The Highlander Series (89 page)

“May he prove more worthy than my father,” Rionna whispered.

The others went silent, perhaps out of loyalty to the man they’d called laird for so many years. Rionna was through acting the dutiful daughter. She had plans for when she returned to her keep.

Whether her husband liked it or not, she intended to be a major force in the reshaping of her clan. For too long her people had suffered under the poor leadership of a greedy, belligerent fool.

Perhaps they’d traded one for another. She knew not yet. She hoped Caelen proved a good man and an even better warrior.

War was imminent. Ewan McCabe was preparing to fight Duncan Cameron and he was taking the whole of the highlands with him to battle.

Her clan wouldn’t be the sacrificial lamb on the battlefield, if she could help it.

It was nearing dark when Caelen called a halt to the procession. Rionna was so cold that she’d long since lost feeling in her hands and feet. Her cheeks were numb and she felt cold on the inside.

She was sure she’d never be warm again. The fires of hell would be welcome at the moment.

She pried her hands from the reins and tucked them under the fur, hoping to rub some feeling back into them. She dreaded dismounting. She had no wish to set her feet into the snow. She had no wish to do anything that required movement.

With a fortifying breath, she gripped the saddle and started to dismount. Caelen appeared by her horse and reached up to assist her.

She was so pathetically grateful that she nearly tumbled into his arms.

Somehow she managed to put her hands on his shoulders and allow him to lift her down. But when her feet made contact with the ground, her legs buckled and she went down into the snow.

Caelen immediately reached for her, but when his hands came into contact with her icy skin, he swore a string of blasphemies that singed her ears.

As he swung her into his arms, he barked out orders for fires to be built and for shelter to be constructed.

“Caelen, I’m quite well. Just c—cold.”

She slapped her lips together as the last stammered out. ’Twas the truth she was so cold she burned.

“You’re not well,” he said in a grim voice. “God’s teeth, woman, are you just trying to kill yourself? Why aren’t you dressed for the cold? And why the hell didn’t you tell me you were so miserable?”

She would have bitten her tongue off before complaining to him of anything.

As soon as the fires were laid and began to burn, Caelen carried her and perched on a log as close to the flames as he could without singeing their clothing.

He opened his fur and put her directly against his chest, where only his tunic and hers separated them. Then he wrapped her firmly into his embrace and allowed some of his warmth to seep into her body.

Oh ’twas wondrous. For a moment.

As soon as some of the numbing chill began to wear off, her skin began to prickle like a thousand ants were eating her flesh. She whimpered and struggled against him but he only held her tighter and wrapped his arms around her so that she was trapped.

“Hurts.”

“Aye, I know it does, and I’m sorry for it, but ’tis the feeling coming back into your body. Be grateful you can feel anything at all.”

“Don’t lecture me. Not now. At least wait until I’m not feeling as though my flesh is being torn from my bones.”

Caelen chuckled softly. “It must not be too bad if you still have your sharp tongue. I wouldn’t lecture you if you weren’t such a stubborn lass. If you didn’t have adequate clothing for the journey, you should have said something before we left. I wouldn’t have allowed you
to travel in such bitter conditions without proper protection.”

“You’re lecturing again,” she grumbled even as she snuggled closer to his body so she could absorb more of his warmth.

As more heat seeped into her body, she began to shake. Her teeth clattered so violently that she was sure they’d fall right out of her head.

She burrowed her face into Caelen’s neck as she tried to still the shivers that quaked over her body. “C-cold. I c-can’t get w-warm.”

“Shh, lass. ’Twill be all right. Just sit still for a bit until I’ve warmed you.”

She all but crawled inside him. Her hands clutched at his tunic and she kept her face tucked beneath his chin as she breathed the warmer air at the hollow of his throat.

Eventually her shaking diminished to occasional muscle spasms and she lay limp and exhausted in Caelen’s arms.

“Are you warm enough to eat?” Caelen asked.

She nodded but the truth was she didn’t want to move.

Carefully he got up and left her sitting on the fallen log. He tugged his fur tighter around her, sealing the opening against the wind. After he was satisfied she wouldn’t teeter off her perch, he strode away, directing the men to finish erecting the shelters.

A few minutes later, he returned and offered her the heel of a bread loaf and a hunk of cheese. She stuck her fingers out of the fur and hunched over as she ate delicately at the offering.

She couldn’t taste it. She was just too cold. But it felt good in her belly and it bolstered her flagging energy. As she ate, she watched with detached interest as snow was cleared in a wide arc around the fire. The tents were
raised and snow was packed around the bases for extra stability against the stiff winds.

Extra wood was put on the fire until the flames soared skyward and the entire area glowed orange.

After she finished the cheese, she extended her fingers toward the fire, delighting in the intense heat that licked the tips.

Then Caelen was there, standing in front of her. He didn’t speak. He simply hauled her up into his arms and carried her to the tent closest to the fire.

On the floor was a mound of furs made into a very comfortable-looking bed. He placed her in the middle of them and then pulled her boots off, frowning as he inspected them.

“These are a waste of good leather. It’s a wonder you haven’t lost your toes to frostbite. There are more holes than boot left.”

She was too tired and cold to argue with him.

“Tomorrow we have to do something about these,” he muttered. “You can’t go about in the dead of winter with these miserable excuses for boots.”

