Forever Her Champion (9 page)

Rianna laughed and turned away, happy that he had finally broken his vow of silence. “I have ne’er, nae once, been afraid in yer presence. Back then, I would have believed anything ye told me, so in love with you was I.”

In love with me?
Astonished, he could think of no intelligent or thoughtful response.
Nay,
he told himself. She was not in love with him now. She was simply explaining how she felt about him when they were children. ’Twas the only plausible explanation.

* * *

G
ood Lord
, had she truly said what she thought she had? Embarrassed, she felt her face burn as red and as bright as a summer sunset. Mayhap he hadn’t heard her, but his strained silence said he had.

“Why have we left the road?” she asked by way of changing the subject.

“We need to make camp,” he replied.

She took note of the deep timbre of his voice. Had she gone mad or did his voice sound as divine and warm as soaking in a hot, steamy bath? For the first time in her life, she was afraid of him. Not necessarily of him bringing her any true, physical harm. But what he could do to her heart if he were to continue speaking with that decadent, magnificent tone. Or mayhap she was afraid of herself.

Deep into a dense thicket, they made camp in a small clearing. That night, they dined quietly on the grouse he had caught, and the sweet blaeberries and wild lettuce she had managed to find whilst foraging. ’Twas not a supper fit for a king, but for two hungry young people, ’twas a feast.

They spoke very little to one another that night, each lost in their own thoughts and worries.

Aiden worried over how his heart was beginning to soften toward the beautiful woman sleeping peacefully on the other side of the fire. Was he a fool to allow his heart and mind to wonder to images of a wee cottage somewhere remote and peaceful? Was he a fool to wish for a wife and bairns of his own? A simple life, an ordinary existence?

Nay, those things, that life, was not for him, no matter how he hungered for them. Too many people had died at his hands. He’d committed far too many unforgivable sins. Things he doubted any of the gods would ever forgive him for. Why would they reward him for such sins, such crimes?

Rianna feigned sleep as she worried over her father and Aiden. Was her father still amongst the living? Would he want anything to do with her after all these years? Worse still, what would become of her if he sent her away again? Would she spend the rest of her life in search of that loving home she wanted with such desperation?

Nay, she could not think of those things right now. It made her heart ache to think Lachlan MacAllistair would turn her away.

But thinking of Aiden left her no better off. He may have done something ugly in the past, however, she decided it mattered not. As he had said on more than one occasion, the past should remain in the past. To a certain extent, she believed him. But not when it came to her father.

What of Aiden’s future? What were his plans? Did he have a loving young woman waiting for him somewhere? Thus far, he had made no mention of such a person, but that did not mean she did not exist. Something akin to jealousy set in and it made Rianna question her soundness of mind. She had no claim to him, no right to feel the least little bit jealous. So what if he had kissed her? Two kisses did not a lifetime commitment make.

Yet, what if there were no such person? What if he was content to roam aimlessly about the countryside? Would she be able to change his mind?

Change his mind?
What was she thinking? First of all, she had no idea how his mind was set about the future. Secondly, she had no claim on it. Deciding her meandering thoughts were merely the result of the two delightfully sinful kisses she had shared with him and nothing more, she tried to push the thoughts aside. ’Twas a long while however, before she was finally able to succumb to exhaustion and sleep.

F
or the first
time since his childhood, Aiden Macgullane slept peacefully, uninterrupted by nightmares that left him fighting for breath and covered in sweat. Instead, he dreamt of his youth, of his life before his mother’s passing. Of the time before his life began to unravel like a loose thread pulled from an old blanket until nothing was left.

When he woke, Rianna was once again tucked safely in his embrace, her bottom nestled dangerously close to his groin. He had his arms wrapped around her protectively as he held her tightly to his chest. Try as he might, he could not remember her coming to him during the night. She must have grown cold and sought him out for warmth. She must also possess the stealthy qualities of a cat-o-mountain for he was always alert, even in sleep. One never knew who might creep up on him in the dark of night to end his life. He knew these things from his own personal experience at taking a man’s life while he slept.

