Loved By a Warrior (31 page)

“I'm listening though I am just as eager to make love.”

“Damn I lo—”

She pressed her fingers to his lips. “Not yet, I know what you want to say, I can feel it, but not yet.”

“When the time is right, I'm going to shout it.”

“A soft whisper in my ear would serve just as well.” She kissed him soft and sweetly.

He eased her away from him as he took a step back. “I need a bit of a distance, or the discussion will be forced to wait.”

“Tell me,” she urged anxiously as she moved farther away from him.

“You know that I have been trying to locate a powerful witch—”

“You have found one?” she asked, excited.

“No,” he said, and was sorry to see her joy plummet. “I have found a powerful prophet.”

“What good does that do?”

“He could tell us the future, warn if there is danger ahead for me, and perhaps let us know where to find the witch we need.”

“I never thought of that,” she said, nodding. “You're right.”

“I'm always right.”

“Will I never learn?” She laughed.

“I'll keep reminding you even when we're old and gray.”

“The prophet could tell us if that will be so.”

“From what Neil tells me, this man is a powerful prophet and knows much,” Reeve said. “He may be able to help us more than we realize.”

“Have you sent for him?”

He was pleased to tell her, “He's been sent for and should be here in a day or two.”

Tara walked over to him, laying her hand on his chest. “I am grateful.”

“So am I.”

“Grateful for the prophet?”

He shook his head and stole a kiss. “No. That our discussion is done, and I can now get you into bed.”

Chapter 34

T
ara cuddled closer to Reeve, a chill creeping up and over the bed. Had they forgotten to add logs to the fire before going to bed? She smiled, recalling what she remembered of last night. Reeve had made wickedly delicious love to her, his exact words of what he had intended to do to her. And oh how he meant it.

She didn't think there was a part of her that he hadn't tasted, teased, or tormented with his lips, tongue, and she giggled, thinking about her favorite appendage of his that had delighted her.

Worried that she was becoming too sinful when it came to her own desires, she had confessed her concern to him. Bless him, he hadn't laughed, he patiently explained how there was nothing wrong with her zeal to make love, and he fervently hoped that it would remain that way.

Feeling more at ease with her unquenchable desires, she had climbed on top of him and eagerly confessed that she loved riding him. He had offered to let her practice riding as much as she wanted to.

It had been a glorious wedding night though she had woke on and off checking to see that Reeve was all right, that death hadn't claimed him. She had never had a husband survive past the wedding day, and she was hopeful that perhaps the curse wouldn't rear its ugly head.

She suddenly recalled a dream she had during the night. She sat by a river talking with someone. She didn't know who, she couldn't see him clearly, though she felt she knew him. He urged her to remember, and then he told her that love had freed her, and she was so very happy. She woke after that and wondered about it and had soon returned to sleep and forgotten all about it until now.

Reeve stirred beside her, and his arms soon found their way around her and pulled her tighter against him. He nibbled along her ear. “It's damn cold in here.”

She laughed softly. “I thought the same myself. We must have forgotten to add logs.”

“Your fault,” he said, wrapping his leg around hers. “You attacked me almost all night.”

She laughed again. “I beg your pardon, sir. It was you who scooped me up, stripped me bare, and had your way with me.”

“And what of the many times you rode me.”

Tara sighed. “I've had no better rides.”

Before he could respond, a sharp pounding rattled the cottage door.

“Go away,” Reeve yelled.

The door burst open, and Bryce walked in. “Damn it's cold in here.” He rubbed his arms and went straight to the fireplace, where nothing but embers remained. “Are you trying to freeze yourselves?”

“It was stifling hot in here all night,” Reeve said.

Tara snuggled farther under the covers, which her husband pulled up to her neck.

“There's a problem,” Bryce said, standing after the fire began roaring.

“What's wrong?” Reeve asked.

Bryce shook his head. “Carnoth is here with a few of the king's men. It seems that the king isn't recognizing your marriage and insists that Tara honor the agreement her father signed.”

“The king's cleric wed us,” Tara said.

“That's the problem,” Bryce said. “The king claims he never gave the cleric permission, and that your vows are invalid.

“We gather our warriors just in case,” Bryce said, worry lingering in the corners of his eyes. He walked to the door. “Hurry, we need to see this done.”

