“Somewhat fine,” she corrected.
“Open your eyes, look at me, and tell me what is troubling you.”
It was not that he was only firm; it was that he was earnest. And so she opened her eyes, though she silently warned herself against it. As soon as she did, she knew it was a mistake. She almost sighed at the look of worry on his face. He cared how she felt; he truly cared.
“Tell me,” he ordered as he set the bucket of snow by the hearth to melt.
She could not very well be honest with him and tell him how attractive she found him. So what then did she say?
She found the words spilling from her mouth before she could stop them. “I find you appealing.” She gasped and slapped her hand over her mouth. Whatever was the matter with her? Had she lost her mind? But of course she had or she wouldn’t have spoken so recklessly.
Torr stared at her, shocked and amused, though he kept his smile from surfacing.
Before he could respond, she dropped her hand away from her mouth and tried to explain, make some sense of what she had just said, though she wondered if it was more for herself than him. “It must be the bump on my head. I am not myself. I do not know why I said that.”
“So you do not find me appealing?” he asked, a serious tone covering the amusing laugh that threatened to erupt.
“I do,” she said so suddenly that she once again shocked herself. Only this time she did not cover her mouth; she shook her head. “It must be the bump to the head,” she said again as if it explained everything.
“Then let me clean and have a look at the wound,” Torr said.
She looked at him oddly and scrunched her brow.
“Are you in pain?” he asked, though did not wait for an answer. “Lie back and let me cleanse the wound.” He did not wait for her to comply. He took hold of her bare shoulders and eased her back on the bed.
She had only known this man for a few hours, and she trusted him so easily? Why? It had taken Owen numerous visits for her to even think of trusting him. What made Torr so different? It was at times like this when she had wished that Cree had allowed her to stay with him. Being cloistered in the abbey had limited her knowledge of men and in some ways life itself. She had come to the abbey an inquisitive child and had driven the nuns crazy with all her questions, which most often had gone unanswered. But she had managed to gain a modicum of knowledge from the various visitors to the abbey, though that knowledge had been limited to certain areas, love and intimacy not having been included.
“Deep in thought or in pain?” Torr asked as he began to gently wash away the encrusted blood from her wound.
“Thought,” she answered, finding it much too easy to be honest with this man and finding his concerned touch much too appealing.
“I suppose reflection is commonplace for you, having lived so many years at the abbey.”
“It can help at times.” Like now, she thought when she really needed to divert her thoughts from Torr. He occupied her mind much too often when she should be thinking on her problem at hand.
She winced when he rubbed a particular area.
“Sorry. I hit the bump and the small abrasion in the middle. It has crusted well and should heal in no time, though I would recommend not pushing me down an embankment, especially one close to water.”
“It was foolish of me,” Wintra admitted. “But you must also admit that your sudden appearance and whisking me away as you did, gave me little choice.”
“So now your wound and you and I getting drenched are my fault?”
“You are partially to blame.”
“I am not even remotely to blame, Princess.”
“Do not call me that and you are too, to blame. If you had taken the time to find out that I was with the man I—I—I—”
“Love. The man you love, which isn’t difficult to say aloud when you truly love someone.”
“And you will know without a doubt and be able to say it without a doubt when you find love?” she asked, curious that it should be that easy to accept something that important.
He dabbed away the last of the blood off her wound and dropped the cloth into the bucket, then took hold of her chin. “When I feel that stab in the heart that love delivers, I’ll know it, not doubt it for a minute, and I will move heaven and hell to make certain she is mine.”
She stared at the determined glint in his piercing blue eyes. He would protect the woman he loved with his life and think nothing of it. Was he like most men or was he unique? She wished she knew more about men and how they thought and how they loved. She felt woefully inadequate when it came to men and love.
At that moment, her stomach embarrassed her by gurgling.
“You are hungry.”
“Aren’t you?” she asked, knowing he had not eaten since early morning, and she had not eaten since last night. And even then she had not eaten much. She had been too excited or had it been uncertainty that had had her barely tolerating food?
“The snow has lessened, but food will be difficult to find.” He reached down by the side of the bed and seemed to rustle around in something. He came up with a small hunk of bread. “This will have to suffice for now.” He broke it in two and handed her a piece.
She took it, keeping one hand against the blanket to once again conceal her breasts as she attempted to sit up.
He reached out, his arm slipping beneath her back and easily lifted her to a sitting position.
The warmth of his hand, the strength of his arm, the ease of his motion, the feel of muscle, all served to tickle her senses. It was ridiculous and disturbing that a simple touch from him could stir her body and all but turn her mindless. She had to focus on something else. She could not let herself linger on him, and she especially, at all cost, had to ignore the spreading tingles his touch had sparked.
“Will we be able to leave here today?” she asked, hoping they would.
“It might not be the wisest choice. Your clothes have yet to dry and by the time we get on the road we wouldn’t have much daylight left. An early start tomorrow would be best. Besides, don’t you want time for Owen to catch up with you? He must be going out of his mind wondering what happened to you and where you are. If the woman I loved disappeared, I would not stop tracking her until I found her.”
