Loved By a Warrior (5 page)

“There's another abandoned farm a short distance away. We'll stop there for the night.”

Her head shot up.

“Don't bother to argue,” he said, cutting off her protest. “You can't walk on this ankle, and the more you try, the worse it will get and the longer it will take us to reach home.”

It annoyed her that he made sense, and so she returned her head to his shoulder without making a comment.

He shifted her to sit more comfortably against him. “You know, you're a perfect fit.”

He was right. She had felt it herself. She did fit with him perfectly, and that's what worried her the most.

Chapter 5

“S
o many farms abandoned,” Tara said, as they approached a small croft that had long been deserted. It appeared as if Mother Nature had reclaimed the land and was about to do the same with the cottage.

“The kings demand too much from their people. And King Kenneth, who rules over them all, should be creating laws and enforcing them to protect his people. But he's as busy as the kings taking more than he gives.”

“Times are troubling,” she said.

“More than anyone cares to admit.” Reeve lowered her carefully to the ground. “Stand here and don't move while I remove the debris from around the front door.”

Tara followed his instructions, not wanting to prove a hindrance to him. He searched the area before starting, disappearing around the side of the cottage and reappearing only moments later. He held up a half-broken barrel and grinned as if he'd been given a gift.

She smiled herself when he began digging the snow away from the front door and snapping the tree branch that had grown through the lone, small window. He worked with such ease and confidence, like a man comfortable in any task he took on.

What she liked most was that he worked with a smile and no complaints. She had thought he might balk about the delay her ankle caused, but his concern was more for her comfort, and she was grateful.

He used his shoulder to get the door open, it proving a bit stubborn at first. But it was no match for his brawn. He vanished inside, and, with a limp, she approached slowly. She hadn't gotten very far when he appeared in the open doorway.

“What are you doing?” he asked. “You shouldn't be walking on that ankle. It must have time to heal.”

She was in his arms before she knew it and carried across the threshold. She was surprised to see a single bed with a limp mattress that needed stuffing, a table with one corner rotted away, and two chairs that had seen better days. And a fair-sized cauldron sat to the side of the cold hearth.

He placed her on the bed. “Those chairs don't look sturdy; besides, I need to get a fire started. Then I'll go hunt us something for supper.”

“I should help,” she said, feeling a burden on him.

He laughed, shook his head, and bounced down on his haunches to reach out and take hold of her leg.

He held her leg with a tender gentleness while his other hand attempted to work off her boot. It had gone quickly from her not wanting him to touch her to his touching in an intimate fashion. No man had ever caressed the calf of her leg.

“I'm sorry,” he said. “This may hurt.”

That he offered an apology astounded her. He was proving to be different than she had first imagined him. When he had suddenly appeared out of nowhere, she had grown even more frightened than she had been. She thought he might join the robbers and then, when she had realized he intended to defend her, she had been stunned. And in the few short hours since they had met, she realized he was no common Highlander warrior. Nor was he easy to define.

She had watched him dispose of four men as if they were nothing more than annoying gnats, and he had not a bead of sweat on him when he had finished, nor had his breathing been labored.

He smiled more often than most Highlander warriors that she had known, and he was fearsome when it came to strength and kind when it came to gentleness.

She winced as he eased the boot down over her injured ankle.

“Take your stocking off,” he ordered.

“Why?” she demanded.

His grin turned his face wickedly handsome. “If we pack snow around the ankle, it may take the swelling down.”

She should have realized that herself. Instead, she appeared the fool, he obviously thinking that she thought he was thinking something entirely different and inappropriate.

“You're right,” she said.

“I'm always right.” He bounced to his feet. “I'll get the snow while you remove your stocking.”

He was even mannerly enough to give her privacy. And she saw to removing her stocking before he returned. He dumped the handful of snow into the broken barrel piece and placed it on the floor by the bed. He lifted her beneath her arms and braced her back against the wall, then stretched out her legs on the bed. He positioned the snow-filled barrel piece beneath her injured ankle and piled the snow over it.

“Now you're all set. I'll get the fire going and then be off to get us supper.”

“Thank you,” she said.

“No need. You're paying me well to see to your safety.”

“Safety yes, kindness is another thing.”

“A man protects a woman,” he said with a shrug. “It is the way of things.”

It might be for him, but it hadn't been for her. Watching him set a fire and seeing that he took the time to gather pine branches and pack them in the window to keep the cold away was a sight she favored. She had seen to taking care of things for herself for so long that it was difficult to believe that someone was now looking after her.

