Even the deep alcove of the window embrasure with its two facing seats proved cloaked in shadow.
Looking back at her, he cocked a brow.
The gesture spoke volumes.
“There isn’t a moon this night,” he said anyway. “Only a storm.”
“I am aware of both those facts.” Caterine pulled herarisaidmore securely around her shoulders. “Especially the storm.”
“I see that you are,” he said, not meaning a whit of the wind and rain blasting through the night. “I, too, have noted it,” he added.
And meant the storm inside her.
As had she.
He glanced at the bowl of unguent in her hand. Caterine followed his gaze, felt a bit dizzy. Had he truly cast a spell over her? Something strange was happening between them. And whatever it was, it made her pulse race and caused fluttery warmth to spread all through her.
She swallowed, already wishing she hadn’t agreed to smear the salve on his ribs.
The very thought unnerved her.
She stood looking at him, unable to move.
Bone-chilling damp filled her bedchamber, but she burned with the heat of a thousand flaming torches. Someone, most likely the ever faithful Eoghann, had stoked the hearth fire, but its quiet warmth couldn’t match the fire raging in her belly.
Not could its welcoming glow and smoky-sweet scent entice her to take a single step forward.
Across the room, the burning peat hissed and spit on the grate, seeming to warn her to keep her distance lest she surrender to the English knight’s allure.
A shockingly powerful draw already gripped her. It’d started the moment he’d stepped to the edge of the fire’s glow and began unbuckling his sword belt.
“I said I would tell you how your sister charmed me.” He removed his belt, placing it and his sword on a nearby table. “Would you believe I could not even smile before she began plying me with potent healing concoctions to relax my damaged facial muscles?”
Caterine blinked. Thinking of her sister made the corners of her own lips curve upward. “Linnet was always good with herbs and healing.”
“She healed hearts, too. Especially my liege’s.” He paused to strip off his tunic. “Saints, we thought he no longer even possessed one, but she proved us wrong. She swept into our lives, spilling light and laughter in her wake, seeing only the best in us all.
“That is how she charmed us,” he finished, tossing his tunic onto a chair.
Charmed as well, Caterine’s feet took a few steps toward him.
Holding his hands to the fire, he flexed his fingers. “Your sister slayed many dragons at Eilean Creag.”
“I am not surprised.” Caterine understood. “She has a good heart.”
“I would slay your dragons, my lady,” her champion vowed. “If you will let me.”
“If I…” She paused, freezing where she stood. Too captivated by his chivalry and the hard-muscled expanse of his chest to think, much less continue across the rush-strewn floor.
She did lift her chin. “You have done enough, good sir. I am grateful of your help in ridding us of Sir Hugh’s tyranny.”
“I did not mean de la Hogue.” His words confirmed what she suspected. “I would battle the dragons gnawing at you from within. Let me banish them.”
“Some beasts are greater than any champion’s sword.”
His gaze warmed. “A sword is not a man’s only weapon, my lady.”
To Caterine’s surprise, she suddenly found herself standing frightfully close to him.
