Chapter Ten
A steady rocking and the warm sunshine on her face was a pleasant way to wake. What was even better was finding herself safe in her husband’s arms. She felt cherished, well, other than the feeling of pins stabbing her hands. Blair didn’t even mind that they were riding along on the big horse that hated her, because it meant Bruce had not found her and what she’d seen was just her imagination mingled with guilt.
She fully opened her eyes and sat up. Funny, she didn’t remember falling asleep.
Had she fainted? It had happened only once before, when she’d gotten the scar on her arm. She couldn’t come up with another reason for not recalling how she’d gotten there. She felt slightly off balance, and she kenned she had not been eating enough.
She’d seen a monk, but when the robed man turned her way, it was Bruce’s face she thought she saw. Panic set in, and the only thing she could think to do was hide, so she sprinted down the street.
After running to the back of the nearest building, she’d peeked around the corner and waited to see if anyone had followed. No one had.
It had all been her imagination, then, and probably a sign from God it was time to make a confession. So she ran back, looking for the safety of her husband’s arms, wanting to tell him of Bruce’s ultimatum and beg him for mercy, understanding, and most of all, forgiveness for not telling him sooner. But when she reached Finlay, he’d looked feral, angrier than Henry had when he’d struck her on that second night for refusing to do something he asked.
She’d frozen. Could she trust this man wouldn’t hurt her? She’d trusted Henry, and look at where that had gotten her.
Tender hazel eyes met hers.
“Are ye all right?” His voice was calm.
“Aye, my hands hurt.” They’d been cleaned, and fabric had been wrapped around them. “Well, and mayhap my head a wee bit.”
Her fear eased at the care he’d taken with her. Loosening her spine, she rested her head on him, once again shutting her eyes and pretending she would be safe.
“Where did ye go?”
“What?”
“Ye disappeared from the market.”
“I didnae go far. I didnae mean to upset ye.” She remembered his cold, accusatory stare, but she’d only been gone a moment.
Silence. She had to fill it, or she might tell him the truth.
“Why did ye yell at me?”
“Ye disappeared.”
As if that were enough of a reason. That might inspire worry in him, but not anger, and what she’d seen in his glare had been more than simple concern—it had been another indictment of some kind of guilt. Why was he lying to her?
“Do ye ken how to shoot a bow?”
She marveled at his quick change of subject but was happy for the reprieve.
“Aye, I do.”
His muscles tensed.
“Why?”
“Just thought if I was going to teach ye to fish, I could teach ye to hunt as well.”
“Nae need. I’m pretty good at it.” She was relaxing as the conversation continued, but he seemed to be growing tauter. Maybe he wasn’t used to riding with another. Despite his silence she continued, following the urge to confess something to him. “’Tis one of the things my father thought me incapable of doing, so I learned.”
“And do ye set yer sights on doing everything ye can to please yer father?” Although he still held her tenderly, she couldn’t help but feel his question was more than casual.
“I just want to prove I can be useful.”
She squirmed. “I think I can ride on my horse now.”
“’Twill slow us. Ye can switch after we stop for a meal.” His fingers made little circles on her gown by her ribs, and he nuzzled into her hair. Finlay inhaled as if she smelled delectable.
She must need sleep. First, imagining Bruce would have the audacity to follow her, and now, that Finlay might be angry with her.
“How long have we been riding?” She settled in and relaxed, perfectly content to recline into the strong arms holding her.
“Nae long.”
Watching the trees go by, she thought about what would happen when she was forced to tell her husband the truth.
…
Stopping for the midday meal, they rested the horses near a stream just off the road in the shade. It was a beautiful day, but they’d been pushing the horses hard, so any break they could give them would be helpful. At least Blair’s mare should have an easy time today. Finlay wasn’t worried about Hedwynn, with what little weight his wife added to the steed. The horse had protested when Tristan had lifted her up to him but calmed shortly after they were moving.
He would miss having his wife in his arms this afternoon, but at least it would give his cock a break. It had been painful trying to ignore the base urge that was beating at him, and his back was sore from sitting at an odd angle so as to not scare Blair with it. It didn’t help that he wanted the feeling to go away until he was certain the lass wasn’t trying to kill him.
She’d only been missing a few minutes, which wouldn’t have given her enough time to take a position and fire an arrow at him, much less procure a bow. But she kept glancing over her shoulder and peeking out windows as if she knew they were being followed. That made him think, if she were involved, she wasn’t acting alone.
He studied her as Blair took out one of the extra plaids he had packed and draped it over the driest spot she could find. The grounds were still wet from the storms, but he hoped the rest of their journey would have weather like this, and that there would be inns with rooms enough so he could have some privacy with his wife. Dangerous or not, she was a lovely lass, and she was his now.
The other men gave them a little privacy, choosing to sit on rocks near the stream, out of earshot and sight.
“Where’d ye get the scar?” A long gash ran from her elbow up to possibly her shoulder—the gown hid the stopping point. He would be sure to trace it later, possibly even place kisses on that tender flesh as he pulled the gown from her shoulders.
