“I would love you, Caterine, if you will let me.” He skimmed the knuckles of his free hand down her cheek, his heart turning over when he discovered a tear track. “At the least,” he finished, his voice thick, “I would enjoy your companionship and value your skill and grace as Lady of Balkenzie.”
Chapter 27
“Lady of Balkenzie?”
Caterine’s breath snagged.
She wouldn’t even consider the possibility of crossing the whole breadth of Scotland, becoming chatelaine of her champion’s castle. Just the notion, or perhaps her bedchamber’s persistent chill, sent a rush of icy shivers through her.
Dunlaidir was her home.
Surely aware of that irreversible fact, Sir Marmaduke simply held her, annoyingly calm as the night wind rattled the shutters and the most-times quietly-burning peat fire kept sending loud-popping showers of sparks into the air.
How could a famed champion, a knight as bold and rugged as any Highland warrior, remain so still and unperturbed? And at a time when he’d tossed out propositions that would upend her life? Her world, and all she cared about.
Dear heavens, he was set to rip her away from her hearth and home.
And so…
Reason was her only option.
“Do you know what will happen to James if I leave?” she said, lifting her voice against the wind and rattling shutters. “I could not bear such guilt.”
“You needn’t.”
He didn’t say anything else.
She glanced up at him, and inexplicable longing swept her. A crushing urge to cast aside her concerns and lose herself in the comfort of his words. The whatever-it-was-about-him that drew her so, made her want to abandon her usual reserve and…
Dia.
Seemingly unaware of her turmoil, he was looking away from her, toward the window embrasure. The scarred side of his face was in shadow, soft fire glow illuminating the unmarred side, the flickering light calling cruel attention to the strikingly handsome man he’d once been.
Her heart twisted at what he’d lost, and so much more than mere good looks. She blinked back the sudden heat stinging her eyes and drew a deep, cleansing breath of the earthy-sweet peat smoke. Then she forced herself to dwell on other storms and shadows, the ones that darkened her own heart.
Storms she couldn’t let break, shadows she didn’t want shrouding the lives of those she loved.
Or might come to love.
“You didn’t answer me. Do you know what-” she began again, but he pressed two fingers against her lips, silencing her.
“James will outgrow your shadow,” he said, his word choice making her wonder if he could indeed see into her soul, the conviction in his voice almost but not quite convincing her.
“Your stepson has a hard and steep path to follow, a difficult one, true, but not insurmountable.”
“Sir Hugh-” she tried to speak past his fingers.
“—will be dealt with, I assure you.”
He slid his thumb across her cheek, smoothing away her tear tracks, and her heart fluttered at the tenderness of the gesture, his gentle touch quelling her objections more thoroughly than any silencing fingers.
“I know you mean that,” she said, her voice hitching. “I thank you.”
“My promise is more than words, sweeting. It shall be done.”
She nodded, and then brought her hand up to touch the scarred side of his face, her chest tight with the emotion banking inside her. But other thoughts whirled through her, too.
Wholly different ones, called forth by those she held most dear.
