Loved By a Warrior (7 page)

While she hoped it could be so, an inkling of doubt taunted her. Was she being foolish and possibly placing this family in harm's way? She had thought herself free once and had allowed herself to fall in love with Rory, and he had paid the price.

Tara rarely allowed herself to go back to the beginning and what had started the curse, and she didn't want to return there now. She didn't want to think that it could happen all over again. She wanted to believe, had to believe, that her past was behind her. She was free, and she could hope.

What were her chances, though, at keeping her freedom? God forbid her father discovered her deception. He would surely come claim her and force her to honor the marriage arrangement he had made. And who could stop him?

She battled her doubts and worries as bravely as possible while keeping a smile on her face and chatting with Willow.

Reeve and Jacob returned, and they were all soon sitting around the table, though not before Willow insisted that Tara keep her foot raised. Some of the swelling had gone down, and resting it might just chase away what remained. With nothing for her to brace it on, Reeve drew his chair close to hers, lifted her leg gently, and placed it on his thigh.

“Done,” he announced with that teasing grin of his. “Now let's eat. I'm starving, and it smells delicious.”

Tara couldn't protest his gallantry. She didn't want to. She wanted to enjoy this time, this chance to share a meal with people, to joke, to laugh, to finally live.

Chapter 8

T
ara took one of the two beds in the cottage and Willow the other. Reeve and Jacob slept in front of the hearth. It was with a lighter though cautious heart that Tara woke the next morning. The swelling in her ankle had gone down considerably though Willow warned it would be best for her to stay off it as much as possible.

They had a hearty porridge for breakfast, and Willow wrapped the remainder of the black bread for them to take along. Tara had protested, knowing food wasn't that plentiful for the pair, but Willow would have it no other way.

“Grandda and I will fish later, and I'll make us a nice fish stew, so don't you worry about it,” Willow said. “Besides, friends never let friends go without if it can be helped.”

Tara appreciated all Willow had done, but most of all she appreciated that Willow thought of her as a friend. In three short days, she had made two friends, and dare she hope it was the beginning of good things with more to come?

Willow and Jacob stood outside to see them off. It was cloudy, the air not as cold as yesterday, which meant snow was not likely.

“We could possibly reach home by nightfall,” Reeve said, resting his hands on her waist, and, with ease, he raised her and sat her sideways on the saddle.

He then hoisted himself up behind her and adjusted her to rest against him, tucking her in the crook of his arm. “Comfortable?” he asked.

She nodded though she was more than comfortable; she was content. Whatever was the matter with her? One moment she was keeping her distance from him and the next she was wrapped in his arms. It wasn't only the curse that concerned her; her attraction to Reeve could also prove fatal. Did she think a man like him could ever truly love a woman like her? A woman burdened with a curse and by life.

“We can't thank you enough,” Reeve said to Willow and Jacob. “I will send some men to help.”

“Go away with you,” Jacob said with a dismissive wave. “We don't need any help.”

Willow smiled. “We'll take what help we can get.”

Tara smiled as they rode off, leaving the pair arguing.

“They are good people,” Reeve said.

“I see that,” Tara said, hoping against hope that no harm came to them; that her curse was dormant, or perhaps waning. But could curses simply wear off? Through the years, she had tried to find out more about hexes, but it proved a difficult task. There were none who would discuss such evil doings, and her father had made certain that no seers were permitted on his land. Perhaps now, starting this new life, she could search and hopefully not only find answers, but a solution.

They rode in silence for a distance, each of them lost in their own thoughts.

Tara finally felt the need to speak, to thank him for what he had done for her before they reached home.
Her new home.

“I am very grateful for your help, Reeve,” she said, turning her head to look at him. She felt a twist and squeeze in her stomach and then a sudden thud to her heart. She almost cringed, but forced herself not to.

It couldn't be possible. She had only met this man two days ago. She knew little about him. Why? Why was she feeling for him what she had felt for Rory when they had first met?

Lonely.

A simple, direct, reasonable answer that made perfect sense. He was the first man who didn't treat her as if she were a leper. It was only natural for her to feel kindly toward him.

Kindly?

Was she a fool? It wasn't kindness she was feeling. It was the stirring of attraction coupled with passion. Something that she hadn't felt in . . . she couldn't remember when.

“Tara?”

