“I see very well.” She drew a deep breath, causing her breasts to rise. “You and your men will soon depart.”
More distracted than he cared to be, Marmaduke captured her chin with his thumb and forefinger. “Lending you our strength does not mean we shall leave on the morrow. I rode across Scotland to champion you and am well aware of the viciousness of your foe, as are my men. Be assured we shall not depart until this stronghold can stand secure on its own. That I swear to you.”
“You have my gratitude.” She looked down though, and began nudging her toe against the edge of one of the furred skins on the floor. “The thanks of us all.”
“Such aid is given gladly, my lady,” Marmaduke said, bothered by her toe-nudging. It reminded him of the way her sister had scuffed her toe against the stone chapel floor at Eilean Creag the morning she’d sought him out with her absurd plea.
Toe scuffing was something Lady Linnet did when something truly plagued her.
Something important.
A habit that always went straight to his heart.
And so he released Caterine’s chin and clasped his hands behind his back. “What troubles you, fair lady?”
The toe-nudging ceased.
She looked up at him, sober-faced. “I am not worried for myself.” She paused, cleared her throat. “You came here aware of our plight, yet you see them resolved by giving me your name and then abandoning us to remain as unprotected as before?”
“That is not the way of it. Did you not hear me promise this holding shall have sufficient strength to stand against any threat before we go?” He held her gaze. “I do not break my word.”
She appeared to consider, the slight crease between her brows making her look anything but convinced. “James cannot lead and the remaining men in our garrison are too few. Many of our tenants have fled and those remaining are dispirited. They are weary from having to scratch out a living without our support.”
Turning away, she pulled the woolenarisaidback up around her shoulders. “We do not have stores enough to adequately feed those within our walls, much less the villagers who’ve depended on us in the past.”
“I am glad you told me this,” Marmaduke said, relieved. Such cares could be easily remedied. He’d faced greater challenges over the years, and mastered each one.
Mastered most, his demons amended.
Ignoring them, he gently turned her to face him.
“Those problems will be dealt with,” he assured her, letting his hands rest lightly on her shoulders. “Every last one of them. As I’ve vowed to give you the protection of my name, I give you my solemn oath on-”
“If you can accomplish such feats,” she cut in, a slight waver in her voice, “then my bearing your name seems of little consequence.”
She paused to reach down and stroke her little dog. The wee beastie had crept from his hiding place and now pressed himself against her legs. “Your name alone will not aid me,” she said, straightening. “Most especially after you’re gone.”
“You misunderstood,” Marmaduke said, aware of the dog’s unblinking stare. “What you presume was never my intent.”
“Nae?”
Marmaduke shook his head. “May the saints strike me down were it so.”
“But you admit you mean to leave. James mentioned as soon as Yuletide-” He silenced her by placed the tips of two fingers ever-so-lightly against her temptingly soft lips.
“My intent was and remains the exact opposite of what you believe,” he said, giving her his special smile.
One he’d practiced carefully in recent years.
The smile that brought out his dimples.
“James heard correctly,” he said, touching her cheek. “I do wish to be home by Yule, but with you at my side. And not simply as the woman bearing my name but as my own true bride.”
“Your true bride?”
“Of a certainty,” he said, and her heartbeat quickened. “In every sense of the word.”
* * *