If this was a dream, she didn't want to wake up.

“Lord,” she whispered, “please let this work. Let me slip away. Let them think me dead. Let me finally be free.”

When she had told the Highlander she would give him all of her bride price, the plan had barely formed in her head. Her first thought had been to buy his protection and see her safely to her intended destination. After all, what else was there for her? When suddenly the thought of freedom gripped her, and her mind was made up before she even attempted to make sense of such an insane idea.

Once it had taken root, it had flourished, and she knew she would pursue it. She felt no guilt in using her bride price; after all, her father was paying to be rid of her, so he would get what he wanted.

The cold had seeped into her ankle and was now traveling up her leg. She wrapped her cloak more tightly around her upper body and rested her head back, closing her eyes. She was tired and would take a few moments to sneak a brief nap. Then when she woke, perhaps she could help Reeve. She snuggled her chilled chin into the fur lining of her cloak and was asleep in no time.

R
eeve had the rabbit cleaned and ready for the spit before he reached the cottage. All he had to do was set it to cook in the fireplace. He had even managed to find some onions and turnips in what once had been the cottage garden. Though frozen, he could set them to cook in the cauldron. He bowed his head into the wind, which had picked up, the air having grown colder with the approach of dusk.

He hurried into the cottage, shutting the door against the rush of cold that followed him. He turned to proudly show off his successful hunt and saw that Tara was sound asleep. He rid himself of his plaid and skewered the rabbit on the spit in the fireplace to cook. He made quick work cleaning the dusty cauldron with snow and then adding fresh snow and setting it on the hook in the hearth. He chopped the onions and turnips and added them to the melting snow. When he was finally done, he walked over to Tara.

He reached out and took hold of one of her curls, the ringlet wrapping around his finger. It was soft, silky, and shiny, the color as dark as raven feathers. He took hold of others, and they curled around his finger as eagerly as the first.

Tara stirred with a faint sigh. He wondered over this woman he had just met yesterday. He knew little about her, and yet she intrigued him. She had made certain at first to keep her distance from him, but he knew that wouldn't, actually couldn't, last long. With the snow and the cold, it was inevitable they would be drawn together whether to provide heat to each other or a helping hand as she had needed today.

She had called out to him, and when he had turned with barely enough time to grab hold of her hand, before she went over the edge, he had felt a jolt to his gut. He thought for a moment she'd slip from his grasp, but she stretched out her fingers to him as he did to her, and they grabbed hold of each other and clung tightly, not wanting or willing to let go.

He wondered who waited for her and if her intended would care that she would never arrive. Or would it be her bride price that he missed? Marriages were made more often for the convenience and benefit of the clans. Love was rarely involved, but his parents' marriage had shown him the difference, and he knew that he would settle for nothing less.

Tara hadn't had that choice. He couldn't blame her for wanting to escape a marriage that wasn't of her choosing. But he couldn't help but wonder who would ever agree to wed a woman considered a death bride?

It made no sense.

Her eyes suddenly popped open, and she glared at him standing there, a few of her dark ringlets curled around his fingers. They said nothing, just stared, until Reeve moved, trying to rid his fingers of the possessive curls.

They refused to let go, curling around his fingers again and again each time he tried to tear them away. He was surprised to hear her chuckle.

“They are obstinate like me,” she said.

“And soft like you.” He turned and walked away, the curls reluctantly releasing him. He smiled, wondering if she would chastise him or graciously accept the compliment.

“Something smells good,” she said.

From the hint of joy in her voice, it seemed to have pleased her, and that pleased him.

“A rabbit is roasting and onions and turnips are boiling.”

“I wish I could be of more help. I am not accustomed to being idle,” she said.

That had him returning and taking a look at her ankle. “The swelling has gone down some. We should pack more ice on it.” He glanced at her. “Up to suffering another chill?”

“Just hearing the meat sizzle in the hearth is warming me already.”

“One more dose of snow will be enough for the night, and then we'll see how your ankle is in the morning.”

“I'll be fine to continue our journey,” she insisted.

“I'll be the judge of that.”

“It's not your ankle,” she said.

“But I make more sensible decisions when it comes to your injury.”

Her smile surprised him. He thought for sure she'd argue; most women could be obstinate that way.

“And you're always right.”

“You learn fast,” he teased.