Her gaze drifted down, and she frowned. “A cat.”
“Ah. That explains the unnatural fear of a wee kitten.”
“They are vicious creatures. One minute they pretend to love ye, and the next they do this.”
“What happened?”
“I was probably about ten summers when I went to the stables to visit a mother cat that had just given birth. The babies were too small to touch, but they were making a fierce whining noise like the one attacking my skirts the other day.”
He stifled the urge to laugh.
“’Tis no’ funny,” she blurted after he lost his battle, and his chest heaved with amusement.
“Well, what happened?”
“The mother cat came up to me and rubbed against my legs, so I picked her up to pet her. At first she purred and seemed happy by the attention, but John came running in, dogs barking behind him. The cat climbed up my arm, screeching and hissing like I had tried to squeeze her.”
“’Tis unfortunate. Cats are verra nice.” He handed her a peach.
“I ken ’twas only frightened by the dog, but I bled so much my gown turned red, then Mother took me to the healer, who insisted on stitching it. ’Twas one of the most painful things I’ve ever done.”
“I’ve never had pets. I wouldnae have been able to care for them with the traveling back and forth I do, but I like animals.”
“So why did yer mother never marry yer father? Did she love him?” Blair took her first bite of the peach, sighing; she closed her eyes and savored the sweet, luscious fruit. She looked beautiful.
“Aye, but she hated England. He couldn’t stay in Scotland because of his title and responsibilities, but there are times I think he wishes he had given it all up.” He had a bite of the bread he’d purchased this morning before they’d come upon the peaches.
“He married?”
“He had to.”
“And ye have two brothers?”
“Thomas and Caldwell. Ye will likely meet them.”
“Will they approve of me?”
“Nae, but dinnae take it to heart. They never approve of anything I do. Ye’ll just learn to ignore them when forced to endure their presence.” He handed her a flask, and she took a sip, smiling for the first time since he’d scared her this morning. “But my father will love ye. I’m sure yer brogue will remind him of my mother.”
“And what of yer stepmother?”
“She died several years ago.”
“How did she feel about ye? It must have been hard for her kenning her husband loved another woman.”
“It made my time there difficult when my father wasn’t present.”
“I’m sorry ye had to go through that. No child deserves to be punished because of who birthed them.” Her sincerity soothed him, and he felt reassured he’d done the right thing by marrying her to protect her child. Of course, he’d also done it to build alliances, but had she really been interested in that?
She had a strange fixation on doing things her father thought she couldn’t. Would that translate to taking down the king from the inside? Could she be that ruthless? When he’d asked her about the bow, without flinching, she admitted to knowing how to use one. Would she be that open if she had tried to shoot him?
In this moment, he didn’t think her capable of harming anyone, even the cats she feared. Her sapphire eyes held no judgment. Leaning in closer, he whispered, “Kiss me, wife.”
Her lips parted as her breasts rose and fell. His heart skipped a few beats when her eyes dilated as her head slowly tilted up toward his, inviting and giving him what he’d craved all day.
His mouth fell onto hers as his arm slid around her waist and pulled her up into his lap. There, she was the perfect height to taste and explore as his tongue delved in to mingle with hers. She tasted of peaches and warm ale. He’d never have either again without thinking of this kiss.
One breast pushed into his chest, and his blood heated. His hand skimmed up her side to rest just below her mound—the one he wanted to feel beneath his palm, to lave with his tongue, and to worship. Her arm wrapped around him, so sweet, so tender. If he didn’t have her tonight, he would go mad.
Blair’s hand rested on his neck, then her fingers burrowed into his hair, sending tingles through his scalp and causing gooseflesh to rise on his arms.
She was willing, wanton in his arms, like a woman who would abandon her inhibitions and fire his blood to boiling. It did so now as his body heated, and he had the urge to remove their clothing and take her on the plaid out here in the open. She deserved better than that, so he pulled back, reigning in the emotions and desire that was swirling out of control. He didn’t want to scare or embarrass her with the men remaining somewhere nearby. He would just have to go slow. He looked forward to the nights ahead with this woman by his side. Loosening his grip, he ended the kiss but let her linger on his lap.
When his gaze met her hooded, sensual eyes, he almost groaned and changed his mind. His regard landed on her plump lips, now swollen and a deeper shade of red. It was intoxicating to know he had made her look like this, like a woman desirous and in need of a man’s touch.
“Tonight, wife. I promise to no’ hurt ye.”
A blush crept across her cheeks. She looked so lovely with the green forest behind her, hair disheveled and cheeks pink. He wanted her all to himself, but he heard the rest of their band returning loudly. Making enough noise to purposely warn him of their arrival.
Chapter Eleven
The ride the rest of the afternoon proved to be pleasant. Finlay enjoyed the warm sun brightening everyone’s demeanors and kissing their skin, as if to apologize for its absence the last couple of days. As the inclines of the hills of the lowlands gradually began to decrease, the now dry road became easier terrain to traverse, and they made good time.