Tara rushed into her garments with as much speed as Reeve. She didn't waste time on her hair; she let the black ringlets fall where they might. And after grabbing their cloaks, they joined hands and hurried to the keep.

Neither spoke, neither had to. They both knew that nothing, absolutely nothing would separate them.

“What nonsense is this?” Reeve demanded, as they approached her father as soon as they entered the great hall.

Tara remained by his side, her eyes wide and alert. She would protect her husband however she could.

King Carnoth stepped forward. “It is King Kenneth's doing.”

“How did he learn of this so fast?” Reeve demanded.

“He is not far,” the soldier beside Carnoth said. “He had planned to surprise his new bride and was met with the troubling news. But it matters not; Carnoth promised her to the king, and to the king she goes.”

“Not going to happen,” Reeve said vehemently.

“You have no choice,” the soldier protested. “She is the property of King Kenneth.”

“Tara is my wife,” Reeve argued.

“Not according to King Kenneth, and the king's word is law,” the soldier said.

Before the argument escalated, Tara stepped forward. “Father, can I speak with you?”

Carnoth nodded, and Tara stepped away from her husband, her father following her to a discreet corner in the hall to talk privately.

“King Kenneth cares naught for me. He wishes nothing more than my bride price. Pay the king and free me.”

“Get it from your husband,” Carnoth snarled low.

“That is his to keep,” Tara said. “Besides, your coffers spill over, you have more than enough money to give the king and still have a sizeable amount left.”

“And it stays that way,” Carnoth said in a threatening tone.

“Not if I inform the guard of your hefty coffers. I'm sure he would be rewarded with bringing the king such good news.”

“If King Kenneth found out, he would take until I was bone-dry,” Carnoth complained.

“Unless you simply pay him the bride price and be done with it. He's not interested in me. He wants only the money. You will free yourself, and you will free me with this charitable expression, or–” She shrugged. “I speak up. Something you have not let me do for a very long time.”

“You are no daughter to me,” Carnoth spat.

“You're right, Father,” Tara said sadly. “I am no longer your daughter.”

She stepped away from him and returned to Reeve, his arm going possessively around her waist.

“Take me to the king,” Carnoth balked. “I have an offer I know he will not refuse.”

When her father and the soldier left, Reeve asked, “What did you say to him?”

“I spoke in terms my father would understand,” she said, and smiled.

“It is good that you are now part of our clan; the true king can make use of your negotiating skills when needed,” Duncan said.

“I would be honored to serve him,” Tara said.

Mercy and Mara entered the great hall.

“What goes on here?” Mara demanded, walking up to her sons. “The king's soldiers here, and I am not made aware of it?”

“How is Trey?” Tara asked.

“He does well, improves with each day. Willow is with him now.” Mara wagged a finger at her. “But don't think to divert me from the question. “What goes on here?”

“Nothing that Tara couldn't handle.” Reeve beamed with pride.

“That's my daughter,” Mara said with equal pride.

Both beaming faces almost brought tears to Tara's eyes. No one had ever shown or expressed pride in her, and it filled Tara's heart with joy and with a sense of family.

“We'll celebrate with a hearty breakfast and then I will begin plans for a wedding feast,” Mara said.

“I'll help,” Mercy offered.

“You should rest,” Duncan said, going to her side and scooping her up with ease before plopping down on a bench and settling her in his lap.

The family gathered round the table, while pitchers and bowls and heaping portions of food were brought out.

“Where is your father?” Mara asked just before everyone began to eat. “We don't start without him.”

The brothers looked from one to another, and they all suddenly stood.

“He had gone to ready the warriors,” Duncan said.

“Yet no warriors have joined us here,” Reeve said. “Something is wrong.”

“Good Lord!” Mara said, wringing her hands. “Go find your Da,” she shouted at her sons.

They never reached the door. It opened, and in walked Carmag, accompanied by a tall man who appeared a hardened warrior. Old scars covered a good portion of one side of his face, and under the bulk of his fur-lined cloak, which swung open, was more bulk, though it was one of muscle and form. He looked to be a man seasoned in many battles and not always victorious ones.

“Where have you been?” Mara snapped. “You scared me half to death.”

“I went to greet our guest. He arrived sooner than expected,” Carmag said.

The man looked around the table and his eyes settled on Tara.

Her eyes had been drawn to his face as soon as he had walked in. She couldn't tear them away; his face captured her attention, though he was not near as handsome as her husband. But there was something—something—there that drew her to him.