“That I do.”

The bit of sharpness in her response had him realizing it was a warning, and he grinned. “I will remember that.”

T
he wind howled around the cottage, rattling the thick pine branches that served as shutters. The chilly draft sent the flames in the fireplace dancing wildly and had Tara relieved that no more snow covered her ankle. Her stocking was back on, and she was wrapped snugly in her fur-lined cloak.

Reeve, however, only had his extra wool plaid to cover him, and he shivered beside her in bed. She had almost objected when he had announced that they would share the single bed, and though it wasn't narrow, the size left little room for space between them. But with all he had done for her, she couldn't see him spending the night on the cold earthen floor.

The way he was shivering, though, you would think that was where he was, and it bothered her. He had looked after her, and she lay selfishly beside him, wrapped in a fur-lined cloak while he froze.

While the curse remained a threat, she neither loved him nor was to wed him. They barely knew each other. And with Reeve suffering no dire repercussions thus far, it certainly should be safe enough to share some heat with him for the night, just as they had the night before, though that was by accident.

He'd freeze to death by the time she debated the matter and so before she could change her mind, she said, “You are freezing, share the warmth of my cloak with me.” And she opened it for him to slip close.

He didn't hesitate though he shared much more than merely the warmth of her cloak. His arm went around her waist, and he snuggled against her, his leg going to rest between her legs in the crevice of her red velvet dress. He settled his face next to hers, and she startled from the touch of his icy cheek.

“Good Lord, you are ice-cold,” she said, and wrapped her arms around him.

They were soon cuddled like lovers who couldn't get close enough to each other. She rubbed his back until she could feel the warmth returning to his flesh. And though she had taken a chance inviting him near, she knew she was safe.

He would honor his word not to touch her intimately.

The long day, the cold, a full stomach, and finally warmth soon had his eyes closing, and soon after he began snoring lightly. While odd to be in a bed with a stranger, Tara found it more pleasing than not. Having not been touched, even a simple friendly touch, in so long made her cherish and want to linger in this moment.

The smell of pine and ash and woods drifted off him, along with a hint of a well-cooked rabbit. She smiled, having missed the scent of a man and not realizing just how much until now. Or had it simply hurt too much to remember and so she had shut the memories away never to visit them again.

But now she had no choice. Reeve was here beside her, and his close presence caused an explosion of memories, including desire. It had been some time since she felt desire for a man. Reeve had sparked it, to her surprise, and now lying here beside him, she worried that he might just ignite it.

Chapter 6

R
eeve woke to a tickling sensation beneath his nose, and he smiled, knowing it came from Tara's springy locks. He opened his eyes and wasn't surprised to find them wrapped in an embrace more common to lovers than friends. And once again he was made aware of how precisely her curves melded with his.

Two halves once separated coming together as one.

The thought startled the bejesus out of him, and he suddenly felt the need to place distance between them. Not that he was running, he reminded himself. He never ran from anything. He stood his ground, fought a good fight, fought for what he believed, fought for his clan, fought to protect.

As he gently disengaged her arms and slipped out of bed, he was reminded that he was to protect her, to see her safely home. He tucked her cloak around her and glanced down at her ankle, but only her stocking-covered toes peaked from beneath the red velvet.

He went to the hearth, and though the fire had dimmed, he added no more logs. He would wait to see how her ankle fared. If they could continue, he would need to extinguish the fire; if not, he would add more logs then.

He thought the same about hunting for food. If they could get started soon, they could make it to Old Jacob's place by early afternoon, and that was with a few stops along the way to let her ankle rest.

Taking a quick glance to see that Tara still slept, he turned and headed out the door. He'd see to the weather while seeing to his morning duties. A cloudy gray sky and crisp air greeted him, though it didn't sting his cheeks. Snow didn't seem likely, and he was pleased. He wanted to get home and see his family and see Tara safely settled.

His mission hadn't produced any startling news, though, like an approaching storm, the forces of change were gathering. He had heard it at every croft he had stopped at and in villages, though more in whispers, the villagers mistrustful of prying ears that reported to the king.

One obvious change he had made note of was the presence of the king's soldiers in areas they had not been known to frequent. He wondered if they were scouting for future reference or were there for a particular purpose. It shouldn't have been difficult to find out, and yet he had found no answers. All inquires he had made produced the same results, no one knew why. And not knowing had made the people all the more mistrustful and fearful.

