Seduced by Her Highland Warrior Page 5

‘You don’t have to wear those,’ he offered, pointing to her gloves.

  ‘I’m more comfortable with them on.’

  Alex didn’t argue. He supposed her hands were cold, now that winter was upon them. While he set up their tent, a thousand questions and demands poured through his mind. He struggled to keep his frustration within manageable boundaries. But the longer she held herself apart, the more he wondered how to begin.

  They were alone now, with no one to stare at them or whisper. But Laren didn’t even look at him. He supposed her injury was bothering her. His own arm ached, but he was more accustomed to working through discomfort.

  Against the fading sunlight, her hair gleamed like reddened flames. Laren was as beautiful to him now as she’d been on the day he’d married her. Her skin was milky smooth, her body slender.

  ‘Do you remember the last time we were here?’ he ventured at last.

  She leaned against one of the standing stones, her hand pressed to her side. ‘It was before Mairin was born, I think.’ A softness came over her, and she added, ‘We were so young then.’

  He came to stand closer to her, and the sun began to dip lower. Abruptly, Laren released a cough that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘You asked me if I found the stones inspiring.’ Her mouth tipped into a smile at the sight of the phallic monoliths.

  ‘And did you?’

  ‘Sometimes.’ Her face held the softness of the past, like the woman he’d first wed. She held her hand to her wounded side and rested against the standing stone. He reached out and moved a lock of her hair that had fallen against her cheek. When he kept his hand on her face, he saw the sudden confusion in her green eyes.

  ‘There was a time, before we married, when we came here just to be together. Now, you spend every possible moment far away from me.’

  She didn’t deny it and her silence made him break away.

  ‘I want to know why, Laren.’

  ‘I’m not avoiding you.’ It hadn’t started out that way, though she supposed it might seem so to him. She’d needed to bury herself in work, to shut out the rest of the world. And when she’d discovered her love of glasswork, she’d sought out every possible moment to work on it.

  ‘Aren’t you?’

  Laren shook her head. She closed her eyes, the sudden pain of her wound drawing her attention. Her hand felt wet against her side. When she leaned against the stone the earth swayed beneath her feet.

  Alex didn’t miss the sudden shift in her posture. When he touched her hand, she inhaled sharply at the gentle pressure against her side.

  ‘Show me your wound,’ he demanded.

  There was anger in his voice and she tried to placate him by offering, ‘Vanora gave me a poultice for it and it will heal.’

  Her husband stepped in front of her, his dark eyes shadowed with an unnamed emotion while his hand rested upon a sheathed dirk. ‘Remove the gown, Laren. Unless you want me to cut it off.’

  The sudden image of his blade slicing through the wool made her imagine the layers of clothing falling away until she was naked before him. The vision was strangely erotic. She knew Alex would never hurt her, but the man standing in front of her now was filled with anger and sexual frustration.

  He wanted her. She could see it in the tension from his shoulders, in the way his eyes were watching. Laren considered whether or not to simply show him the wound through the torn seam. Yet a sudden sense of rebellion rose up within her. It was his idea to take her away from everyone else, to spend the night alone with her. All day, he’d issued commands and orders, treating her like a child.

  But she wasn’t at all a child. She was a woman with thoughts and feelings of her own. A woman he’d pushed aside, only sparing her a glance from time to time. And a part of her wanted him to know what he’d been missing these past months.

  Instead of revealing the wound, she loosened the ties of the long gown. With her eyes locked upon his, she turned her back to him. ‘It hurts to lift my arms over my head. You’ll have to remove the gown for me.’

  He was silent and she didn’t dare turn around. She withdrew her arms inside the sleeves, and Alex came up behind her to help lift the gown away. As he did, his hands grazed the side of her breasts, sending an unexpected jolt through her. He’d done that on purpose. A shiver rocked through her. Once he’d removed the outer gown, she stood in her shift.

  The frigid air heightened her sensitivity and her nipples grew taut against the fabric. Alex didn’t turn her around, but he pulled back the poultice and examined her wound. ‘You have torn the stitches.’

