Page 29 of Love with a Scottish Outlaw
“I cannot stay here forever,” Finn suddenly said, his voice low and angry. “Himself won’t let me.”
“Finn—”
“They’ll foist me off on strangers.”
“They want to find you a family,” she said earnestly, putting a hand on his shoulder.
He shrugged away her touch. When he ran back toward the cave entrance, she let him go, but turned to gaze after him—
And saw Laird Carlyle, his legs planted in a wide stance, arms folded across his chest, barring her way.
Duncan couldn’t miss the way Catriona flushed with guilt. She’d known his order to remain in the cave, and she’d broken it. He wasn’t going to be swayed by the pretty blush of her cheek, or the way the wind tugged loose a stray curl beside her ear. But hard as he tried to ignore how she made him feel, he looked at her in the sun and remembered the shadows of his room, and the way she’d come willingly into his arms and opened her mouth to him so eagerly, so innocently.
While he’d kissed her under false pretenses, knowing the truth of who she was, and denying her that comfort.
He didn’t like himself for it, but what her father had done—what he’d allowed—was bigger than both of them and this attraction that couldn’t mean anything.
And yet . . . he’d kissed her, unable to stop himself, unable to deny the dark hunger he felt for this woman.
Linking her hands behind her back as if trying to appear casual, Catriona said, “You have a beautiful glen, Laird Carlyle. I was relieved to discover that I remember the names of plants and trees. It’s so frustrating to remember such mundane things and not—”
“Ye know I said ’twas dangerous for ye to be outside.” He made himself sound cold and harsh.
She flinched, but met his gaze boldly. “I know. But would you have preferred that I let Finn go? I’m the only one who saw him run out.”
“If it happens again, alert the guard.”
“And frighten the boy even more than he already is?”
“He knows he need not be frightened here.”
“He knows you’ll give him over to a family whenever you choose. Of course he’s frightened. Who wouldn’t be?”
“And the two of ye commiserate, because ye think I’ll send ye off, too?”
Her shoulders sank, and she said softly, “No, I think I might have more say than Finn. But maybe I won’t.”
“Ye’re trying your best to wheedle your way into friendship with my men, to give yourself a say.”
She stiffened.
“Do ye think I don’t know ye’ve been attempting to befriend every guard with your pretense at bad chess?”
“I didn’t see you watching me,” she answered, with a trace of defiance.
“I’m always watching ye.” He held back a grimace, knowing he revealed too much.
She blinked at him, then a wash of color painted her cheeks. She was remembering the kiss, too.
“I’m sorry my chess skills are not up to your standards,” she said, speaking too quickly as if to distract them both.
“Och, we both know your chess skills haven’t even begun to be challenged.”
She shot him a taunting sideways look. “And you saw all that from wherever you hid to spy on me?”
“I was not spying on ye. Ye made no attempt to conceal what ye were doing.”
She cocked her head, but didn’t respond, just looked away from him and toward the glen, mostly hidden from them by trees. They could see glimpses of purple heather on distant hillsides, but the villages were obscured. He watched her study his land and people, the ones he’d broken the law for, the ones he’d been banished for protecting. Inevitably, she looked up—and gasped.
