Page 51

Duirnish, Scotland Three days later.

C at woke to sunshine dancing over her eyelids, a muscular arm resting in the curve of her waist, and a large, warm palm cradling her belly.

Before she even recalled where she was, her lips had curved in a smile. She gave a lazy stretch, her toes curling against the foot pressed between hers. It had only been three days, but already she couldn’t imagine waking up without Hamish’s arms around her.

Alas, there would be no lingering in bed this morning. After the long weeks of grueling travel, they would arrive at Castle Cairncross today.

She sat up and tossed the coverlet aside, but before her feet could touch the warm floor, gentle fingers closed around her wrist. “Just where do you think you’re going, Miss MacLeod?”

She glanced over her shoulder at Hamish, her heart fluttering at the sight of his sleepy blue eyes, tousled hair, muscular chest, and .

. . goodness, so much bare, golden skin.

His chest alone was enough to send her pulse into dizzying flutters, but the rest of him .

. . well, did a lady ever become accustomed to waking up beside such a man as Hamish Muir?

“Have you forgotten we’re leaving for Dunvegan this morning?” She dragged her fingertips across his jaw, smiling at the scrape of his rough beard against her skin. “I expected you’d want to leave early, as it’s a full day’s drive.”

“Early? God, no. I’m not in a hurry to abandon any bed you’re in, Catriona.” He slid the palm of his hand down her naked spine. “You have the most beautiful skin. So pale and delicate, like the petals of a blush pink rose.”

“But if we’re to arrive at Castle Cairncross before dark—”

“Have I told you how enamored I am of your smile, Miss MacLeod?” His own lips curved in a drowsy grin as he gazed at her. “I’ve never in my life seen a lovelier smile than yours.”

He had told her. Every morning since they’d left Tongue, in fact, but there wasn’t a lady alive who didn’t shiver with pleasure at such words falling from the lips of the man she loved. “Are you listening to me, Lord Ballantyne?”

“And your hair.” He caught one of the curls hanging loose down her back and held it up to the light streaming through the window, his lips parting as the morning sun set the red and gold strands alight. “It’s like a sunrise.”

“My, how poetic you are this morning, my lord.” Cat closed her eyes as his fingers brushed over the arch of her back. “But Cairncross Castle is waiting for us.”

“I do feel quite . . . inspired.” He dropped a soft kiss on the end of her nose. “As for Castle Cairncross, it’s not going anywhere. It’s been standing for centuries now. I think we can trust it to remain intact for a bit longer.”

He gave her wrist a little tug, tumbling her onto her back into the soft tangle of sheets and downy pillows, and her resistance dissolved like the thinnest, silkiest filament of a spider’s web. “I suppose the castle can wait another hour.”

A groan rumbled in his chest as her arms slid around his neck. “Two hours. These things can’t be rushed, you know.” He nuzzled his face into the curve of her shoulder, then pressed a lingering kiss behind her ear before sliding lower and nibbling at the corner of her lip.

She sank her fingers into the silky hair at the back of his neck, her lips parting for him, and he didn’t hesitate to accept her invitation, his palms cradling her cheeks as he took her mouth with a hoarse groan, kissing her again and again, until they were both panting, their kisses exploding with heat and desire.

“Do you feel me, Cat?” He eased a leg between her thighs, making a home for himself there. “Do you feel how much I want you?”

“Yes. Hamish, please.”

“Tell me you want me.” He rolled onto his back, taking her with him and settling her on top of him, his palms sliding up her back and easing her down until she hovered over him. “I want to hear you say it.”

“Yes.” Her head dropped back as he sucked one of her nipples into his hot mouth, his hands on her back holding her still as he slid his tongue over the taut peak, his tongue flicking and teasing. “I want you, Hamish.”

His eyes closed at her words, his long, thick lashes brushing his cheeks before he slid his hands down to her inner thighs, tracing patterns on her bare skin before brushing his knuckles against the damp curls there.

She curled her fingers into his chest, a whimper falling from her lips. The way he touched her . . . she could live a dozen lifetimes, and she would never have enough of his hands on her skin.

“Hold on to me, leannan .” He sat up, shifting beneath her so she was straddling his hips. He pressed a hot kiss to her throat, then slid a finger against the aching bud between her thighs, letting out a ragged groan. “So wet for me, Catriona. So eager.”