  ‘I’ll fix the bandage. It will be all right.’

  ‘No. Let me.’ He loosened her shift and slowly lowered the garment to her waist, baring the wound. In the cold night air, she shivered, feeling exposed, but she didn’t bother to cover her naked breasts.

  Alex removed the wet bandage and the poultice, but as his hands passed over her body she felt the fierce heat and a slight tremble in his palms.

  He tore a length of cloth from his tunic and she eyed him ruefully. ‘I’ll have to mend that later.’

  ‘I don’t care.’ Gently, he adjusted the poultice against her wound and bound the new bandage around her waist. He kept the pressure tight, but not enough to hurt her. As his hands moved over her flesh, she couldn’t help but think of how long it had been since he’d last touched her.

  Or since he’d kissed her.

  His hands rested at the edges of the shift, when she realised he wasn’t going to touch her any more, Laren fumbled with her undergarment. Alex raised it to cover her breasts and then let her go. ‘You should be all right until the morn.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She hid her disappointment and, once more, felt his disapproval intruding upon the moment.

  She crossed her arms over her body; when he stared at her, she didn’t have to feign a shiver.

  ‘I’m not going to bother you,’ he said, an edge in his tone. ‘I’m not so undisciplined that I would take you when you’re hurt.’

  ‘I know it.’ Even so, her face warmed with embarrassment, as if he’d read her thoughts. Then she realised that not once had she seen his own wound from the battle. ‘How is your arm?’

  He pulled back the sleeve to bare a reddened gash. The edges were holding together, but when she examined his wound, she could feel the tension in his stance. ‘You shouldn’t have been lifting stones all day.’

  ‘And what were you doing all day?’ he parried back. She took a step back, for she hadn’t anticipated the question so soon.

  She closed her eyes, seeking the right words to tell him about the glass. At last, she offered, ‘I have work of my own that I do. I—I make…things.’ She waited for a heart-stopping moment, hoping he would ask what they were, that he would show interest in her.

  ‘I know you’re good at weaving and sewing tapestries, Laren, but I need you to stand at my side, as Lady of Glen Arrin. As the wife I need.’

  She didn’t correct his assumption, but in his voice she heard the criticism, the disappointment in her.

  When she remained silent, he continued talking. ‘I know you’re uncomfortable in front of so many people, but Nairna could help you. And once we’ve rebuilt the keep, the pair of you can work together to oversee it.’

  ‘That’s not what I want.’ The words blurted forth before she could stop them.

  ‘We can’t go back to the way it was,’ he said quietly. ‘I’m the chief now. I can’t turn my back on the MacKinloch clan.’

  ‘I wouldn’t ask that of you—’ her heart felt leaden, but she needed him to understand ‘—but you’re asking me to be someone I’m not.’

  ‘I’m asking you to try, for God’s sakes,’ he shot back. ‘Hiding yourself away in a cavern isn’t the sort of life you should have.’

  She didn’t bother to hide her tears, but he couldn’t see how he was breaking her apart. To him, being a leader was nothing more than making decisions and addressi
ng the crowds. It was as natural to him as breathing.

  To her, it was like being carved apart by knives.

  ‘We were happy before you were chief,’ she whispered. ‘We had enough.’

  ‘Even if I gave you a castle, it wouldn’t be enough, would it?’ He raked his hand through his hair. ‘Laren, I don’t know what you want. I can’t read your mind.’

  I want you to love me for the woman I am. Not the woman you want me to become. But she couldn’t say that. He’d never understand.

  When the long silence stretched between them, Alex opened the flap to their tent. ‘I’m going to meet with Robert the Bruce in the spring. He might be able to help our clan recover from our losses if we swear fealty to him.’

  ‘Our freedom in exchange for silver?’ she mused. ‘To fight his battles against the English?’

  ‘What choice do we have?’

  ‘There’s always a choice.’ She met his gaze and pleaded, ‘Don’t go to the Bruce yet. I’ll speak with Nairna and see if there are goods we can sell to earn a profit.’