She shook her head, realizing she had gotten lost in her thoughts.

“I've been trying to tell you that you're paying me handsomely for services rendered, so no thanks are necessary, but you seemed far away in your musings.”

She purposely ignored his remark about her lack of attention. She certainly didn't want to share her thoughts with him.

“Your kindness needn't have been part of our agreement, and yet you treated me thoughtfully, and for that I am grateful.”

He turned a grin on her. “How could I have treated you any other way? My mother would skin me alive if I acted improper to a lady.”

“Your mother taught you well.”

“She taught my brothers and me whether we liked it or not,” Reeve said with a laugh. “None of us dared disobey her, or we would feel her mighty retribution.”

“She wielded a heavy hand?” Tara asked.

Reeve shook his head. “Mum never raised a hand to any of us.”

“Yet you obeyed her?”

“She had other more wicked ways of punishing.”

“She doesn't sound very nice,” Tara said, not wanting to think of him as a small lad made to suffer harsh punishment.

“Mum may be blunt and makes sure she's heard, but one thing she isn't and that is cruel. She's a good person with a good heart. I think you'll like her.”

“You have me curious,” Tara said. “In one breath you praise her, and in another you tell me she made you suffer wicked punishments.”

Reeve laughed. “There are far worse punishments to make a young lad suffer than to raise your hand to him.”

“I must know. Tell me.”

“One that had my brothers and me thinking twice was that she would cook for us.” Reeve shook his head. “Her food is barely eatable, and we would be made to eat every bit of it.” Reeve scrunched his nose in distaste.

Tara laughed. “It truly stopped you and your brothers from doing something you shouldn't?”

“We would argue amongst ourselves, reminding one another how bad the last meal was we were forced to eat, and if that wasn't enough, my father pleaded with us not to make our suffering his.”

Tara laughed again.

“Perhaps I could teach her to bake—”

“No!”

His shout made her jump.

“I'm sorry,” he apologized. “It's been tried, and we lost a reasonably good cook in the process. We now have a great cook, and my father and brothers will do anything to keep her.”

“What other punishments did your mother employ?”

Reeve rolled his eyes. “God help us, she would sing.”

“Her singing is not pleasing?”

“Pleasing?” He cringed and shook his head. “The dogs howl, the cats screech, and everyone runs for cover.”

Tara couldn't stop laughing.

“It truly isn't funny,” Reeve said though he grinned. “She would make us sit while she sang song after song. Then the stupid songs and her grating voice would be stuck in my head for hours, sometimes days, afterwards.”

“Does she still find reason to sing now?'

“Not much, but now and again she'll break into song, and we run as far away as we can.”

Tara's stomach hurt she was laughing so much. When it finally subsided, she said, “Now I'm going to have to hear her sing to see if you're simply teasing me.”

“Please, I beg you, warn me first so that I can hurry off.”

Tara laughed again, enjoying hearing about Reeve's family.

“I think we should stop shortly and give the horse and us a chance to rest,” Reeve suggested. “Then we can pick up the pace, and if all goes well, we can make it home by nightfall.”

“I could use a stretch,” she said.

They found a spot, tethered the horse to a pine branch, and Reeve spread his extra plaid on the snow-covered ground. Tara stretched the ache out of her back once off the horse and wished she could rub the soreness out of her backside.

Her ankle was feeling much better, and so, without hesitation, she lowered herself to the blanket. The added pressure produced a sharp twinge in her ankle, and she almost toppled over. Luckily, Reeve caught her around the waist.

“Too stubborn to ask for help?” he asked, bracing her weight against him.

She almost relaxed against him, as if it was the most natural thing to do, but caught her unwise reaction and steeled herself. “Too foolish for my own good.”

“A woman who can admit when she's wrong, I like that,” he said, giving her waist a gentle squeeze and, with a supportive arm around her, lowered her to the blanket.

“Truth speaks wiser than lies. It's just that no one truly listens to it.”

Reeve lowered himself beside her. “Perhaps lies are just easier to hear.”

“Not to an honorable man,” she said.

They stared at each other for a moment, and Tara had the urge to reach out and touch him as she had done once before, but, as before, she clasped her hands together, preventing herself from taking such liberties.

However, it didn't stop Reeve. His hand reached out, and his fingers faintly brushed along the top of her cheeks just below her eyes. “I've never seen such beautiful-colored eyes.”