Reeve finished, though before returning to the cottage, he sensed the need to scout the surrounding area. He always listened to his instincts. They never failed him, but then he believed that was the way of all good warriors. At least it was for him and his brothers, the way they had been taught.

After covering some ground and finding no cause for alarm, he took a moment to stand and listen. Silence engulfed him, and that had him listening more closely and his head going up so that his nose could get a good whiff of the air.

The scent hit him, and he rushed to cover his latest tracks and took refuge behind a thicket of snow-covered bushes. He would have to be careful, the snow-covered land making it more difficult to conceal oneself.

He crouched and waited. It took time, but he was patient. The strong scent of a burning campfire always clung to those around it as if the fire had yet to be extinguished. In the cold, crisp air, it was even more easily detectable. And with the scent growing stronger, Reeve knew that more than one person headed his way.

He heard the voices before they appeared, the fools paying no heed to how sound echoed in the forest, especially in the dead of winter. He knew by the raucous talk and unconcerned manner that they were the king's soldiers even before he caught sight of them.

It was unusual for a small troop to be this far north in territory that wasn't friendly to King Kenneth. He had seen small divisions of troops like this one all too often the last couple of weeks, and their sudden presence troubled him.

Reeve remained where he was, watching the four of them pass. The fools were so busy talking amongst themselves that he could have easily attacked them and have kept one alive until he found out what they were doing here, before having him join his comrades in hell. But he had Tara to consider. She had to be awake by now, and he needed to get back to her. And he needed to get them moving, get them to Old Jacob's place and make sure he and his granddaughter-in-law Willow were safe. Not that the soldiers usually bothered anyone on MacAlpin land, but they had been growing bolder, the king making his power known throughout the land, especially those areas that lent him no support.

He waited until he could hear the soldiers' footfalls no longer, and then he quietly made his way back to the cottage.

He entered to find Tara in front of the hearth, cloak and bundle in place and ready to depart.

“Where have you been?” she demanded. “I was about to leave without you.”

“You would leave me behind?” he asked with a glint of a smile. He had to admire her courage, but he supposed that had been hard-won. Forced to rely on herself, what other choice had she?

“I thought that was your intention.”

“I'm sorry,” he said, feeling the need to apologize. Of course she would think he would desert her. From the little he had learned, she was accustomed to people leaving her and some discarding her. He wanted her to know that would not be the way with him. “I meant only a brief absence and expected to return before you woke. You can count on me, Tara.”

She seemed to weigh his words, and he could see that she remained unsure.

“What happened?” she asked.

“Soldiers,” he said, and explained what he had seen. “I need to get to Old Jacob's farm and make sure he and his granddaughter are all right. How is your ankle?”

“Better,” she said, and held out her foot to show that she had gotten her boot on.

A slight bulge protruded out one side of her ankle. It was better but far from healed. He worried that a day of walking and climbing the snow-covered hilly terrain would only make it worse.

She seemed to sense his apprehension and was quick to put his mind at ease. “My ankle does fine. And while I know it will probably swell again after our long trek, at least I can walk on it now without pain. So I suggest we get started.”

He admired her resilience and willingness to suffer further pain so that he could see to the safety of another. She was not a selfish woman, and that was a worthy attribute.

“We'll need to be extracautious,” he said as he extinguished the fire, dumping a good amount of snow on the last of the dying flames and embers. “I don't know where the soldiers are going. They could backtrack or cut to the west, or do any number of things.”

“But you sense they go north toward Old Jacob's place, don't you?”

She was perceptive, keeping good count of what he had told her. And he nodded.

“This area is close to your land?” she asked.

“It is my land,” he said, standing and brushing the snow off his hands. He waited for her to ask more, but she simply nodded and turned to the door.

“We better get going.” And out the door she went.

He followed with a smile, Tara continuing to surprise him, and he loved women who could surprise.

T
ara's thoughts had remained on the soldiers as she walked. When Reeve had told her about them, she worried that they could prove a threat. What were they doing in the area? Did they search for someone? And was her curse the cause of this sudden problem? Was she already bringing danger to Reeve? And what of the farm they go to? Would danger follow them there or arrive before them?

She could not change what she had done. The deed was done, and she so hungered for her freedom. Her only course of action was to remain aware. Be careful of what choices she made from here on and not think that because she was about to embrace freedom, she was free of the curse. She had to remain diligent, not only to protect herself but others as well. She could not, would not, bring danger to others.