  ‘There’s nothing we have, Laren. Everything was burned.’

  She didn’t argue with him, for he would only ask questions if she denied it. On the morrow, she would ask Nairna to help her visit the parish of Inveriston, to try to sell her glass.

  She envisioned a stone building facing east with the sun glimmering through one of her windows. The bejewelled colours would cast coloured light upon the floor, illuminating the people.

  The vision held her so tightly, she didn’t notice when Alex went inside the tent alone. And when she finally joined him, she forgot about the pain of her wound, she was so entranced by the vision of glass and light.

  It wasn’t until morning that she realised he’d slept on the other side of the tent, far away from her.

  May, 1300

  The interior of the cottage was cold and dark. It lay on the outskirts of Glen Arrin, far away from the others. The faint scent of dried herbs lingered and she saw her mother Rós’s abandoned drop spindle. Laren traced her fingers over the wooden walls, remembering how she’d huddled on the pallet with her younger sisters for warmth.

  Some nights, when her father had managed to catch a trout from the loch, they’d feasted together, sharing the succulent fish. She remembered the way he’d told stories, exaggerating the adventure he’d had when trying to secure their meal.

  Closing her eyes, she tried to will back the hurt. He’d never been good at farming or fighting, but he’d done his best at both. And he’d been a kind man.

  ‘Laren?’ came a male voice.

  She turned and saw Alex standing in the doorway. Her breath caught and she had to push back the urge to fly into his arms.

  ‘I thought I might find you here,’ he said. ‘Father Nolan told me your mother and sisters went to St Anne’s.’

  She nodded. Not by their choice, but by his mother’s hand. Grizel MacKinloch had suspected their courtship and she’d done everything possible to separate them.

  ‘I shouldn’t be here,’ she whispered. ‘It was wrong of me to come back.’

  ‘Why?’ His hands moved around her waist, pulling her into a light embrace. ‘I haven’t seen you in two moons, and you behave as though it’s been two years.’

  ‘You’re the tánaiste now.’ She knew what that meant, even if he was unwilling to acknowledge it. The future leader needed a woman of his own status, someone who could govern the clan.

  ‘I won’t be chief for many years yet,’ he said. ‘It’s a title and nothing else.’

  ‘You have to wed a woman of status. It’s expected of you.’

  ‘I’ll wed a woman of my choice and no one else.’ There was a hard edge to his voice and she wondered what had happened during the weeks she’d left Glen Arrin.

  Gently, she touched his face. He didn’t see her as low-born and something inside her blossomed, knowing that her poverty meant nothing at all to him. He’d never known what it was to go hungry when her father was too proud to ask for food. The other clan members hardly spoke to her at all, pretending as though her family didn’t exist. If she were to wed Alex, and he became chief, she could only imagine their outrage. Why should a beggar deserve such a position?

  Alex took the edges of his cloak and drew the wool around her, his body heat warming her. She could feel his body responding to her and wanted to lean in against him, letting him know how much she’d missed him.

  But this wasn’t only about her desires. It was about responsibility to her family. She’d seen Rós’s happiness among the other nuns. No doubt her mother would seek to be a part of the religious community. Her sisters were too young to be married, but Grizel had promised to provide dowries for them, if their family stayed away.

  ‘Come with me,’ he urged. ‘To our stone circle.’

  She wanted to tell him no, for even a single step would bring her closer to surrendering her innocence. And it would be that much harder to let him go.

  He kissed her and the warmth of his mouth pulled at her, reaching past her inhibitions and fears, until she could deny him no longer.

  She followed him into the woods, even knowing she would regret it on the morrow. But her heart belonged to him and, if she would no longer see him again, at least she could have this time.

  He shared his cloak with her, his hand holding hers as they walked. But when she saw the circle of torches and the priest waiting, she understood his intent and stopped walking.

  ‘Alex, we can’t.’ She kept her voice low, not wanting Father Nolan to hear. ‘You can’t wed me.’

