propping his crutch on the tread above it. “Show me where she went or bring her here. I dinna care which ye choose but I will see her. Now.”
Mrs. Aberfeldy studied him for a long moment. Her lips twitched, then clamped down into a stern line as her thin gray brows knotted into a fierce furrow in her brow. "'Twould be best if ye left her be, ye ken?" She sidled her way to the middle of the step on which she was standing, widened her stance, and folded her arms across her ample bosom. "Now hie thee back down to the hall and I’ll fetch ye a bottle of the Neal’s finest whiskey."
Alexander snorted out a laugh. The old woman might be stubborn but she didna realize she’d met her match. Motherhad always claimed him to be the most strong-willed of the litter. “Have the kindness and good sense to move, Mrs. Aberfeldy, or I’ll be moving ye m’self.”
“Pshaw!” Mrs. Aberfeldy made an up and down sweeping motion with one finger. “Ye’re in no condition to make such threats. Now, off wi' ye. I’ll no' have the likes of ye bothering Catriona. She’s enough burdens to bear.”
The best weapon is surprise.He took in a deep breath, held it, then grabbed hold of Mrs. Aberfeldy’s rounded shoulders and planted a hard kiss across her mouth. With a huffing grunt of determination, he set her to one side and shoved past her. 'Twas unfortunate he lost his crutch in the battle. It clattered all the way to the base of the stairwell, bouncing off each step with nerve-rattling accuracy. Alexander didn’t allow such a minor setback stop him, especially while the dumbstruck housekeeper was no longer a threat. He continued hopping up the stairs whilst bracing himself against the walls.
Mrs. Aberfeldy called after him as he reached the head of the stair. “All the way to end of the hall. The verra last door. But I promise, she’ll no' give ye entry.”
“We’ll see about that.” Alexander huffed as he hopped to the right side of the hallway and planted a hand against the rough, chiseled coolness of the stone wall. As long as he could use the surface as a crutch, he’d do just fine, in fact, he gained momentum as he adapted an odd swinging hop down the passage. When he at last reached the arched portal at the end of the corridor, he snorted in a deep breath, then rapped his knuckles on the heavy oaken barrier.
Silence met his knock.
“Catriona! I beg ye let me in.” He banged on the door, hitting it with enough force to rattle the iron hardware bolted across the boards. Another bang of his fist set the latches and hinges to clamoring louder. Still no answer.
“Verra well. Prepare yourself because ye leave me no choice.” He grabbed hold of the handle and yanked so hard that the door banged open against the opposite wall then bounced back and thumped him, almost knocking him off balance.
“Sons a bitches!”
Another winding staircase rose in front of him. This one a great deal more narrow and steeper since it wound inside the center of a tower comprising the corner of the keep.
“Stubbornness is one of me strongest traits, ye ken?” He glared down at the steps, daring them to challenge him. With a hand propped against each of the walls, he hopped until he reached the top of the staircase where it opened out into a small landing and another closed door. He paused a moment, sagged against the wall beside the portal, and swiped the back of his hand across his sweaty forehead.
Holy Mother of God, I’m fair winded.His stamina had lessened a great deal while his wounds healed. Not moving from the wall, he banged on the door with his fist. “Catriona! 'Tis Alexander. Let me in.”
Silence.
His ragged breathing echoed through the space. Alexander took hold of the door latch and pulled. Relief washed across him. “Praise the saints. No more stairs.”
He’d come to a small circular room at the top of the turret. A welcoming fire crackled in the brazier in the center of the whitewashed chamber lined with benches and pegs filled with cloaks and plaids. It was also empty. The urge to curse surged through him. “If that old…”
The outer door on the opposite wall of the chamber opened inward. He forgot to finish his irritated rant as a hooded and cloaked Catriona pushed inside, failing to notice him standing in the doorway as the hood of her cloak blocked her view. She hurried to a bench piled with several pairs of gloves and sorted through them until she found a pair that suited her. As she slid them on, she straightened and turned to go back the way she'd came, facing Alexander with the movement.
“Holy Mary Mother of God!” Eyes flared wide, she stumbled to the side a few steps, both hands pressed to her chest. “Be ye trying to give me a fright that sends me to me grave?”
Alexander didn’t reply, just hitched his way through the door and closed it with a firm thud behind him. He decided 'twould be more than prudent to block the doorway to the stair. With a determined thud, he settled himself back against the door. “No. I apologize for startling ye.” He folded his arms across his chest. “But we’re no' leaving this room until ye tell me what troubles have snuffed the light out of your eyes.”
With a frustrated huffing that sounded a great deal like the hiss of a kitten, Catriona yanked off her gloves and tossed them back down on the bench before she removed her cloak and placed it on a peg beside the door. “Ye’ll be leaving here soon as ye’re able to travel, aye?”
He’d planned such but now that he stood looking into sweet Catriona’s eyes, it pained him no small amount to admit to it. So he didn’t. He could skirt a question just as good as she. He motioned toward a bench. “Shall we sit a while?”
“Sit?” She glanced over at the bench as though it were about to attack her.
“Aye.” One hand supporting his balance by propping against the wall, Alexander hitched his way to the bench farthest from the door. Halfway to his destination, he paused. “I beg ye…dinna run. I canna manage those godforsaken steps again—no’ just yet.”
A quivering smile flickered across Catriona's face but a frown chased it away. “Where is your crutch?”