She yanked her face away. “No intimate touches.”

“I didn't mean—”

She swung her head around to face him. “Don't ever touch me like that again.
Ever.
”

Reeve nodded, and they remained silent while sharing the bread Willow had packed for them.

Tara nibbled at her share, no longer hungry. She wished that she could explain to him that it hadn't been his gentle touch that had disturbed her. She had quite enjoyed it. It had sent a pleasant tingle through her, and she would have loved for him to have continued, dangerous though it was.

It had been when he had mentioned the color of her eyes. It had brought back the memories of the curse. Most assumed it had originated with Rory's death on their wedding day, and so she had been deemed a
death bride
, but the curse had come upon her many years before, and she would do well to remember it.

Tara turned her head away from Reeve when his hands went to her waist to lift her to the saddle.

“Don't turn away from me.”

Though his remark was stern, there was compassion in it, and so she looked at him.

“I didn't mean to offend, and for that I am sorry. I am, however, not sorry for letting you know that you have the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen.”

His heartfelt confession sent flutters through her stomach, and it was then and there she knew that she was in trouble. She truly liked this man, this Highlander warrior who had saved her and had given her a chance at a new life. And that would not do at all. She could not take the chance of seeing him harmed. She simply could not, and she had to keep reminding herself of that. Once they arrived at his home, she would need to keep her distance. She had no choice. It was the way of it plain and simple. And the truth of it pained her heart.

They rode the remainder of the way in silence. The air turned crisper and colder as the day wore on. And when dusk looked ready to claim the land, Tara feared that they would have to camp for the night. Then, suddenly, beyond a slight rise, she saw a village.

She grew excited to see her new home, and she wished that night wasn't fast approaching. She wanted to see it all though she knew by the time they arrived, night would be upon them, and she would catch just a glimpse.

No matter, though, there was tomorrow and the day after and the day after that and on and on. She would live here, isolated if she must, and have a good life. She would make it so; she had no other choice.

The village appeared deserted when they entered, but then the temperature had dropped in the last hour, leaving the air biting cold. The villagers were surely tucked safe and warm in their cottages. They passed several and a sizeable grain storehouse, but it was too dark to distinguish anything else except the keep. It rose in a cylindrical shape at the far end of the village. Blazing torches flanked the wooden door, and as Reeve dismounted, a young lad stepped out of the shadows and reached for the horse's reins.

“Take good care of her, Robbie,” Reeve said, “and I'll see that you get extra sweets tonight.”

The young lad, piled thick with extra clothing and a winter cap pulled down tight, grinned, a wide gap being where two front teeth should be. “I'll rub her down and feed her well.”

Robbie stood patiently as Reeve reached up and slipped his hands inside her cape and took hold of her waist. He lowered her gently to the ground, and Robbie led the horse away as Reeve asked, “Does your ankle pain you too much to walk?”

She certainly had no intentions of being in his arms when first meeting his family. She intended to portray an independent, viable woman who could look after herself.

“I'm fine,” she assured him, and stepped forward.

Her foot connected with a patch of ice, and before she knew what was happening, her feet were flying out from under her, while her hands flayed frantically in the air.

Tara heard his laughter before she felt his arms catch her and scoop her up.

“I'm forever saving you,” he teased, and with a slight toss, adjusted her in his arms.

“I can walk,” she insisted, keeping her hands to herself though she would have much preferred to wrap her arms around his neck and linger in his embrace. Since, no doubt, it could very well be the last time he ever held her that way.

“That's debatable.” He laughed and walked up the steps to the keep.

As much as she preferred to remain in his arms, she said, “I'd rather your family not see me this way.”

“In my arms, or injured?” he asked in a teasing whisper.

“Both,” she confirmed.

His murmur of laughter tickled her ear. “But it's the way of things.”

Before she could argue, he opened the door and strode into a large room, trestle tables and benches scattered about with all but one being empty. The two women and three men gathered round it were busy in chatter sprinkled liberally with laughter and hadn't heard them enter.

“Sure, leave me to handle it all,” Reeve shouted, and they turned.

The older, pleasantly plump woman, her curly auburn hair piled high on her head, shouted out, “You've gone and brought me another daughter.” She rushed toward them while the others remained where they were, the older man shaking his head, though grinning.