The sun was just making an appearance on the horizon with just a hint of sunlight against the deep blue sky. The moon waned in the morning and even the birds were still asleep. The fire from the night before was cold, not even a wisp of smoke remained. Yet he was as warm as if he had slept in a feather bed with a roaring fire in the hearth.

I could get accustomed to this,
he dared let his heart speak to his mind. Closing his eyes, he drifted off to sleep.

Dawn’s early light had come and gone when next he opened his eyes. Rianna was still in his arms, but now, she rested with her head against his chest. One of her arms was tossed over his, the blankets pulled up to her neck. With all his being he wished he could remain where he was in this blissful, peaceful moment. With his heart near to bursting with contentment and joy. Without moving, he listened to the sound of her soft, steady breathing. He drew in her scent: a blend of fresh air and a hint of her marigold soap. When his loins began to stir with the image of making long, slow love to her, he knew he must leave her side. ‘Twould do neither of them any good for him to lose himself to passion or lust.

What Rianna needed most was a home. A safe and loving home that, unfortunately, he would be unable to give her. Nay, the last thing she needed was a former assassin haunted by a nightmarish past.

Slipping quietly from their makeshift bed, he rolled to his feet and went in search of water and something to break their fast. When he returned, she was awake, rekindling the fire. When she heard him approach, she looked up and smiled. ’Twas all he could do to remember to breathe and continue with one foot in front of the other. So stunning, so brilliant was her smile that it nearly took his breath away.

In that instant he knew he must get her to her father sooner rather than later, for he doubted he would have the strength of will or character to keep his desires from making a most egregious mistake.

* * *

I
t seemed
to Rianna that he had increased the speed with which they rode that day. They stopped only when she begged him for a rest. He seemed anxious and agitated. There was no time to relax or stretch her legs and barely enough to empty her bladder before they were heading off again.

Only when he slowed to allow the horse a brief respite did she make any attempts to speak to him. He was perfectly willing to discuss childhood memories. But no matter how she broached the subject, he refused to talk about his life after
Ardanaiseig
. He refused to divulge anything about the last twelve years of his life. Frankly, she was growing tired of the silence. ’Twas maddening that she was unable to get more than a few words out of the man. Especially when it came to his past.

She was left with nothing but assumptions and her vivid imagination.

As a child, he’d been far too honorable and set in his ways to become a common criminal. But then, so had she. However, life and circumstances had forced her to do things she’d otherwise never be tempted to do. She learned at an early age what the fear of starvation and freezing to death could get an otherwise good person to do. Mayhap the same had happened to Aiden?

“How fares yer father?” she asked as the rode over a small hill. She felt him grow tense and stiffen the instant she asked.

Silence hung in the air, leading her to believe ’twas another question he refused to answer.

“I neither know nor care,” he answered through gritted teeth. “And I’ll appreciate it if ye’d nae mention him again.”

Whether it was born out of frustration or exhaustion, she couldn’t rightly say, but she was growing tired of his silence. “We have been ridin’ fer two days and I know no more about ye than I did when I pulled ye from the goal. I dunnae understand why ye refuse to speak of yer past. We’ve all done things we’re ashamed of.”

Snorting derisively, he asked, “What could
ye
have possibly done that ye’re ashamed of?”

“I’ve stolen bread when I was hungry,” she answered pointedly, irked by what she deemed to be arrogance on his part. “And might I remind ye I lied through me teeth to get ye out of the goal at Inverness?”

He was unimpressed. “If that be the worst ye’ve ever done in yer life, lass, ye’ve led the life of a saint.”

“And what of ye? What have
ye
done that is so horrible ye cannae even discuss it with me, yer lifelong friend?” she asked drolly.

He let out a chuckle that sent shivers down her spine. “Lass, I’ve done things nightmares are made of. Things ye cannae begin to imagine.”

She rolled her eyes, even though he couldn’t see her face. “Ye’re only tryin’ to frighten me into silence,” she accused him. “Ye cannae frighten me, Aiden Macgullane.”

“Nay?” he asked.

She gave a slow shake of her head. “Nay. Ye’re too good a man, of that much I am certain.”

“Much can happen to a man in fourteen long years, lass. Much that can change him from what he was as a boy to what he is as a man.”