“Are you all right?”

Reeve's concerned query startled her out of her musings, and she nodded. “I am fine.”

“We will rest in another hour or so unless you need to rest now,” he said, as they continued to walk.

“No. An hour or so will be fine,” she said; though her ankle tormented her, it wasn't anything she couldn't bear.

They continued on in silence until finally Reeve announced it was time to rest. He found a boulder they could sit behind, and Reeve, in a whisper, suggested they continue their silence.

She nodded, understanding his concern that their voices would carry on the wintry air and through the barren tree branches to be heard even a good distance.

His hand reached for the hem of her dress, and she grabbed his hand. “It's fine.”

They remained as they were for a moment, her hand holding firmly to his until she realized what she had done, and then she quickly released him. She should not have touched him. They had been too close of late, and while he might not believe in curses, she certainly knew better. She could not allow herself to feel for this man, or it would be the death of him.

They didn't linger long. After only a short respite, he reached out to help her to her feet. But she ignored his kindness and stood on her own. She had to remember that while he was here now, he wouldn't be for long, and she would once again have only herself to rely on.

Her ankle throbbed, but she would have none of it. Ignoring the pain, she gave Reeve a firm nod and smiled, letting him know she was ready.

Reeve glared at her a moment as if he had seen through her façade, then shook his head, turned, and stepped around the boulder.

Before she could follow, she heard the clash of swords and without thinking she grabbed the dirk from her boot and hurried forward.

Reeve was in battle with two soldiers, and she had no doubt he could dispose of them both. The one soldier turned a shocked expression on her when she appeared at Reeve's side.

“Stay behind me,” Reeve shouted.

The soldier's eyes narrowed and turned angry, and he made a move toward her. Reeve was faster and blocked his attempt.

To her dismay, another soldier appeared and stopped dead for a moment, as if surprised at what he saw. Without further hesitation, he advanced to join his comrades, though he circled around them and headed straight for Tara.

Fear gripped her, but didn't stop her from raising her dirk and with a forceful snap she sent it flying. It landed in the soldier's shoulder, sending him stumbling. Once he found firm footing, he turned and ran.

Reeve finished the two men and firmly grabbed hold of her hand.

“We need to get out of here,” he said.

“What of the one that got away?”

“That's why we need to leave. If his wound doesn't kill him, he will alert other soldiers, and they will soon be on our trail. And it seems that the soldiers aren't questioning anyone they stop. They raise their swords and threaten. Something has changed with the king, and I'd like to know what.”

Reeve set a brisk pace; he had no choice, and she kept up, ignoring the steady throb in her ankle. She reminded herself that the pain of discovery and losing her chance at freedom would be far worse than what she was presently suffering. However, she feared the curse was rearing its ugly head, and there would be consequences to pay. It had always been that way. Had she truly expected it could be any different? She had wanted to hope, wanted to believe things possible she had once thought impossible. But was she being foolish, or did she continue to believe, continue to take a chance, continue to reach for a new life?

The fear and uncertainty that plagued her decisions and actions gave her the impetus to keep going, through the pain, the doubt, but mostly the fear; the fear of losing all hope.

They kept a vicious pace, and not once did she lag behind until she slipped on a snow-covered rock and went down before Reeve could grab her. He was quick to help her sit up, but he refused to let her stand until he had a look at her ankle.

This time, when her hand tried to prevent him from seeing the damage, he brushed it aside.

“Not this time,” he said. “I'll have a look.”

They both cringed when they saw the swelling. It stretched the leather of her boot until it looked as if it would split.

“You should have told me,” he scolded, though Tara could see in his eyes that the scolding was for him.

“And what would you have done,” she asked, not wanting him to blame himself. “We need to get to your friend's farm. We can't let my injury stop us. We do what we must.”

“And you suffer for it.”

“And if it had been your ankle.” She shook her head before he could answer. “Don't tell me that would be different or that you are a warrior and can bear the pain.”

He smiled. “If I can't tell you either, then I'm left with no other reasoning.”

“Which means I do what must be done.” In so many more ways than Reeve would ever know.

“And I do what I must,” he said, and scooped her up in his arms before she could protest.

“You can't carry me.”

“But I can, and I will.” He stomped off, ordering her silent when she tried to protest. And she realized that no matter what she said, he would ignore it. Besides, it felt good, so very good, to be off her feet, and, with a yawn, she rested her head to his shoulder.