Still muttering under his breath, he crawled onto the furs beside her and lined his body up with hers so that she was flush against him. He rolled her to her side and then pulled the furs tight around them.

“Put your feet between my legs,” he instructed.

She slipped her bare feet between his thighs and slid them down, moaning at the instant warmth. The man was like a fire himself.

She snuggled into his arms and pressed her face into his chest, sighing at how deliciously warm he felt. He smelled good, too. A mixture of wood, smoke, and his own natural scent. It was an intoxicating blend.

A groan of raw pleasure escaped her lips. He stiffened and then cursed softly under his breath. She frowned, unsure of what she’d done to gain his displeasure.

“Caelen? Is something amiss?”

“Nay, Rionna. Go to sleep. We’ll make McDonald keep by afternoon if we leave early.”

“My hands are still cold,” she said softly.

He reached between them, gathered her hands and then guided them underneath his tunic over his belly to the warm, hair-roughened wall of muscle.

She knew her hands to be like ice, but he didn’t so much as flinch as she pressed her palms into his flesh. The sensation was so … intimate. Cozy.

She sighed and rubbed her cheeks along his shoulder, her eyelids growing heavy the warmer she became.

The slight rasp of hair tickled her fingers and she tentatively moved one hand, enjoying the hard ridge of muscle in his chest. Her eyes widened when she felt the puckered line of a scar.

Then she reached the flat of his nipple and the taut bud and she stroked her finger absently over it.

“Rionna,” Caelen growled.

She raised her head so fast that she caught him underneath the chin, which set him off to cursing again. She gulped. “Sorry!”

He heaved out a long-suffering sigh. “Go to sleep.”

She settled back against him and slipped her hands back under his tunic. She liked touching him. Aside from the wondrous heat he produced, there was something infinitely fascinating about his body.

Again she rested her palms over the flat of his chest but then she lowered them, sliding to his taut belly and the line of hair that trailed downward.

“For God’s sake,” Caelen muttered.

He pulled her hands from his tunic, tucked them between their bodies and pulled her so tightly against him that she couldn’t move.

He wrapped his arms around her and lay his chin on
top of her head. Their legs were tangled up and she was effectively trapped. She couldn’t move a muscle.

She yawned broadly, deciding she didn’t mind the makeshift prison when she was so wonderfully warm. As she drifted off, it occurred to her that she hadn’t indulged in more kissing with her husband.

Such a shame. She decided she quite liked kissing. Maybe on the morrow when Caelen wasn’t so gruff and impatient. Aye, ’twas a good plan.

“Tomorrow,” she murmured.

“Tomorrow what, lass?”

Her lips moved but her eyes stayed close as she drifted between consciousness and the heavy veil of sleep. “I’ll kiss you. Tomorrow. Aye, ’tis a promise.”

His low chuckle drifted through her ears. “Aye, lass, you’ll kiss me all right. You’ll do a lot more by the time we’re done.”

“Mmm. Can’t wait.”

Caelen loosened his hold on Rionna only to see her head loll to the side. Her mouth was open and she was fast asleep. She was, perhaps, the most indelicate sleeper he’d ever witnessed. The sight amused him and he decided she was … cute. Aye. Cute.

Then he shook his head. All this talk of kissing and cuteness was going to drive him daft. He should be thinking of training and fighting. The woman was going to be the death of him and they hadn’t been married two days yet.

It was mid-afternoon the next day when they neared the gates of McDonald keep. It was important to Rionna for her to ride to greet her people under her own power. It seemed just as important to Caelen that she appear the hapless female under his rule.

She sat before him in the saddle, cradled in his arms, as she’d ridden the entire day. He’d declared she’d ride with him since she wasn’t adequately protected from the cold.

Rionna had insisted on returning to her own mount when they were a short distance from her keep, but he’d ignored her and kept riding.

’Twas the truth she dreaded facing her people. Much had changed since she’d departed some weeks before. She was returning with a different McCabe brother and without her father. And now she’d be introducing her clan to their new laird.

A shout went up as soon as the guard in the watch-tower spotted them approaching. Caelen frowned and glanced sideways at Gannon.

Gannon shrugged.

“What?” Rionna demanded, frowning at their silent communication.

“ ’Tis disgraceful that we got this close to the keep before
we were spotted,” Caelen said in disgust. “If Duncan Cameron gets this close, it will be too late to sound the battle cry.”

“Perhaps ’tis best if you greet your new clan before you criticize them.”

“I’m not worried about their feelings,” Caelen snapped. “I’m more concerned over their safety. And yours.”

Rionna turned as best she could when the gate began to swing open. As she’d feared, most of the clan had assembled in the courtyard, their curiosity great over Rionna’s new husband.

“Put me down so that I may introduce you,” she ordered in a low voice.

His grip tightened around her but he didn’t look at her. He kept his gaze focused on the gathered men and women. He pulled up the reins when he was but a few feet away and then, without a word, he dismounted, his hand going up to steady Rionna so she didn’t tumble from the horse.

“See to my wife,” he ordered Gannon.

See to his wife?
See to his wife?

Rionna gaped at Caelen as he turned away from her to address her clan.
Her
clan, damn it. Gannon dismounted then reached up and plucked Rionna from the saddle as easily as if she weighed naught.