  ‘I can. I swear to you, I’ll not let you leave until you’re my wife.’ His strong arms trapped her in place and he led her over to one of the standing stones. He held up a hand to the priest, silently bidding the man to wait. ‘What is it you’re afraid of?’

  She expelled a breath, staring at the wooded darkness. ‘You’re going to be the leader one day.’

  ‘Years from now, perhaps.’ He turned her chin to face him. ‘Before that, I intend to be a husband. Perhaps a father.’

  She didn’t smile. ‘If I wed you, my mother and sisters will suffer.’

  She explained that Grizel had ordered her family sent away, offering dowries for her sisters in return. Alex’s face darkened with fury. ‘Do you believe I’d allow my mother to harm your family?’

  He let his hands fall away, struggling to grasp at the edges of his temper. ‘I have possessions of my own, Laren. I can sell them and provide for your family.’

  She shook her head. ‘They would cut you off. Your uncle would never allow it.’

  His brown eyes met hers and she saw a change in them. ‘You said once, that I was the only man you wanted. Is that true?’

  ‘Not if it means you have to make sacrifices for me.’ Her voice trembled. ‘I would never want you to live the way I did, growing up. We were an embarrassment to the clan.’

  She lowered her forehead to his chest as though she could draw comfort from him. ‘I would never want to bring shame to you. You would grow to resent me, for I could never be the wife of a chief.’

  ‘Do you love me?’ he asked. She heard his heartbeat beneath her cheek, and the words seemed to pull apart all her reasons for leaving him.

  He forced her to look at him and when she did, she saw something beneath his stoic expression. Though he might be strong-willed, her refusal had wounded him.

  ‘I will always love you,’ she whispered. ‘Even if you wed another, as you should.’

  He took her hand in his, lacing their fingers together. ‘I know there’s a need within you not to live the way your parents did.’

  She said nothing, for it was true. The fierce desire to lift herself out of the poverty, to help her family, burned inside her with a determination she wouldn’t deny.

  ‘Let me give you the life you should have had. All I want in return is you. I swear, I’ll protect your family and live with whatever the consequences may be.’

  Before she could v
oice an answer, his mouth covered hers. He kissed her like she was the air he needed to breathe, everything he had ever wanted. She tasted his need, his desire, and as she lost herself in his arms she sensed how deeply it would cut him down if she left him. Even if it was the right thing to do.

  Torn between her selfish desire to be with him and the damning consequences, she released her own feelings in the kiss. She clung to him, desperately trying to make him understand how much he meant to her.

  The sound of someone clearing his throat only vaguely broke through the spell. Alex pulled back and she saw Father Nolan’s reddened expression as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. ‘Shall we proceed?’ the priest prompted.

  ‘I’ll give it up,’ Alex said, ‘if being the tánaiste means losing you.’

  She saw that he meant it. And though she quailed at the thought of ever being a chief’s wife, she couldn’t let him walk away from this. It might be a dozen years before Alex would ever have to be the leader. Her doubts began to weaken when she shook her head. ‘I won’t let you give it up.’

  ‘Will you take me as your husband?’ he asked again. ‘Will you let me protect you and make a home for us?’

  She took his hand in hers, and said quietly, ‘I will be your wife.’ And I swear that I’ll never bring shame upon you, she vowed silently. I will find a way to make myself worthy of being yours.

  The priest began to speak a blessing in Latin as he joined their hands together. And when the marriage rite was completed, her new husband sent her a smile. ‘Begone, Father Nolan. I’m wanting to be alone with my wife.’

  Chapter Four

  ‘Bring her to me.’ Lord Harkirk lifted his hand and stared at the Scottish chief who stood before him. Finian MacLachor’s dark hair was cast with grey, his clothing ragged. Blood trickled from his lip, while his gaze was focused upon the door.

  Within moments, soldiers brought forth a young girl hardly more than ten years old. She was sobbing as the men gripped her arms.

  ‘You should guard your women more carefully,’ Harkirk said to the warrior. He enjoyed watching the man’s face transform with a father’s fury.