To Dream of a Highlander(36)
“Forgive me for waking ye,” she murmured, quickly lowering her gaze.
“Dinnae apologise, lass. I’m glad ye did. Ye shouldnae keep these things to yerself. It doesnae do the mind any good, keeping yer fears locked away.”
Katelyn raised her head. “Do ye share yers?”
He tensed his jaw and laughed inwardly. Of course he did not. A highlander was not meant to be afraid. Instead of admitting as much, he grinned. “I have no fears, Katie.” The disappointment in her expression made him feel a fool so he spoke quickly to erase the look. “Will ye be all right now?”
Her shoulders straightened as she sucked in a deep breath. “Aye, thank ye, Finn.”
Finn studied her for a moment and shook his head. “Yer a daft lass. I think I shall keep ye company this night.”
Her eyes widened once more. “What?”
“I can watch over ye while ye sleep if ye like,” he explained. Though he had to admit, he could think of better ways to spend the night.
A grateful smile spread across her face, lighting her expression. If only he could make her smile more often.
“Aye, I would like that, thank ye.”
Disturbed by her gratitude and the way it made his heart bound, he nodded brusquely. “Get yerself to bed then.” He closed the door slowly, focusing on the wood while she picked up the blankets and rearranged them. Once he was sure she was settled, he strode over to the chair in the corner and sat. It took all his restraint not to jump up and offer to watch over her from a much closer distance. “I willnae be here on the morrow, lass,” he whispered. “’Twould not do for me to be seen leaving yer chambers.”
“Aye,” she whispered back. “Good night, Finn.”
Ach, like a knife to his heart. He loved hearing his name on her lips. “Good night, Katelyn.”
***
A tickle roused Catriona. Something danced over her arm and she swept it away with a grumble. Slowly she peeled open her eyes to see one of the maids, Mae. Catriona sat with a jolt. Sweet Mary, she’d slept through the night. No dreams, no shortness of breath. Normally she woke covered in sweat and struggling to breathe. She considered her body and all seemed fine. Apparently Finn’s presence meant she hadn’t hurt herself either. Bruises and scratches were becoming a regular thing. She wasn’t sure what she did at night but sometimes she awoke on the floor.
“Come on, milady, ‘tis late,” Mae urged her out of the bed with an arm wrapped around her shoulder. The brown-haired woman paused and eyed her. “Ye look well rested, milady.”
Katelyn heard the surprise in Mae’s voice and peeked at the chair where Finn had spent the night. She understood Mae’s wonder. The maid witnessed her dishevelled state each morning.
“I am well rested, Mae,” she replied softly, glancing at the seat once more. There was no sign Finn had been there but she sensed him in the air. For the first time since coming to Kilcree, she had slept. The large warrior soothed away her fears.
Catriona took the chance to study herself and dipped a swatch of linen into the steaming bowl of water Mae had put out for her. Nay, no bruises or scratches. She truly had slumbered well. Warmth rushed into her cheeks when Mae helped her change into an emerald green gown and she recalled the sensation of much stronger fingers spanning her waist. She traced the golden embroidery on the front. Who knew why she returned the kiss or why he even kissed her, but being pressed up against that unforgiving chest, secure in his hold calmed her more than any tonic could. It seemed Finn was the answer to her problems.
Or mayhap not. Finn complicated an already difficult situation. It could be only days until Laird Gillean arrived and claimed her hand. With his plan to marry her—or Katelyn—at Kilcree so she needed no escort to his lands, her disguise could come unravelled before she heard from her father. Or else, she would have to continue the ruse and marry the man. Where would that leave her? Trapped in a marriage to a man who had threatened her father with war. At least until word of Katelyn’s death reached him. Then who knew what might happen?
She scowled and raised her arms, allowing Mae to secure a girdle around her hips. Her lips tingled. She’d have to see if they were as swollen as they felt. His kisses were like magic, working where nothing else had.
Catriona rubbed her heated cheeks and sat obediently on the bed to allow Mae to do her hair.
“Yer quiet, milady,” Mae commented.
“Aye, forgive me, Mae. I have a lot to think on.”
Mae squeezed her arm. “I know, milady. All will be well, I am sure. Yer betrothed will be arriving soon.”
Catriona stifled a response about the laird. Her failure to play the coy bride might draw attention though she imagined Katelyn’s behaviour would have been no better. Either she would have revelled in her upcoming wedding to a powerful man or played the spoiled lady and demanded a great celebration. Neither came naturally to Catriona. If she ever married—assuming she escaped her current predicament—she wanted love and a small ceremony. Power did little for her. She’d seen how it corrupted. Once, Katelyn had not been unlike her but as beauty increased and time passed, Katelyn became more like their father. Always wanting more, her every move was carefully considered. With the passing of their mother, Catriona found herself truly alone. Only the servants and villagers could be called her friends.