“What if she did not want you to find her?” she asked with a surly tongue, annoyed that he was once again pointing out Owen’s faults and that he was once again right.
He laughed. “Princess, the woman I fall in love with will be so thoroughly loved that she would not want to be away from me for long.”
She bristled at the name or was it that she felt a twinge of jealousy that some woman would know such a powerful and dedicated love.
“Would she not find you tiresome after a while?”
He eyed her strangely for a moment before asking, “Have you found Owen tiresome so soon after falling in love with him?”
“No,” she snapped, “of course not.”
Did she?
The question took her by surprise. There had been times she had not wanted to visit with Owen when he had arrived at the abbey. Did that mean she did not love as him much as she thought she did?
“Your brother cannot stay away from Dawn. They spend much time together, and Cree is the one that chases after Dawn when they have been separated for just a short time. He claims it is because she has no voice, an affliction she has suffered since birth, and it leaves her more vulnerable than others. But Dawn is brave and has faced dangerous situations with courage and resolve. So everyone knows it is because Cree’s love for her is so strong that he cannot be apart from her for long.”
Voice or not, if her brother had fallen in love with Dawn, then she had to be special. “And Dawn? Does she feel the same for my brother?”
Torr grinned. “It is unbelievable how much the two love each other. And it is also wonderful to see that such a powerful love can exist and appear to grow stronger day by day.”
Could she hone
stly say that she felt that way about Owen? Perhaps Torr whisking her away had been a good thing. Perhaps she needed time to make more sense of whatever it was she felt for Owen. Perhaps she had wanted nothing more than to be free of the confines of the abbey and Owen could provide that. Whatever the reason, she needed to think on it. Given all that had happened, she wasn’t sure how she felt about Owen. And that realization disturbed her.
If she had possibly misjudged Owen’s character, then how could she trust herself to trust her opinion of Torr’s character? She got annoyed at her brother for keeping her secluded for so long. Suddenly, she was eager to see Cree again, for she had a lot to say to him.
“Will you continue to resist me?”
Wintra’s eyes widened and she stared at him speechless.
“Resist me escorting you home,” he clarified with a grin.
She felt ready to scream with frustration. She had learned many things while at the abbey, but few if any had truly helped her prepare for a life outside the convent. In the few short hours she had spent with this man, he had opened her eyes to many things. Not to mention he had sparked wickedness in her that she had thought she had under control.
“Do I really have a choice?” she asked, though more to herself than him.
“Did you ask that of Owen? Did he not take your honor into consideration? Did he not give you the choice of returning home to your brother and properly request a marriage arrangement between the two of you? And didn’t his rescue seem a bit too convenient?”
“All valid questions, though what of you?” Wintra demanded. “How do I know if you are truly one of my brother’s warriors sent to bring me home?”
“As I told you, I am an honorable man. All you need to do is ask.”
So Wintra asked, “Are you one of my brother’s warriors sent to bring me home?”
Torr leaned close to her, his mouth barely an inch from hers. “No.”
For a moment fear gripped her, and then she realized that Torr had mentioned that the woman Cree loved was his sister. “You are not one of my brother’s warriors,” she said with confidence, “so why did he send you to fetch me?”
“Your wit is sharp—at times.”
She chose to ignore his jibe, instead reminding him of her query. “Why were you sent?”
“Your brother had pressing matters that needed his attention, so I volunteered.”
She had actually been surprised when Cree had not been with the troop of warriors that had arrived at the abbey to take her home. Cree had always promised her that he would come for her himself. The thought had never entered her head that anyone would be as foolish as to dare pose as Cree’s warriors. But she could see her brother sending one warrior to bring her home. A warrior he trusted without a doubt—a worthy man.
“What matters?” she asked curious to know if these matters actually concerned his soon-to-be-wife.
“Orders from the King that required his immediate attention.”
Relief tugged at her heart. She was happy her brother had found love, though worried that she did not matter to him anymore. He was all she had after their mum had died. He had always been a good and loving brother and had taught her many things. Thanks to him she could swim, fish—clean and cook the catch herself—and handle a dagger. She had wonderful memories of hot summer days spent with Cree either fishing or swimming, after chores had been done. He had even proclaimed her a better fisherman than he was.
Another tug caught her heart. She had missed her brother very much and was eager to see him.
She startled when Torr gently tapped the tip of her nose and asked, “Lost in thought again?
“Memories this time.”
“Good ones?”
She smiled and nodded. “Very good. Cree always treated me well.”
“Then there isn’t any reason to think that he would do otherwise now, is there?”
He was right. There wasn’t any reason to think that Cree would deny her happiness with the man she loved. He wanted her happy; he had told her that many times. And Cree was a man of his word.
She sighed. “You are right.”