That she could believe, for she had lost the naiveté of youth long ago. But deep down, wasn’t she much the same as she had always been? Did she still not care about others and possess a strong sense of right versus wrong? And did she still not wish with all her heart to find her father?

“That might verra well be true,” she said, “but I believe that deep down, ye’re still as kind now as ye were as a boy.”

He threw back his head and laughed from deep in his belly. It went on for so long that she began to wonder if he hadn’t truly lost his mind. “I dunnae ken what ye find so amusin’. Laugh all ye will, ye’ll ne’er get me to change me mind about ye.”

“Count yerself blessed that ye shall not be with me long enough to realize I speak the truth.”

* * *

D
eath by disembowelment
was preferable to telling her the truth.

For years, he’d suffered at the hands of his masters. Led a most miserable life. And since escaping that life two years ago, he had done everything he could to rid himself of his demons, of those repugnant and grotesque memories that assaulted him nearly every hour of every day.

He was a monster.

Worse than anything her innocent mind could ever conjure. As assuredly as the sun would rise on the morrow, if she ever knew the truth, her opinion of him would evaporate as quickly as twining, wispy smoke from a fire. When he conjured the image of her face, of the expression she would bear should she hear the truth, it made him nearly ill. ’Twas the one thing he could not bear. ‘Twould certainly be the breaking point of what little sanity he possessed. If she were to look at him with contempt and disgust, he would fall into madness, into a hell from which there would be no return.

For now he was content with allowing her to think only the best of him.

Content.

It had been decades since he’d felt anything akin to contentment. Or joy or peace or happiness.

Nay, there had been no place for such feelings. They’d been nonexistent, didn’t belong in the blood-thirsty life he had lived.

As much as he hated to admit it, however, there was a very tiny part of him that took some enjoyment from her good opinion of him. Even if it were based on a childhood memory and a lie.

He was also taking great enjoyment from the way she felt when she sat against him on the saddle. Or the utter sense of calm that fell over him when she came to him in the middle of the night seeking the warmth of his body when the fire was not enough to keep out the cold night air. Aiden knew she wasn’t looking for any kind of romantic physical contact, but that knowledge did nothing to still the lust-ridden dreams he was having of late.

The two kisses he’d stolen from her that first day haunted him. It had been a mistake, kissing her as he had, for now he craved more, like a selkie craves the water. Nay, he refused to succumb to baser urges for two reasons: one, he didn’t deserve them and two,
she
deserved better.

He might have been a murderer but he was no defiler of women.

Even assassins had their limits. At least Aiden did. Oh, he knew other men of his ilk who thought nothing of slaughtering innocent women and children. Others had no invisible lines they would not cross, but Aiden did. No matter the situation or assignment, he had never brought physical harm to an innocent. But what of the emotional damage he’d left the living to suffer? Aye, he might have left them alive, but he knew he’d left them without a husband or father. And a few he’d left with the haunting images of watching their loved one die before their eyes.

What kind of man did such things?

Nay, Rianna did not deserve a man such as he. She deserved far better.

* * *

N
ightfall was just beginning
to caress the sky when they made camp in a small clearing set in the midst of a forest. Littered with birch, alder, oak and hazel, the soft earth under their feet was a welcome respite to the cold hard ground they’d slept on the night before. Overhead, in the beryl sky, stars shimmered silver, lending to the tranquility of the place. Their surroundings, however, stood in stark contrast to the jumbled knot of worry that had settled in Rianna’s stomach.

On the morrow, she would finally come face to face with her father.
If
he still lived.
If
her mother hadn’t lied.
If
he still made his home amongst the people of Allistair Castle.

Thankfully, Aiden had caught two small grouse that were roasting over the fire. Rianna sat with her back against a felled tree, wrapped in a blanket, staring blankly at the flames. As they had done for the past few days, her thoughts ran from her father to Aiden and back again.

What if Aiden was correct? What if her father truly wanted nothing to do with her? What if everything her mother had ever said about the man was true? Was he really an arrogant, selfish man? Had he sent them away because of his wife? Did he actually only use Ronna as a man uses any common whore, casting her aside without a care to her security or that of the child they had created? How would the man respond when she appeared on his threshold? Would he cast her aside with the same indifference as he had when she was a bairn?