A heart she could not give to an Englishman – much as she might be persuaded.
I am a man of boundless patience.
She tensed in surprise. The words, his words, had sounded so clearly as if he’d murmured them in her ear. Yet he still stood across the room, calmly speaking with her stepson.
Not sharing private revelations meant for none but her to hear.
Rest easy, my lady. I revere and respect women. Never would I force you to do aught against your will.
The words came again. Less substantial than an angel’s sigh, but oh-so-sweet, they slid past her ear to caress a part of her no man had ever before touched.
Imagined words.
“I promise you, it is only your own heart’s desire I would see done.”
Not imagined.
Simply low-voiced and smooth.
Seductive.
And irrevocably English.
Despite herself, Caterine basked in the warmth of his assurances. Real or not, they ignited yearnings she’d held back too long. She looked up, expecting to see his all-knowing gaze fixed on her, but he merely turned away from James’ washtub with a half-shrug.
As pleases you, my lady,she thought she heard him say, but already he’d returned to his friend’s side. He stood with his broad back to her, whatever emotions might plague him, hidden from view.
Eoghann walked away as well, mumbling to himself about chores needing his attention.
And so Caterine was left alone – or so it seemed, not that she wished to complain.
She welcomed the peace to recover from the Sassunach’s silvered words. Imagined or otherwise, they’d touched her deeply. And that meant one thing…
She’d need to shield her heart.
How frightening that she doubted she could.
Chapter 10
“Yon water grows cold and our guests await their ease,” Rhona’s voice seemed to come from a great distance.
“Aye, I know.” Caterine nodded, her attention on the tall knight standing near the bathing tubs. He was unbuckling his sword belt and the simple act struck her as so blatantly intimate.
A strange prickling began deep in the lowest part of her belly. A warm pulsing that grew and spread the longer she watched his hands work at the low-slung belt’s buckle.
He caught her staring and tilted his head, calmly watching her watch him. “You did not expect us to bathe in our soiled clothes?” he asked, and the heavy leather belt came free.
“Nae, of course not.”
“Then all is as it should be.” His lips quirked, a half smile.
“Aye.” Caterine clasped her hands before her, nodded once.
His smile deepened. “Good, then.”
But when he reached the hem of his dark-stained tunic, her nerves shattered. She swung around, almost colliding with the fly-catcher, a honey-dipped rope hanging from the ceiling.
Embarrassed by her clumsiness, she swatted the dangling nuisance out of her way and stared pointedly into the cook fire. Its flames crackled loudly, wholly unaware of the mad whirling of her senses. Tongues of red and gold licking innocently at the fat logs piled on the blackened hearthstone.