He couldn’t stop himself from smiling. She may have agreed a bit grudgingly, but nonetheless she had agreed. Could she actually be a woman who saw reason? His smile grew. Stubborn and reasonable? Now that was a strange combination for a woman.
“I am glad you agree. It will make our journey home that less difficult,” he said.
“And the sooner we get there the better.” She tucked the blanket around her as best she could and struggled to get to her feet.
Torr’s hand was at her arm in an instant to help her and once she was steady, and the blanket tucked more firmly, he let her go.
Wintra went over to the chair that held her clothes and felt them. She turned to Torr. “They are dry, except for the hem, but I can sit by the fire once I am dressed and let it finish drying. Turn around,” she said with a twirl of her finger at him.
Another smile he could not hide surfaced. “I have seen all of you already. What difference does it make?”
“That could not be helped. This can. Now be a gentleman and turn around.”
“Yes, Princess,” he said with a gallant bow before turning his back to her, “though if you need any help...”
She gave up on telling him not to call her Princess. Besides, it was beginning to sound more an endearment than an insult.
“I will do just fine,” she assured him, then took a look at her torn grey wool dress.
She slipped it on relishing the warmth, though not for long since she realized after fussing with it that the tear down the middle had rendered it useless. “Now what?” she said aloud without realizing it.
Torr turned, and she grabbed the ripped wool to hold it closed as he approached her.
“The tunic will cover it,” Torr said, and shook his head, “though the dress will remain open beneath and will not keep you warm enough.”
He rubbed his chin, thinking and admiring the bulge of her breasts where her hands gripped the material closed. He couldn’t help but recall the feel of them and gave his head a quick shake. That was not something he needed to be thinking about right now, especially since it was beginning to grow him hard.
“A plaid,” he said with relief. “We’ll wrap one of the plaids around your midsection and with your tunic over it that should serve to keep you sufficiently warm.”
With the fire behind her and Torr in front of her, she was presently more than sufficiently warm. It seemed all he had to do was stand close to her and her body got hot and tingly. And worst of all, she was beginning to like the tingles, look forward to them, and grow ever more curious about them. Could the sensation really be as wicked as the nuns had warned about?
“That is a dangerous way to look at me,” he whispered harshly, his face close to hers.
“What way?” she asked, not realizing she was looking any particular way at him.
“As if you want to devour me.”
“I do,” she thought, though she heard the words all too clearly and realized she had said them aloud.
“Your choice, Princess,” he said and lowered his lips to hers.
She did not think about it. She met his lips and the tingles running through her sparked a burst that consumed her entire body and kept her lips hungry on his.
Virginal, eager, excited. That was how she kissed him and damn if it wasn’t the most delicious kiss he had ever tasted. He let her have her way, though he guided until his patience, or more so their need, grew too great, and then he took control. He slipped his hand down along her back to cup her backside and press her against him. He then urged her up against his hard arousal as his tongue penetrated her mouth and kissed her senseless.
Wintra thought she would die from the sheer pleasure that continued to grow and devour her all at once. She had startled when his tongue had entered her mouth and at first she thought it wicked and she should not allow it, but the pleasure it brought chased away he
r doubts and fears. Never—never—had she ever thought a kiss could be so delicious or that she would not want it to ever end.
Damn, he would have her on the bed and be inside her in no time if he did not stop kissing her. But damn if she wasn’t intoxicating. One taste would never be enough, two might not be either, forget three, he did not want to ever stop kissing her.
A whip of wind against the door tore them apart and sent Wintra’s stomach roiling in fright. Her hand released the material and pressed at her stomach, and she shivered.
Torr reached out and with a firm arm around her waist to keep her close and a hand to her ripped garment to try and keep it closed, he tucked her against his side.
Before she could snuggle even closer against him, the door burst open.
Chapter Seven
Owen stood there, his eyes quickly taking in the scene and growing ever wider with anger. “Get your hands off her you wretched beast.”
Before either of them could say a word, Owen stepped aside and four warriors hurried in, though there was barely room for them. Torr shoved Wintra away from him, though she grasped at his hand as he did, but he yanked it away just as the warriors descended on him.
“You’re making a mistake,” Torr said, after not resisting the men, though receiving several blows anyway. “Cree sent me to bring his sister home.”
Owen stepped forward then. “I am supposed to believe that when it appears as if you have taken advantage of this poor, innocent young woman?”
Wintra stepped forward. “Torr has done no such thing.”
“You are young and virginal and know not what you say. I will take care of everything. You have nothing to fear,” Owen said and turned as if dismissing Wintra. “Take him and secure him in the lean-to with his horse. It is where animals belong.”
“I have warned you,” Torr said as they shoved him toward the door. “When Cree finds out, you will pay.”
Owen waved him off, and the warriors shoved him so hard out the door that he fell into the snow.
Wintra hurried to go to him, but Owen shut the door, stopping her in her tracks. She turned furious eyes on him. “You have no right to treat him like that.”
Highlander's Captive (Highlander Trilogy) Page 6