She hadn't noticed that the room had turned silent, the only sound the pop and crackle of the fire in the fireplace.

Tara suddenly turned completely pale. “Oh my God!” She scurried off the bench and ran around the table. The stranger smiled and spread his arms wide, capturing her as she flung herself into them.

“I don't believe it,” she said, hugging him tight.

“Nor I,” he said, his voice deep and strong. “But as soon as I heard, I knew it could be no other.”

“I feared you were—”

“As you can see, I'm fine,” he said.

Her hand went to his face and gently caressed his scars. “But left with reminders.”

“That have long since faded, except for you.”

“I'm so very glad to see you,” she said.

“And who is it you are glad to see?” Reeve said, walking over to her with a scowl.

Her smile refused to fade. She reached out her hand to her husband, and said, “I want you to meet a good, dear friend. Stone.” Her smile grew wider. “Or so that is what I called him.”

“You called me correctly,” Stone said.

“I could think of no other name that fits you more,” she said.

“You are the son of the witch who cursed Tara?” Reeve asked.

“He is the prophet Neil told us about,” Carmag said.

Tara dropped Reeve's hand and grabbed hold of Stone's hands. “You can help rid me of the curse your mother placed on me.”

“We need to talk,” he said seriously. “Alone.”

Tara turned to Reeve, and he looked none too pleased.

“I know you have waited for this, so go and do what you must, but first—” He pulled her close and whispered in her ear. “You are mine.”

“And I am yours.”

They kissed, not caring who watched, and when Reeve bought it to an end, he took her hand and walked with her over to Stone. “She belongs to me.”

“I know, and I knew that Tara would find you, and you would save my friend.” Stone held his hand out to Reeve.

Reeve took it, and they shook.

“I'll take Stone to my cottage,” she said.

Reeve frowned.

Mara stepped forward. “Why not use my sewing room?”

Reeve smiled and slipped his arm around his mum's shoulders.

“You'll be telling me more about this as soon as your wife leaves the hall,” Mara whispered.

“Anything for you, Mum,” Reeve said, and kissed her cheek.

Tara hurried Stone up the stairs to Mara's private room. The roaring fire kept the small room toasty. Stone removed his cloak and draped it over the back of the chair then sat, stretching his hands out to the fire's warmth.

Tara sat in the seat beside him and waited, though she itched to ask him if he could remove the curse. Could he help free her?

“I've already told you that you were free.”

Tara glared at him. She hadn't spoken her thoughts aloud, had she?

“Don't you remember how we would talk without talking?”

“I thought it was simply the way between us because you could not speak.”

“I didn't speak for the longest time,” he said. “I was too busy listening. With you, however, it had been different. I found it easy to hear your thoughts and was surprised that you could hear mine. But you don't want to talk about that.”

Her hand reached out to rest on his arm. “I believe you were my first love.”

He smiled. “And you mine though I knew I would not be your last.”

“Or I yours.”

“You are patient when you rather wish to know if I can remove the curse,” he said.

“Can you?” she asked, squeezing his arm.

“It has already been removed.”

Her eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

“You had a dream.”

“Last night,” she gasped. “Someone told me that love had freed me.” She gasped again. “It was you?”

“Let me explain,” he said, and Tara fell silent. “The woman you know as my mother is my aunt. My mother died when I was young. She was a powerful seer, and I inherited her skills. My aunt was good to me and treated me as her son. But she was a woman who found it hard to forgive. As I lay beaten and thought I would die, I sensed that my aunt would curse you. I wanted so badly to help you and then my mother's voice came to me and I repeated the words I heard in my head.

“My gift to you comes from the heart. It will allow you a fresh new start. No matter what words follow mine. There will come a time. When love refuses to let go. In a dream you will know that you are forever free. And that this special love is meant to be.”

“You protected me,” she said tearfully.

“The only way I could.”

Tara stared at the fire for a moment. “Rory and Luag, the curse killed them.”

“No one can say for sure, Tara, if it was the curse or simply time for that person to die. Some will believe it was the curse that struck, and others will insist it was death who laid claim. I have learned and seen for myself that fear and love are potent powers. It depends on how they are used. My aunt chose fear for revenge; I chose to combat it with love.”

“Reeve was right. He told me to trust our love, and the curse would have no power.”

“He's a wise man.”