Page 34 of Love with a Scottish Outlaw
To make matters worse, she might welcome his attention. He’d hoped that telling her ugly details about his past might make her keep her distance, but it had only encouraged her. He kept reminding himself that she was the daughter of his enemy. She could regain her memory any day. He knew it would change everything.
But what if she didn’t? What happened if she stayed this way forever? She wouldn’t remember her family, her friends—she would only have him and his clan. Keeping her from the earl could only last so long, he reminded himself sternly. He hadn’t meant to keep her away from them forever. Yet he’d found no clue that anyone was looking for her, which was so suspicious he couldn’t keep ignoring it.
And yet . . . here he was, focused on her rather than on the whisky shipment. Ivor gave him a frown and Duncan put Catriona from his mind.
It had been a day and a half of fear. Catherine’s constant worry for Duncan and his clan preyed on her thoughts, hour after hour. She hoped to distract herself by helping with the laundry in cauldrons outside the cave, or learning Gaelic from Maeve, but such measures proved useless. Mid-morning the second day, Catherine felt a need to escape, to be alone with her fears and confusion, as if she’d climb out of her skin trying to keep calm and expressionless. She left the cave, and to her surprise no one stopped her. Angus did follow along behind, at a distance that fooled no one. What did it matter, as long as she could breathe fresh air, feel the wind in her face?
She couldn’t just hide in the cave and pray for her memories to return, so she took the only path she knew, along the cliff wall to the horse paddock. There was a three-sided stable where the horses could escape the weather. Inside she found grooming equipment, a currycomb and brush. These felt right and good in her hands, and when one of the friendly geldings nudged her, she began to curry him. She crooned softly, not paying attention to her words, just basking in the sun and the breeze and letting her worried thoughts drift away.
“Do ye hear yourself?”
Duncan. Catherine whirled about, the currycomb clutched tightly to her chest, as if to stop herself from flinging her arms around him in relief. He looked well, whole, leaning his forearms on the top rail of the paddock, watching her with those dark, arresting eyes.
“Hear myself?” she repeated. “I don’t think I was saying anything important.”
“Ye spoke with a faint Scottish accent.”
Her eyebrows went up. “I did? I didn’t do it deliberately.”
He shrugged. “I heard it.”
“I’m not disagreeing.” Eyeing him, she continued to pet the horse, who put his head over her shoulder as if he wanted her attention. She glanced at the gelding, so close, and smiled.
“Ye’re good with animals.”
It almost sounded begrudging.
“Good with animals, and possibly Scottish. Those are two clues I didn’t have before.”
“You were riding a horse when ye fell down the ravine, and ye’re in Scotland. These two new ‘clues’ aren’t all that unexpected.”
She rolled her eyes. “Ye don’t understand how important it is to know something about myself.” She let the silence grow a bit, eyeing him. “Did ye bring home any kidnapped children?”
He shook his head.
Her chest tightened uncomfortably. “You were too late?”
“Nay, there were no children to be found. ’Tis rather soon, considering we just rescued Finn’s group a week ago. ‘Twill take them a while to come up with new men. We made certain that the ones holding Finn and the other boys won’t be capable of riding a horse, let alone stealing children, for a long time. Eventually the sheriff will run out of men and be forced to show himself. Just not last night.”
After nodding her approval, Catherine leaned her head along the horse’s neck, and the great animal allowed it.
“So I’m good with horses,” she began. “Might I go riding?”
She thought he might have stiffened, just a bit.
“Nay.”
“There’s a village nearby. I saw the smoke from it. What’s its name?”
“Nothing ye’ve heard of.”
“How do you know?”
“Because if ye lived so close, or had visited, I’d already know about ye and I’d ken where ye’re from.” His gaze slid away from her.
“So I’m still not to know where I am.”
He frowned. “’Tis better this way.”