He missed having Blair nestled next to him. The way she’d snuggled into him led him to believe she was the woman he thought. How could her gentle caress have any malice behind it? She’d even let her hand drift to his thigh, thrumming her fingers back and forth as if she enjoyed touching him. Thinking she might come to care for him was a balm to his soul.
It was insane that he’d push his fears off on a woman who had given in to his suit in her time of need. He found himself wishing circumstances had been different, that he’d had time to woo her. Hell, he’d thought her magnificent years earlier when she’d barely known who he was.
As they cantered along, his thoughts strayed further toward the problem he’d pushed away before the trip to Edinburgh.
A troubling letter had arrived from his estate in England. Typically, when he received a missive he would read it and then visit his mother to see if he had interpreted it correctly. But anytime she was reminded of his father, Dwight, her expression became distant and sad. He’d not had the heart to tell her that his sire had named the estate the man had given him after her, Catriona House, so he’d stewed in the news without sharing it with anyone.
He’d only been alerted to the problem because the cook reached out to him. According to the missive, the estate was having troubles maintaining funds for upkeep. The staff was forced to keep minimal supplies on hand, because merchants refused to sell to them and creditors were appearing, asking for money that should have been paid to them months earlier.
The estate manager, who was a childhood friend of his youngest brother’s wife, had been keeping the books and had been highly recommended. With the allowance the estate received from the earldom, they should be able to manage upkeep.
Could it cost more to run the place than he had expected? Was someone on his staff stealing? No matter the answer, he wasn’t looking forward to examining the books to determine what he could be doing wrong.
He shouldn’t have left the place unattended as long as he had. He couldn’t let his brothers see that not only could he barely read, he apparently was driving his father’s gift into the ground.
The sky had darkened as the sun descended, and so, too, had his thoughts as disappointment in himself clouded his mood. He had people depending on him now, and he would have to do better for them.
Upon arriving at the next inn, he was pleased to discover they had plenty of rooms.
He doubted the integrity of the owners in the establishments on the next leg of their journey, however. Some had ties to English Parliament, and if it was discovered he traveled to relay news beneficial to the king, they might find their throats slit in the middle of the night. So as much as he hated to put Blair through the trouble and discomfort, they would either be camping beneath the stars or in stables as a group.
With a wife and a bairn on the way, he would have to look for safe places for them to stay in the future, because his family deserved better than sleeping on a tartan out in the elements. A lot of things would be changing now, and he welcomed it.
Once they had the horses settled in the stables and he had discussed the rotation to keep an eye on them with Brodie, they made their way into the inn, settling in at a large table as scents of roasted meats and baking breads drifted in from the kitchens. His stomach growling, while they waited, he ordered a round of ale.
“Brodie, how is it Skye let ye leave? I thought she didnae like ye being away,” Malcolm asked.
“She doesnae.”
Finlay liked the subtle smile that breached Brodie’s lips, as if the recently married man didn’t want to be without his wife as well. He was beginning to understand that feeling. He’d never had a companion to trust with his daily struggles, but he was growing quite fond of his wife, except for the little thing that she might be trying to kill him.
“How did Lachlan convince ye to come?” he asked.
When the other men sank back and shifted gazes between one another, he leaned in. So, they had hidden orders he didn’t know about—probably something his laird only trusted with a few. He was pretty certain the plans centered around Robbie, who had stiffened and stared a
t Brodie, anxiously waiting his reply.
“Och, my wife said I was smothering her and that she wanted a little time to spend with Donella and her babe while Donella’s husband was seeing to his ill Fraser family.” Brodie was so good at covering his tracks. It was hard to believe that until recently, he’d been considered the Cameron drunk and wastrel.
He didn’t miss Robbie’s tense shoulders relaxing.
Blair took a sip of her ale, studying the men with a contented demeanor. Pleased, he noticed that despite a discussion he’d had with the group while she lay passed out in his arms this morning that she may have been the wielder of the arrow, they appeared vigilant but relaxed in front of her. It delighted him to know his wife was comfortable with his kin.
Brodie turned the conversation to Blair. “Skye’s probably right. I even missed out on all the excitement in Edinburgh because I couldnae bear to leave her side. Did ye like the city, Blair?”
She took another sip of her drink before answering. “’Twas pleasant, but I had Kirstie there with me. All I’ve done since is travel. I’m ready to get settled somewhere.”
“Finlay did tell ye he travels all the time, did he no’?” Tristan asked.
“He did.”
A couple of servers brought out plates filled with roasted venison, mushrooms, and potatoes. Mouth watering, he took a bite as the others started in as well.
“’Tis good, but no’ as good as Skye’s.” Malcom looked up at Brodie and winked.
“Aye. I am one lucky man. Now, if I could just get her to stop inviting half the clan over to dine with us every night.”
“Do ye cook?” Malcolm asked Blair.
“Nae. Mayhap Skye will teach me a little.”
“I can think of nothing more pleasant than coming home to see ye with a babe in yer arms and food on the table,” Finlay said, but Blair stopped chewing and almost choked on her meat.
The table got quiet, all eyes on her as she took a sip of her ale to wash her food down and apparently collect her thoughts. Had he said something wrong?
Highland Salvation Page 10