She gripped his shoulders and arched against his teasing fingers, his touch both too much and not enough at once. “More. I—I want you so much, Hamish.”

He gazed up at her with eyes as dark as midnight. “Do you know how often I’ve dreamed of you like this, bared to me, the light and shadows playing over your body? So many times, love, but I never could have imagined how beautiful you are.”

She reached for him, her hands cradling his face. “I love you, Hamish.”

“And I love you.” He let out a desperate groan as he slid gently inside her, his forehead meeting hers. “You’re mine, Catriona MacLeod. Forever.”

There was no need for any more words, after that. The bedchamber filled with their soft gasps and cries until they fell onto the bed together, sated, damp, and breathless.

Then they slept, with her curled in his arms, his lips against the back of her neck, and his face buried in her hair.

* * *

In the end, they got a rather late start that morning. By the time they arrived at Dunvegan, the sun had long since set, and the stars were twinkling like diamonds in the dark sky above Castle Cairncross.

As soon as Hamish brought the carriage to a stop at the top of the drive, Cat leapt out. “Listen, Hamish.” She reached for his hand as he came up beside her. “You can hear the murmur of Loch Dunvegan from here. How I’ve missed that sound!”

“It does grow on one, does it not?” He wrapped his hands around her waist and turned her to face him. “Are you pleased to be home, love?”

“Oh, yes! So pleased. But where are my sisters? I would have thought they’d hear the carriage.”

“They can’t be far.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I do hope Sorcha didn’t finish Callum off with that blade of hers. It might prove a bit difficult to explain to the rest of Clan Ross.”

“Oh, dear. I hadn’t thought of that.” When she and Hamish had left the castle weeks ago, Sorcha had not been reconciled to Callum and Keir’s presence. “I suppose we’d better find out.”

They went into the house but paused in the entryway. “Goodness, it’s dark in here, isn’t it?” She moved to the bottom of the staircase and called for her sisters. “Freya? Sorcha?”

There was no reply. The castle was eerily quiet.

“How strange. Do you suppose they’re on the roof?”

“It’s a clear night tonight, which is rare enough in December. Perhaps they’re taking advantage of it.” He took her hand in his. “Shall we see?”

He led her up the stairs, but the tiny seed of fear that had sprouted in Cat’s chest grew with every step. By the time they reached the turret, her heart was thudding uneasily.

Something was wrong. The castle was too quiet, too . . . empty.

The roof was deserted, as were her workroom and her father’s study. Even Athena and Artemis were gone, their box perches empty.

“I don’t like this, Hamish. If they were here, they’d have heard us by now.”

He turned in a slow circle in the middle of her workroom, his brow creased. “It is a bit odd, but they may simply have retired to their beds already.”

“Perhaps, yes.” But as they made their way back down the stairs, her fingers clutched tightly in his, she knew they wouldn’t be there.

The entire castle was dark. A musty smell hung in the air as if it had been weeks since a window or door had been opened, and there was a thick layer of dust on the railing.

It looked as if no one had been inside the castle for some time.

Sorcha and Freya’s beds were both neatly made, their coverlets smooth and the pillows carefully plumped, but they weren’t there.

They weren’t anywhere. “Hamish?”

She tried to hide the tremor in her voice, but he heard it. “Wait here, love, and I’ll check the guest wing for Callum and Keir.”

“Yes, all right.”

Cat waited, the darkness becoming thicker with every tick of the grandfather clock, until it was pressing down on her, stealing her breath, suffocating her.

What had happened? Where were her sisters?

When Hamish returned, he was alone. “There’s no one there.”

A dozen panicked questions flew through Cat’s mind. Had another lugger come? Had there been some sort of conflict between Sorcha and Callum? Had the villagers finally lost patience with the MacLeod witches and chased them out of Dunvegan?

The tears she’d been holding back welled in her eyes.

“Shhh, leannan .” Hamish caught her against his chest. “We’ll find them, I promise you. I won’t rest until we do.”

She nodded, curling her fingers in his coat, but she didn’t dare speak or the tears burning in the back of her throat would burst loose.

If they could be found at all, she and Hamish would find them.

But where to start?

Freya, Sorcha, Callum, and Keir had disappeared without a trace.